Memorable Day

I did it, and all is well.

As the morning sun shone on our breakfast table this morning, our family, my boys and I, decided it was the perfect day to finally hike Y mountain. 

Despite good intentions, there had always been a reason why we couldn't manage to get ourselves there. 

But not today.

After filling up water bottles and putting on hats, we hit the road.

From the moment we pulled out of the neighborhood, the blue skies beckoned us to soak up as much fresh air as we could. 

Clearly, it was a roll-the-windows-down, blast -the- music kind-of-day, so that's what we did. 

When I played  Stompa, the backseat instantly became a dance party.

I drove as the boy's sweet voices mixed with cool, spring air and gently eased the stress from my mind and body.

This is perfect, I thought to myself.

I took a photo at each switch back along the way. 

As we looked for a rock to sit on , Max spotted a lizard. Hiding, he thought, on the same colored rock. 

"Why is he just sitting there?" my son asked obviously disappointed that he couldn't see the lizard in action. 

"Well, he's climbed all the way up this mountain, now he's stopping to enjoy the view," I surmised. 

Never once did my boys complain about the strain on their legs as we climbed the 12 switchbacks to reach the Y

I noticed his little head was sweaty, but yet he was smiling. 

My youngest son, whose independence grows every day needed this, so I took photos. 

We had discussions as the birds voiced their own opinions high above us in the trees. 

This was a big milestone in my life since last years life-changing events.

This is perfect, I thought to myself.

Ah yes. Today's "perfect" had nothing to do with portraying a certain image or reaching an expected standard. The words, "This is perfect" came to mind because in those particular moments, everything felt perfect in my own little world.

A few hours later, with clown-nose glasses, mud caked shoes, and a few more freckles from the sun, we went to the boys favorite toy store in Springville. 

As Markus decorated his great-great-grandfather's grave, I took the opportunity to  talk to my mom about all the research she has been doing on our genealogy. 

But after a few minutes, the rumblings in the boys stomach forced me to surrender. With their subway sandwiches in hand and blissfully tired legs resting, three words came to mind: This is perfect.

It struck me as odd, this particular choice of words for an anti-perfectionist. "Perfect" sure wasn't what it used to be, I thought with a laugh. Five years ago, perfect was all about how things looked from the outside - a flawless portrayal, an ideal standard. And as I desperately tried to achieve a picture-perfect life, my health, and happiness were nearly damaged beyond repair. 

But not today.

Today "perfect" had nothing to do with looking a certain way or reaching for a standard set by an Instagram-worthy picnic spread, coordinated hiking outfits, toned legs, or shiny, happy boys. The words "This is perfect" was my own personal feeling of contentment...

When my stars align. When my boy's laughter comes together like music in my ears. When the sun is shining, and I happen to be standing directly underneath it's warmth. When I indulge in a short hike on a favorite mountain. When the water tastes unusually clear. When I look around and the people I love are within arm's reach. That's when my own little world feels pretty darn close to extraordinary. 

Because in between that sweaty little head and yours, my friend, is hope. 

XOXO

If you are going to go to the trouble of showing up unexpectedly to a loved one, I say to really show up. Not only be physically present, but mentally and emotionally present, as well.

Let me put it like this …

When Grandpa sat at his Max’s baseball game, I am pretty sure he wasn’t on his Smart phone the entire time. (I know because he doesn't even own one!) He wasn’t sending text messages, checking email, or playing “Words with Friends.” Grandpa wasn’t sitting on the stands totally engrossed in “The Help,” or “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” nor was he talking with the spectators around him.

When Grandpa showed up, every part of him showed up. He was THERE … not simply looking like he was there when he was really somewhere else.

Today I cleared my schedule. And set aside stuff that can wait. Took a break from my duties and work pressures and simply arrived at my parents house in Heber. I arrived where I was least expected, but most welcomed.

Look at your calendar right now.

There are a couple hours just waiting to be filled with the words, “Just show up.”

Decide who and where … then DO it … really do it.

The act of showing up is who you are today and a legacy you leave behind tomorrow.

I think it’s worth it to show up … do you?

Go With The Flow

[Flow Rider]

My Maxidoughshis turned 14-years-old today.

He requested his two best friends for an adventure at Flow Rider in the Provo Beach Resort. He had dinner before at Olive Garden with all the family there. He received three gifts: A hockey helmet from me, a Go-Pro from Ben and an amazing amount of cash from his friends, grandma and grandpa, aunts and uncles to purchase the Slack line that he has been saving up for from REI.

The gifts are cool but years from now, when someone asks him what he got for his 14th birthday, there's a good chance he will not remember.

But today after school while I was baking his favorite cake, I gave him the list I printed out yesterday. I am pretty sure he will always remember.

I'm hoping that love and connection will far outlast the gifts he opened today.  

Even though I haven't posted pictures from our adventures this past winter, my sons and I made a spontaneous trip to the mountains in January. While I have made huge strides in my snowboarding skills, I am still not a big fan of going at night and freezing, quite literally, my buns off. Therefore, I thought about convincing him to leave when the sun went down and not use all of his "Twilight" pass.

But I didn't. 

Thank goodness, I didn't. 

I went on lift after lift like I did when he was little and took advantage of our talk time in the quiet night. Once the temp dropped below -11 he said, "Okay, mom, that's enough."

The snow had been blowing all night as it was coming down. Other than a few bathroom breaks, we had not stopped since noon, as he rode his board countless times off of jumps and rails. 

"What's your favorite season?" 

Max's question appeared out of nowhere just as randomly as the snowmobile hosting an injured skier suddenly glided down the hill. 

I described my love for fall and the colors of the leaves. When I asked him about his favorite season, he rattled off all four, got stuck on the topic of X-games and went on a tangent about not liking the half-pipe except for riding down the middle. 

After finishing our cups of hot chocolate and other topics of conversation he appeared to have something more to say about the snowboarders and started to say sometimes, but then his voice stopped after the single word, leaned his snowboard against mine and said, " I love you, Mom." 

I couldn't remember the last time he said those words. Maybe a month or so ago. They hung in the air like a flashing yellow light that it was time to go with the flow, remember this moment, absorb his words. 

And then, because some thoughts need to be repeated, he said, "It's fun snowboarding with you Mom." But this time he added something more. "All my friends think you are the coolest."

I didn't want to ask, but I kinda had to...

"Do you think that?"

"Most the time," he said matter of fact.

As we slowly made our way back to reality, his hand squeezed a little tighter around mine. I could almost hear the words he will think while in the dark of the night after counting useless sheep. It is the same memory I have of my Mom on my 10th birthday. 

When I was ten my mom let me stay in the ocean for as long as I wanted. I remember how I was in charge of when we returned to shore; she didn't seem to have anywhere she needed to go or anywhere else she wanted to be. 

I remember how her eyes crinkled up as she laughed when I told her about how much fun I had surfing. And how her smile lingered like the smell of sunscreen on her skin. I remember how it felt to be on the gentle waves splashing against my skin. Even the salt water tasted sweet. I was in the deep part of the ocean, but I was not afraid; I was in my mother's view.

The day I turned ten, my mom gave me a glimpse and through that she has given me the best gift of all. The glimpse that the gift of time is the most precious gift to give our kids or anyone we love really. 

I am so glad I had the chance to give that time to Max. Just like my mom did. It will be what I remember about her to soothe my broken heart and bring laughter to my face long after she leaves this earth.      

{January 2013}

Over Scheduled

{Markus playing third in today's game vs. the # 1 Red Sox}

{Max playing second vs. the D-backs}

{Max playing drums at the Spring Band Concert}

{Max playing at his JV hockey game tonight}

If you have ever experienced an emotional response simply by watching someone you love in action, have I got six words for you!

Very rarely Max has too much going on.

But tonight he did. It was not from planning it, some things just all end up lumped together on the same night. It was an email from his band teacher, Mr. J. that made me change the way I interpreted what was going on. And if I have learned anything on this journey called "life" it is that children are the true experts when it comes to grasping when to say when. 

Here are the words that started it all: 

"Max came to me today and asked if there was anything he could do to make up the band concert on Thursday. We had a discussion about why he would inform me only two days before the concert. He explained that he plays hockey year round and baseball during the season and that on this Thursday night each activity conflicts with one another, Hockey, Baseball, and the Band Concert.

I asked him how often he plays hockey and baseball games and also how often we have band concerts. The band concerts have been scheduled since the beginning of the year. It is not something that was scheduled last week or happens frequently. I expect him to be at the concert, just as his team coaches would expect him to be at their games. I understand that conflicts sometimes do happen, however this seems to be overscheduling on Max’s part. Also, Max is a percussionist, which means he is the only person that plays his part. It would be almost impossible to replace his contribution to the band. He would leave the other students high and dry.

When scheduling conflicts arise, it is best to be able to plan for them appropriately." 

Although I finished reading the email and went on with my day, my mind kept going back to that one particular sentence; the one that said, "it is best to be able to plan for them appropriately." I repeated it over in my mind exactly three times. And then I attempted to remember all past interactions I had with my boys at the scheduling conflicts of their extracurricular activities. 

I could think of many occasions when I encouraged, guided, complimented and provided suggestions for how to over-schedule. Had I ever said, "I love to watch you play"? When finishing a swim meet, a piano recital, or even a Sunday night sandlot game. Sometimes. But maybe sometimes I said more was better. Could I really just say "I love to watch you play" and let them decide what? And if I did, would my sons stand there cluelessly at the next invitation to play on another team or another instrument because I had failed to provide guidance with all their "extracurricular" activities before?

Well, I would soon find out. As luck would have it, my 13 year old had an all star tryout the day after I read the email. 

The first words out of his mouth were, "Mr. J. said I was over-scheduled." At the time of the tryouts, his friend Jake texted and asked if he and his brother Sam could come hang out. His steady brain, analyzing the situation, emerged with his answer at lightning speed. He hadn't even made it half way down the driveway on his bike when he turned around and said he wasn't going to tryout for all-stars this year. 

Since my middle son began playing baseball five years ago, I have ALWAYS had the same reaction to his first swing on the first pitch. I cry and turn away so no one sees my reaction. 

I cry not because he's going to hit a home-run. 

I cry not because he's going to be a future MLB player or even high school. 

I cry because he is healthy; he is strong; he is capable.

And I cry because I love to watch him play. 

Oh my. Those six words...

I love to watch him play.

I had always felt that way---tearing up at every game, but I hadn't told him. Not in so few words anyways. 

After the band concert tonight, my son and I stood in the auditorium, just the two of us. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, that is almost taller than mine now, and then I looked him in the eyes and said, "I love to watch you play. You practiced so hard and for so many months, you amaze me. I just love to watch you play." 

Max slowly leaned into me, resting his head against my arm for just a few seconds and sighed. He seemed to say to me:

The pressure's off. She just loves to watch me play; no matter what I do.

I knew I was on to something. 

Thirty minutes later, Max having quickly changed from his black shirt and pants into his white M hockey jersey, it was a big night for him. The JV hockey team has some seniors on it, and the team they were playing from Riverton had some big old boys. He was wearing his new helmet that I got him for his birthday and was having a hard time getting used to the white cage.

After his first shift of getting adjusted to it, he opened up to a pass from his team mate Brian F. and scored his first goal of his high school career. I watched as his hands adeptly found their homes-no need for his old clear face shield. 

With a confident smile, Max celebrated his favorite way, by high-five-ing his team mates...

As his strong legs skated over the ice with ease, I had to look away. My vision became blurred by the tears in my eyes. In fact, this emotional reaction happens every time he gets on the ice. Every. Single. Time. 

I cry not because he has a perfect stride. 

I cry not because he is a NHL player in the making. 

I cry because he is happy; he has a body; and he is free. 

And I cry because I love to watch him play. 

I know I have a new mantra. Not that I will say it like a robot on command or without reason, but I will tell my boys that when ever I feel it--when tears come unexpectedly to my eyes or when I suddenly look down and see goose bumps on my arms.  

I know now how important it is to say it simply-in moments when I feel it. Moments when my heart is palpitating the kind of love that comes solely from watching another human being whom I adore. 

Since Max's birthday is tomorrow I want to tell him about the other times when I have been going about my business and had to stop to notice. 

It is time. 

And since writing is so much easier for me than speaking, I wrote them down. Words of love, plain and simple:

I love watching you read.

I love to watch you swing across the monkey bars. 

I love to watch you admire the clouds and the way the sun shines through them when it rains. 

I love to watch you love your little cousins.

I love watching you take out the trash. 

I love watching you mow the lawn with your headphones on.

I love watching you teach Markus how to throw a baseball. 

I love watching you teach him how to shoot the puck. 

I love watching you ride a penny board with your friends. 

I love watching you interact with Morgen. 

I love watching you laugh. 

I love watching you cook. 

I plan on printing out this list and giving it to him tomorrow when we have a quiet moment together making his birthday cake. I don't know what his reaction will be, but it doesn't matter. I feel these things, so I am going to say these things.

When simply watching someone makes your heart feel as if it could explode right out of your chest, you really should let that person know. "I love to watch you_________________." It is as simple and lovely as that. In some cases, less is more. No pressure...just love, pure and simple.   

Daily Diary

{Street Hockey}

Today I woke up to the sound of my alarm at 5:55 a.m. It was my morning to work. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and sleep for another two hours. But, instead, I got up and pulled on my scrubs and drove to work. I clocked in on time and one of my patients asked me if I was always "so happy and smiley in the morning". Getting up wasn't what I wanted. But I did it. Today.



Today was the sixth time to the doctor in the past month for my boys. It was right after work he needed to be at Primary's. I wanted to shower, to change my clothes, to eat something. But instead I took him. I listened to Morgen talk all the way there and back. My broken armed boy. Together we got his cast taken off and he said, "Thanks Mom." Being the driver wasn't what I wanted. But I did it. Today.



Today the birds chirped wildly through the open kitchen window. Their beautiful songs seemed to remind me of the invites, the laundry, the dishes piled up around me. I wanted to slam the window and silence the singing; I had so much to do. But instead I put on my flip flops and sat on the swing to watch the boys playing street hockey. With each shot, I got closer to what mattered and farther from what didn't. Letting stuff wait wasn't what I wanted. But I did it. At least today.

{Max making Cheesy Bread}

Today I threw some frozen hamburger into the pan and boiled a pot of spaghetti. It looked plain and boring. Max wanted to add some pizazz and make his Cheesy Bread that he learned how to make in cooking class. I wanted to suggest we make it another time. But instead I ran to fresh market for a loaf of french bread while he prepared the garlic, parsley, butter and cheeses. I wanted to question my cooking skills when I saw his beautiful creation that came out of the oven. Instead Markus said, "Let's eat outside on the picnic table! Everything tastes better outside!" Offering myself flexibility wasn't what I wanted. But I did it. Today.
     

Today I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed. It was clear that lack of sleep and stress had left their mark. I wanted to remove each wrinkle, punch each pucker of soft skin. But instead I looked away and thought, "Not today. Only love today." Loving myself wasn't what I wanted to do. But I did it. Today.

Today I wanted to tuck Markus into bed as quickly as possible. It had been a tiring day and I just wanted to read. He asked if I would watch him. Reluctantly, I sat on the stairs and he jumped up two and then three stairs at a time. "Feel my heartbeat," he said. As I felt his heart pounding in his chest, there it was. 

My confirmation. 

To chose to stay when I want to read. 

To chose to listen when I want to lecture. 

To chose to love when I want to hate.

To chose flexibility when I want structure.

To chose hope when I want to doubt. 

To chose to walk when I want to stumble. 

Today I did it. 

It wasn't what I wanted. 

But I share the same heartbeat with three precious boys. 

And today I was choosing them. 

Today I showed them what is important in my life. It is them. I can't imagine my life without them. They are what I could not bear to lose. They are what holds my attention. They are what lights up my world. I choose them. And they noticed. My heart is overflowing with joy.

********************************************************************************

As I look forward to celebrating Memorial Day I want to remember to be fully present and connected to what really matters...whether it is for 30 minutes, three hours, or the entire day, those minutes can make a difference. I know someone will notice. 

I promise to make memories, not to-do lists. Feel the squeeze of my boy's arms, not the pressure of over-commitment.  Be overwhelmed by sunsets that give hope, not extracurricular commitments that steal joy. Noise to be a mix of laughter and gratitude not the buzz of cell phones and text messages. Let go of distraction, disconnection and perfection to live a life that simply consists of what really matters.        

Bird's Eye View

Favorite?????

{My seventeen year old son graduates from high school next month.}

A few years ago, I wrote a post on joining the club. I was not alone in the realization that daily distraction had the capability of preventing us from truly knowing the people we love the most.

I am sharing this as painful as it is, because it saved my relationship with my son. I want to tell you how easily daily distraction can take priority over relationships that mean everything.

The truth hurts, and heals.

My oldest son gave a talk today at church. He sat on the stage in his white shirt speaking words about how the Gospel has made a difference in his life. I'll admit I cried. I'll admit to tears when we sang the closing hymn "Love One Another", but there was something more. Something very painful that I have not allowed myself to fully acknowledge until I saw my sweet son standing at that pulpit.

As he stood there with that beautiful smile looking directly into my eyes, I felt the urge to fall to my knees. I wanted to thank God that I wasn't sitting at the graduating seniors of 2013 sacrament meeting looking at a son I did not know. I wanted to thank my Heavenly Father for waking me up before I sped through the last seventeen years of his life not knowing what I was missing. I wanted to thank Him for giving me a second chance.

Because I had been frighteningly close to missing it.

I lost a couple of years of it. It wasn't because of an illness, or because I was in a fiery plane crash. No, my tragically two year absence was of my own doing.

This is not one of my shining moments as a mom, but I am writing it down to remember. To remind myself that I was on the edge of losing something so sacred that I could never get back. I want to remember how I saved my relationship with my son...

When my oldest son was born I fell utterly and completely  in love with him. I wanted to spend every waking moment with him, I just couldn't seem to get enough of him. And in spending time with him, I got to know him, really know him.  

When he was three-and-a-half-years-old, his little brother came along. By the time Morgen went to first grade I had spent the previous two years as a stay at home mom, having quit teaching ice skating and moving into the home we live in now, living solely for my babies and my family. 

So when Morgen went to first grade I tried to put on a brave face and tell him what a great time he was going to have at lunch and with three recesses! As I walked him in to school on the first day, he said, "I know why you are so excited for me to go to school, it's because I will be gone all day." I stopped in my tracks and hugged him so tightly, so he wouldn't see the tears streaming down my face. I said that I was trying to be excited for him but really I was going to miss him so much. As I got back in the car to drive home I had to sit for five minutes until the tears cleared away enough for me to drive. Even now, I cannot put it into words without crying.

I know you are not supposed to have "Favorites" as a mom, but I have three favorites. Morgen will always hold a special place in my heart. When my second son was two-years-old he was with me all day long after Morgen went to school, my son with curly blond hair who smiles with his whole entire face and has a voice like an angel. 

Max was so good, so content, and so "easy", that he allowed me to shuffle him around on errands. He didn't complain. My sweet two-year-old just went right along with life, my heart, my focus and my constant companion. He had no idea how much space he occupied in my heart. And then he went to school. 

By the time Markus was two-years-old, I had a nagging feeling about how I was doing too much outside of our home. Since my older boys were both in school and he was no longer a "baby", I dove into things that stimulated my mind, allowed for use of my God-given talents and engaged me in conversation with other adults. Activities I thought I had been missing. My sweet Markus just went right along with my over-scheduled life.

As you probably know, once I displayed leadership abilities to the school and church, I began receiving multiple callings (requests really) to head things up. Ward Y.W. first counselor (Youth counselor) Stake Y.W. Athletic director, Primary teacher, Primary President. School room mom. And with each successful event I felt drained. I felt like I was doing good for so many, while my family was getting lost. I felt like a failure. I had taken on an identity other than "Mom". The one thing I really wanted to be when I grew up. 

So I stopped.

At least for awhile. In 2006, I put the brakes on when I read a book called "The 12 Secrets Real Moms Know". I was asked to describe my children (not what they DO for sports or hobbies) and be as descriptive as I could about who they are as people. It urged me to take a breath and re-evaluate my life. To reconsider how I was spending my precious time. I realized I couldn't push my boys off my priority list forever, making time for them only when it was convenient for me. 

But I seem to have gotten back to my bursting-at-the-seams calendar by the involvement needed at school, at church, and in the community. I completely forgot about the fact that these activities were consuming my life, my health, my happiness and my well-being  I didn't notice how much my activities were costing my teenage long haired boy and my family. 

And then one July day, my Breakdown Moment occurred when I finally got a phone call admitting the REAL answer to the question friends continually ask me. 

"How do you do it all, B?"

With tears streaming down my face, I forced myself to admit that in trying to "Do It All", I missed out on life.

And then with the kind of pain that takes your breath away, I realized my teenage son, who was in serious trouble, was the greatest victim of my attempt to "Do It All". 

In that painfully honest breakthrough moment, I hoped for things to change. I hoped I would change. 

And by the hand of God, things have changed. 

In the days between July 2011 and now, I have been making up for lost time. I have come to know my handsome curly haired boy in ways I never could from the couch, from behind the screen of a computer, while talking on my phone, while watching TV, or while I was multi-tasking. It is only a fraction of what I will come to know about him in the years to come. I couldn't truly know him when he was last on the "To-Do List" of my silly over-scheduled life.

The only way I could know him is to spend time with him. Talk to him, listen to him, really listen and listen some more, and do things together that have created lasting memories. I had to do these things with all forms of technology turned off.

And nothing pleases me more than to introduce you to my amazing son, Morgen...

I know...

He is ticklish right in the back of his neck, in that little spot where his muscles connect his head to his body. 

His last molars are coming in so that the final brackets can be put on his braces that he has had on his teeth since he was eight years old. 

When he laughs too hard, he can't breathe. Which manages to make him laugh even more. 

I know...

He has this deliriously happy laugh when he is tormenting Markus and watching him cry. 

He says "awesome" for things he thinks are very cool. And I can't bear the thought that someday soon he will be in his own "awesome" apartment. 

He truly believes that he will get his pilot's license and fly for an airline when they pass laws to not drug test for marijuana. 

He refers to the scriptures as "resources" and makes the exact same reference every time he wants to prove his point: "1 Timothy 4:4-16"

I know...

He would choose his beloved "guys" Mike and Steve over any toy he had when he was a toddler. 

He believes in the power of love and will spend an amazing amount of time hugging his dog Molly. And his cat Moody.

He offers to help me make dinner, and then magically disappears when it's time for the dishes. 

I know...

He gets this melancholy look on his face when he hears stories about himself as a baby.

He will instantly hug me when he walks in the door and he doesn't let go.

He can't quite get all the chords on his guitar but his riffs sound like the stairway to heaven.

He listens intently to Frevk by Dmndz and wants me to listen on his awesome $300 Beats by Dr. Dre.

He doesn't want me to watch the video though since he says, "it is not exactly appropriate haha." 

I know...

He makes his hands hang down when he rides his long board. 

He thinks he doesn't need a helmet to ride since he is not going to hit his head when he falls, just his arms. (That is how he broke his arm, hit a rock going down the hill in front of our house.)

He loves to go get ice cream from Cold Stone.

He gets overly excited when waiting for a ride to his friends.

I know...

He is an excellent crepe maker except for the fact that he eats all the berries before they make it inside the crepes. 

He loves to be with his friends...the more the merrier.

He used to tell me that he was going to miss me when he was gone on his mission. 

He was terrified of someone sneaking in his window and always asked if the windows were locked.

I know...

He puts the dishes away where ever he wants.

He voluntarily asks to do his court ordered community service on time. 

He attributes working as a bus boy for his upper body strength. 

He potty trained himself and was obsessed with reading about Prudence. 

I know...

He somehow smells like candy even when he hasn't showered for three days.

He draws amazing cartoons and action stories. 

He actually made my heart stop when he came in my room this morning, wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered, "Love you Mom." 

This is only a fraction of what I will come to know about him in the years to come. 

And when my handsome, seventeen-year-old son stands proudly at his high school graduation next month, I can say, "That's my son Morgen, I know him. I know every good and bad and precious and miraculous thing about him."

And through my tears of happiness, I will remember how close I was to missing it all. 

Thank Heaven for second chances.

Cause when I was living life distracted, I was missing more than life. 

Did you just read what I said: When I was living life distracted, I was missing more than life.  

*******************************************************************************

   

{Mother's Day 2013}