It's like this...

Death

2012-01-28T00:02:00.000-08:00

Losing a friend has brought death to the forefront of my mind lately.

I know, right? The HUGE elephant that is in everyone's living room but is rarely acknowledged. I pondered this as I drove along the freeway this morning. As usual, it was chock full of cars and trucks and vans and all manner of motorized transportation. I looked at the vehicles and saw the people jockeying for position in a better lane than the one they were in, I saw people cut people off, not let someone in, let a car in or speed up to make certain there was no squeeze in space in front of them, lest they allow someone to get ahead. Everyone rushing, rushing, rushing. Pushing, pushing, pushing. Hurrying, in essence, to the very same place we're all heading; the loss of our mortal body and the freeing of our soul from it's earthly bonds.

My husband and I were talking about this tonight. He works so hard for us, day in and day out. I thank him constantly for what he does and he said, "You are all worth it". For that he got a great massage as we chatted. His poor back was in knots and HE was worth it. So we talked about death and life and love and what comes after. We've always said that we'd like to cross over together---that neither of us would want to be here without the other.

I'm sure that's a common sentiment among those who are very much in love and have been together as long as we have.... Twenty five years. Not long in the grand scheme of eternity, but eons if you're a Kardashian. Ok, yeah, that was a tangent and not a nice one. Sorry.

I've told him before, and I'll continue to tell him that he's the very best thing that has ever happened to me. Because of him, all the other wonderful things have followed. I do so love him. I think perhaps we may have done our children a disservice though. We've not modeled conflict resolution to them. We don't fight. We've had exactly two fights in our marriage, and both were my fault. So our offspring haven't actually seen a fight between us nor have they seen how we resolve a dispute. I feel badly about that, almost as badly as I feel about allowing my girls to watch all those Disney movies where the knight in shining white armor comes sweeping in to save the fair maiden and she's not complete until she HAS said shining knight. Barbies weren't much more of an example to them. Life isn't like that---not usually.

And although I *did* get my white knight and ours is a peaceful and a calm relationship---I know that many others are not and that does not mean they're not good relationships. I hope my children understand that you can have conflict and be upset, even angry, and still love the person you're having the argument with. And the whole Barbie thing gets me. I'm no one's idea of physical perfection but you know what? My white knight in shining armor has never ever criticized me for my physical shortcomings. Ever. I more than make up for that lack during my daily internal dialogue.

But back to death. As I was kneading hubby's back, we talked about the richness of our lives---and not in the monetary sense, in the things that money cannot buy. You can't take physical possessions with you when you go. So no matter how hard you jockey for position on the freeway, how hard you try to hold onto money or power, once you've stepped beyond this world all you take with you are the intangibles. Love, light, intelligence, what you've learned and the choices you've made along the way determine a great deal.

I'm so thankful for the gospel of Jesus Christ and the knowledge I hold dear in my heart that this life is not all there is. I know I'll be with my amazing husband forever.

So let a car get in front of you, slow down a little bit, be kind. Everyone is heading in the same direction after all.

Twenty-Twelve

2012-01-20T15:43:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the Mayans were right. Is this the last year for us? :::shrugs::: Who knows...

January has not been an auspicious beginning to the year. My good friend Claudia suffered a brain bleed and on New Year's Day, her life support was removed. With my sister Julie, and another friend, we dressed Claudia's body for the last time. I've dressed the deceased before, including my mother. Perhaps nothing brings me closer to the knowledge that the body is simply a vessel for the spirit and the 'real' person, than handling their remains and feeling the emptiness that pervades their mortal coil. Claudia was not there, it was simply what she left behind when she passed over.

I was also asked to speak at her service. Crying before things began, I went to a quiet place and said a prayer for strength. I could not stop my tears and I did not wish to cry as I spoke of my friend. My prayer was answered and I was given a calm and a peacefulness to fill my heart.

The gathering after her service was pure Claudia. She'd planned her special day and asked that maple bars and candy bars, cookies, rootbeer floats and comfort food to be served. Balloons and confetti at each table. Claudia wanted a party and a party was had. Before they closed her coffin, I placed a tiny seashell in her hand. As they lowered her coffin, I had my husband place a larger shell on top.

Claudia loved the beach and had just recently come back to her Pacific Northwest from Arizona.She is not here....

As much as her passing caused heartache, it also reinforced to me of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We do live on. We do not end at the death of our physical body. I'm incredibly thankful for the gift of the resurrection and the knowledge that we will see each other again.

Then my father's beloved dog passed away. I think that even as an adult, it's very difficult to see a parent cry. My father has always been a rock. When I was younger, he was superman to me. In fact it never occurred to me that he could feel pain. Ever. Aren't all daddies that to their daughters? Unfortunately it's not so....

Thankfully my father has two wonderful son-in-laws who dug the grave for him....

Our doggie Cassie became ill and we were told it might be cancer. Three days later we were told it's not. We're incredibly grateful.

We've had a great deal of snow and an entire week off of school and work. Well, work for me at least. Lance had to keep working, poor guy. Now it's raining and we're expecting flooding. Thankfully we only lost power one day.

This hibernation of sorts has caused me to bake. I think it's something imprinted in my DNA. Cold=Need To Bake. I've not heard my family complaining.

Our Abode

2011-12-22T10:27:00.000-08:00

Some have asked me to post pictures of our new home. Some don't care. I understand. How often have you been forced to watch someone's home movies---or in this era of oversharing---home videos of a birthday party or a party in which people do some purdy weird stuff or videos taken in a birthing suite at your local hospital.

In my defense--I have not posted videos of me dancing on tables with lampshades on my head, nor do I plan on doing so as no such videos of me exist. Yes, I managed to erase them all before they fell into the wrong hands. No, I didn't keep copies. Yes, I am kidding.

So here are some indoor pictures of our lovely new abode. We are loving it here.

This is our upstairs living room. The wood floors are wonderful. Large windows with no curtains because no one is anywhere near us to be able to look in. Just lovely trees, squirrels and birds. Peaceful!

And the stockings were hung on the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nick, soon would be there...

Another view of the upstairs with living room and kitchen area. Looks pretty clean for having hosted a big ole party last night, doesn't it? I owe it all to my elves. Santa was quite helpful as well.

Upstairs guest bathroom. Or as Ashley likes to call it, MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE!

Looking from our bedroom into our rather tiny closet. Our bathroom is off to the right. I'd show you our bedroom, but that's where all the remaining boxes are. No, we're not entirely unpacked yet. Cut me some slack, it's only been about 2 and one half weeks!

The downstairs living room. Actually it's the room for the kids. And my big kid with all the guitars.

And last, but certainly not least, the downstairs kitchen.

I'd show you the four bedrooms but there are children sleeping in them and they would not appreciate me snapping their pictures. I would love to do it, of course, but I fear retribution.

Seriously?

2011-12-15T22:21:00.000-08:00

There are so many things that I do not understand. Like, how does a radio work? Or a television? Why can't we breathe under water or fly like the birds? Why does peanut butter and chocolate taste so darn good together? Why do some people make the same mistake over and over and over and over and over and.....well, you get the picture.

I. Do. Not. Understand.

It makes no sense to me. I figuratively scratch my head. I shake my head. I bang my head against the wall, but all that does is give me a headache and does not solve the problem of the person DOING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AND EXPECTING A DIFFERENT RESULT!!

It's just a teensy weensy bit frustrating for me, as you may have guessed.

I'm a fairly easy going, patient person. I am thankful that everyone has choices in life to make. Your choices determine where you're going. Choices are good. You can always choose what to do---you cannot always choose the consequences of your choosing. Sometimes even when you choose and think you are making a wise decision, it doesn't turn out the way you thought it was going to turn out. That's where patience comes into play.

Then there are people who choose poorly, expecting a good result. Seriously?? SERIOUSLY???

To this person I say the following: SERIOUSLY? AGAIN????? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU????? WHEN WILL YOU LEARN???

I also say the following: I love you with everything that I am, but I will no longer rescue you. Your choices are your own. I cannot help you any longer. *I* choose to take a step back and let what happens, happen. Now stop asking for our advice when you never take it. We are done. Good luck. It's sink or swim time, baby. It's up to you.

Too much news...

2011-12-11T23:11:00.001-08:00

Turn on the tube, whadda I see, a whole lotta people crying don't blame me...."

I need to stop reading/watching the news. It's depressing. I find myself worrying about people I don't know, in places I've never been and wondering how I can live with myself in such a beautiful home, with enough food to eat when there are people out there suffering.

It doesn't make for restful sleep at night.

I have an overactive sense of guilt---even for things I haven't done. Ever have a police car come up behind you and follow you for a bit? Does your adrenaline kick in? Even if you haven't done anything wrong? Yeah, me too. I don't know why. I would make a terrific Catholic, or so I hear.

Suicide bombers randomly murdering innocent civilians due to some misguided religious fervor and the promise of nubile young women on the other side of that explosion, babies suffocating accidentally as they slept in their parents' bed", A drunk driver kills a byciclist and so much, much more.

For some time I've been on an emotional overload due to the vicissitudes of life, mostly things beyond my control. When things come to me in the night as I try to sleep, I mentally shove them all behind a large door in my head and then slam it shut with large padlocks. It worked---perhaps too well. Each time a bad thought arrived---a circumstance over which I had no control--behind the door it went. I found myself distancing myself from actual feelings, as feelings were dangerous and to be avoided. No, I didn't lose my faith--my faith is still rock solid, I simply deigned to stop feeling, because it was painful.

Probably not the healthiest way to deal with things. Ok, there was also chocolate involved as well as this great Thai restaurant. But I digress....

I have discovered that I want to feel things again. And to that end..I would like to share this with you. Merry Christmas everyone. May the humble birth in that stable so very long ago, bring you joy and peace and life everlasting.

We Is Moved

2011-12-05T17:56:00.001-08:00

Yes, yes we is.

The rooms here are full of boxes and crates and bags and I want to know why all those nice young men brought all this stuff inside but didn't stick around to unpack them? I even fed them pizza!!

Yeah, I know. I am VERY thankful for all the help we received on Saturday. It was a Herculean effort, to be sure.

Now our cat lives under our bed. He refuses to come out. Not eating, not drinking and of course if nothing is going in then nothing is coming out. It's not like he's sick. He's simply terrified. I don't blame him. This place looks nothing at all like the one he's been living in for the past three years. We do hope he comes out soon.

Our doggie is much less frightened. She's anxious. Follows me everywhere. Lays on my feet. I've uprooted her from her home and she's not quite sure what's going on but as long as her humans are with her, she's just fine.

I cannot find the box with my shoes in it so I am forced to wear my tennis shoes, even to work. I can't find my coat. Or my sanity. I must have left that back behind in Seattle. Or in widdy biddy pieces all over the place. On the plus side, I got to ride in police car today.

No Ken, not for the reasons you're thinking. I had to make a home visit to a less than savory abode. No, I did ride in the back. No, there were no handcuffs. Yes, I did get to use the siren.

Ok, no siren except for the one in my head. If I'd brought my officer friend home with me he'd take one look at the house and say, "You've been robbed!". Sadly, no. It just looks that way right now.

Ok, ok, I'll get back to work on it.

My Birthday

2011-11-30T17:03:00.001-08:00

I spent it in bed. Mostly. I tried to go to work but alas, I was feeling seriously rotten so stayed an hour and then went home.

I slept most of the time. I'm sure I needed it. Everyone wanted to take me to lunch, and when I say 'everyone', I can't include Johnny Depp because he didn't call. I mean family and/or friends. Then they wanted to do dinner and a cake. No, no, no, cough, hack, choke wheezethank you. So we're going to celebrate Sunday evening after we've moved into our new place.

OH! I almost forgot! I told hubby not to get me anything but he did anyway. I have new cookware!!! SO excited!!!!!!

Happy Birthday to me!

Pegging the Stress Meter

2011-11-27T15:30:00.001-08:00

OHMYGOODNESS I AM STRESSED.

I was telling hubby just that the other day. I know that there are a couple of things that peg the stress meter in life---LIKE MOVING. Yeah, you know, that THING we're doing soon. :::looks around the room that is NOT packed:::: Yeah. STRESSED.

And it's manifesting itself in some very odd ways. I go upstairs and suddenly I have jazz hands as I climb. I change the channel constantly--not just when there are commercials on. I can't seem to keep my brain focused on one thing at a time. And the number one WORST thing about this---I'm not hungry and I'm EATING. Or THINKING ABOUT EATING. It's nearly 11 pm and my mind keeps talking to me.

Are there chips upstairs? No...I don't think there are...mmmm...nachos sound good. No, there's no chips. Yes, there is cheese. Hmmm...no chips. Chili? Sure, got some chili. Wait--it's almost 11. If I eat chili I will be up all night and in pain. No, can't have chili.

AND I'M NOT EVEN HUNGRY!!!!!!!

Time to change the channel again.

GAHHHHHHHHHH! I'm not packed. Can we afford this new place? Can we afford NOT to move? Are we doing the right thing? What about leaving my father? Who is now sick as a dog with shingles and in a lot of pain and shuffling around and not walking well and ooooooooooh crap. Guilt mixed in with moving is seriously the REAL pegging-the-stress-meter-high-point right now. I feel incredibly guilty for leaving him.

He says he's fine. Even looking forward to it. I know better.

And now on top of all of this, I've got a fever and a very rotten cold. Can't breathe, can't sleep, can't eat because it's too late and I don't have any chips!

Here's hoping that nyquil will knock me out tonight.

Chocolate

2011-11-23T12:37:00.001-08:00

I WANT SOME

That is all.....

2011-11-21T18:33:00.001-08:00

I packed five boxes today. It may have been four. The big news is that I packed boxes!. I've not been good at doing that lately. I'm not sure if I'm in denial or what. I know we're moving. We talk about it all the time, it's that invisible hammer hanging over my head with a date attached to it....

I'm not a fan of moving. Today my youngest daughter said, "Hey mom. The last time we moved it was the most awful, hot weather EVER here. Now we're going to move in the middle of rain and wind and storms. Why do we pick such awful times?"

I don't know. Honestly, I don't.

I attempted Costco today. And when I say 'attempted', I mean I drove around looking for an open parking spot with rain pelting my suburban hard enough to leave dents and with wind gusts worthy of the beach. After pondering the following facts,

a. I didn't have a coat
b. I was sans umbrella
c. I wasn't feeling that great

It became quite clear to me that I shouldn't shop at Costco today. Mother Nature was obviously against it, and who am I to go against the wishes of the personification of nature that focuses on the life-giving and nurturing aspects of nature by embodying it in the form of the mother? Nobody, that's who.

So picked up some lunch for my father and myself and headed home. The 'home' that will only be my 'home' for the next week or so.

We're in for a windy, rainy, stormy night tonight. I had a work meeting (Latino Family Night) tonight that I was supposed to attend, but I'm in an incredible amount of pain right now and I'm not certain I could speak Spanish, let alone English right now. Just typing this is taxing my prescription-addled cerebral area. I keep having to fix typos. So, my wonderful, amazing, terrific, handsome, delightful, helpful, manly, gorgeous, sweet husband took the stuff I was contributing to the meeting for me.

Have I mentioned that I adore him? I do.

I think the last of the pain meds is kicking in so I should stop attempting to type.

Did I mention that I packed some boxes today?

The Washington State Liquor Store Controversy

2011-11-12T10:52:00.001-08:00

No, not the one you're thinking of. Yes, the ballot measure to take state government out of liquor sales did pass. Yes, I live in WA state. No, I don't drink.

Which brings me to my topic today. Messing With Their Minds And by 'them', I mean my beautiful, gullible, thirteen year old daughter.

We are in the process of packing up our stuff to move. In order to do so, we require boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. One place you can get free boxes is from the liquor store. So on Wednesday after school, I pulled into the liquor store parking lot. The look on my daughter's face was priceless.

Ashley: What are we doing here?
Me: Well, you know I've been under a lot of stress lately...
Ashley: Yeah, so?
Me: Well, I've decided I just want to cut loose for a while. You know.
Ashley: WHAT?
Me: I just need to blow off some steam. So Daddy and I thought we'd get drunk.
Ashley: (unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning up close to the front) WHAT???
Me: It's not like we're going to stay drunk. We just want to relax. You know.
Ashley: WHAT? No, you're not going to do that.
Me: Why not? Everyone does it. I'm tired of being good all the time.
Ashley: What's daddy doing in the store?
Me: Well, this is a liquor store.
Ashley: Yeah, I know.
Me: They sell booze.
Ashley: So what's he doing in there??
Me: Buying some booze.
Ashley: No he's not. What's he doing in there?
Me: What do they sell in there?
Ashley: Booze, but...
Me: So what could he be doing in there?
Ashley: Mom, what is going on?
Me: I already told you. We're tired of being Mormon. We're going to try something else.
Ashley: LIES! I don't believe you! You don't drink!
Me: Well, not til now.
Ashley: MOM!!!
Me: What?
Ashley: I know you. You won't do that. I'll run away if you do!
At this point hubby walked out of the store with an armload of boxes. You could hear her sigh in relief.

Ashley: That's not funny, Mom!

It was a little bit funny.

2011-11-09T22:09:00.000-08:00

We're getting ready to move. Again. This will make ::counts on fingers and toes:::: the 12th kitchen that I've had since I was 21. No, wait. 13. This will be my 13th kitchen.

I had two different kitchens in college, though I probably ought not to count those as they weren't entirely mine. I had to share them. Then the five kitchens I had when I lived in Venezuela as a missionary might not count as mine either, as I shared them with other missionaries or the families we resided with. Wait--there was one place in Barquisimeto that was our kitchen and ours alone. So that one counts.

Then five kitchens since we've been married---and now for the next, and hopefully last, kitchen. Number 6.

This is my oldest daughter's first kitchen as well. There are two kitchens in the home we're getting. She will have one downstairs in her area and we will have ours upstairs. She's so thrilled! And so am I. She's already purchased one thing for her kitchen--a small ceramic jug with some kitchen utensils. Sadly, this is all she's accumulated thus far.

Which makes me think that I too am woefully lacking in kitchen stuff as well. Hubby and I sat down and made a huge list of things we're going to have to buy for our new place. The list was mighty and the list was long. We haven't had new cookware since we married, nearly 25 years ago. It's waaaaaay past time. Any recommendations? What kind do you like the best, or wish YOU had in YOUR kitchen?

I've also decided something else. When we married, lo these many years ago, there were wedding showers. An embarrassment of riches were gifted to us by my husband's family and friends. So when we started out our life together, we had our everyday dishes (I'd collected them as I was growing up), we had our semi-formal dishes, and we had our fine china.

The everyday dishes we used was a lovely set of stoneware. Sadly, they have not lasted all these years, all these children, all these oops-I-dropped-somethings. The semi-formal stuff, seen below, HAS survived. Mostly because we hardly ever use them.

Pretty, huh? Well, ok. It was the 80's. I liked pink. It's not what I'd choose today but they're still cute. We have decided to make these our everyday dishes. Time is fleeting and life is short. Why hold out on the pretty stuff until a special occasion? All of life should be treated like a special occasion.

As for our Fine China.....It's gorgeous and we might just use it for Sunday dinners from now on. Just because.

It's Noritake and it's called Virtue. So beautiful. See?

So there you have it. My 6th (or 13th) kitchen and what I plan on doing with it. My daughter's first kitchen. I wonder what kind of dishes she will choose? I'm sure there will be much borrowing going on between the two kitchens. Either way, I hope that she uses the 'good stuff' and doesn't let it sit in a hutch for years, as I have done. The good stuff shouldn't be hidden. I hope I can teach her that now.

Religious Tolerance Is Alive and Well--Just Not for Mormons

2011-11-02T14:20:00.000-07:00

Wow.......

Bigotry and hatred is alive and well in America. I was just reading over on CNN About the Mormon Church
and how diverse it is.
The comments from people reading this story were--ugly. For the most part. Those who were posting things against The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were ill informed, rude and downright mean.

It's amazing to me that it's open season on one faith here in this country---and it's sad to me that except for a few outside the church who take it upon themselves to speak up--it's accepted.

We are taught to live the ten commandments. You know, that whole be honest, don't kill, don't steal, stuff that is often taken as more of a list suggestions rather than commandments from our God? Yeah, that one.

We are taught to be honest in our dealings, to love one another, to cherish and nurture our families. The church has a welfare system that is second to none. It's all done through donations. We take care of our people---AND we send aid all over the world when natural disasters strike, or when a community just needs help. Click HERE to see some of the things this 'cult' contributes to the world at large.

We believe in taking care of ourselves by not drinking, smoking, using drugs or drinking coffee. While this may not make us popular with Starbucks, Coors or the local crack dealer---we're ok with that. We truly are.

Even if I didn't believe that the church was true---I would still raise my family in the church. The values, the commitment to family, honesty, integrity, service and desire to always be a better person are important.

I am not perfect--no one is. We are human and we make mistakes. I'm grateful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ that allows me to repent, to change and to keep moving forward.

So please. If you want to know more about who we really are, click HERE. It will take you to a website where you can talk to a real live member of the ~~cult~~ church.

And remember what Thumper the bunny said in Bambi. "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all"

Good advice.

Conflicted

2011-11-02T13:22:00.000-07:00

Mmmm....Halloween candy. I think I'll have some. No I won't. Oh yes I will. No....I WON'T. mmmm....chocolate.... Sigh.

As you can see, I'm conflicted today. I started work at 7 this morning. I went home around 10 because I have to go BACK to work this evening at 5. So I thought....ok, I'll go home and clean the basement. And I did. Well, ok, I started. I brought down three garbage bags. I found FOUR glasses, five forks and a bunch of crap by the TV. I cleaned that area. Then my phone rings. Apparently I had to BE AT SHOREWOOD HIGH SCHOOL RIGHT THAT VERY SECOND OR LIFE AS WE KNEW IT WAS ABOUT TO END AND SHE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO GET HER IPAD UNTIL THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY AND YOU KNOW THAT IT'S IMPORTANT AND YOU MUST COME NOWWWWWW.

So I went. And was she waiting for me in front of the school as I'd asked her to do? No. Was she waiting in the office for me, because this was such a HUGE FREAKING EMERGENCY?

The answer to that would be no. I called the cell phone number of her friend and then called IT SEVEN MORE TIMES BEFORE SOMEONE PICKED UP.

As you may have intuited, I was not a happy camper. No sir. Not at all.

So I paid with a check for her iPad and then came back here to the office because driving home only to DRIVE RIGHT BACK OUT HERE to pick the kids up is a waste of gas and time and I'm seriously ticked off that I couldn't get the entire room cleaned to surprise my husband.

So, yeah. Surprise. I'm cranky.Do you think eating more chocolate will help?

Yeah, me neither.

Autumn Colors and Thankful Hearts

2011-10-23T21:44:00.000-07:00

After church today (which was FANTASTIC and wonderful since it was the Primary Program) we had lunch then took all three of our gorgeous girls for a drive to spend time adoring the beautiful fall colors. We went out by Snoqualmie Falls and then to the little town of Carnation to MacDonald Park. Oh so pretty. We walked in the woods along the river and snapped a few pictures along the way. Here's Ashley and Steph striking a pose on the path.

The colors were striking...moss and leaves and trees. The air felt heavy and fecund with the fallen leaves and the dampness.

So much beauty...

Allison and Ashley and Lance walking ahead of me on a bed of Autumn leaves....

Allison and Ashley along the way. Oh how I love these girls of mine. This was a sweet interlude and there seemed to be a truce of sorts between the girls. A truce from the random and uncomfortable teenage-angst-driven-contention that occasionally pops up between them. Peace in abundance....

Leaves...

Ashley by the river at the end of our nature walk...

Ashely and Lance, each taking pictures...

Ashley...

Allison and Stephanie and Ashley Rose. Holding hands and walking.....

I've nothing witty or even mildly amusing to say tonight. The only thing I want to express at this moment is my gratitude for answered prayers and thankfulness for the beauty that surrounds us here on this earth. I'm grateful for a loving and merciful Father in Heaven who listens to His children and knows our struggles. I'm truly thankful for the gift of family.

I am blessed.

2011-10-17T14:10:00.000-07:00

It's official. We're moving. It's been three long years here and it's time. It's long overdue, truth be told.
We're moving to a beautiful house in Lake Forest Park. Closer to my work, in the school district for the girls and closer to hubby's job. We're all excited. Ok, we're excited to be getting this great house---about packing and actually doing the moving? Meh, not so much. The only good part about this is that the majority of our stuff is STILL packed up and so that won't be a problem.

I feel like I kicked a puppy though, when I had to tell my father we were leaving. I told him that's how I felt and he smiled and said he wasn't a puppy.

I still feel like I kicked a puppy though. It's not a nice feeling.

2011-10-05T17:20:00.000-07:00

"I hate you!!!! YOU'RE THE WORST MOM EVER!!!!! WHY DON'T YOU DIE???"

Well, my darling daughter, I guess I won't die right now, even though your screeching might make me wish I would, because my job here on this earth isn't quite over yet. You see, it's not ok to yell at me. I'm your mother. There are rules to this thing called life---one of them is actually a commandment from God about honoring your father and your mother. I'm fairly certain that screaming at me and telling me no when I've asked you to do something isn't anywhere near honoring me. Nope. Not even close.

Asking you to turn off the television and work on your homework should not elicit a 'NO' from you. Here, let me help you. Here's how the conversation should have gone:

Me: "Hija, do you have homework?"
You: "Yes I do"
Me: "Please turn off the TV and do it right now, ok?"
You: "Ok, thanks for reminding me. I'd hate to have to pretend I'm sick tomorrow so I can stay home because I didn't do my homework tonight"
Me: "You're welcome"
You: "Can we bake cookies later and have hot chocolate by the fire and read the scriptures together?"
Me: "Again? Oooh, all right. I suppose."

You've already had your beautiful cell phone turned off indefinitely for back talking me. Yes, I know tomorrow is your birthday. No, we won't be going out to dinner. No, not tomorrow night OR the night after that. Why, you ask? Well, I'll let you think about that one sweetheart.

You're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll think of something.

2011-09-23T17:17:00.000-07:00

Hi, I'm Pamela and I'm a Mormon. That's how my profile on www.mormon.org starts out. It's how everyone's profile on Mormon.org starts out---well, except for the Pamela part. There's a link on my blog to my profile there. I don't know how many of you that visit here have ever clicked on it. I'm not sure that I've talked about my faith a lot on here--except most do know that I am a woman of faith.

I think perhaps some of my friends and family don't really understand my beliefs beyond a certain point. No, I don't drink coffee. No, I don't drink alcohol. NO, I am NOT the fifth wife in a polygamous relationship and no, I never watched Big Love. I am not a sister wife---whatever that is. And though I've read Dooce, the blog about an x-LDS woman who got fired because of her writings online, I am not her either. She's very witty---I'll give her that---but she has too much of a potty mouth for my tastes.

Yes, I am not taken with potty mouths. I do like wit. And I do believe that you CAN be witty without resorting to gutter language. You don't? You sure? Well, to each their own.

I am a Christian. I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I believe in the bible. I know that my redeemer, Jesus Christ lives today. I know that the windows of heaven are not closed to us---we are our Father's children and he loves each one of us. There is more to this life---than this life. I know this with everything that I am.

Occasionally I'm around people that drink. I sometimes think they believe that I should be drinking with them. And if I'm not---then I'm 'self-righteous' or I'm looking down my nose at them because they are. Drinking, I mean. I'm not. I do not think less of you because you drink and I do not think more of myself because I don't. Everyone is different. We all make choices. I have made this one and it suits me just fine. It would be nice if booze was not pushed upon me though.

I believe in a living prophet today. I believe that, as in ancient times, God speaks to His prophets today.

My faith led me to leave my home when I was 21 and live in a very hot south American country for almost two years, to live among the people and teach them the gospel of Jesus Christ. This was a volunteer position. Anyone who knows me will know that I would never volunteer to go anywhere with such high heat and humidity if I didn't believe in what I was doing. I did. And I do.

I am not perfect. Anyone who knows me, also knows this. I'm a sinner, just like everyone else. And yes, I do believe in sin. Just as I believe in light and darkness.

So there you have it. Hi, I'm Pamela. And I'm a Mormon.

Blackberries

2011-09-13T16:16:00.000-07:00

Today I picked blackberries in our back lot. There are a great many blackberry bushes there that have been left to flourish. Not from laziness mind you, but because we love blackberries. Or a mixture of both. As I was tugging the juicy black fruit from their vines I noticed something.

(Pontification Alert!)

Notice the picture I took up above? The ripened juicy and quite tasty berries are surrounded by hard, green blackberries that have not completed their journey. Clinging stubbornly to their runners, they're nearly impossible to detach. And why would you want to pick these berries anyway? Bright green, extraordinarily sour, they're not good for much. I wondered why some berries took in all the water and the sunshine given them and became what they were meant to become when right along next to them, receiving water and sunlight in equal measure, others did not flourish. They did not grow. They did not progress. Their skins hardened and refused entry to the water and the life-giving sunlight and they stopped growing.

I think people are a great deal like these blackberries. Two siblings, living side by side with the same parents, the same love and devotion and spiritual instruction, sometimes do not receive the Word in the same manner and therefore do not complete their journey and become what they were meant to be. It doesn't mean that they won't eventually get where they need to be, but it does mean a great deal more effort needs to be made in order to overcome the hardness of heart and the 'greenness' of their spiritual desires.

Some may need more time, others immediately grasp the sunshine and the water and all the marvelous nutrients gifted them and burst forth into glorious sweet blackberries. They fulfill the measure of their creation.

I try to take in the good given me, taught me, gifted me and do something with it. Other times I'm like the hard green berries that don't allow the sunlight in. I hope that one day I'll have none of the hard green parts and all of the sweetness of a faithful Saint who has fulfilled the measure of her creation.

2011-09-01T06:24:00.000-07:00

You know what I love? I love that my husband is the greatest daddy on the planet earth. And probably the greatest daddy in the known universe. Each day I'm thankful that I married this guy. Each day I am inspired by his selfless actions and his desire to do the right thing.
See that picture up there? That's Ashley in a canoe on Greenlake. After work he dropped Alli off at the pool for swim team practice and then took Ashley to the lake. (I was at work) They went canoeing. Just the two of them. I love the memories he's building with our children and the love he holds for them. I love the knowledge that they will always remember the things he does for them and have that pattern of parental love to guide them in their lives.
I am blessed.

Times they are a changin'...

2011-08-20T17:20:00.000-07:00

And it's never more evident that when you see pictures of your children three years apart...

This was taken in 2009.

And this was taken in 2011

Where did that time go? So many changes in them, in what they're doing with their lives and how we are as a family. Some of it hurts my heart to think about, some of it is good.

Ah, change. Not a fan.

Twisted

2011-08-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

No, not me silly. Well, perhaps a bit, but that's not the focus today children.

There is no focus. Unless you want to have a focus, then focus away.

Today is Wednesday. I only know that because I looked. If I were Scottish I'd have said, "I kent that.." I've been reading a series of books about a woman who goes back in time through some standing stones in Scotland. It's full of kilts, sporrans, large hairy men with broadswords and lots of Scottish words that I don't ken. Well, I do ken, but if I were to suddenly break out in Gaelic no one here would understand me. Although I'm not entirely certain that I ken Gaelic.

What I DO ken, however, is that my lovely summer freedom is slowly coming to an end. School begins on the 12th and I go back to work on the 5th. I've enjoyed my time off. Being a lady of leisure has it's appeal. I ken that.

Yesterday, due to an unfortunate and slightly humorous foot puncturing, my husband did not have to work. We took the day and the two younger girls and spent the day on Whidbey Island. Do you ken Whidbey Island? It's beautiful. You really should go there.

As some of you know, or ken, I am not a person who enjoys heights. They frighten me. Yet I did walk across the bridge at Deception Pass. See? I even took this picture of Allison and Lance.

I know, right? I give and I give and I give.

We went down to the state park and sat on the beach enjoyed the sunshine.

Here are more interesting photos to amuse and delight my readers. All one of you.

Here's Lance and the sun at Fort Ebey State Park.

Lance by one of the entrances to what's left of Fort Ebey.

Lance hanging out on driftwood at Deception Pass State Park.

Funny story. Before we got to Whidbey Island we stopped at a fruit stand and everyone got ice cream cones. On waffle cones actually. They were HUGE and these were single scoops. I took five licks of mine and couldn't go further. Poor Lance had to finish mine and was rendered nearly unconscious from the sugar overload. He gives and he gives and he gives.

I took this at Fort Ebey State Park. If you look V E R Y closely you can see Mt. Rainier on the right side of the photo off in the distance.

This proves I was there and was having a good time.

Sunset off of Fort Ebey State Park

As we left the park on our way to the ferry, we came across a fawn nibbling grass on the side of the road.

Twas a lovely day and we were sorry to have it end. And we wouldn't want Lance to puncture his foot again so we could have such a lovely day---but it was nice to have him with us.

I ken that.

Yay Summer!

2011-07-30T19:24:00.000-07:00

It's true. Summer has sort-of-kind-of meandered into the Seattle area.

I know, right? Surprise, surprise!

And we've been making the most of it. Hence the no-blogging thing for the past month. I'm fairly active on FB, but have sort of let blogger go for a bit.

In the past month we've spent a lot of time at the Beach cabin, lost our dog, found our dog (expensive experience!), had some lovely dates with my wonderful husband, spent some fun times with the children and seen my son move out of the house. That last one may or may not be permanent. Haven't seen him since he left except for one evening when he dropped by. Ah, independence and freedom. Remember that?

I've had one girl go on Trek and the two youngers will be going to Girls camp the second week of August. Hubby and I are tossing around the idea of going to Vegas while they're gone. I've had my great niece spend the week here with us and when we take her home tomorrow we're dropping off my youngest and picking up my great nephew for a few days. It's a game of musical kids!

My father? Well, he loves having his little ones here. See?

2011-06-30T09:45:00.000-07:00

Hello world!

Schools out, I'm supposed to be 'out' until September but somehow I keep needing to head into work for just one more thing. Which is fine---I'm thankful to have a job.

We went camping this weekend. Normally my idea of 'roughing' it would mean I go somewhere where cell coverage is just a wee bit spotty--this place was roughing it and THEN some.

But first a little about our nearly 12 hour drive to get to the middle of nowhere. And I when I say nowhere, I really mean it. This was nowhere in a BIG way. In a bear, rattlesnake and coyote kind of way. Where the mosquitos were the size of Boeing 787's but with better take off and landing capabilities.

We went to Lake Ellen. Don't ask where it is--just know that if you want to experience nature without all the nasty ammenities like showering, flushing a toilet or getting a cell signal, this is your kind of place.

First we followed this man. Yeah, yeah ok. I used the Alien Booth app on him. This is my father. Normally he doesn't look like this unless you squint.

And this is what we looked at for hours and hours. The rear end of his trailer.

Please excuse the duck and the bear. The bear is called The Navigator and has been with Lance and I since before we were married. It's a long ooey gooey love story that is best told another time. The duck? I think it belonged to one of the kids and came along for the ride.

The drive there took 11 1/2 hours. ELEVEN AND ONE HALF HOURS! The drive home took us 6 1/2 hours. SIX AND ONE HALF HOURS!!! Yes, there was a difference of FIVE HOURS. That's because we were following this man.

And this man wanted to take the 'scenic route' and then drive 25 mph under the posted speed limit.

Ok, it wasn't 25 mph under--but it was darn close. He had a trailer to fall into when he got there. We had to do this:

The detour was fine because we got to see the snow that was still piled up over the pass.

And we were also able to see this beautiful, albeit windy, sight high up above the resevoir.

The girls (cousins and friends that went with) tried to enjoy the pristine and freezing lake. Ashley is on the floatie. Some of them washed their hair in the lake. There was no beach, you had to climb down rocks. Notice all the other people there? That's because there wasn't anyone there. I'm not sure anyone else could find the place. Which was a pleasant experience--not having to have a lot of strangers around.

My father fished the lake off the dirt road around the side. He never caught anything but did have a huge bald eagle swoop in where his fishing line was and scoop up a fish. It flew off to feed it's young and my dad packed up his gear

The other men we were with all limited out each time but they had to crawl down large boulders on the other side of the lake to do so and it was too dangerous for my father to manage that. He got down there once and had to have four guys help him back out. The trout were delicious, by the way.

Alli played the guitar while we were there.

We were going to stay four nights but then remembered a birthday party we'd promised to attend and so we left on Saturday morning. We never made it home in time for the party (sorry Jordan!) but when we did arrive, our kitty was extremely happy to have his human home. Lance is his human. Can't you tell?

Father's Day

2011-06-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

There's a wonderful column out on CNN by Jeff Perlman. It's called A father's day wish: Dads, wake the hell up! That's a link there by the way. Just roll over it with your cursor and you can click on it to read the entire piece.

In this column he gives ten commandments to fathers. It's brilliant.

And I'm grateful that my husband keeps all ten of those 'commandments' and more. I've been blessed with a man who is incredibly unselfish with his love and his time and, well everything. Until I met him I'd never known someone so kind hearted and caring.

Our children have all, at one time or another, come to us and told us about someone they know who is living with a verbally abusive father. They then express their gratitude for Lance. I'm thankful they realize just how much their father loves them. He loved them enough to change their diapers, to take on more than a few 3 a.m. feedings, to walk them in the park or to swim with them in a lake. He has loved them enough to be an example of righteousness and service in our home.

I love him more as each year passes. I'm thankful to have him by my side.

Love you sweetie.

Sunset on Lake Union

2011-06-08T22:55:00.000-07:00

My girl Alli likes to go for drives in the evening. It's either to get out of the house or to see how fast she can drain my gas tank.

After we barbecued some burgers this evening, she gave me 'the look'. That hopeful puppy dog look that I'm loathe to deny. Since we hadn't had time on Monday for Family Home Evening, we decided to have it tonight. On the go.

So off we went. Generally she likes to go at night in the dark, but as summer is on the horizon it's staying lighter later. We talked Daddy into going with us, though he probably should have stayed home and gone to bed. He has to get up so early---but he had the best time out of all of us I think. We went to the park on south Lake Union. It's been there for awhile, we've just never gotten around to visiting.

Alli and Ash by the pond.

Lance says that people run their little remote controlled boats on this pond. No one was using it while we were there. The park was pretty big and boasted the occasional pile of Canadian Goose Poop. I kept reminding the girls to watch where they were walking. This is important.

Lance and Ashley on the Bridge.

There is a bridge there that crosses a portion of the lake. One part of the bridge is wooden planking, the other part is a metal grate. While walking on the grate you can look down at the water below you. This is not something I enjoy. It gives me serious case of the guillermos. :::shudder:::

Looking a little south and west you can see the Space Needle from the park. As we walked over the bridge and then walked further down towards the lake I kept reminding the girls to watch where they were walking. Gooey Goose Guck was pretty much everywhere.

Ashley should have heeded my warnings. Unfortunately she was wearing sandals and well, lets just say she needed a foot bath when we returned home.

The Big Test

2011-06-03T22:08:00.000-07:00

The sun came out to play today. Gorgeous blue skies, big white fluffy clouds and actual sunshine. As I walked out of my office today, I noticed they were cutting the grass and I took a few deep breaths of that memory-inducing scent.

Reminds me of care free blue-skied summer days as a child. Dad or my brother would be cutting the grass and the smell....oh the smell. Like the sweet smell of the lilacs that are in bloom right now, I'm swept back in time. I close my eyes instinctively and *see* my life before I became the adult in charge of so many things. The pressure in my chest eases and I relax. Oh...the scent.

Obstacles that seemed insurmountable to me then, now appear as slight crumbs, easily crushed beneath my adult foot. Is it maturity that causes those past trials to seem insignificant compared to current struggles? No, I don't think that's it. Not really. Perhaps it's like going through school. First you're in Kindergarten. They don't teach you chemistry in Kindergarten, they start off with the easy stuff. You learn your A B C's. You have nap time. Snack time. You learn you must share the toys and learn to take your turn.

Then you move on, and the lessons get harder. The math gets more complicated.

Life gets more complicated and if you pass Algebra you can move on to Calculus. One test prepares you for the next. You quietly soldier on and you're able to bear more weight on your shoulders. You're older, stronger, smarter.

That doesn't mean the Big Tests in life are easy. They aren't. Sometimes they are excruciatingly painful and you can't share that pain except on your knees in fervent prayer to the Lord. And if your knees are bad, that physical ritual is taken from you and you are left to spiritually kneel before your Maker and plead for peace, for hearts to soften, for forgiveness, for healing.

And you can't forget to thank Him for the sweet smell of a freshly mowed lawn and the heady scent of lilacs.

Beach and Vikings and Hummingbirds, Oh My!

2011-05-22T23:17:00.000-07:00

Eagles, hummingbirds, bluejays, seagulls, ducks, Herons, crows, gold finches, seahawkes, red winged black birds, crabs, sea lions and vikings are just a few of the wild life we saw this weekend while at the beach cabin.

The only surprise were the vikings.

The tide was fairly high when we arrived. The ferry line was long---but we didn't mind. Our destination is always worth the wait. I've not been well all week and so this was just as much a time for me to rest as it was for the four of us to get away from the city and let go of the stress for a few days.

The weather cooperated, for the most part. It rained at night and gave us beautiful days. I slept a lot, or sat in a nice beach chair in the sand with a blanket and my Kindle.

I walked a bit when I felt up to it and collected some beautiful sea glass. Do you see the rose colored glass? That's a rare find. Later I also found cobalt blue and light blue, both unusual. I'd love to find some red glass some day.

Ashley walked the beach--loving the fact that numerous Gooey Ducks would squirt water up at her bare legs. Every time she squealed in delight I laughed. She's twelve....soon she'll be too cool for these things with her mom. I hold on tight to these memories.

The first night we decided to get Grub Hut for dinner (Thanks for introducing that place to us, Doug!) Here's Alli enjoying her meal with a great view.

When we were on the ferry home tonight, I could feel it. The tension coming back. The closer to traffic and people and responsibilities we got, the tighter I became.

Breathe, Pam. Breathe.

This week is going to be a killer.

As I deal with the homeless youth in our school district, and the immigrant families (I am the only one of *me* in our district) I feel as though I am the RS President for the entire place--sans excellent counselors and helpful and hard working volunteers. I'm putting on two separate events this week--one at one high school and another at the other high school. Both should have upwards of more than a hundred people coming to each event. I was laid out sick in bed the entire last week. Now you might understand the return of my tension.

Wish me luck!

Fur Ball in the Sky

2011-05-18T22:00:00.000-07:00

Sweating....
Freezing...
Sweltering...
Arctic...

Rinse, lather, repeat.

We had a death in our four footed family today. Kellogg was an aged orange tabby with little body weight when he was left to us by a neighbor that moved and didn't want to take him along.

"He's an outdoor cat, he'll never come in your house" said the man. When it got cold, I opened the back door and coaxed him inside. How could I not? Although this poor ball of fur had fur, that was about all he had. And he stank. He smelled like death, only worse.

So Old Kellogg became an indoor cat. He had a meow that sounded more like a croak crossed with a hoarse chirp. If I wasn't sure cats don't smoke I'd have pegged old Kellogg for a 3 pack a dayer.

My father alternated between yelling at the orange ball of fur to stop following him and caring for him in a very tender way. You'd have to know my father to understand. Ever since we were little, my father has been the Patron Saint of Lost or Abandoned Animals. We always took in strays--much to my mother's chagrin. Puppies and kittens were always in the house. All stray cats within a 50 mile radius knew to come to here.

Despite Kellogg's poor grooming habits, he sure knew how to eat. For a while that is. There came a time when he could no longer crunch dry food so my father began to buy special tins of wet cat food. He'd place it on a paper plate and put it in front Kellogg. Then there was a problem with that. Kellogg would take a bit, screech like a banshee and start doing a dash through the house. Dash, stop, head flipping back and forth, screech, repeat. Seems he couldn't chew and so it would get stuck and then he'd make his mad dash-thrash-screech. It sounds funny, but let me tell you the first time you see this flying ball of fur, screeching and howling and coming right at you, it gives you pause.

Scared the bajeebers outa me the first time.

So my father began to give Kellogg half a can and he spent time cutting it up and mushing so poor kitty wouldn't have any more eating issues.

Kellogg would follow my father around everywhere he went. We don't know who had Kellogg before our former neighbor, but whoever they were, they declawed the poor thing. THEN made him an outdoor cat. That ought to have meant the end of Kellogg but he survived.

A few days ago Kellogg stopped following my father around. He stopped eating and drinking. He climbed waaay back into a closet to die. Dad moved him out into a softly padded crate and we waited.

Dad dug the grave and readied the show box.

And we waited.

Today Kellogg went to his kitty litter box in the sky.

RIP Kellogg

Sweating....
Freezing...
Sweltering...
Arctic...

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Ashley's First Talk in Sacrament Meeting...

2011-05-16T18:52:00.000-07:00

When I got up yesterday morning, I knew something was a little off.

Phooey. Felt like the flu. Just a touch---maybe I was ok. I had to go to church because my Ashley Rose was giving her first ever talk in Sacrament meeting. Lance had to work so he couldn't be there. Plus, I like going to church. It fills me up for the week ahead.

Hey little nasty flu bug, you have some very poor timing.

So I went. And since Lance couldn't be there, I recorded Ashley's talk for him. I'm pretty proud of my littlest angel. I think she gave a wonderful talk for her very first time.

I'm not sure you can hear it very well---but if you want to turn it up and listen, you'll hear something sweet and precious from a twelve year old with great faith.

After she was done I made arrangements to have someone else take my Primary class and I went home, where I've been ever since.

Oh nasty flu bug. Not. A. Fan.

A bit of a fright

2011-05-10T22:10:00.000-07:00

Late last night my cell phone rang. It was Seattle calling. Literally, Seattle. No, I'm not making this up. His name is Seattle and he's a neighbor two doors down. He's lively and fun. Plus he likes to walk our dogs and he's a great chef.

The fact that he was calling me at nearly 11pm was a bit unsettling. The first thing he said was, "Is everything ok over there???" Yes, there were at least three question marks after his interrogatory plus several exclamation marks.

I told him we were fine--as far as I knew. "BUT YOU HAVE A FIRE TRUCK IN FRONT OF YOUR HOUSE!"

News of that nature is guaranteed to make you put your pants on--if you're not already wearing them. I wasn't. Wearing them I mean. It was bedtime. I threw them on and dashed up the stairs.

Ok, 'dashing' is a bit optimistic for what I actually did. It was more like lumbering up the stairs at a speed not hitherto known by my injured knee in many months. I checked the living room and no Dad. Ugh. Did he collapse outside and someone found him? I dashed--er, lumbered, out the back door and down the wheelchair ramp, barefoot across the patio and into the driveway.

Whew. There was my father, completely upright. The handsome fireman and medics were in my neighbors house. That was frightening because she'd had a knee replacement a few days earlier and my first thought was that she'd had a blood clot. She hadn't. It was her heart. She has an arrhythmia that sometimes crops up and her heart races. She's fine now. It was scary though.

Seattle was standing in our driveway and apologized for frightening me and gave me a hug. I thanked him for the adrenaline rush and told him it was fine, I didn't need to sleep anyway.

I don't like this day...

2011-05-08T14:00:00.000-07:00

It's Mother's Day today.

Meh. I'm having one of *those* days where I feel like a failure. I didn't do this, I didn't do that, I should have done this and that wouldn't have happened, yada yada yada. I realize that there are many things I have no control over...but still.

I left sacrament meeting and went to visit my mom in her garden of stone. Her grave can been seen from where our church building is--so I generally look over in that direction each sabbath morning before going into church and mentally say good morning to my mom.

As I stood over her grave crying, I heard a car stop behind me and turn off. A car door slammed and then a gentleman was standing beside me. He handed me a red carnation and said Happy Mother's Day. I said nothing. I couldn't. He stood there in silence with me, arms folded across his chest. After a minute or so he said, "You must be a very good person to care this much." Then he patted my shoulder, got back into his car and drove away.

I placed the red carnation in the flower vase at the foot of my mother's grave, wiped my tears away and went back to church to teach my little four and five year old angels.

I really don't like Mother's Day.

I'd Like to Thank the Little People...

2011-04-15T18:02:00.000-07:00

It’s time once again for the award shows to come pouring out of Hollywood like a tsunami of ooey-gooey-back-patting excess guaranteed to raise your blood sugar level just by watching the promos.

‘I’d like to thank all the little people….without whom….”

I’m one of the little people. Ok, not little as far as size goes, but you know, little as in not famous. I’m about as little as they come. No one gives out awards in my category. They don’t even HAVE a category for me, but if they did, I’m sure I could come up with a doozy of an acceptance speech.

I’d like to thank the academy for this honor—I know there are better mom’s out there, those who’ve given their kids a Wii, cell phones with unlimited texting and a bazillion gigs of music as well taking their kids on vacations to Hawaii, Disneyland, Disneyworld, the Bahamas and have sold their own blood to get them Hannah Montana concert tickets. They deserve this honor for always stocking their pantries with oodles of food from Costco, never making them clean up their rooms and letting them have anything they want for breakfast, including ice cream.

All I did was refrain from killing my teenage son for totaling the car while texting his girlfriend.

(Wild applause)

No, no, stop please. It was nothing, really. Oh sure, I could have easily taken him out, but I didn’t. Besides, there would have been witnesses and juries are prone to believe state troopers when they say things like “…she began to chase him around the damaged vehicle yelling that she’d had enough and wasn’t going to take it anymore and those stretch marks just didn’t seem worth it now. Then she got him in a headlock and began dragging him around while yelling something about labor and delivery, c-sections, blood and then she tried to strangle him your honor”

Thankfully, such testimony wasn’t necessary because as you can see by this lovely award, I did not throttle my teenage son that day. Or that night in his sleep, although I did pause by his closed door at one point around midnight, lay my head against the cool wood and quietly cry for a few minutes.

I’m sorry, that wasn’t what you came here to hear was it? I really would like to thank all the little people who helped me win this award. My mother for teaching me patience and the penal code, my father who made it clear that there are always extenuating circumstances and my husband for quietly reminding me that we didn’t have life insurance on him yet.

Of course that wouldn’t be the only award I’d win. I’d be up for Best Supporting Wife for Excellence in Laundry and Kitty Litter Scooping. Naturally I’d be getting the Lifetime Achievement Award for Embarrassing My Children Just By Being Alive. (I’ll spare you the acceptance speech on that one)

Of course there aren’t award shows for us little people. We don’t get to be patted on the back and congratulated by our peers for staying up all night with puking 9 year olds and managing not to toss our own cookies at the same time, (all without benefit of a nanny or other support staff) or for putting up with the extreme stress of attempting to cut through the lies of a teenager trying to tell you that of course they were at Jonathon’s house all night and didn’t we trust them? (the correct answer to that one would be no)

The award that I’d be most proud of though, second only to the one for not strangling my son, is for Sensitivity and Maintaining Composure Until After The Incident. The votes will be tallied and I’ll be the clear favorite to win this for not cracking one smile as my 11 year old earnestly explained to me that the reason she’s not popular in her sixth grade class is because she doesn’t have boobs yet.

“Everyone has them except me”
“Everyone? Wow, even the boys?”
“Moooom!”
“Ok, sorry. So all the girls but you, huh?”
“Yeah. Boobs make you popular mom”

Oh, if she only knew.

Wait. I think she does.

Darn it all. There goes my composure award.

Death by General Tso

2011-04-10T22:03:00.000-07:00

My tongue needs a bandaid. And some burn cream. Perhaps a four hour ice bath would be useful as well. Do they make bandaids for lips? Because I could use a sterile covering over them too. Powerful analgesics, the kind you can only get with a prescription from a doctor, would not be out of the question either. I'd prefer that they be applied directly on my lips, tongue, and oh heck, I'll just gargle with it.

You see, tonight I nearly met an untimely death by Chinese food. General Tso's Chicken to be exact. It started out innocently enough. My husband, children and I went out to dinner with my father, my sister and her children, twelve of us altogether. Thankfully there were enough people there to make sure my agony did not go unnoticed. The only thing that would have made it all more bearable would have been if they had managed to catch my writhing on video for later replays at family reunions.

I love Chinese food, and I've even eaten General Tso's chicken in the past without needing medical attention. Tonight was not such an event.

I'd finished my chicken and then noticed a piece of chicken that I'd missed off to the side on my plate. At least I thought it was a piece of harmless, tasty chicken. I picked it up and popped it into my mouth, grazing my lips with the napalm like material. The second it hit my tongue, I spit it out. Yes, spit. Right out. On to my plate. Right in the middle of the restaurant. Surrounded by other patrons. Then the real fun began.

Searing, scalding, skin-scorching pain erupted below my nose. My mouth had disappeared and in it's place was a pyrotechnic display, worthy of any Chinese firework show put on for thousands of people. I'm not certain just how many people the restaurant held, but suffice it to say that what my family lacked in numbers, they more than made up for in noise as they mocked my pain.

I know you're supposed to stop drop and roll when you're on fire, but unfortunately I was physically unable to turn my mouth inside out and press it to the floor of the restaurant. So I did the next best thing. I shoveled in some bland white rice. It didn't help, so I spit it out. Yes, spit. Right out. Into a napkin, then I frantically searched for something else to quench the fire. Sweet and sour chicken? Nope, spit it out. Noodles? Uh uh. Into the napkin it went. Water? Yeah, that was like tossing H20 onto a grease fire. Now the unbearable pain had spread to my entire mouth and it felt like my lips had melted off.

“Stop doing that!” my father half-laughed half-yelled at me as I spewed out another non-fire-retardant morsel of food onto the table.

For the record, broccoli with beef, fried wantons, egg rolls, and breaded scallops will not help you in this situation. My first relief came when my husband shoved a giant bowl of vanilla pudding at me. I spooned half a gallon into my mouth and then rubbed some on my lips. The Hispanic family to our right were staring at me in morbid fascination, probably relieved that the pudding didn't get spit back out. Oh, blessed peace. Then I swallowed the pudding and the burning returned full force. More pudding. More lip covering. Ahhhh. Sweet. When I swallowed, there was more pain. Did I mention that my eyes were watering? I had the Niagara of tear ducts during this event. Each time the pudding went down, the pain increased and the more I cried.

My youngest daughter brought me a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Heaven! Sweet, icy, heaven. I ate two bowls of frozen bliss, holding most of it in my mouth for as long as humanly possible.

It took some time to beat down the flames, but beat them down I did. When the taste buds on my tongue come back, and after my swollen lips have healed, I plan on finding that General Tso and giving him a piece of my mind. Then I'll start marketing lip bandaids filled with vanilla pudding for other victims.

This column was originally published in several papers in 2007 and is being posted here today for Jeri Lynn and Teresa Pyper

2011-03-31T09:30:00.000-07:00

I answered the phone at work today. It was one of my homeless contacts. I asked her how she was doing and she said she wasn't doing as obviously well as I was. She said I sounded incredibly upbeat and happy.

Oh how I laughed. I told her I had to laugh to keep from crying---not that I intend to cry. Crying doesn't help. Plus, we've been through worse.

We had our taxes done a week ago. Apparently a blood sacrifice, along with the donation of several appendages will be required to fulfill our tax debt to Uncle Sam. In our all married life, we've NEVER owed this much money to the government. Hubby got waaaay down but I cheered him up by telling him it was only money. We are all fine (for the most part) and we're healthy, we have each other and life is still wonderful.

When our suburban began to act suspiciously possessed, I took it in to the shop for repairs. They said they've never seen anything like what they saw my suburban do. Never in all their years of working on suburbans. Not once. This was obviously code for, "I do hope you have a shoe box at home stuffed with thousands of dollars"

We've had the flu moving slowly through each member of our family during the past two weeks. We laugh. It's not the end of the world. Ok, I laugh, the others not so much. I haven't been stricken.

As long as we keep our eyes and hearts where they need to be, we'll be fine. I know that the Lord knows me. He knows my family. And you know what? It IS just money. Money. It's not the end of the world.

And when I say we've been through MUCH WORSE, those of you that know our family's history understand what I mean. There's an article written by Richard C. Edgley that has touched me. The full article is here if you'd like to read it.

What he said near the end of this article resonates within me. He says:

There are few of us, if any, who don’t walk the refiner’s fire of adversity and despair, sometimes known to others but for many quietly hidden and privately endured. Most of the heartache, pain, and suffering we would not choose today. But we did choose. We chose when we could see the complete plan. We chose when we had a clear vision of the Savior’s rescue of us. And if our faith and understanding were as clear today as it was when we first made that choice, I believe we would choose again.

Therefore, perhaps the challenge is to have the kind of faith during the hard times that we exercised when we first chose. The kind of faith that turns questioning and even anger into acknowledging the power, blessings, and hope that can come only from Him who is the source of all power, blessings, and hope. The kind of faith that brings the knowledge and assurances that all that we experience is part of the gospel plan and that for the righteous, all that appears wrong will eventually be made right. The peace and understanding to endure with dignity and clarity of purpose can be the sweet reward. This kind of faith can help us to see the good, even when life’s path seems to be layered only with thorns, thistles, and craggy rocks.

All things shall work together for our good---I firmly believe this. If we don't go through the hard times, if we're not tested, how can we prove our faith?

So I smile. I'm bubbly on the phone. I'm actually happy. I know, odd, right?

But not really. Not really at all.

It's Not Easy Letting Go

2011-03-23T23:24:00.000-07:00

Change has never been a comfortable thing for me. I cling to the familiar, the regular and the routine. Handling change isn't easy for me.

A friend posted on her Facebook wall that she'd signed her little one up for Kindergarten and that was perhaps why she was feeling so blue. I flashed back to putting my first Kindergartner on the school bus. I cried as she flashed me a grin, in her jean skirt, pink shirt, flowered vest and white cowboy boots, long blond hair held back by a black headband...

Oh yes, I remember every detail of that morning.

I recall hugging and kissing her goodbye at BYU Idaho. I cried then as well.

I've never been good at letting go. She's 22 now. I love her more today than the day that I brought her into this world. She amazes me each and every day. I'm so proud of the young woman she's become. Still...it's difficult to let go of being The Mom. It's all I've known for so many years.

Kahil Gibran put it so well:

On Children
Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I love you, Stephanie Ann. Some day soon I know I'll be letting you go for a very long time. You're strong, beautiful, smart, spiritual and you know your own mind. Forgive me for hanging on too tightly at times. You are amazing. I admire you more than I could ever express.

I miss my memory....

2011-03-21T23:11:00.000-07:00

Between the time it took me to press send on my cell phone and the first ring on my husband's phone, I forgot what it was I was calling him about.

Completely forgot. Erased from my gray matter. POOF. Gone.

When he answered I told him I couldn't recall why I'd called him but that I knew it was important.

I drove home, racking my brain as I went. After I pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition, I sat there.

This whole getting old thing isn't as fun as I thought it would be.

I've found myself forgetting if I've lathered, rinsed and repeated. I drive places and realize I've been on autopilot the entire way.

I know stress can cause lapses. Lately my life has been the Stress Olympics. I'm also very blessed. Sometimes the glass is half empty, sometimes it's half full and sometimes it's laying shattered in pieces on the floor.

We had our taxes done this weekend. Uncle Sam is requiring us to hand over an arm, a leg, several vital organs and some sort of blood sacrifice. It's not pretty. And that's not stressful either. No siree. Not one bit.

I've noticed daffodils blooming in our yard, crocuses coming up and the pink blossoms are bursting forth on Cherry trees. It's a hopeful time of year.

Getting up in the morning, my jaw is aching from being clenched all night. I have to physically un-fist my hands. The injury I sustained when I fell through the deck in December is still painful and the paperwork and insurance headache is even worse.

I alternate between feeling happy and hopeful, and fighting the desire to curl up in the fetal position under several blankies. I'm drawing the line at a binkie though.

Now if I could just remember why I called my husband...

Perspective

2011-03-14T21:12:00.000-07:00

This column was published after the devastating 2004 tsunami that struck Indonesia. After the earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan I revisited it. My heart is aching for all those who are suffering, for those who have been lost and for those left behind.

More laundry? Man, I spend my entire life doing laundry and dishes for this family. Grrrr…I have so much to do.

“…The Red Cross estimates that although the number of dead is now over eighty thousand, the number will be well over a hundred thousand as more victims are found washed up on the shores or under the rubble…”

I hate this bed of ours. I wake up every morning with a backache. I just hate it.

“…Thousands have lost every material possession they owned when the tsunami struck and are sleeping in the streets or in shelters…”

Man, someone dinged my car in the parking lot? I can’t believe people don’t care about things like that, they just open their doors and WHAM! Uncaring jerks.

“…My neighbors lost their entire house when the wave hit, but my house is still there. They came over to help us go through the rubble and to keep it from being looted…”

The birthday party for ten six year olds was brutal! You should have seen those kids! Ice cream and cake everywhere!

“…It is estimated that the majority of the dead are children, who were most vulnerable to this disaster as they could not run as fast as the adults or were ripped from their parent’s arms as the wall of water struck..”

Clean your room! What is with teenage boys that they can’t pick up their clothes and their rooms just stink to high heaven. Open a window for crying out loud.

“…the stench from the decaying bodies is overwhelming. Everywhere you look, there are bodies lining the roads and in makeshift morgues..”

Did you see that jerk cut me off? Geez, learn to drive you moron! I hate driving in all this traffic with idiots that don’t know how to use a turn signal.

“…cars and buses were picked up by the force of the water and you can see some cars in trees, others are buried in mud. The roads are completely impassable…”

Mom, I hate meatloaf! I’m not eating this!

“..Relief agencies are pleading for donations of money so that food and water can be brought into the hardest hit areas..”

Why do we have to go over to your brother’s house for dinner? You know I hate family gatherings.

“…Generations of families are gone in this terrible natural disaster. Some people have lost their entire family and they alone are left.”

Dang this cold. I feel like crap. My nose won’t stop running.

“…Dengue fever, dysentery and cholera will more than likely kill thousands of people who have survived the tsunami, and most of them will be children and the elderly..”

I hate my job.

“Thousands upon thousands have lost their livelihoods as hotels, restaurants and other businesses were completely demolished..”

It takes forever for this water to get hot in the kitchen; I hate waiting for it to come out.

“There is no drinkable water anywhere in the region. It’s all been contaminated by debris and sewage.”

I complained I had no shoes till I saw a man that had no feet. - Author Unknown

Squid: It's what's for dinner!

2011-03-09T11:59:00.000-08:00

This is a column I wrote a few years ago. No, I haven't matured much since, thanks for asking!

It all started with the squid fight at dinner. I didn’t mean to order calamari rings and when they arrived, I thought they were tiny little onion rings. In my defense, onion rings come breaded and deep-fried, so I just assumed the chef was talented and had used itsy-bitsy onions. I knew when I put it into my mouth that I’d made a mistake. I’m not fond of squid. So, sitting at a restaurant with my husband and five children, (four mine, one a loaner for the weekend trip) I chewed little squid rings. Actually, I only chewed one squid ring. Knowing how my family loves onion rings, I very graciously offered up my special onion rings to any and all. Everyone wanted one! Happily, I obliged by passing them around and gleefully waited for the response I knew was coming.

I didn’t have long to wait.

First there was a look of concern on my son’s face as he chewed. “This doesn’t taste like an onion ring.” I couldn’t help it and giggled, which gave the game away.

My eldest daughter realized what was in her mouth. “Ewwwwwwww!”

I said, “Want another one?” and then tossed it across the table to her. Word of warning here: Adults should never throw food in front of children. It only encourages them. I am not known for following my own advice.

The squid ring landed in her water glass, eliciting whoops and hollers from everyone at the table, including my husband. He was giving me the you-know-you’re-supposed-to-be-the-adult-here-right? Look. For some reason I get that look from him a lot.

It goes without saying that the squid was rescued from its watery grave and tossed right back at me. While I did manage to stop the food fight before French fries and ketchup became involved, it didn’t end there. It never does. Especially when I’m around to make sure it keeps going…. and going…and…. well, you get the picture. My knack for juvenile behavior runs on energizer bunny batteries. Just ask my husband.

I surreptitiously wrapped the remaining squidlet parts in my napkin and slid them into my pocket. As we left the restaurant I managed to put a calamari ring into my son’s pocket without him noticing. Then I attempted to do the same thing to his best buddy Daniel. Since Daniel is not my offspring, he was a little spooked that I was getting that close to him. His unfortunate birth outside of our family gave away my plan. The second the calamari ring landed in his pocket, he knew something was up. Or, um, down as the case may be. He reached into his pocket and squished the breading off the seafood bit as he pulled it from his pants.

I ducked the squid missile he tossed at me and we all ran across the parking lot laughing. The calamari fight continued in the van, as my son found he had just sat on something semi-squishy in his pants and threw it up to the front at me. He missed, and it sailed to the front where it lodged between the dash and the windshield. Did you know that surgical implements are required to remove anything that has been stuck in that area of your vehicle? We had to let it stay, where the heat from the window defrosters gave our van that fishy smell that tells everyone that you are a seafood lover. Either that, or just a….well, never mind.

When I went to bed that night at the hotel I found a little squid remnant under my pillow. Not knowing which child had gifted me, I took it and placed it lovingly inside the front shirt pocket of the dress shirt Daniel was going to wear to church in the morning. He was pleased to have the scent of seafood follow him everywhere that morning.

The hotel served up a lovely free breakfast in the lobby, so we sent the boys down first as we could tell their starvation was imminent. I was so proud to hear my son when he returned to our room and gleefully told us that he’d set a bagel on fire down stairs.

“You should have seen the flames Mom! They shot up so high!”

I have no idea where his bad behavior comes from. I’m planning on talking to his father about that as soon as I get the squid bits out of my suitcase.

8 Days

2011-02-28T20:53:00.000-08:00

It's been 8 entire days since I've blogged.

Boo! Hiss!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like you even checked to see if there was a new blog post. Don't give me that face--I know you didn't.

But it's ok. I have some exciting news to make my two readers jump for joy--or at least whisper a slight Hurrah. Actually I have two pieces of good news.

1. Today was the very first day since December 8th when the world gave way beneath me, that I didn't use some sort of instrument to aid me while walking. That's right----NO MORE CANE!!!. I'll give you a moment

I know, right?

2. I have started back at the gym. Friday night we descended on the gym en masse. And when I say en masse, I mean Lance, Stephanie, Allison, Ashley and I. Chris was working, so he couldn't join in the sweaty fun. Today I went to the pool and when I was done I threw my bathing suit in the garbage there. Trust me, it should have been tossed long ago. Now I just need to find a new one.

I feel a bad emotional experience coming on.

Here's the REAL reason I married him...

2011-02-20T21:15:00.000-08:00

If you know my husband, you can't help but know how wonderful he is. He's sweet and he's kind and he's helpful to the point where I have to remind him to stop helping and please sit down and let someone else do some of the heavy lifting in life.

He's just that way.

If I had a dime for every time someone asked me if he had a brother just like him, I'd have.... Well, I'd have quite a few dimes.

I'd like to say I had a part in his wonderfulness, but alas, he came that way. His mom is amazing and I'm thankful each and every day for the son she raised.

When we were dating is when I learned the depths of his compassion and caring for others.

My older sister Cheri is disabled. She lives in a residential rehabilitation center, uses a wheelchair and has the mental capacity of perhaps a 4 or 5 year old. She's fairly non-verbal but does communicate with us. She can say no, mama, and baby. Cheri loves music. She especially loves the music of The Statler Brothers. She has one of the workers call here at night and she makes me sing Statler Brother's songs to her. You should see her rock out in her chair.

But back to our dating. The Statler Brothers were touring and were coming to Seattle. Lance found out. He said we should take Cheri to see them.

That may seem like a small thing but to me--it was huge. I was in love with him before but now I knew what kind of man he truly was.

We took her to that concert so many, many years ago.

Last night we had some time before we had to pick the girls up from the Fireside at the Bishop's house, so we stopped in to visit Cheri. We put on the Statler Brothers CD I'd made for her and sang as she rocked back and forth in her wheelchair. If you know Cheri, you know she loves to have her fingernails painted. She'll hold up her good hand with a look of pain on her face and give a kind of whine until you ask her if she wants them painted. She'll shake her head yes.

So I painted the nails on her good hand last night. A shockingly hot pink. Then she pulled her crippled hand up and tried to move the fingers out to show me she wanted them painted as well. We noticed that no one had clipped the nails on her bad hand, probably because her fingers are always curled into her fist. We pulled her fingers gently out and my amazingly wonderful husband, clipped them while I held her hand in place. Then I painted those nails too.

She was quite pleased. I sure love that girl....and I adore my husband for loving Cheri as much as I do.

Sorry girls, he's taken.

Things I Have Learned This Week

2011-02-18T16:42:00.000-08:00

I think I shall write a once-a-week blog post on what nuggets of wisdom I've sopped up with my middle aged brain during the previous...you know, week. Perhaps then when I'm nearing my dottage (hush up, Ken)I'll have a plethora of useful facts to read in order to jog my memory.

Or not.

1. It's possible to cram 12 adolescent females into a suburban legally licensed to carry 7 passengers. Please do not ask me how I know this fact.

2. Adolescent females can apparently go vegan at the drop of a sad animal video. And then switch right back to being an omnivore the second you've loaded your fridge with tofu, bean sprouts, vegan cookbooks and vegan refried beans in order to support their desire to eschew all things meaty. You may ask me how I know this, but expect a lengthy diatribe and bring tissues.

3. I am walking ~~kind of, sort of~~ ok until I am brutalized by my physical therapist Ken. Then I cannot walk worth beans for two days afterward. Speaking of beans, anyone want some? I have lots.

4. The probability that a disaster involving something at my job increases exponentially by the number of miles I've driven from my office, causing me to return and rescue someone.

5. I have learned that the only way to get my skinniest daughter to stop asking me if she's fat is to reply, "You are hideously obese. How can you walk through that door, much less hold your head up? Please don't step outside for you will frighten the neighborhood children and any small animals about."

6. Never EVER click on a video from a Latin American country where the title is ,'La Vida no vale nada' You will be spiritually and emotionally bruised for the remainder of the day. They do not have the same requirement to warn viewers beforehand about disturbing and graphic content. Trust me on this. You cannot unsee something once you've seen it.

7. If you want to make a menopausal woman happy, buy her a small personal battery operated fan so she can carry it with her every second of every minute of every day. It will become her new best friend---next to you of course.

8. Just because Cheetos are orange does not mean you can claim they are a vegetable because carrots are the same color. By that reasoning, I can pay you your allowance with actual lettuce instead of dollar bills because they are both green.

9. I may very well be the cause of Global Warming. Someone alert Al Gore

This last one might be the most important thing I've learned this week.

10. "Be still and know that I am God..." Psalms 46:10.

Weren't expecting that last one, were you?

Never EVER ask this question..

2011-02-14T19:56:00.000-08:00

especially when you've just experienced a string of rather unsettling events.

What else could go wrong?

This is a HUGE NO NO. It's like talking about extra money you just came into while driving your car. IT CAN HEAR YOU! No, it really can and it will immediately develop something that requires you spend your extra money (down to the penny) on it. We never talk money in the car. Never ever.

I once made the mistake of saying out loud how amazing it was that we had been Children's ER Free for over a month. BAM! Not more than three hours later we were sitting in a tiny hot room with one of our girls laying on the hospital bed.

Today, after a rather painful night in which one of the kids had to sleep with me and my husband had to sleep elsewhere, we ended up at the pediatrician and then would have been admitted into the hospital (but weren't, that's another story entirely), our basement flooded and then the suburban become possessed.

No, it did. There was no swiveling head and spitting out green pea soup but still. When I turned it off and took the key out, everything started blinking. The lights, the radio station lights, the...everything! I even opened the door to see if that would stop it. Nope.

Blinkity Blink Blink Blink.

I called my husband, who was home and recounted my horror at our possessed vehicle.

He heaved a rather large sigh and said, "What else could go wrong today?"

I shudder to think.

Heaven is Real

2011-02-11T21:01:00.000-08:00

But first.....let's talk about this life for a few minutes.

I've had two...no three, physical therapy visits this month. I won't go into the gory details on how much fun they aren't. I think I've mentioned my first one and I don't care to revisit that horror.

However, on my second visit I was told I was walking wrong. Did you know you can walk wrong? Apparently you can. And I am. Was. Let me explain.

When you injure your leg and/or knee, your body doesn't want to hurt any more. Smart body. In order to not hurt when you walk, your body automatically makes changes in how you walk in order to avoid pain. Avoiding pain is good. I like avoiding pain. In fact my body likes avoiding pain to the point that it's made me walk wrong.

This means I have to learn to walk the RIGHT way again. You might think this would be an easy task. I mean, I've been walking correctly for the better part of half a century. I should know how to do this.

No.

My left leg has been turning out in order to avoid pain when walking. Now I have to train it to walk straight. I thought I was. I wasn't. See how this works? Yeah, me neither.

Now when I walk, it feels like my left foot is turned in at a 90 degree angle. That's what it feels like. What it looks like, is, um, straight. Each step I take is a conscious act. My brain says I'm turning my foot in at such an angle that I must be walking with my left toes pointing directly at my right foot. Not so. They are simply pointing straight forward, as they should be.

My leg is not happy about this turn (ha, see what I did there?) of events. Not happy at all. It hurts. It hurts a lot and I walk like a zombie. Not like an Egyptian, which would be a lot more fun, but like a zombie. Stomp, lurch, repeat. The cane helps me stay upright but I think I lose zombie cred for using it.

Now, about heaven being real. I think I set a new land speed record for purchasing a book on my Kindle and reading it. I saw a news article about this little boy in Nebraska who says he visited heaven when he was gravely ill. His name is Colton. I saw the video on him, grabbed my Kindle, bought the book and read it in a couple of hours.

I've always known heaven was real, and this little guy's experience reinforces that faith I have in what the future holds. If you get the chance, you should read his story. Life is good, but I'm sure that heaven is a whole lot gooder.

It is too a real word!

2011-02-05T19:34:00.000-08:00

After I pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, my son reached for the door handle to get out.

"Hey, stay for a sec", I said, reaching out to him.
He had the door open and half his body out of the suburban already.
"Mom... I know what you're gonna say"
"Yeah?"
He pulled himself back entirely onto the passenger seat and reached over to hug me.
"I like spending time with you too Mom."

I held on to him. We'd just spent a few hours together, unintentionally and unplanned. Those are the best kinds of impromptu times, right?

I was planning on going to the Temple today and he had to go over to Factoria about a job he was starting. Misty weather made for wet slippery roads and since I didn't want him to take his motorcycle, I offered him a ride. I was going in the same direction anyway.

Dropping him off at the Thai place, I decided to stay there for a minute or two and talk to my bank about my poor memory regarding my pin number on my debit card. Surprise, surprise, I was put on hold forEVER. When I finally got through to an overly perky voice, I was informed that even though they knew I was who I said I was, they wouldn't be giving me my PIN over the phone. They'd mail it to me.

That wasn't helpful.

However, I stayed there in the parking lot long enough for my boy to come bounding back up to the suburban to declare that he was done and now what?

Now what indeed? I told him I wasn't going home--I was going to the Temple so I couldn't take him home just yet. He'd be welcome to wait in the car for me though. He thought that was a better choice than trying to bus it home.

Instead of sitting in the suburban, he decided to play piano at the Stake Center behind the Temple. He's teaching himself this very cool song and he's doing it quite well. I always knew he had a gift for piano but it's like so much in life--something that takes a great deal of effort and time is often pushed aside for the easier and less beneficial activities.

I was happy to see him pick up playing again. Very happy.

He doesn't know he was the focus of my Temple visit. He doesn't know my prayers were for him, my heart pouring out for him. My tears...for him. Promises have been made and I intend to work with every thing I am to be worthy to collect on those promises.

So before I let my boy out of the suburban, I held him and kissed his sweet smelling neck. When he was a baby I loved to bury my face in his soft neck, breathe in his sweet baby scent and have that ahhhhhh feeling of love and contentment wash over me.

Now pressing my face to his neck I can smell the musky scent of his body splash, the fragrant hair gel he uses. It's not that sweet baby smell anymore. It's the scent of a nearly-twenty-year-old-young-man trying to find his way.

I'm here to love, support, guide and pray for him. And to remember that the little sweet smelling baby boy I once cradled in my arms may have lost his way for a bit but I have faith he'll remember who he is and where he's going.

I'll always stand where he can see me and the light I'm holding high to help bring him home.

At least he didn't use a cattle prod...

2011-02-01T16:22:00.000-08:00

He hit me with a hard rubber end of a hammer-like thing and smiled. I jumped. It hurt. Was it supposed to hurt? Why would he hit me like that unless he wanted to hurt me? And why was smiling like that? What sadistic person is this that has come into my life?

Sadly, that was just the beginning of the pain I endured at Kyle's hands today. He poked at me, he twisted me around, he forced me up some stairs...down some stairs and when he was done with that pansy easy stuff, he HOOKED ME UP TO SOME ELECTRIC CURRENT AND COVERED MY LEG IN AN ICE WATER FILLED PLASTIC CUFF AND MADE ME LAY THERE FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES WHILE THE ELECTRIC CURRENT ZAPPED ME!

Yes, I began physical therapy today. It is not for the weak. It's not even for the strong. It's just for us damaged folk who haven't been able to walk right in two months.

Kyle is a nice--albeit bossy--physical therapist. I suppose he's got to be the pushy type in order to make recalcitrant patients like myself do things that aren't exactly comfortable and are in fact down right difficult. I was, in fact, quite amenable to all he asked me to do.

I know, go figure. Me being cooperative. You should all pause here for a minute, bow your heads and take a deep breath. A moment of silence wouldn't be too much to ask for this monumental milestone in my life. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Done? Good.

While I didn't understand everything Kyle, he of the bulging muscles and tight t-shirt said to me, I did get this: right leg is 130% of something something something and the damaged left leg can only go to 70% of something something something.

Hey, I warned you that I didn't understand all of it, ok? Ok. All I know is we have a lot of work ahead of us, and by 'us' I mean me. The one laying on a table and sweating while I try to make my leg do things it would rather not do.

My leg would rather be on a warm beach somewhere, with it's toes tickling the toasty surf and being pampered but nooooooooooo. It gets to be semi-electrocuted twice a week for at least six weeks.

Don't be jealous. It's unbecoming. Seriously.

Butter is just a little stick of smiles and happiness.

2011-01-28T21:22:00.000-08:00

According to Paula Dean that is...

Allison: "Mom? Would you make that Breakfast Cheesecake thing again?"
Me: "You liked it, huh?"
Allison: "OHMYGOODNESS YES! It made my tastebuds jump up and dance the swing dance with little poodle skirts on and big puffy hair!"
Me: "Um...ooooo-kay"

I teach a cooking class for the school district and this week we made a Paula Dean recipe for a breakfast cheesecake. I'm not sure Paula Dean has ever made a dish without an entire cube of butter poured over it.

Hashbrowns? Butter.
Pound Cake? Butter
meatloaf? Butter!
Ceaser Salad? FIVE CUBES OF BUTTER!
Shampoo? I'm sure she'd manage to stick butter in there somewhere.

I'm amazed to see that Ms. Dean has a functioning cardiovascular system if this is the manner in which she constantly cooks.

But hey, if her food causes my daughter's taste buds to dress up in poodle skirts and swing dance, I'll simply have to stock up on more delicious sticks of smiles and happiness.

Sometimes....

2011-01-23T21:10:00.000-08:00

I miss writing. Like I used to do, you know? Writing and getting paid to write was such fun. Sometimes difficult but mostly fun.

I might start again. Here a little, there a little. Not as much as I did before because I've got enough jobs to keep me uber occupied otherwise. Perhaps just a dip or two in the warm water of writing to clear out what's in my head. I had a gig at a paper or two here in town and they said I could always come back if I wanted to do so. The editors were fans. Which was nice.

It was always great therapy before. I'm sure it will be again.

And I'll try and tone down the snark. I said try. Try.

As in I can't promise anything.

In other news, someone gave me a can of sugar free Rockstar today. Have you tried this stuff? It tastes exactly like Nyquil of the cherry variety. I take that nasty stuff only when I am desperate for oxygen during nighttime periods.

It was full of ick.

I won't be rushing out to purchase that anytime soon. Or even later than soon.

Does anyone out there even drink that stuff? Sound off. I'd love to know.

On an emergency basis I will drink a lemonade sugar free AMP, but I rarely do that any longer. Except in a emergency. We call it my Emergency Amp and it's hidden in the suburban for..you know. Emergencies.

And on that note, I think I'll call it a night.

They tried to make me go to Rehab but I said no no no...

2011-01-13T19:52:00.000-08:00

Ok, it wasn't me that was sent to rehab. It was my kitty.

We thought we had taken care of Mr. Mitten's drinking issues when we sent him to Kitty Rehab. As you can see from the picture----it didn't take. He's now added a crown.

It's gotten worse in the past few days. He's gone all south of the border on us and we just can't figure out where he picked up that tequila and bling. Bad kitty. Bad, bad kitty.

Unwelcome Guests

2011-01-10T22:12:00.000-08:00

I caught some nasty buggy somewhere. Not sure where it invaded my personal perimeter, but I am not pleased. NOT PLEASED. Do you hear me buggies?

Cease and desist upsetting my respiratory system and then causing me to upchuck my dinner and other unpleasantness best left unsaid. Or unwritten. Or whatever. Just go away. Please.

I missed church on Sunday and work today. I don't want to spread the ~~fun~~ horror.

Most of today was spent curled up in the fetal position under many blankets. Also under a cat. The cat seems to believe I am his bed, which is fine except when he gets all uber lovey and starts that kneading thing with his paws. Then I become less a bed and more a pin cushion.

In other news, I'm walking better. I've begun walking around inside the house without the cane (yay me!) but I think I'll keep it for longer adventures just in case. I still have other issues with the leg and the burseas. Those aren't healing as quickly and still give me problems. I wonder when that will leave?

Maybe I'll be lucky and the buggies and the busted up burseas will all leave together. I'd love to be back to me again.

Changing the Conversation

2011-01-06T07:07:00.000-08:00

If you're like me, and you're probably not (lucky you), you have ongoing internal conversations with yourself. I tend to lay awake at night and can't shut my brain off.

I wonder if that cleared the bank yet.... Hmm, yes definitely Johnny Depp.....wait, did I give Ash her meds tonight?.....mmm...chocolate...

Those are mostly the benign thoughts that pass through my gray matter. Then I really get going with the good stuff.

Wow....I really messed that one up today.....could I BE any more hideous looking? I mean really....I wonder who it was that did that to me....why didn't we have family prayer tonight? ARG I AM SUCH AN IDIOT.....I didn't know I was doing it wrong, did I? Was I told that before? Who did I tick off? I don't remember messing that up but I must have if they complained about it....Oh CRAP, how many days till the state visit to check my records?????? ARGHHHHHH!

At this point in my internal monologue I'm usually squirming and my stomach begins to hurt. I flip and flop in the bed. I continue to excoriate myself for my failings that day...and then I move on to my past failures, of which there are many.

What was I thinking??? I wasn't, as usual. I am too dumb to live. I can't believe I did that. Why did I do that? What IS WRONG WITH ME? I knew better. I did. I'm not a good person. How can I be a good person if I did that? .... I'm so stupid....dumb, that was dumb...I know I looked like an idiot when....

And on and on it goes.

Last night as I was writhing inside, chastising myself for my weaknesses, for my stupidity and foibles I (as usual) felt horrible.

Then I stopped and a thought ran through my mind.

Why do I always tell myself how awful I am and catalog my mistakes? Why don't I lay here and think about all the GOOD things I've done instead?

So I tried. I really did. Like most of us, we've been taught not to blow our own horns, to be humble. I've raised self deprecation to an art form. If there was a Self Esteem Destruction Olympics, I'd be on the top platform trying to stand up under the weight of all the gold medals around my neck.

I tried again.

That Hispanic woman in line behind me at the store didn't have enough money to buy her milk...so I paid for it for her. I bought that homeless guy breakfast and gave him a hat, poor guy it was so cold out I can't imagine sleeping outside when it's like this....I'm so glad I can finally stand up long enough to make dinner...that meatloaf was really good tonight...everyone seemed to like it....now that he's got a battery for his car I hope he can find a job...I better put more protein bars in the suburban to give to the homeless guy...I love my husband. I'm so blessed to have this man in my life....

My tummy felt a little better.

I've decided when I lay down at night to account for my day I will NOT focus on my weaknesses. I will NOT recount all my sins, going back to my infancy, and I WILL talk kinder to myself during my internal conversations. If I don't, who will? :)

Back in the Saddle Again....

2011-01-03T20:53:00.000-08:00

Yes, that's me. I'm baaaaaack. Well, back to work anyway. No saddle involved. I managed to work a total of FOUR ENTIRE HOURS today.

Yes, I know. Amazing. Miraculous. Stunning. It was all those things and more!
Not everyone can push forward in such daunting circumstances for FOUR ENTIRE HOURS!

Yeah, ok. There were pain meds involved, but who hasn't needed legally prescribed narcotics to make it through their day?

Better living through pharmaceuticals is what I say. Only when I'm actually using said pharmaceuticals.

Actually, truth be told, I'd much rather not need the drugs. They make me woozy and fuzzy and today I was asked a question by a coworker and after I said, 'Uh....um...." several times, she asked me if I was on pain meds.

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!

Yes, I'd taken ONE pain pill. Yesterday I was pleased that I didn't have to take any. For the first time in nearly a month I didn't ---oh wait. I did too take some. I was out at church and needed to.... phooey. Ok. Well, I'm sure soon I won't need to take any.

A girl can dream, right? Right.

Being back at work was good. I managed to get a lot done---so I actually felt accomplished for the first time a month.

We'll see what tomorrow holds.

I never stopped loving...

2011-01-02T21:42:00.000-08:00

Today marks the 22nd anniversary of the most amazing event of my life; the day I became a mother for the first time.

It's something of a miracle to me that I can remember every moment of her birth.

One of the lighter moments in my 21 hour labor (and it WAS labor) came seconds after her birth when my mother said, "Oh Pam, it's a boy!"

I distinctly recall laying there with my eyes closed (I was exhausted) and thinking, 'um...no, it's not a boy. I know it's a girl'

The doctor then pronounced, "Mrs. Kinnaird? You have a beautiful baby girl"

My mother's intuition was far better than any ultrasound could ever be,

They laid that tiny bundle in my arms. I can still feel her velvety soft cheeks and her wrinkled up brow. Oh how I loved. How I still love. How I will always love.

From diapers to potty training, from snuggles to teenage hormonal horrors that often left me shattered and nearly broken, I never stopped loving. I kept a Mother's Journal for her and in it I wrote that there were times I would quietly go into her room as she slept to look at her. Tears of pain and frustration running down my cheeks I would gently caress her cheek, whisper to her how much I loved her and then return to my own bed.

Parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

I'm so proud of my daughter--for her quiet strength, for her return to the strong faith in God and the gospel that she's been taught all her life but had to find out on her own the truth of it all. I'm grateful for the trials and the hardships and the heartaches.

I never stopped loving.

Thank you for teaching me unconditional love, my daughter. Thank you for leaving your heavenly home and for being loaned to me for this mortal life.

I love you. Always remember that m'ija. Always. Happy Birthday!

Blogging

2010-12-31T15:54:00.000-08:00

My first year of blogging was in 2006. I blogged 371 times that year.

THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-ONE TIMES!

I must have had an awful lot to say that year, as I blogged more than once. In 2007, I blogged 140 times, 2008, 186 and in 2009 121.

In the year of our Lord, 2010, I have blogged a total of...

Drum Roll Puhleeeeeeeese.....

46 times.

I said...46 times. With this post it will be 47 in total.

Now, either I had nothing to say this year (which is laughable for those that know me) or I was otherwise occupied. Or it may just be that I didn't know how to put into words what was going on in my life.

Sometimes the latter was very much the case.

As I sit here in our newly finished basement family room/bedroom and watch my 14 year old play piano, I am content. We haven't had a piano for her to play on since we moved here 3+ years ago and it has grieved me. My in-laws send me birthday money each year so this year I used it to purchase a piano so my children can once again make beautiful music. My three oldest play piano and guitar and when I listen to them my heart is happy.

Happy is good.

For Christmas this year we purchased a Kindle for each of our children. I am thrilled to see them so excited about reading and finding new books and filling their minds with new ideas and adventures. They each have the scriptures on their Kindles plus books they are in the process of reading.

Reading is good.

Family can be the most joyous and the most irritating part of life. For the most part this year, it has been joyous, with a few bumps along the way. Friends may come and friends may go, but your family is forever. As I watch my children struggle through the vicissitudes of teenage-hood and young adulthood, I am reminded that to struggle is not always a bad thing. It helps you grow, painful as it may be during the process. We learn from our trials. We mature. We grow.

Growing is good.

As 2010 draws to a close (only 6 more hours left) I want to express my gratitude for the blessings in my life. For my family, my friends (you know who you are!) For those that are my friends on facebook, for that have unfriended me on facebook (thank you!) and for those that I first met when I began this blogging adventure and have stayed with me all these years. They are, in no particular order, Vicus, Tom (are you still out there Tom dear?), Mike, Richard, Suicide Blond, ,Donn, Kelly and Dave. You were the bloggers I connected with in the beginning. There were others that I met along the way but you are the ones that have stayed with me even on Facebook.

And for those that reach my blog by searching for The Infatuation Monster (which is how 90% of my readership arrives here), thank you for reading.

Happy New Year to you all. May the coming year bring you peace, jobs for those that are seeking, weight loss for those weight-lossing, travel for those who need to get away from it all (you know who you are), and love.

See you on the flip side!

I believe....

2010-12-22T22:22:00.000-08:00

I believe that people are basically good. I see it everyday---good people, making good choices.

I saw a huge pile of food and cups with Starbucks logo on them that were given to the homeless guy on 145th today. I didn't see him, but I saw the evidence of giving that was left.

I saw a sister in our ward (who didn't see me) hand food to youth collecting for a food bank.

A young man held a door open for me today.

I believe people are basically kind and compassionate. I've been the recipient of that human kindness many times over the years. Most recently, due to my accident, good sisters in our church have brought dinners in to us every other day for two weeks. Two weeks. These are busy people with busy lives and yet they have taken time to care for me and for our family during this difficult time.

When my mother was dying and we were taking care of her, some of these same sisters came and cleaned my house.

People are good.

But sometimes people make poor choices. I've made many poor choices in my life--but I hope the good choices I've made out weigh the bad. I try. Sometimes I fail. And sometimes I fail spectacularly.

Someone asked me tonight if I believed that a man could change. If a man could find God and repent and be a changed man. I answered yes. I know that man can repent and change and become better than he was before. I know the Gospel of Jesus Christ changes people's hearts and people's lives. I've seen it. I've experienced it.

I know it is possible.

I believe that because we are sons and daughters of the Most High God, that we are heirs to the kingdom of heaven. I know that people are good---they are born sinless and pure. When someone has broken our hearts or deceived us, we can turn our backs on them and leave them to their ways or we can forgive. Forgiving them and helping them find their way back might not be easy---but it's right. We don't abandon the sinner--- Christ didn't. We shouldn't.

Personal choices are everything. There have been times when those I've loved have used their ability to choose in ways not consistent with moving in the right direction. I've made poor choices that have not served me well and I've learned to turn around and face the light again. Choosing light over darkness is always the best choice. The right choice.

I'm thankful for the ability to choose. I'm grateful for the blessing of repentance.

I'm especially thankful for the beginning of the new year and new beginnings.

Our Morning

2010-12-20T12:52:00.000-08:00

She wasn't as nervous as I thought she'd be this morning. But then, she's usually a trooper at the hospital unless needles are involved when she's conscious. She had already been assured that she wouldn't even see a needle while her eyes were open.

And so it was. I hobbled back to the operating room with her and her nurse. She climbed on the bed and looked up at me. They'd given her the option of going to that room with just her nurse and she looked at me. Naturally she was old enough and mature enough but was I?

No, I wasn't. So I held her hand as she was given the option of strawberry or rootbeer or orange in her mask. One nurse lauded the rootbeer odor while another shuddered and said she couldn't stand that one and orange was best.

Ash opted for rootbeer. The nurse sprayed a bit of it in the clear mask and then placed it over Ashley's nose and mouth. I watched her eyes as she breathed in and out. They switched on the anesthesia and I could smell it from where I was standing holding her hand. "Smells like dirty socks, doesn't it? said a nurse. Ash slightly nodded her head.

Her eyes had been closed but then opened. Glassy and moving---back and forth. I watched as she let go of my hand and drifted off. Ushered out to the waiting area, I debated going to the cafeteria but I already hurt enough walking as far as I had that morning so I settled into a couch, put my leg up and pulled out my Kindle. I'd read several chapters in Bush's autobiography, 'Decision Points' when they doctor came out to talk to me.

Endoscopy went well, they had taken several biopsies and we'd know the results in a few weeks. He showed me pictures they'd taken of the interior of my little girl's intestinal system. Interesting.

A bit later the surgical nurse came and escorted me back to the post op area. Ash was lying in her bed, her gown off one shoulder and looking a bit loopy.

One stuffed ducky and an orange popsicle later, she was put into a wheelchair and off we went. Picture this...I had to give her my cane to hold so I could push her wheelchair. At this point I was glad not to run into anyone we knew.

So we're home now. She's resting. I'm resting. We're glad it's over.

I do so love this child.

Best Day since...since...since...

2010-12-18T23:29:00.000-08:00

since ten days ago when I fell through some decking I actually got to go somewhere kinda fun.

The first was the Christmas party for my older sister Cheri at her new unit at Fircrest. The residents there and their families fill the dining room with mountains of food. Delicious food. Food designed to make you happy. Food that indeed gives you a taste of the holiday season while adding massive calories to your intake.

But I digress.

The food was amazing. Since I've graduated from crutches to a cane (stop laughing), I hobbled over to sit by my sister and others brought us plates of food. I helped Cheri eat, talked to family and and other families and met her new caretakers. Cheri was dressed festively, as she should have been. Tis the season, no?

For those you who don't know me, Cheri is a special person. An amazing person. I love her immensely and stand in awe of her innocence and goodness. I've been blessed to have her as my sister.

One of her friends there at Fircrest is Wayne. Every day of the year you will find Wayne sporting a suit coat, tie and slacks. Each and every day. He must have thousands of ties, but still wants more. Each year in December, Wayne transforms into Santa Wayne, complete with costume. It's a Fircrest tradition.

He's such fun. His trademark lines are "She's a peach!" and "Cher-iiiii!" with an almost French affectation. Adorable. Cheri and Wayne are great friends. I'm so happy they're finally living in the same unit.

After we left there, Lance took me to Home Depot. Here, instead of walking with a cane, I was zipping around in one of those little scooters for people of limited ambulatory skills. You know, like moi. As I said above, don't laugh. This might be YOU one day. I must confess, it was FUN! Zipping here, zipping there. They might not look like it, but those babies can corner. Seriously.

And also? That whole beeping-while-backing-up thing that I probably should have been doing my whole life? Yeah, those little carts do that too. Very cool. And juuuuuuust a tad embarrassing.

We picked out the flooring for the basement room, the base boards and a few other items. Then we went home where my amazing husband and my in-training-to-be-amazing son soon got busy in the basement, putting in the flooring and commencing the caulking.

Isn't that cool flooring? I think so. It's going to be a GREAT family room. Can't wait for the kids to have a slumber party there, play their Wii and their xbox, Rockband and any other game they can come up with. I'm thrilled for them. It's been difficult for them here because they've not had a place to go to be free and have some fun.

Here's my wonderful son helping out.

This week we'll be playing musical bedrooms. Chris is moving down to the basement, Lance and I are moving to his room, Alli and Steph are moving into our room and Ashley will finally, finally be moving into her very own room after sleeping on the floor in our bedroom for almost three years. She's so excited.

I think I need a baby monitor.

And now it's late. I've done too much today. For me anyway. I'm paying for it with stabbing pains in my leg. It's time to dream of sugar plum fairies and Christmas shopping to be done. Ok, that's not a dream, that's a nightmare.

Nativitatis apparatum interrupta

2010-12-16T23:17:00.000-08:00

I was given some wonderful treats today---twice actually. The first was when my husband came home and brought me some goodies from my work. Today was my work Holiday luncheon. I couldn't go. I wish I could have but I did too much yesterday by going to the doc and then the hospital for my doppler exam on the busted up knee. Doc thought I had a blood clot because my leg is incredibly swollen and hard.

No blood clot. I'm so thankful my wonderful husband was there to hold my hand while the technician pressed the device into my bruised leg. It was unpleasant. Except for holding Lance's hand. I'm so grateful to have him.

So, today no party for me. However, my husband stopped in at my office and picked up several goodie bags that people in the office had given me. Such delights!

Then it dawned on me. I can't reciprocate. I have no way to do my usual Christmas baking frenzy and I feel so horrible about it. I always, always make tons of goodies for Christmas. I bake sugar cookies and spritz cookes, snowballs and sour cream cookies. I bake them to give away. This is the first year ever that I've not been able to do so.

All because of some rotten wood.

I'm frustrated. Nine days to Christmas and you know how many Christmas presents I've bought? One. No, two. My list is immense.

But I've gotten off topic. The subject was goodies. After the delivery of the goodies, dinner was delivered by a sister in the ward. Shannon made THE best cheesy taters, meatloaf and salad. PLUS, the huge tin of Christmas goodies.

Oh my goodness. Yummies. So yummy. All different shapes and sizes. My mouth was once again in a state of bliss.

And then it hit me again; I can't reciprocate.

I understand that in the grand scheme of things it's really not a big deal. It's not. I know. I get it.

And I'll be fine with it. I think I'm allowed a few moments of frustration. Also, I'm learning. All experiences are for our good. We learn, we grow and we come out on the other side of our trials all the better for them.

There. Frustration gone.

I've been decorating 30 stockings by writing names on them in glitter. They're for Christmas Eve. It's something I can do while sitting down with my leg elevated. I think they're very pretty.

Despite everything, I'm thankful I know that my Father in Heaven is aware of my heart--and the hearts and trials of my family. He's there for us and as we prepare to celebrate Christ's birth, I cannot help but say God is good.

Rockwell Moment Destroyed

2010-12-10T06:15:00.000-08:00

(Note: the only reason I am writing this somewhat coherently is that the pain meds have worn off. I am taking this searing-agonizing-between-oxycodone moment to regale you with my hilarious evening out with the family. Enjoy. )

We were having such a lovely family moment Wednesday night. All four of our children together for Santa pictures, then a trip to the Hallmark store to get our yearly ornaments.

"Honey, we could be a Norman Rockwell painting. This is so wonderful" I said to my husband. He laughed and agreed. It's an amazingly content feeling having all my children with us. I really did say that thing about the Rockwell painting. Honest.

However, I've not seen a Rockwell moment end in screaming, blood, sirens, medics and did I mention the screaming?

That's the way our Rockwell Evening finished up.

With our busy lives it's so hard to get everyone together, even for a meal. But we have one very important family tradition each and every year for the past 22 years; Santa pictures and ornament buying. I have two very large frames that hold each memory of these events, lined up by year. Each Christmas I bring them out and hang them on the wall to ~~embarrass my children~~ see my children as they've grown up over the years.

So we got the picture taken, purchased it and went on our way to the Hallmark store in Canyon Park to pick out ornaments. Each year each offspring gets to buy a new ornament. We mark it with their names and when they marry and leave home, they'll take a lifetime of Christmas memories with them. I know, very Norman Rockwell, right?

We finished buying ornaments and on our way home we were driving past Country Village, which as you might expect, looks like a country village.

It was a dark and stormy night. I know, I know, but it was. Dark AND stormy. Raining too. We parked and proceeded to the boardwalk. And when I say 'boardwalk', I literally mean we were walking on boards. Tiny little rotten boards. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

My three daughters spied a boutique clothing store and we followed in right behind. I'm not big on shopping--ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you. I hate shopping. However, I enjoy browsing nice independent shops with interesting and different offerings. As my girls were ooohing and ahhing and trying things on, my 19 year old son Christopher and I stepped out for some air. It was kind of warm in that little shop and I don't do warm.

We walked out and around a corner to window shop. I told him how happy I was to have him with us and he laughed. "Don't laugh, I remember when you didn't want to go anywhere with us--ever" He then said the words every mother of a teenager would pay dearly to hear. "I know. I was pretty stupid back then. I just didn't understand" We then talked about Canon Beach Oregon and the time we took him there and he spent the entire time being mad at us. For taking him to one of the most gorgeous places on earth. It was nice to hear him say that he'd been dumb and then APOLOGIZE for how he'd acted that way.

I was incredibly happy at that moment.

We walked back to the clothing boutique to see if they were done yet. They weren't. Alli had a beautiful white coat on. I agreed we should buy it. Ashley had a shirt she liked and Steph was sporting a new hat. Ashley asked me to come outside so she could show me something else she liked. We walked outside and she went ahead of me to another little store with some purses outside on a table. The one she liked was $40. I told her sorry, but she wouldn't be going home with that purse.

I turned and walked back towards Chris, who was outside the other boutique the others were in with their clothes. I put my left foot forward and down, you know, like people walking are wont to do.

All I remember of this horrible moment is a loud crack like a gunshot and instant agony. I was down with my left leg wedged to the thigh in what felt like a vise. I heard screaming and realized it was me.

The medics asked me later if I'd lost consciousness. I wish I had been knocked out. The pain was intense. Lance had run out from the store and pulled my leg free---oh--oh--oh the pain. I was screaming and sobbing and laying face down on the wet boardwalk.

I remember hearing Ashley sobbing hysterically that it was all her fault because she'd asked me to go outside. I knew my crying was further upsetting her and I tried to calm myself so she wouldn't get so hysterical that she'd have a seizure. I tried to take deep breaths---it wasn't easy. I called out to her from the ground as the medics were working on me that it wasn't her fault. Mommy would be fine. It. Was. Not. Her. Fault.

I was on my back and rain was falling on my face. Blankets were placed on me, someone's coat was under my head and still the rain fell. I heard Stephanie asking if anyone had an umbrella--apparently no one did because she took off her coat and held it over me so the rain wouldn't drown me. I was shaking so hard, sobbing and trying so hard to stop so I wouldn't further frighten my children.

The put a brace on my leg and eventually put me on a board to get me off the wet cement I was laying on. Shaking...crying....shaking. Hands were holding mine. Some were my family, one was a lady I didn't know who leaned down to tell me how sorry she was, that she knew I was in great pain and tried to help me get my breathing under control.

The ride to Northwest Hospital was a new adventure in pain. I hadn't realized there were so many bumps in the road. Really hadn't noticed them too much before--now each one made me wince and cry out. Ashley was riding along in the front seat of the ambulance with me.

I won't bore you with every little detail now of the multiple needle pokes to get an IV going on me, or the x-ray and MRI and several shots of Dillauded they pushed into my IV to help my pain. Suffice it to say that the fall through the boardwalk tore my medial collateral ligament and tore my meniscus in two places. I'm purple from my shins up to my middle thigh. They say I'll need surgery to repair the damage. I'm hoping to see the Orthopedic Surgeon today to find out when and what the surgery will entail.

So this Rockwell Evening didn't end as I'd planned---with us all having hot chocolate around the piano while Alli played Christmas songs and the family sang along. It wouldn't have worked out anyway.

First of all--we're sans piano at the moment so that wouldn't have happened. We do have hot chocolate at the house but I guess I'll never really know how the night should have ended.

All I know is that Rockwell never painted a picture like this...

I know I just wrote a new post.....

2010-12-05T22:03:00.001-08:00

but as I was looking at a friend's picture on Facebook just now, I started laughing. Then I laughed harder. Giggles, chortles and some mighty guffaws.

I know there's a fine line between hilarious and hysteria. I may have inched a bit too close to that line just now.

But I swear---once you hear my reason, and if you're the mother of more than one child AND you're not overly OCD, you'll understand. I promise.

The picture that made me laugh was of a tiny infant, wrapped so beautifully in a blanket, sporting a lacey headband and bow. Only her perfectly sweet face was visible. She was swaddled and laying on a shelf. Next to her were some nicely folded pink blankets and on the shelf below her were two gorgeous baskets decorated with pink fabric with large brown polka dots.

Inside these two baskets were disposable diapers, all lined up in rows. It was so sweet and perfect and I laughed.

Can you guess the reason?

My husband did. I showed the picture to him and asked him if he knew why it had made me laugh.

I love that man for getting me so thoroughly. I'm not sure it bodes well for his sanity---but I do love him.

And now...back to the hysteria.

Starting Over

2010-12-05T21:25:00.000-08:00

Making a decision that's wrong is sometimes difficult to see right at the beginning. After a time, you can see that the path you rejected was actually one that would have been beneficial to you had you stayed on course instead of quitting.

Sometimes it takes time, distance and maturity to see these things clearly. I'm amazed at the way my 12 year old has come to a very wise decision all on her own: she shouldn't have quit her swim team.

Last year, as she was qualifying to go to the Nationals in her disabled category, she adamantly refused to continue. She quit.

This week she talked to me before an appointment she had at Children's Hospital and told me she wanted to join her team again. I was elated---especially that it was her choice and not the decision of her parental units.

It had to come from her.

During a break at the hospital we talked to the wonderful woman who leads the Shadow Seals Swim Team. Kiko never made her feel bad about quitting and welcomed her back with a huge hug. She knew that decision had to come from Ashley.

And so it did. She's baaaaaaaack!

An Attitude of Gratitude

2010-11-24T20:22:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The one day a year that we are required by law to take the day off from paid labor and labor without pay. See what I did there? I turned it arou.... Yeah. Nevermind.

It's 8:30 on Thanksgiving Eve. Four pies, 2 dozen deviled eggs, and a double batch of spinach dip were completed after my paid labor today. I'll rise early tomorrow morning to make stuffing, then stuff it inside dead poultry.

While I love the tradition that's been passed down to me--that of making mountains of food so the family can eat themselves comatose, that's not what I wanted to write about tonight.

Being thankful. Having a heart full of gratitude. My heart is indeed full and I am thankful for so many things. Here's a list, in no particular order of things I'm thankful for:

1. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (Remember, I said in no particular order)
2. My husband. Kindhearted, forgiving, giving, sacrificing, patient man.
3. Thankful that my oldest daughter has turned her heart to the Lord and to things spiritual.
4. Our kitty. So soft, so affectionate. It's my living stuffed animal :)
5. My job. I love what I do and that is just a huge bonus.
6. My Sunbeams. I look forward to their hugs and smiles all week long.
7. My cranky, cantankerous, curmudgeonly father who hides a big heart.
8. The scriptures that fill my soul when I read them.
9. For being bilingual.
10. To have grown up with a disabled sister and to have learned compassion for the
special people among us.
11. Warm steamy showers in cold snowy mornings.
12. Heated leather seats in a 4wd drive-fossil-fuel-guzzling machine.
13. My son, who has taught me how to love unconditionally and brought me closer to my Father in heaven.
14. The beach cabin where we've made such amazing family memories.
15. NCIS. Seriously. Who doesn't love Leroy Jethro Gibbs? C'mon.
16. My mom for giving me life and loving me so much. I miss her.
17. Navigation on my Droid. Honestly, I'm so directionally challenged I can get lost in my own house. Technology is AMAZING.
18. My Kindle. Ok, I don't have one yet but a girl can dream.
19. Answers to prayers---lifting of burdens and the knowledge that I have a loving Heavenly Father who is aware of my sorrows and my joys.
20. Old friends. We can be apart for years and then pick right up where we left off.
21. The ability to change the channel when Victoria's Secret model commercials come on.
22. Music.
23. The smell of fresh cut grass.
24. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I may have mentioned that one before.
25. Allison's sense of humor. That girl makes me laugh and laugh and laugh.
26. In-laws who are loving and kind and accepting.
27. A down comforter on chilly winter nights.
28. The fact that my 12 year old doesn't consider herself too old for snuggles and hugs.
29. A full refrigerator so my children are not going hungry.
30. The opportunities I have to serve others.
31. Phad Thai. Honestly--go to Thai Fusion near Northgate Mall. It's amazing.
32. Root beer. Icy cold root beer.
33. Kind people who don't base their personal assessments on someone's looks.
34. "It's a Wonderful Life". Always makes me cry.
35. Getting lost in a good book to the point where I can't put it down.
36. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Yeah, I know.

I'm stopping here. It's late and I have miles to go before I sleep.

Suffice it to say that I have been so blessed that my list could take up an incredible amount of pixels and still I would not have covered it all.

So happy Thanksgiving everyone. I'm also thankful for you. If you're an old friend, a new friend or someone who happened upon my blog by accident. Thank you.

Now go have a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup! :)

Snow instead of waves...

2010-11-22T15:16:00.000-08:00

This is what it's doing today here. Snow. Lots and lots of snow. Freezing temperatures, hovering between 27 and 28 but sure to dip down lower this evening. My day was a hectic jumble of starts and stops. Drop kids off, pick them up. Slide here, slide there. Catch a few pictures of the elusive and infamous Ashley The Patrol Worker. See?

She really tried to avoid having her picture taken in all that garb, but I managed to do it anyway. See those ear muffs? Yeah, I bought them this morning. The boots? Yeah, those too. Also, that jacket she's wearing isn't hers. It's her daddy's lumber-jack-ish jacket. At first she was reluctant to wear it, but once she felt how very cold it was, she relented.

I'm wishing it was warmer and we were out here watching this instead of the snow :)

"You look so happy"

2010-11-20T21:09:00.001-08:00

This is what my brother-in-law said to me as we walked into his house tonight.

"What?"

"I don't know, you just look so happy"

I smiled again and said, "I am. I really am"

And I am. As we were driving over to their house this evening I felt extremely content. Just having my two girls in the suburban with us, having them chat and talk and laugh with us, made my heart happy. I am blessed.

As we drove I held my husband's hand. I am blessed.

Then I turned on my heated leather seats. OOOOOH I am blessed. Seriously, if you haven't ever had the experience of sitting on heated seats, you MUST. Not that having leather seats is my most important blessing of course. It's lovely and it's cozy and I adore those seats, but that wasn't the main reason why I looked happy.

It helped of course. :)

It's family. It's love. It's listening to the sounds of my teenager laughing in the backseat with her sister. It's knowing our oldest daughter is at work and wants me to come by and keep her company as she closes up for the night. It's knowing where my son is---getting a haircut and knowing he has a job interview on Monday that has buoyed up his spirits that makes me happy.

I am blessed.

Trials come and trials go. The constant and most amazing joy I have in life is found within my family. And of course, sitting on heated leather seats doesn't hurt :)

Tired...

2010-11-17T20:46:00.000-08:00

It's 11 at night and my new neighbors are dumping their glass recycle into their bins under my bedroom window. It's noisy and just a little irritating. It's also their pattern. Each night it's the same. Each and every night.

It's not that I'm asleep at that hour----because I'm not---it's that my husband is. He has to go to sleep early because he gets up at the crack of holy-crap-it-can't-be-morning-already. And it's not. Morning, I mean. He gets up before the birds do.

My new neighbors are noisy but that's not why I'm tired. My baby girl keeps me awake. Or wakes me up. Or keeps me up. Worry about what's going on with her and why she's suffering so much.

The last three weeks have been less than fun. Doctors and tests and pain and angst and worry. Does she have blood clots? More damage? No, CT scan shows no more brain damage than what was already caused by the stroke. Small blood clots? Maybe. Ulcers? Won't know until the endoscopy. Sudden onset migraines? Dunno. Let's give her four more prescriptions and see if anything stops the pain.

Side effects from one med to be negated and treated with yet another med. Round and round we go...where it stops, nobody knows.

So, I'm tired. Though I did sleep a great deal today. Mostly because every time I got up the world went round and round like I was on a carnival ride. I don't like carnival rides. I actually dislike them. A lot.

It's an odd sensation when the world is out of whack.

It feels out of whack in more ways than just my equilibrium. I hope there's an answer soon.

A tiny white coffin...

2010-11-15T21:52:00.000-08:00

Today I drove into the cemetery under a cold wet rain and saw the tiny white coffin sitting on it's stand under the canopy. Empty chairs faced the coffin.

..oh...oh....

I parked and walked into the mortuary where the mourners were waiting. I hugged the bereft mother and whispered how very sorry I was...

Sorry that she won't be up for 2 a.m. feedings and giddy delight over her girl's first smile. No potty trainings, no first steps or sticky kisses....No first days in Kindergarten and crushes on boys...Oh so sorry...so very sorry...

We walked up the hill in the cemetery to baby land. Tiny headstones were spaced a foot or so apart in the green grass. I tried not to look down and read the names and dates as I passed them but I couldn't help myself.

Sweet Angel in Heaven....Cherished Baby Girl...Beloved son.... So many baby headstones, so much anguish accompanying each one...

My heart ached as I clutched my big black umbrella and listened as these words were spoken over that tiny white casket:

‎"Moreover, we can’t fully appreciate joyful reunions later without tearful separations now. The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life."
~Russel M. Nelson

We cannot take love out of life. To do so would defeat our very purpose for being.

So much pain...difficult to understand from our limited mortal view, but oh....oh the sweet reunions to come when tears of pain and sorrow will be replaced with joy.

My heart and soul knows and believes in the reunions to come...but oh....the little white casket... oh...

Letting the Light In...

2010-11-10T20:45:00.000-08:00

If you look closely, you can see the tiny patch of blue sky peeking from behind the dark clouds. It's not easy to see because the dark clouds surround the area where the light shines through.

I took this on Monday as Alli and I were driving up highway 2 towards Steven's Pass. For those of you that worry, no, I was not actually driving at the time. We'd just come out of a very small town grocery store with some snacks to see us through our morning adventure.

Yes, I was supposed to be working and she was supposed to be in school. Neither of us were where we should have been that morning....but we were where we needed to be. Away and alone and under threatening darkness with small patches of light shining through. I was looking for more light for her. And some peace.
.
Once we got to Skykomish, I turned off the highway and just....meandered. It's a postage-sized small town nestled in the Cascade mountains. Alli nodded off once or twice on the way there. I'd taken her cell phone and Ipod from her when we left civilization. I told her it was time to take a day unplugged. She agreed.

Driving from the center of Skykomish we found this overgrown cottage and thought it might be a little too much for a fixer upper and the commute would kill us but dreaming about what we might do to it was fun.

A bit down the road we saw a sign that said Money Creek Park. I turned left and began an ascent that took us further and further from people and abandoned cottages and stress.

We never did find the park. What we find was a road that was two lanes, then one lane and eventually dwindled down to a barely passable lane with a great deal of damage.

We also found this... This must have been Money Creek sans park.

It was beautiful.

Further up we came to a sign that said Lake Elizabeth. Again, no park and no discernible way to get down to the lake but a beautiful and calm lake it was.

Yes, that's snow dusting the evergreens. Twas a bit chilly.

We pressed further onward and upward. I put the suburban into four wheel drive. Alli was once again asleep by this time and missed the part where the road became incredibly difficult and nearly impassable. I found myself talking to myself and the suburban as we jolted and lurched our way through one bad section after another.

She woke up after the jarring parts were over and awoke to see this beautiful place.

We talked. Communicated. Unplugged is good. No distractions. All the background noise and stress was removed and replaced with the gurgling of the creek and sound of wipers brushing falling snow from the windshield.

So no, we weren't where we were supposed to be that day. We ran away and it's ok. Sometimes unplugging, four wheeling and talking is more important than other things. And it lets the light shine more freely through....

I so love my girl.

Things that frighten me

2010-10-31T20:12:00.000-07:00

Fake blood and eerie things that go bump in the night...goblins and ghosts knocking on your door, asking for candy. Halloween is the time of year that brings out gory movies, rubber masks and terrifying Lady Gaga costumes.

Those things don't frighten me. Ok, the Lady Gaga thing is unsettling, but she usually doesn't make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Usually.

I have other things that scare me. Here's the short list, in no particular order:

1. Not graduating from high school--or having to go back and do it again. I have a reoccurring dream in which I've somehow decided to go back to high school and graduate. These dreams do not end well, as I would not exactly blend with the current population of my former school. Then there's the whole I-never-went-to-a-class-and-today-is-the-final-day part of the dream. I do not wake up feeling rested and calm from this dream.

2. Having my youngest daughter suffer more damage from her condition than she's already suffered.

3. Creepy life sized zombie, monster or movie-killer mechanical moving 'dolls'. I was unaware that I had this fear until I was Halloween shopping with my husband and came across three of them that were moving and talking and LOOKING AT ME. I walked quickly in the other direction to gaze at the children's costumes. :::shudder:::

4. Political ads on television. Ok, that's not entirely true. They don't frighten me as much as disgust me and cause me to feel the need for brain bleach and disinfectant wipes. I would be scared if one of my children grew up to BE a politician. I believe there's only so much time you can spend in a sewer before you become part of the stinking ooze.

5. Spiders. Yes, I know they are useful creatures. I understand that I am a gazillion times their size and they mean me no harm. Intellectually understanding these concepts is quite different from being able to quell the squicky feelings they inspire in me.

6. Losing my husband. He is my rock, my life and most definitely the better half of this coupling. I would not be the person I am if it were not for him. People continually tell me that he is the nicest person they've EVER met. And they mean it. I am blessed to have him--and would be bereft without him.

7. Reaching the end of my life's journey without doing what I came here to do.

8. Heights. Really big ones. Very high up. I'm alright if I don't look down, but who goes up to someplace painfully high and doesn't look down? Isn't that the point? Or part of it anyway. My father suffers from this same phobia. Once when we were younger, he took us on a vacation to Banf, Canada. They have these gondolas, see?

Mom and us kids rode them aaaallllll the waaaaaay to the top. My father would not set one foot inside one of those hanging metal death traps. He said to us, "Someone has to stay down here to identify the bodies." Thanks Dad. I'm pretty sure that's when my problem started.

9. Losing my children. Not to death, as I know we all go on to the next step of our journey, but to the darkness. Do not be fooled--there IS darkness and it will do all it can to blot out the Light.

10. Becoming that person who forgets they told you a story and tell it to you again and again and again and again.

Hey, have I told you about what frightens me lately?

Writing

2010-10-23T13:08:00.000-07:00

Some people think I write too much. Or over share when I do write. Some don't think I write enough and others, meh. They simply don't care.

I've developed a thick skin over my writing. I wrote newspaper columns for about seven years as a freelance columnist and even had a steady writing gig for two papers for five years. That was both fun and tedious. One effect it had on me was that I didn't look at everyday life in the same way. I was more observant. When something would happen in front of me, my first thought was how to put that to ink.

Now, not so much.

Except last night when my husband said he'd had the 'best breakfast cupcake that morning' and it took me a while to figure out he was in fact referencing a muffin. I immediately wanted to write about it. It was amusing, spontaneous and downright funny.

I'm not sure I have a lot of those experiences lately. When my children were younger, sure. Nearly every day there was a catastrophe that could be turned into column fodder or a silly event that begged to be written about. Nowadays it's not the same. I work outside of the home mostly now. The things I see and work with, I cannot write about because these are highly confidential issues and in reality, there's not much humor in any of the situations. Sadness, horror and despair are the order of the day for many of the people I help and there's no way to turn any of that into lighter reading fare. I wouldn't even try.

I do feel a sense of accomplishment in my work. I feel like I'm making a difference in people's lives and that in turn bolsters my self-esteem and confidence. In forgetting myself in helping others, I find myself. Hmmm...that sounds familiar. I know the scriptures talk about that when we serve our fellow man we are only serving our God. (Mosiah 2:14)

I try to see everyone as a son or daughter of God. As my brothers and sisters. It's not always easy so I ask for help when I pray that I can see each person I meet as God sees them. It's been an amazing change for me and my view of those around me.

Everyone has issues, problems, joys, sorrows, burdens. Sometimes life is extremely difficult and stressful. We're aging and as we do our health suffers, we lose dear friends and I think we examine our lives more intensely to see what we've accomplished, where we've made mistakes, how we've corrected them or if we haven't made things right we feel a stronger desire to do so. To free the conscience and cleanse the soul.

I've made my share of mistakes. Plenty. I think back sometimes and wonder who the blazes that woman was...what was she thinking. I don't know. What I do know is that staying on the right path, seeking the light, the truth, keeping close to the spirit and reading the scriptures truly does bring peace. Gratitude for a kind, loving husband who has a forgiving heart and a very generous soul, who loves me no matter what is perhaps one of the greatest gifts I've been given.

I see I've been rambling again. One thing though, if I've ever done something to hurt your feelings, or cause you to be offended, or led you down a wrong path. I'm sorry. My apologies. I wish that I could speak to you in person, but this will have to do for now.

Ah yes, the ramblings of a person with a bit too much free time on a Saturday morning after cleaning the house like a madwoman on RedBull. (No, I did not drink a red bull)

Time for me to go. Apparently there is a cupcake festival in Mill Creek we have to visit.

More over sharing to come at a later date :)

Thursday

2010-10-21T09:52:00.000-07:00

Where does the week go?

Here's some good news. The bandages are off my right hand. It's been...what....7 weeks since I was in the ER with my hand in agony? All I've got to show for my extremely close encounter with the hot oil is a few scars, some new skin and a mountain of paperwork from L&I.

Have I mentioned how much I hate paperwork? Well, I'm mentioning it now.

I'm grateful it wasn't worse and it's awfully nice to have the use of my right hand again.

What other good news is there...

thinking....thinking....thinking....thinking....

There's lots of good news. We're breathing. We have a roof over our heads, good health, the gospel perspective on life and death, and everything else under these cloudy foggy skies of Seattle.

Well, the health thing isn't 100%. Alli is home from school today. She texted me from seminary, and I quote, "Mom, my head feels like it's going to explode. I want to go home". Since I am opposed to exploding heads at church or at school, I had Stephanie pick her up and take her home. I was unable to get her as I was interpreting a meeting at one of our high schools.

I won't even go into what that meeting was about, mostly because it's confidential. Secondly, because it wouldn't interest you. It did give me a slight case of the guierllmos tho.

I have half an hour before I'm supposed to be teaching a room full of wiggly first and second graders how to say 'hola' and other assorted Spanish words. I do so enjoy their energy and smiles. It's the bright spot in my Thursdays. Then I have the cooking class where I have to corral older students and walk them safely through creating culinary delights. Today we're making tapioca pudding with pineapple.

I know, what a tricky thing to make, eh? Yeah, well they wanted to make pudding and I happen to like tapioca and haven't had it for quite some time. Being the teacher does have it's perks.

I have a funeral on the 6th for a dear sweet lady and a memorial service on the 13th for a high school friend. And here I thought my age group was invincible.... I guess not.

Ok, time to run for the rest of the day. It was nice to have a moment to sit and blog. I don't get a lot of time for that lately, as you can probably tell. I have some great pictures I want to put up next time.

Onward and upward!

This I know...

2010-10-15T20:32:00.000-07:00

Time marches on...

This week has been quite busy for me. Getting up around 5:30 each morning to take Allison to seminary, turning around and coming home to get Ashley up and running and then taking her to school. I either go to the gym before I go to work or I head straight to work. Lately I've been going straight to work. So much to do there...and not nearly enough time to do it in.

This week has been parent teacher conferences and I've been racing from school to school to Interpret for teachers and parents. I've had meetings and conferences and summits and more meetings. I'm meetinged out. Yes, that's a word. Hush.

I've had long chats with the mother of my friend that died...and I had lunch with her brother. My heart aches for them... Perhaps the ache is the realization of my own mortality coming home to roost within me. Or because it's the first of our little tight knit high school group that has died.

I'm not sure. I do know that we go on. This life isn't all there is. I know this as I know the sun will rise in the east each morning. I know I'll see Karen again, as I'll see all my loved ones that have finished their mortal probation and have moved on.

Right now I'm tired...exhausted. Sleep sounds good to me. G'nite children.

Dear Blog....

2010-09-28T06:53:00.000-07:00

I feel I should apologize to you. We've been together for several years and lately I don't seem to have time for you. I know it might sound trite, but it's not you, it's me.

Entirely me. And my circle of family and friends and work. They wring me out each day and hang me out to dry each night.

You see, I have four children. I worry. I don't sleep. I worry some more. I pray. Sometimes falling to my knees is the only way to gather up enough strength to soldier on in this war---and make no mistake--this is a war. Light and darkness on opposing sides, each tugging for those souls in the middle and neither willing to give an inch. Sometimes I wonder if I'm equipped to lead these particular skirmishes. My training seems inadequate at times, my heart heavy and my head bowed. I keep taking blows, am occasionally knocked down but I always manage to put myself back on my feet because I'm not in this fight alone. Someone is always there to lift me up. Light will win eventually. Of that I am certain. But oh....the weariness of the battle weighs on me.

Death is also weighing heavily upon me. It should not come knocking on doors of those I love so dearly. Though I know that death is not the end, it is the suffering that is endured before the soul is separated from the body that wrenches the heart. It's a kind of birthing process--ending the mortal existence and being born into the eternal. Pain is the accompaniment of death. The two walk together for a time. Struggle for breath and the inability of those on the sidelines of this process to do anything but feel helpless takes it's toll as well. My heart is heavy and my head is again bowed with pain and tears.

Work has become something to bury myself in at times, although the suffering I see there is another reminder of the war between light and darkness. Children suffering for the poor choices of others, torn from their homes and put into harsh situations through no fault of their own. Innocence taken. Darkness is the victor too often here.

I am weary and battle worn but I will not wave a white flag. I refuse.

So, dear blog, please forgive me. I've been busy. When things slow down I'll be back. I promise.

What a long, strange trip it's been....

2010-08-30T21:21:00.000-07:00

And I mean our road trip. I should add it was wonderful as well, though it didn't end the way we'd planned. But what does? Life? No, it doesn't. They say it's not the destination, but the journey and they're right.

Our journey began Friday the 13th. For some of us it ended on the 22. For me, it ended on the 26th.

We had planned to leave early in the morning on Friday the 13th but even our beginning didn't go as planned. We left at midnight and I drove for six hours while the rest mainly slept until dawn and a nearly empty gas tank caused our first stop.

It was a beautiful sunrise, by the way.

We landed in the podunk of podunks. I'm not even sure I remember the name of this no-stop-light town with a curmudgeonly store owner who growled at us while his wife used an old adding machine atop a battered, ancient desk. We purchased crushed ice from the man and his wife and then went across the street to have a morning picnic in a small town park. We had to kill time before the gas station owner decided to show up and pump our gas. You can't pump your own gas in Oregon you know. You might blow yourself up or set off an explosion that could take down an entire podunk.

This was the main street. As far as I could tell, it might have been the only street.

This might have been the town mayor. He was hanging around looking important.

After we ate, there was more of this:

Hours and hours of that. After a bazillion more miles, we stopped at the Twin Falls Temple.

So beautiful.

After another few hours we landed in Chubbuck Idaho, land of thrills, spills and our good friends the Ericksons. We mostly love them because they have a trampoline and three handsome sons. This is their youngest, Bryce, showing off his mad skillz.

Then we were informed that we should pick up Alli from Especially for Youth in Rexburg that night instead of in the morning, so we got back behind the wheel and started driving. Again. You know, because I didn't drive enough that day. On the way there we remembered that the car top carrier on the top of our suburban wasn't latched nor locked. I pulled off the freeway right next to a wheat field.

What happened next was frightening. A cricket (the field was FULL of them) attempted to hitch a ride with us. Well, Stephanie in particular. As we were getting back in the suburban she began screaming so loud I'm surprised the windows didn't shatter in a five mile radius. She leaped out of the vehicle, jumping and screeching. (note to self: get her a t-shirt that says: I survived the GREAT Cricket Attack of 2010)

After that beautiful picture I was surprised to drive into a rainstorm in Rexburg. Enormous raindrops soaked us as we searched for the right building where a youth dance was taking place. Finally locating it, I signed my beautiful Alli out and off we went.

Genea and Doug were as wonderful to us as always as we took over their living room and some of their bedrooms for the night. The next morning there was a parade just for us! Ok, it was Chubbuck Days. (I know, isn't that a funny name?) The kids went to it and collected a pile of candy tossed from the parade cars, trucks and horses. They came back and the trampoline got a work out again. Then Doug and Lance took the girls (with Landon) up to the hills with their quads. Much fun was had by all.

Then it was back to the trampoline.

We laughed like haven't laughed in ages. The Ericksons are like that. Since I'd never slept on a trampoline before, I decided to give it a shot. Genea, good sport that she is, joined me even though she knew how cold it would get. After everyone went to bed, we lay outside looking up at the star studded sky watching the meteor shower and laughing our butts off. I think we fell asleep in mid-giggle. It's nice to have a friend that you can laugh with until the wee hours of the morning.

On Sunday we got up and put on our church clothes to drive south to Utah. We were going to the house of a former mission president to Brazil who is now serving as a stake patriarch. We needed a patriarch who was fluent in Portuguese to give Sam his patriarchal blessing. It was a very precious experience we had that morning.

Afterward we went to Temple Square to visit and show Sam all the beauty that surrounds the Salt Lake Temple.

We stayed for hours in the hot sun, wandering around the grounds and visiting with Sister Martinez, who was one of the sister missionaries who taught Sam the gospel. It was a wonderful time.

Later we drove to Orem to our good friend's house. Annabella and Paco are wonderful people. We visited and laughed and talked for hours until it was time to go to bed for the evening. Lance and I slept on an airbed, which became a floor-bed in the wee hours of the morning, dropping us way down. Sleep was fitful.

Thus ends my story for now. To be continued tomorrow...if I can find the time. :)

2010-08-09T19:44:00.000-07:00

This is my beautiful fourteen year old daughter. She's about about 800 miles away from me. This is very far. Very far indeed. She's attending EFY, which is Especially for Youth with a great many other kids her age. She called me and then sent me a picture of her dorm room. She said she loves it!

I'm thrilled that she's so happy. Happy is good. Happy is much better than not happy.

I love this child, and will be thrilled to take her in my arms and give her a huge ole hug next Saturday when we pick her up.

In the meantime, I've got three other children and a job to keep me occupied, and occupied in a big way.

I LOVE what I'm doing. Totally love it. I was given high praise from my boss today, which is just a big ole cherry on top of a delicious ice cream sundae--which I'm not eating but you get the picture. What I'm doing is making a difference and helping people. It's fulfilling and exciting and I get paid nicely to do it. What more could I ask for?

Lance and I celebrated our 23rd wedding anniversary on August 1st. Well, it was our anniversary. The celebrating part was earlier in the week when the two younger girls were at camps. We had such a wonderful time. We went to a movie one night and then we took a day and went to Mt. Baker. We made it to the Baker Lake and not the actual mountain but that was fine. It was soooo incredibly beautiful. See? We took a great many pictures, but I'll just post this one. Others are on my FB. Life is good.

Luther Burbank Park

2010-08-02T23:07:00.000-07:00

When my handsome man got home from work today, we headed to Mercer Island to have a barbecue at his old childhood stomping ground--Luther Burbank Park. The weather was glorious and we brought our swimsuits, though we didn't end up using them. We had most of the area to ourselves while we ate burgers and corn on the cob and grapes. I had a Gardenburger, which was pretty yummy. Here's Lance getting things going.

Alli really enjoyed her corn!

After a nice meal, we cleaned up and went for a walk. Alli and Ash out on one of the docks.

They dipped their toes...well, Ash did.

Ash and her Daddy

Slides were next!

We had a wonderful FHE together and the girls topped it off by their big brother taking them to see the new Shrek movie. They just came home, all happy and excited about the movie.

And now, it's time for me to close my eyes. I have work in the morning. Yep, me. Life goes on...

The Girls Have Camp This Week

2010-07-25T16:19:00.000-07:00

or in other words....Lance and I have a week of FREEDOM!

I'm not sure to be happy or sad. I guess I'm a mixture of both. Today my youngest went to camp for the very first time. Tuesday, my second-to-the-youngest will go to a different camp until Saturday. Our two oldest are....well, old. They can get by mostly on their own.

This gives Lance and I FOUR ENTIRE DAYS AND NIGHTS almost alone. Nearly. Well, close anyway. We both have to work during the day but the evenings are all ours!

Now we just need to figure out what to do with ourselves.

Here's Ashley with her friend Kiera as they prepared to get on their bus.

I was sternly informed that under NO circumstances was I to hug her or otherwise become touchy-feely with her as we signed in and she got on the bus. She was adamant. I was wounded but did manage a bit of a hug before she boarded. I was worried about her ability to manage all her bags and supplies. I think she did ok, see?

They weren't much for waving goodbye, but as parents, Kiera's mom and I had to give it a shot.

This little break coincides nicely with our 23rd wedding anniversary. Now we just need to figure out how to celebrate and where.....any suggestions?

Thanks for the memories...

2010-07-23T22:47:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this under the influence of Nyquil, so I take no responsibility for what it contains.

Last week we spent the entire week at the beach cabin. And by 'we' I mean me and a bunch of teenage girls. The estrogen levels were off the charts. We brought Cassie along (our doggie) and that only added to the hormone level.

Much fun was had by all. Alli and her friend Emily went out in a rowboat. I didn't get a picture of that but I caught them post-rowboat fun.

It was Allison's 14th birthday, which I spoke about in my previous post. This was her wish, though I hadn't intended to stay the entire week. There was a reunion planned for the next weekend and I was hoping to, you know, look halfway decent when I was to see people I hadn't seen in 30 years. But noooooo, I looked like I'd spent the week at the beach cabin. Oh well. Not that it probably mattered much anyway.

Alli brought her bestest friend with her and even though the water was brrrrrrrrrr-cold, they both went in. A couple of times even.

There were many marshmallows that were torched for s'mores.

Time around the campfire was muchly enjoyed by all.

And the reunion took place on Saturday. Not as many people came that I would have hoped, but the ones that did come had a good time. I hope.

Here we are.

These are the friends of my youth. The ones that gave me incredible, good and kind memories of what it was like to be young and trying our best to live up to the standards our parents taught us to live by. Good, clean fun and some pretty funny memories.

I hope the same for my children.

Thanks for the memories. You know who you are.

Beach Cabin Surprise

2010-07-15T08:46:00.000-07:00

Alli wanted to spend her 14th birthday at the beach cabin. I was reluctant (no, really) because we were going over the following week.

However, I could not tell her no. So we went.

I had no clue we were going to stay the entire week.

We have friends here. (yes, I'm still here)

I'll post more...but now I need to get back to this...

2010-07-04T21:19:00.001-07:00

Lighting fireworks at the beach cabin.....

Ahhhhh

2010-07-02T23:21:00.000-07:00

That's a happy Ahhhhhhh, by the way.

See?

Lance and I took the three girls up to Volunteer Park the other day. I love my girls so much....so much it hurts sometimes. Aren't they cute?

Then Lance and Chris and Sam built a fence in the backyard another day this week. See the men. See the burly men. See the burly men work. Work burly men, work!

We also went to a birthday party this week for Jordan. She turned five and she's a princess. Aren't all five year old girls princesses? The answer is yes. Yes they are.

Many other fun and thrilling things have happened this week but it's late and I'm tired from the big family gathering we had this evening.

Did I mention ahhhhhh?

I keep losing track of the days....

2010-06-28T21:33:00.000-07:00

Which is what generally happens to me when the kids are out of school and I'm not on a regulated work schedule.

There have been ups and there have been downs. I suppose that's life on this planet. I won't bore you will all of the mundane details.

I was feeling the nudge to write yesterday...just a tiny flicker of what I used to feel. It's been a while since I've written too awful much.

On Thursday night last week I had two old friends over for dinner. It was Kathy's mom Sally and Kathy's sister, Sherrie.

Kathy was my bestest friend when we were fourteen. She was murdered when we were both that age.... Something like that leaves a huge hole in you as an adolescent. I think as you grow older it comes back to you in moments you don't expect.

At any rate, the dinner was wonderful. Spending time with Sally and Sherrie was sweet. Sally brought a book when she came--a scrapbook. There were baby pictures of Kathy, toddler pictures, home taken pictures all the way up to when her last pictures were taken and posted in newspapers. Newspaper articles with her pictures and official notes from the men working on her case. I slowly turned each page and recalled my time in a dusty Thurston County Sheriff's office a few years ago. I had boxes and boxes of evidence from the trial, and boxes of pictures. Pictures I now wish I'd never seen. I shook off those dark days and closed Sally's scrapbook.

Having them here was sweet...and sad. We've kept in touch all these years. Lost each other, found each other again. We've all lived our lives in the past 36 years...married, had children, some now have grandchildren. Moved away, moved back. Loved, loved and lost...our hair is slowly turning gray, our bodies slowing down. We shared our stories with each other, with Kathy sitting quietly in the back of our minds.

I wonder...how many children would she have now? Would I be able to tease her about her gray hair or the wrinkles around her eyes? I hope we'd be able to laugh about that old couch in her garage that used to be OUR hangout. The black light and the fun. I wish I could connect with her on Facebook, or text her a funny message.

But I can't. William Cosden Jr. made sure of that when he took her life. I'm thankful he's in prison and can't hurt anymore girls.

But I sure wish I could talk to Kathy one more time too...

Alpaca Amor

2010-06-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

And there was lots of it on Monday night. See?

For Family Hone Evening on Monday night we went up to my friend Elise's on Camano Island. They have an Alpaca farm with about sixty of these fuzzy adorable creatures. Plus, there were baby alpacas! This, of course, increases the cute factor by a gazillion percent. See?

See?

They live on 20 acres and we took a delightful sweat-inducing romp down through the fields.

And back again...

The rest of my pictures will be in a fun little slide show because there are so many. If you're reading this on FB, you won't be able to see it, you'll have to go directly to my blog. We had a wonderful time, the girls LOVED it and now Lance wants to become an Alpaca farmer. Thanks Elise and Chris!

The Gift of the Cuddle

2010-06-17T21:05:00.000-07:00

I've cuddled my baby girl today...as much as she would allow. The time between cuddles is getting few and far between. Eleven year-olds don't take too kindly to cuddle requests. I did manage to cuddle with her while I was sitting on our bed this afternoon, but I knew it wouldn't last long. She doesn't fit in my arms as she once did. It makes me sad. It's the same pattern I've followed with my three older children. Fewer and fewer hugs and cuddles until finally I realize....they've stopped altogether.

Sometimes my mommy's heart aches to hold my babies. It's very nearly a physical need. I think back to the newborn and toddler days. There were the constant holdings, changings, wipings, cleanings, feedings, burpings and the sheer joy of being in such close physical contact with sweet angels from heaven. Late night feedings and early morning rockings.

I miss that time of life.

Today as I held my youngest angel, I found myself gently swaying, rocking back and forth as I did for so many years. Smiling, I recalled times when I was out shopping and would suddenly realize I'd been standing looking at some produce, rocking back and forth without a baby in sight. It became such a habit.

The loving ties that are built by such close proximity, the caring and the giving and joy of tiny smiles and baby giggles isn't something to be taken lightly. It's a gift. I was the grateful recipient of such gifts four times over.

Perhaps it's the sad news this week of a dear friend with stage four breast cancer and another recurrence of bone cancer for another sweet friend that has caused me to wax a bit melancholy.

Life is a gift to be treasured and we never know when that gift will be taken back. I'm so thankful for the love---the abundant love that I have experienced with my husband and my children.

But I still miss the cuddles.

End of the Line....

2010-06-14T09:45:00.000-07:00

For home schooling that is. Alli will finish up her 8th grade this week and then in September she's moving on to high school.

:::whimper:::

Naw, just kidding. About the whimpering I mean. I've gone through two high schoolers and lived to tell the tale, so I'm sure this will be smooth sailing for me.

::whimper::

It's been a long time since updates. I've been busy. Ok, I've been lazy. Really, the two things are nearly interchangeable. I think. Or not. Your mileage may vary.

School, and my job, is over this Friday. Ashley will suddenly become a sixth grader. She's already got the Sixth Grader 'Tude, so she's set. Speaking of Ashley, a few weeks ago we had some appointments with her pt/ot at Childrens.

She got a new hand brace to keep her thumb out of her fist and then another one was ordered that is softer and easier to wear over long periods of time. She actually asked for these braces, so that's a plus.

We also discovered that due to her leg length discrepancy, (which is getting worse all the time) she's getting a case of scoliosis and we have to do soemthing. And by something I mean it might be something quite invasive and something I'd rather not think about but I have to.

There are a few ways we can go with this... we can break the growth plate in her good leg and hope her affected side catches up. We can wait and do that leg lengthening thing with the screws and the twisting and all the fun of having metal hooked up to your leg bones. What she needs right now is a foot/ankle/leg brace but she's quite reluctant to do that again. She's worn them since she was an infant and she finally said a huge NO to them two years ago. We'll be seeing her orthopedist at Children's this week to further discuss our options.

Ah the fun. The joy! The excitement.

There has been something wonderful happen in our family though. LANCE IS WORKING DAYS NOW!!!

Ahem. Let me say that in another way. I am NO LONGER A SINGLE PARENT AT NIGHT!!
I'm a little excited about this and for good reason. It's been years and years. Most of our married life in fact, that he's been working second shift. I love having him home for dinner with the kids and for all the school/church stuff that goes on. He's not thrilled with getting up so early in the mornings and I can't blame him. But it's oh sooooo good to have him home with us.

In fact we went to the waterfront for family home evening the other night.

The two oldest were working so they couldn't come, but still it was a wonderful time. We had dinner at Ivar's and fed the seagulls. You can't eat outside and not throw them french fries. I think it's a city law or something. Plus, those little feathered monsters get loud when you don't feed them.

Life is good.

Eight Tracks in My Past and Present

2010-05-28T19:17:00.000-07:00

Back in the dark ages of 8 track tapes and am/fm radios in our 1969 Thunderbird, I was treated to songs my parents enjoyed. When I was little, it was fine. I hadn't yet developed my own musical tastes. As I progressed into the turbulent teens and discovered what I liked and what I didn't, I chafed at being stuck in a car for a long ride listening to The Mills Brothers or Charlie Pride or The Statler Brothers.

I spent hours traveling to California or just across the mountains to Chelan with the 8 track blasting through the speakers. I knew where every break in every song was on every tape as the tapes turned over.

I complained. I was a teenager, of course I complained. But I also sang along and learned all the words. I still know all the words.

It comes in handy knowing all the words because each night our home phone rings and it's my older sister Cheri. She asks me each night, in her own way, to sing those songs to her.

And I do. What she likes best is to hear The Statler Brothers. So each night I sing the songs I learned from 8 track tapes when I was a young girl. Some nights I sing a few songs, other nights she wants a full concert. I know she's done when I hear the staff worker tell me she's done and is pushing her wheelchair to her room to go to sleep for the night.

Here's her favorite request.

My Girls

2010-05-25T08:22:00.000-07:00

I love them. Yesterday was a kind of impromptu girls outing. It wouldn't have happened if not for this...

In Children's ER til 3 in the morning. Ash was having severe chest pain. The medics said she needed to go to the hospital. With her FVL (coagulation disorder) a severe pain in the head, chest or legs is always cause for concern. They found no evidence of blood clots on the CT scan and her EKG was normal but they said she had inflammation around her sternum and rib cage. This was more than likely caused by her bad fall at the ice arena on Saturday.

Her Grandpa Doug is a massage therapist, so he offered to work on her yesterday afternoon. That involved taking the ferry over to Kingston and we can't go there without a stop at the beach cabin. We stopped there first, then went to Doug's house up in the woods. Here's Steph and Ash on Grandpa's deck.

After she was worked on, we went back to the cabin. It was calm and beautiful there. The sky was amazing. I know you can't see this very well, but it's a sea hawk against the late afternoon sky. Trust me, it was breathtaking.

We were all sitting on a large driftwood log, watching the waves gently lapping the shore and enjoying the play of light on the clouds.
Me: "Isn't the sky gorgeous? Look at those clouds"
Girls: "Umm hmmm"
Me: "Clouds are like sky art"
Stephanie: "Way to be deep, Mom"

Yeah, that's me.

Anyway, it was sweet to spend most of the day with my three amazing daughters. We laughed and we hugged and we walked the beach together. I am truly blessed.

Medical May I

2010-05-18T20:34:00.000-07:00

I got a call on Thursday....or was it Friday? Anyway, it was last week and it was HR offering me the position I'd interviewed for on Tuesday.

Of course I accepted it. And then I did the obligatory happy dance.

I was wearing more clothes of course.

My new position is something I always wanted to do, but never knew I always wanted to do. That's deep, I know. I'll let you think about it for a moment.

May seems to be Medical Month for me. Apparently my warranty has expired and it's time to do an overhaul/check on all my systems. My visit to the cardiologist and subsequent stress test on a treadmill showed that I've a very healthy heart and arteries. They only squicky thing I carried away from that was a massive bruise from the IV spot.

Today I had a colonoscopy, again with completely favorable result. The squicky thing about this was the prep. If you've ever had to prep for one of these babies, then you know what I'm talking about. My parting gift from this experience was a massive headache and the inability to be coherent for the remainder of the day.

But Pam (you say), you're never coherent. I know. It's a gift.

What will tomorrow bring, you ask?
I'll tell you!

Really, really not looking forward to that. Necessary pain. I get that.

Just wish it wasn't necessary.

Now, back to my happy dancing.

Joy

2010-05-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

Raising children is hard.

Very hard. They don't tell you that when you're pregnant. They don't tell you a lot of things when you're pregnant, like your body will never be the same, you will be a walking zombie for years to come due to massive sleep deprivation. You will probably break your ankle by walking on toys in the middle of the night, you will clean up more vomit than you ever dreamed was possible, and you will accept soggy cheerios from chubby, grimy little fingers and cherish them as being better than gold.

Your refrigerator door will hold art that means more to you than a Rembrandt. Finger food will give way to real food and wars over broccoli and asparagus and whole wheat goodness.

Once your children are old enough, friends who have been parents longer than you have will tell you how much to dread what's coming and you look at your sweet angels and can't ever imagine that such a dark, hormonal cloud will erupt within them.

But it does.

You go from bottles and diapers to backpacks and homework. From diaper rash to pimples in the blink of an eye.

You worry, you cry. You struggle. You spend a great deal of time on your knees pleading for help to know what to do, to make the right decisions and to know when to step in and when to step back.

You wonder if it is all worth it. You continue to struggle and try and just get through one more day. Then another. And another. You're told by others who have walked this path before you that one day you'll get your child back from the grasp of whatever it is that has them. They will become your friends and wonderful companions once they become adults.

You try to see that far ahead but have difficulty believing that it will happen.

It's not all bad, but sometimes it's bad enough that you stand outside their bedroom doors at night when they have gone to bed and cry. Pressing your face to the cold wood of the door, you pray, as you often do. You pray for the strength to continue to do what's right for them, you pray that all your teaching and hugging and loving will one day be remembered and that they won't really hate you as they have sometimes said they do.

And then.....it happens.

Dear Mommy,

Thank you so much for everything over the years. You're truly the best mom in the world! Now that I'm older, I can see how difficult raising kids & everything else is in life is & I can see that you brought us up to be the best we could be.

I love you and want you to know how grateful I am to you; without you I would have no right sense of direction in the world, or truly understand sacrifice. I love you Mommy!

Feliz Dia De Las Mamas!

Stephanie

Today I had a job interview for a job within the school district working with our immigrant families. It's a wonderful job and I'd love to have it. I was a bit nervous sitting in the office waiting to be called into the conference room for the interview. As I waited, I pulled that letter out of my binder and re-read it. Twice.
As I read it, I felt a wonderful sense of calm steal over me. Though I'd love to have that job, in the grand scheme of things it really doesn't matter. My real job, the very best job I've ever held is the one I've had for the past 21 years, 4 months and 11 days.

I'm a Mom.

Los Pinguos and Ocean Shores

2010-05-04T16:10:00.000-07:00

The second time seeing the amazing Los Pinguos was just as good as I thought it would be. We went to Aberdeen to see them. Steph, Sam (her boyfriend), Alli and Ash came with Lance and I. Due to my photophobia, (is that a word?) I was the one who snapped a couple of pics of Lance, Steph and Sam with the band.

They are from Argentina and besides being gorgeous, their music is addicting. We stayed after the concert for pictures and got to talk to them for a bit. I also met a woman there who is from Venezuela. Her accent made me so homesick for Venezuela!

The rest of the weekend was spent in Ocean Shores. My father, brother and 2 nephews were staying there in the Ocean Shores State Park, and we stayed in our hotel.

Hey, I like camping just as much as the next girl---I do! Ok, that was hard to type with a straight face. I DO like camping, just not in tents. I prefer hotels, with their hot water, indoor plumbing and nice beds.

But I digress...

It just so happened that our stay there was during the razor clam dig. This meant that we got up in the morning, donned shorts and shirts and headed down to the beach in the freezing wind and rain.

The beach was filled with clam diggers bundled up in thigh high boots, coats, hats, etc. We were the only group there in barefeet. You should have seen the looks we garnered as we walked into the surf and dug our limits.

Here's my nephews Chad and Cody checking to see whose clam is the biggest and my brother Bob is in the background.

Here's Lance in the surf.

Success!

Sam had never dug on our beaches before...and at first he was too cold to move. Soon though he became numb like the rest of us and dug right in. He was a GREAT digger! Here he is with Steph.

Sam digging and winning! We bestowed a new nickname on him. Clamarony! (His full name is Samarony, so you know, clam+ Sam+rony...uh..yeah. I know. Clever, right?)

Blogger won't allow me to upload any more pics right now. Suffice it to say that we had fun around the campfire at my Dad's campsite (my coat smells deliciously of smoke) and we dug the second day and then I spent the day when I got home CLEANING well over 200 clams.

Clam patties...clam chowder.....fried clams. I am clammed out for now.

Mi mamá Venezolana

2010-04-29T08:29:00.000-07:00

Mi mamá Venezolana murió esta semana. Filomena me quería como a una hija y siempre me dio excelentes consejos. La semana pasada, cuando estábamos hablando por Skype, le dije que estaba preocupada de que mi hija se trasladaría a Brasil una vez que ella se casó con su novio y ella me dijo: "Pamela! Tus hijos no son tuyos! Usted dio a luz a ella, la amaba y le enseñó y ahora tienes que dejarla ir "

Sólo he visto a ella a través de Skype desde que salí de Venezuela hace más de 20 años.

La vi por primera vez cuando mi compañera y yo estábamos caminando por una vereda de tierra en su urbanización llamado Brisas del Lago, en Maracay. Yo no sé por qué lo llamaron Brisas del Lago, porque yo nunca vi mucho de un lago y nunca se sintió una brisa. El día estaba bien caliente cuando su hijo Francisco, quien fue recientemente bautizado, me presentó a su madre Filomena.

Me ofreció un refresco y se sentó a hablar. Yo estaba allí como misionera de La Iglesia de Jesucristo de los Santos de los Últimos Días y su hijo acababa de unirse a la iglesia. Creo que estaba contento por él, pero ella me dijo que su fe estaba en la iglesia Católica y aunque algunos de sus otros hijos quisieron ser bautizados, ella no los permitiría. Todavía no.

En años más tarde se unieron todos a la iglesia. Me he mantenido en contacto con ellos a través de cartas, correos electrónicos y ahora Skype. Ha sido una bendición y un dolor de corazón, al mismo tiempo. Para hablar con ellos, para verlos, pero no ser capaz de abrazarles.

Filomena era una madre amorosa. Ella siempre nos hizo arepas y su sonrisa podría iluminar una habitación.

Te extraño mamá. Te amo y estoy agradecida de haberte conocido y sintió su amor. Gracias por cuidarme cuando yo era una misionera cansada, y tenia calor y hambre. Te hecho de menos mamá.

When Cousins Get Together...

2010-04-23T21:27:00.000-07:00

They sing Taylor Swift Songs...

Monkey Bra

2010-04-20T13:18:00.000-07:00

Gather 'round little children and let me tell you a story. It's the story of The Monkey Bra.

Once upon a time, in a land not so very far away lived a lively family. They had four children, and as the years passed the children grew. They grew and they grew and they grew. Some of the children were of the female variety and as they grew they needed certain undergarments to contain their...er, growth.

Enter The Monkey Bra.

Now I won't say which daughter was the owner of The Monkey Bra as that would cause embarrassment to said daughter. Let it suffice to say that it belonged to one of the four children. Not the male child however. I will regale you with HIS story on another occasion.

The female children continued to grow and sadly, The Monkey Bra no longer fit any of the girls after a time.

It's then that the shenanigans began. You see children, monkeys are mischievous creatures, even when printed on a cloth training bra. Little imps that they are, they began to show up in the most unexpected places.

One day the head male of the house opened his lunch box at work with all his burly co-workers in attendance and out sprang The Monkey Bra!. Much hilarity ensued. The Monkey Bra was pleased with itself.

So much so, that the following week when the head female of the house left home for work, it came along for the ride. As the head female unzipped her black leather binder on the front desk of the school where she had an appointment that day, The Monkey Bra leapt out. Grabbing it quickly and shoving it into her pocket, she thought she was safe. She was not. The school secretaries had seen The Monkey Bra and thought it was something other than what it was so the female head of the house was forced to pull it from her pocket to prove that it wasn't something lacy from Victoria's Secret. She then had to explain to the laughing secretaries The Story of the Monkey Bra, which was well received and much admired by those in attendance that day.

The Monkey Bra was again very pleased with itself. Soon it began showing up in various other places in an effort to embarrass certain members of the household. It rode along to work with the male head of the house on several occasions and once when the female head of the house came out to her vehicle she found this:

It has since been discovered hiding in suit jackets while attending church and under pillows on beds. Who knows where the wily scampering Monkey Bra will show up next?

Update: Somehow it was scrunched into a prescription bottle and when the bottle was opened it flew out like a snake on a spring.

Sometimes....you have to do what you have to do...

2010-04-16T20:22:00.000-07:00

It's been a bit since I've written. I know, I know. You've missed me horribly. Here's a hankie.

We had a delightful Easter dinner here at our house with 18 or so bodies, three different tables and massive quantities of excellent food. See?

And here are the three tables of humans.

It was a lovey meal. We used my mother's china and that always makes me feel a bit closer to her.

It's been raining a lot, which has meant that our basement room project has been set back yet again as water is seeping into one entire wall. This is not something we are enjoying so that's all I'm going to say about that. (Yes, that was me being Forrest Gump)

I've been doing a lot of Interpreting, which I'm loving more and more. Lance is still working---or rather he goes to work but there is no work for them to do so he's bored out of his mind most of the time.

We've had some stress of late (who hasn't?) so this morning after we dropped Ash off at school we did something out of character for us.

We had to fill our gas tank, so we did. Sunshine was spilling through the sunroof as we drove away from the gas station and I suddenly realized that I didn't want to go pick up the dry cleaning. I didn't want to stop at the store because we were out of milk. I didn't want to go home.

I wanted this..

And this...

And of course...more of this...

So I did. We did I mean. Get those things.
Then on the way home I got to bask in the joy of this....

Yes..it was foolish and silly and I'll always be glad we just ran away from the city for a few hours to be alone on the beach at the cabin. I'd do it again. In fact..next weekend....

Funerals Make You Think Deep Thoughts...

2010-04-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

Or maybe that's just me.

I attended the funeral of a dear family friend this afternoon. As I sat there and watched the people arriving, I saw a lot of people I haven't seen in a very long time. It was a reunion of sorts---not the kind of reason you want to have a gathering, but sometimes in our busy lives this is what happens. Weddings and funerals become the places where we get to hug people that we love, but simply haven't the time to spend with in our everyday running arounds. (Yes, 'arounds' is a legitimate word. Honest. Ok, maybe not but I'm still using it.)

As Don's children rose to the podium and spoke about their father, I looked around at the people sitting in the chapel with me. As Don was in his 80's, the majority of the mourners in attendance had gray hair or no hair at all. I have recently made a somewhat unsuccessful attempt to hide the white blossoming on my own head.

All that is beside the point I was going to make. Yes, there was a point here and if I wait long enough with my fingers poised over the keyboard I'm quite certain it will return to me......

Or not.....

Oh yes! Now I remember.

I listened to how Don was remembered. He was always willing to give of his time and talents to those who needed him. He was a gifted mechanic. He was often terse and sometimes cranky. He always carried lifesavers with him and often handed them out to others at church.

We enjoyed some laughter when a few anecdotes were told and there were tears during the times we were reminded that Don is not really gone, he's simply gone on. That he is with his loved ones who have also gone on.

...and I wondered how I will be remembered when I 'go on'. I know how I see myself, but I don't know how others see me. Not truly. I mean, I know what SOME of you think of me (Hush) and I think I know how others may view me, but it is my own view of myself that stands out and it never quite measures up to how I'd LIKE to see myself.

Am I making much sense here?

I suppose what I'm asking is this: How would YOU like to be remembered at your funeral service? Are you planning your own or are you leaving it to those you leave behind? What songs would you like played or sung? Who would you like to speak?

Go ahead...tell me. I'd love to know.

Eight Years Ago Tonight...

2010-03-31T22:49:00.001-07:00

I was in the same house I'm in right now....only I wasn't living here. I lived further north with my husband and four children, but I was sleeping in this house.

Actually, I'm not sure you could call it sleeping.

Mom was dying from kidney cancer that had metastasized over her entire body. Her hospital bed was set up in the dining room and I was 'sleeping' on the couch near her in the living room to take care of her during the night. My sister and I took turns.

Mom was sort of quiet that night eight years ago. When morning came my sister arrived to take over the day shift and I kissed my mom goodbye and went to get my children off to school.

When I got home my sister called and told me to come right back. Mom was much, much worse.

She died that morning, with her family around her. I can't believe it's been eight years that you've been gone mom.

Tonight while Ash was at church for a meeting, Lance and I walked across to the cemetery nearby where my mom's body is buried. I say her body, because it's not her. I watched that morning as her spirit left her mortal body. She's not there in the ground...but I go there sometimes to talk to her.

I spoke at her funeral a few days after her passing and this is what I said:

My Momma's Hands

Last night I sat in the dark, holding my Mother's hand. When I first picked up her hand it frightened me, it was so cold. As I sat there, warming her chilled hand with the warmth of my own, memories washed over me and swept me up in river of remembrances of better days. I started to think about all the things her hands had done, all the things I had learned from her hands.

As a young girl I was convinced that my Mother had magic hands. You see, I was born with an ulcer that wasn't diagnosed until I was four or five years old. My very first memory is of pain in my tummy and lying on the dining room floor. Mom would hold me and place her warm hand over my belly where the pain was worst and like the miracle of a Mother's love, the pain would leave my little body. No medicine was ever as effective as her warm hand. It was magic. It always was.

Mom's hands were the ones that brushed and yanked on the hair that went clear down to my bottom. I always dreaded our morning ritual before school. A chair was brought to the middle of the kitchen and I sat down. Mom used the considerable force of her hands to sweep my hair into a ponytail so tight that my eyes were pulled in opposite directions. If I complained too much or brought my own little hands up to protect my sensitive head, I'd receive a rap on my knuckles from the brush she was wielding in her hands. Hers were the hands that washed my long hair in kitchen sinks and in bathtubs until I was old enough to manage all that hair on my own.

My bedroom was upstairs above the kitchen and I would watch her reflection in the neighbor's window as she stood at the sink and washed up the dinner dishes at night. Her hands could withstand water so much hotter than my own little hands ever could. To this day she could fill a sink with water so scalding that I was certain it would take the skin off her hands. It never did. Her hands must have been covered in heat-resistant skin. Those hands washed mountains of dishes by hand until Dad finally gave in and bought a dishwasher. Before that life-altering event, I became old enough to wash dishes on my own and her hands would point out the food residue that my ineffectual scrubbing had missed. Her hands always did it right the first time, every time.

Mom's hands taught me how to bake cookies and set tables. Her hands poured the dreaded iodine over my skinned knees and then applied bandages. She used her hands to dust, to vacuum, to decorate for holidays, and to make sure I knew when I was out of line. Her hands placed thermometers in my mouth and buckets under my chin. Hers were the hands with the white knuckles as she taught me how to drive. Her hands wrote countless letters to me while I was away at college and again when I was living in Venezuela. Each letter came from her heart, through her hands, to me.

Hers were the hands that taught me how to change a baby's diaper and how to test a bottle to see if it was too warm.

"Warm hands, warm heart," she'd always say. And her hands were always the warmest in the room.

Mom’s hands have wrapped 42 years worth of birthday presents for me and addressed 16 years worth of wedding anniversary cards to Lance and I. Her hands held my last baby before my hands did, and she's never let me forget it.

Her hands will never again brush my hair, wrap a package or hold a grandchild. Her hands have a different mission now. I believe with all my heart that very soon her hands will be wrapped up in her Mother's hands, in her Father's hands and she will be taken, hand in hand, home to where she belongs. She will raise her hands in joy at being relieved from her pain and reunited with loved ones that have gone before.

I believe that my Mother's magic hands have important things to do as she continues on her journey. I know those hands will be waiting for me one day.

Ow

2010-03-19T05:14:00.000-07:00

My mouth is attempting to kill me yet again. I'm sure it's because last week I had this precise thought:

"It's so nice to not have ANY pain anywhere. I feel SO good!"

Time was you could think things like that and not be struck down. (Get off my lawn!) I'm guessing those times are gone. It's kind of like when you suddenly find yourself with a bit of extra money and you think...wow, this doesn't happen that often. It feels fun, it gives you a boost of extra security and then WHAM! The tranny on your car dies a horrible death and *POOF*! Not only is your extra $ gone but you're in a the hole just that much more.

We used to never talk about *extra* money around our vehicles because we learned that for some horrifically costly reason, THEY KNEW WE HAD EXTRA MONEY!!! Not only did they know, but they were determined to suck it from us as soon as possible.

Much like congress, but that's another ~~rant~~ subject entirely.

Then we would whisper about our surprising windfall around our modes of transportation. BOOM. Apparently whispering was still audible to our gas guzzling behemoth. So no talking about it, no whispering about and then that all went out the window when we discovered it could READ OUR THOUGHTS. Either that or it's little computer was somehow connected via the interwebbies to the mainframe of our bank and it was checking our balances.

We're going to start burying our money in mason jars out in the backyard. Let's see our little techno-genius-nosey-machine discover that little hoard! And when I say 'hoard', I really mean just $28.37

So let this be a warning to you. When your mouth feels good and you don't have a toothache, for the love of all that's monetary DO NOT PUT THAT THOUGHT INTO WORDS!

Or you'll end up like me, with a swollen face, prescriptions for oodles of legal narcotics, hours spent in a reclining chair and a guy in a mask doing ugly things to your mouth.

You've been warned.

Failed Experiement

2010-03-15T23:09:00.000-07:00

I'm not worthy....I'm not worthy!

Picture me scraping and bowing as I say this to all those parents who home school their children. Either your children are tiny angels, wings and all and my child is ....shall we say, sans wings? Because this. did. not. work.

Ashley Rose was DYING to be home schooled. She begged to be home schooled. She promised she'd do her studies, her homework, her life would be amazing if ONLY SHE WERE HOME SCHOOLED!

So we yanked her out of school and plunked her headfirst into......

Wait for it......

A MONTH AND A HALF VACATION!!!

Oh sure, it was called HOME SCHOOL in OUR minds, but in HER mind? No. Not even close.

It was called I-can-sleep-in-until-11-every-day-now! And I-can-stay-up-until-midnight-every-night!. It was also called I-will-watch-every-video-on-youtube-and-every-Hannah-Montana-episode-available-until-my-eyes-bleed.

Oh, in her mind it was called many, many things. The ONE thing it was NOT called was SCHOOL.

So I bow and say I'm not worthy because I do not feel worthy, or at least equal to the challenge of homeschooling a child who does not wish to be a self starter.

All you home schooling parents out there? I applaud you. I bow before you.

And I will humbly drive my daughter back to her elementary school on Wednesday and pass her off to the school district once again.

We're just two lost souls swimmin' in a fish bowl....

2010-03-13T20:51:00.001-08:00

Day after day.

Seems like that on occasion. Not the lost part, but the fish bowl thing is accurate.

It's been a busy couple of weeks. I keep forgetting to update my blog. Yes, I know, you're devastated. Bereft.

I have a good excuse though.

I've been sleepless a bit lately...mostly because my oldest is serious about a young man. Things like this send my mind wandering back to when I too became serious with a young man and the talks my mother used to have with me...

I find myself day by day, hour by hour, turning more and more into my mother. I find myself understanding her better. Again. My first real understanding of her came when I became a mom for the first time with my girl who is now seriously dating a young man. The second time I remember the third big enlightenment and understanding of my mother arrived in my heart and mind when I had teenagers.

And the third overwhelming understanding came when my youngest was diagnosed with her stroke and all the terror of the what ifs about her future washed over me. It was then I realized I never fully understood my mother's pain at the devastating illness that took my older sister's physical and mental function from her when she was just a small child. I didn't know. How could I?

Now...oh now. Now I understand her yet again. Eight years after her death, I understand even more about her than I did before. Experience is truly the best teacher in all things--including things of the heart.

I wonder what's coming next.....

Weekend in paradise...

2010-03-01T21:36:00.001-08:00

er, I mean Kingston. Same thing for me really. I love the beach cabin. I love the beach. I love the smell of the campfire and the eagles soaring and the sea lions.

Did I mention I love it over there?

Alli wanted a weekend away, so a weekend away is what we got.

The weather the first afternoon was kind of iffy, but Sunday was glorious.

that's me and my man, but I think there was something on the lens of my cell phone camera so it's kind of blurry. Ashley took that of us.

We were discovered on that side of the water by Lance's side of the family and were forced to participate in a brunch. It was HEAVEN. I love them...so nice to see them as we see them so rarely.

I have a few more pics and videos that I'll post later.

Suffice it to say...I did not want to come home.

Living Room!!!!!

2010-02-20T13:07:00.000-08:00

After finishing the dining room we went straight to work on the living room.

We only had two injuries on our work crew the entire five days we slaved. OSHA would be proud of us, though we might get in trouble for using child labor.

Only one injury required a visit to the doctor and that was Ashley. When we ripped out the carpeting it had been nailed down to the floor all around the rooms. When the boards were ripped out we had rusty nails on them. They were placed in a box and Ashley cut herself on them.

I called the pediatrician to make sure her tetanus was up to date. Of course it wasn't I won't go into the gory details here, but suffice it to say it took three nurses to hold her down for the shot.

The other injury was to Lance, same thing with a nail. Nurse Budlet took very good care of him, cleaning and bandaging his wound.

And now....on to the slide show of our living room and it's renewal!