Sunday, June 30, 2013

A Thousand Words

As you know, Markus had his All-Star Baseball state qualifier Friday and Saturday (in 101 degree weather no less!) and lost both games. One 14-3 and the other 19-4. Today = Only photos - enjoy your Sunday. 
















Saturday, June 29, 2013

A Quick Note

If you think it is odd to be writing a letter to you, you should try writing it. As my "blog each day" challenge is coming to a close, I admit the impetus has given my creativity a burst - although it has taken a lot of time.

I am writing from baseball today, while Markus is warming up for his All-Star game which I will be visiting again here very soon....

So just a quick note on how to be selfish. 

Self Awareness 
Self Control
Self Love 

Step one: Find something you want to do, eat, read, try, sing, experience, avoid, write, touch, smell, grow, cut, photograph, make, keep, throw out, and/or enjoy.

Step two: Do it.

Step three: Stone yourself with guilt for doing what you did until you’re emotionally bruised and broken. Or feel the satisfaction, smiling so wide your ears hurt.

Be selfish today. And thanks for reading on your weekend.  

Much love, 

B


Friday, June 28, 2013

This I Believe

I was reading a book at work a few weeks ago when I was assigned to sit with a patient who had a traumatic brain injury. Since he was asleep for 11 of the 12 hours I was there, I picked up a book I found in the break room that looked interesting entitled, 'This I Believe'. I read a few of the essays written by various authors but when I got to this one on Connecting With Others I didn't want to stop reading. But since my shift was over I had to go and leave the book behind. Here's the thing though, I kept thinking about it. On my drive out to Draper to pick up Morgen from his gf Katarina's house. On my bike ride. On the way to Wal-Mart. So I looked it up again today on the NPR website of the same name and read it again. I have posted it here so you can read it if you'd like. In discussing connection with others, I have often been chastised for co-sleeping with my babies, baby wearing and extended nursing among other things, natural child birth and not finding out the sex of my babies before they were born being the others. I instinctively knew what Isabel, in this essay, was saying: you only have what you give.  


{I loved being pregnant and giving my whole body to a baby inside me}

{I loved sharing my bed with these little guys}

{I loved nursing my babies}

{And carrying them with me where ever I went}

Like Isabel, I like to give much more than to receive. I am happier when I love than when I am loved. I love my sons, my sisters, my nieces and nephews, my mom and dad, my dog, and even the cat. lol I don't even know if they even like me. But who cares? Loving them is my joy. Give, oh give away. 

So here is what I have been wondering about tonight. What is the point of love if you don't give it away? 

Thursday, June 27, 2013

One Sweet Tuesday

The most beautiful, life changing messages happen when you least expect them.
Out of all the teachers my boys have had in my seventeen-year parenting career, I think about Mrs. Toth the most. That little lady haunts my dreams. Morgen's third grade teacher tried to make everything around her better. After teaching school for 34 years, she knew a lot about children. I sought to help in her class as much as I could to just be around her. But I’m still left with the feeling that I could have done more.
Because one Tuesday afternoon, near the end of the school year at field day, Mrs. Toth told me something that I will never forget. 
It felt like a single beam of sun that somehow managed to shine through the darkest of menacing clouds.
It looked like a tiny yellow flower that somehow managed to sprout through a crack in the cruel rock cliff.
These are the words she spoke:
You may not work on Wall Street. You may not make a lot of money. You may not think so, but I have been watching you all year. I think you should teach a joyful parenting class. Every single one of us could learn from your example each and every day to bring joy into the chaos of parenting.
She then told me that she saw me when I looked into Morgen's eyes when he spoke, even though I’d heard the story ten times already.
And she mentioned that I paid attention when he said, “Watch me, Mom!” And not only did I watch, but I said, “I see you, buddy. I see you!”
She even said she heard me say, “How did I get so lucky?” 
Maybe that’s why I look for the good, always the good in others, even when I have to dig a little to find it.
Because Mrs. Toth did. She retired the next year, Max and Markus didn't get to experience her example that loving a person means seeing him, really seeing him, above the distractions, the chaos, the mess, and the imperfections. She knew that loving a person means seeing him with so much love in your eyes that you can’t hold back the tears. Teacher's pet aside, she told me that she couldn’t bear the thought of him belonging to anyone else. 

{Karsten, Dallin, Parker and Morgen at Graduation}

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

I'm Lame

I tend to be pretty negative about myself so this wasn't that hard coming up with only three of my worst traits. 
Definition of trait:  A distinguishing feature, as of a person’s character. 
  • I'm impatient-I like things done when I decide I want them done. It’s embarrassing to admit but I’m really trying to work on it. I've heard about the Stanford marshmallow experiment. In short, a group of children were offered the choice between an immediate reward like a marshmallow or cookie, or two rewards if they waited an additional 20 minutes. The conclusion to this was that the children who were able to wait longer for the reward tended to have better life outcomes. My strong-headed-ness usually gets in the way - even if others clearly explain it to me, but it usually only applies to my personal life. Like people who I want to be with, bridging gaps, those things when pride gets the better of me. Ambiguous, huh? 
  • I have a temper (or to clarify, attitude). I think this would be The Ex's first one if you secretly asked him. My temper actually has drastically improved, but my tone still needs some work. I'm condescending. I'm sarcastic in a not-funny way. I'm nit-picky. I usually expect the best in people. I expect them to be trustworthy. To be on time. To tell the truth. To like me. To really get "it".
  • I have trouble saying “no”, so I get caught without enough time to do everything. I’m often trying to make everyone happy which can get in the way of my happiness. Sometimes I need to work on boundaries. And making time for the ones that count.

So there you go. I know a lot of people hate me for this. Don’t worry. The feeling is mutual. I hated, and still continue to hate myself for these traits innumerable times now. I also hate greeting cards. I’m doing my best to change and be a better person, though.
I feel like I need a hug or something. Except another bad trait of mine is how much I like physical affection. 

Tomorrow's post: something I was told about myself I'll never forget.

{Blading at the parkway last week}

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Some Thing's School Didn't Teach Me

It is not a world of black and white, but gray. There are very few right answers. Sure, when the test is given, the capital of Turkey may be Ankara but give it a couple of years or even weeks, and it's not Ankara it's Istanbul (not Constantinople). There are very few right answers in school, and outside school there are even less. Even so, the arranging of a or x or y from one side of the equals sign to the other will stay curled up in my brain somewhere, coming out randomly to s t r e t c h when something comes perfectly together, like the first bite of a cookie fresh out of the oven, or seeing my son fall into the zone, delivered by a book and I find it as hard to get his attention as if there actually was an entire atmosphere between us.

Probability can help me pass the test, but school didn't teach me life has its own answers. I know how to pronounce cos, sin and tan, while cheerfully having no idea anymore of how they relate to anything. I can't get all the questions right. Often I have no idea what the question actually IS, or who is going to teach me whatever it is I should be learning. It can be a long, painful fall from being a straight A student to just an ordinary human living the life I've been given, the life I'm trying to build and figure out.

There are very few right answers. Life's algebra doesn't balance. But there have been moments when I understand a person, a sunrise, or a recipe and the entire sky has changed color and my heart sang in celebration. There have been disappointments that fell far into the abyss inside me, and gray was the only color I could see in any of it. But it was those moments - of heartbreak and clarity and Saturday's 'Super Moon' and the sudden smell of cinnamon - that have become part of my own answers, to the questions I had been looking for all along.



Monday, June 24, 2013

Brace Yourself

**Note: This is a rant about something post, about my frustrating, kicked-me-in-the-butt weekend I've just had. I’m fine, the boys are fine, I just need to spit the taste, stink and thought of it on here so I can move on. No deep thoughts, just crankiness and deliberate blessing counting. And my Dad's 74th birthday party. That is all. **

A night shift started off the weekend on Friday and I missed one of Markus' All-Star games. That was hard, since I had swapped this shift with my friend, Ashley, at work so that she could do Ragnar, and I could teach skating last weekend for the competition at Acord.

Nope. That was just the start of it. I came home from work Saturday morning at 7:35 and plunked myself in bed. 11:10 the garage opened and I hear my sweet Markus run up the stairs to get his swimming suit. He ran in for a hug and out to go swimming with Ben. 

I considered, listening to nothing but the tight hiss of my mood, until the throb of my heartbeat eased from my ears, until my breath ebbed and flowed back in. 

I’m not going to be mad, I decided. This is me being kind to myself.

Surprised, and grateful, I simply sat, and did nothing but let the stress drift out and quietly fog the corners of the mirrors.

Since I could not fall back asleep - no matter how hard I tried, I finally got up and cleaned the house and mowed the lawn. Max came home and helped finish. While I was moving the grill over so he could blow the grass from underneath, I tripped and it tipped over on me. Markus came to my rescue and amazingly had the strength to pull it off of me, leaving my arm bruised, elbow and knee scrapped and my hand bleeding. It has not been a good weekend.

In the course of the last three days, between working three 12-1/2 hour shifts, and getting three hours of sleep on Saturday I'm tired. THREE. All of which were in the morning, I am both cranky and tired and out of sorts and ravenous… it’s not good for relaxing, I have to say.

Money is tight. I did the math, and knew exactly when I could afford to buy the boys Pass of All Passes. Anxiety had eaten everything soft and vulnerable in my belly, though, and yesterday I was wondering what I was thinking. Sunday I was working, so I missed church (and stressed about not teaching my primary class yet again, despite the Primary President’s reassurances that she understood and cheered my decision – I hate feeling I've failed my responsibilities so, so much).

“How you doing, B?” my manager, Lisa asked me at my quarterly evaluation at work last week.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me, “Only okay?”

“Some days or weeks, being just okay is a win. I’m fine, my boys are fine, I’m okay."

“I'm going to switch you to days instead of nights and when school starts we can work around your schedule."

Immediately I blurted “I'm not sure if I'm going to get in to the nursing program.” She blinked, startled, and I laughed. “Seriously, I haven't heard anything…”

She looked at me, kindness and strength evident. “I hope you get in."

She spoke, and the stress filling in my belly was calmly swallowed by a warm bundle of clarity. I’m going to be a nurse, and it will be a good thing. Good for me, good for my sons. Peace uncoiled through me, flowing through my veins. She wrote a letter of recommendation to the selection committee on my behalf. It might all work out, and be an amazing experience. Evaluation done (in more ways than one), I returned home, back to my boys, humming zip-a-dee-do-dah.

I came in to work at 6:30 this morning. My friend Denise had been working all night. The shift change went through, nurses switched patients and I was doing my rounding – I’m walking down the hall when the smell hits me. It was a great start to Monday, driving home what was happening in my nose. Then the whole thing kind of exploded.

We have been down two people at work, which has meant trying to cover other people’s jobs, plus management have added more responsibilities which has further increased the time it takes to complete a task, which then escalates the situation. In the last room I round on is the biggest mess I have yet encountered on the job. And the other techs I call for help are not happy about it either, and while they are for the most part a great bunch of people, any whining is still whining. All small stuff, when taken individually, but all together an overload has descended.

Today, at the busiest point of the day, the shift change. It’s a major isolation health issue, so it’s taken incredibly seriously. I’m assigned to her (and the one that found her like that), so I got to put on my sexy yellow isolation gown, grab a pair of gloves and hurry to get her cleaned up, hauling her into the shower as I strip sheets off of the bed. Bedding cleaned, I reported to the charge nurse, and then walked a couple of hundred miles around the floor to the designated time, where we waited for the next shift to arrive. Half an hour before, I went back into this little ladies room again for the last hourly rounding of my day and she has been incontinent again! The afternoon provided some gratitude thoughts as well. “He is leaving for the heart floor,” my charge nurse stated, stopping between me and the vitals I was charting. “Don’t take his sheets off – take him downstairs instead.”

“But I thought he was doing better?” I reminded her.

“He's in heart failure.” She replied softly. “If they can help him better downstairs, he is going to go.” She lowered her head until she had my full attention. “He already has a pacemaker. Yesterday’s and today’s vitals aren't showing improvement. He is wearing out,” she looked at me. So, without a doubt, this was a definite shock. I’m trying not to cry and his daughter is there with him, crying as well.

I am going to be a nurse, I told myself, over and over and over again. Changing briefs, counting calories and fluids, charting rounding and bowel habits, I repeated it like a mantra. I am going to be a nurse. The letters are in. I am going to school.

I texted the boys on my way down the elevator. “I'll pick you up at baseball - we're going to Grandpa's party.”

 I left work at 7 tonight, bone tired, realizing I wouldn't see Marko until I picked him up after Baseball at about 8 pm. I got home just after 7, to find the cereal bowls still on the table, the boys’ chores undone and  I had two crackers for dinner, scrubbed the black from under my nails, and started work on the kitchen. Once I arrived at baseball, Max was super-excited because he’d received Jake's birthday party invitation text for Friday.

I texted my Mom, and I explained that I would be late for my Dad's birthday party. I was reassuring her that I was fine and not that tired as soon as I walked in the door. She fed us all dinner and I calmed down a little more while Mom chatted about my friend, Sharon's daughter, Madison being in the Miss Utah pageant. I told her what the cat had been throwing up all night last night… When I could talk in complete sentences, I thanked her, swapped I love you’s, and asked about Dad's day.

"Ppfft,” my mom teased, “You don't need any more $#!% in your life!”

I laughed, needing the lightened mood, laughter, and finding surprising satisfaction in washing the dishes by hand. “You’re right about that, mom!”

“No, seriously” mom continued, obviously determined to help my feelings. “You’re a great Mom. Doing a great job. Don’t worry about your boys.” She hugged me again.

Dad looked me directly in the eye. “You are welcome to stay here tonight,” my dad stated, bubbles still floating in the sink “we have plenty of room for you to stay.”

“I know. I just can't stay here. Not with Ood's sick.”




So he blew out candles and we ate cake, and mom's dishwasher was still broken, and after some more chatting, it was time to return home.

Cleaned up cat throw up, and listened to the rain. Last weekend was officially over.

This scripture was on repeat all the while “-endure all things”. Heavenly Father knows I’m strong-headed. More stubborn than I should or need to be, usually. But this past weekend seemed like one of those times where I just had to put my head down, and move forward through everything slamming against me. And when I was becoming especially discouraged, there was the uplift and belief of family to boost me on, the smell of fresh water, and “-endure all things” echoing in my ears, the word “hope” warming my shoulders, strengthening my shaking knees, wrapping me up to stay stubborn strong, keep going just a little longer.

 Even awful weekends end. Eventually.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

BACK IN TIME

Aaaaaand, another post! A list of links to my favorite posts in the archives of Peach-iness. Done.


The craziness - this was one of the very first posts I ever wrote on this blog, and I distinctly remember it as the one that got me hooked. I can't really explain why, but I was exhilarated while writing it, and loved this funny little thing called real life. I've been addicted to writing here ever since.

May the Sun Shine On You Today - written on a day that felt like I had the sun shining on me from both sides.

I Will Remember - the photos my sister, Lara, took at the Freedom Towers, and the way that they left a lasting impression on me.

Angel Mothers - written to my friends.

Fabulous Night Of Wonderment And Fun  - the photos on this post make me happy.

Favorite Photos Of My Boys: 1|2|3

Timpanogos Caves, personalized tour. With Amanda.  Photos from our tour of one of my favorite places on earth!

Danny & Mara: a love story. The proposal of Danny to Mara where they first met...it's really sweet. #nosmileys

Choosing Happiness posts: Part 1 & Part 2

I think that will keep you busy for awhile. Have a great weekend, and be sure and post your links, too. 

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Putting Myself To Bed

Bedtime has been absent around the house. While I have a good idea why, lately getting to bed at a decent time - 'decent' being before 11:30 - has been as likely as me winning the lottery.

It's just not happening.

I'm sure the reason why sleep is hugging the dust ruffle instead of curling up behind my knees, tented in feathers, is because it is summer. I want to go to bed, to cast the worries and cares of the day from my hair like pearls, the marbled bead then used to pay it's way across the ocean to dreaming. Instead I wander the house, wipe down the counters of cat hair, check the doors, realise yet again I haven't dusted the bookshelf/painted the wall/watered the valiantly struggling yet probably doomed tomato plants, and go kiss the boys a final time goodnight. The boys are oblivious, watching TV instead of in their rooms. Doughshis' cowlicks sticking up like curls, his arms and legs a hidden knot of undetermined sleep. Marko's nose is practically against his chest, two pillows standing guard behind him on the couch. I know better than to move anything regardless of how uncomfortable he looks, because he will wake before I leave the family room growling against the light and my interference. A lesson learnt so long ago: let sleeping babies lie. 

If I wait a few minutes I can carry him up to bed and he will pretend to stay asleep. He's not heavy, I've been carrying him up to bed since he was ten pounds. Now that he's seventy it feels almost the same. Like the man carrying the pig up the mountain everyday in the story "Holes" - I've grown stronger each day. 

The hunt with sleep continues, a slow creep into other rooms and routines. I sit, the curve of the mattress edge reflects the slope of my shoulders, and tiredness sags at my hips. C'mon, I suggest, time for bed. Prayers folded into whispers, I pull myself up, impossibly far, further, kick off my Jammie's and face-plant the pillow. A moment to pause, my head singing a Hallelujah! and I roll to my left side, a night-whale searching for air and whatever book is balanced nearby.

All is well I'll look at some pages before I get to the end and realize I don't know what I just read, stretch for the light switch and breathe out long and slow into the sudden dark night. Some nights, like the night before last, I'll have struggled to keep my eyelids open, until I give myself a time out and put myself to bed. No putting around, no more drinks of water or double checks on laundry or food for Molly - the house is dark, clothes are left in piles on the floor, and I'm muttering against the pillows well before the cuckoo clock can bang on about it being 11 o'clock.

Putting myself to bed can be the meanest, kindest thing I can do. Even if I do spontaneously wake up at 4 am the next morning, for no reason. Except for maybe being used to not getting enough sleep.

Friday, June 21, 2013

A Few Faves

Five of my favorite blogs and what I love about them...

I'm glad I have the chance to brag about a few of my favorite blogs today. I read and love a bunch of blogs, but I'm actually writing this before I go to work tonight, and I am in a bit of a hurry, so I'm only going to write about three blogs today. These days, the blogs I read are those of people I actually know, and care about or even see in person sometimes. I love them all for different reasons. It's interesting how blogging has come full-circle for me. Please enjoy a few of my faves.

1. Liken To Life

Cover photo


There aren't very many blogs I read a lot but Liken To Life is one of them. Kate is married to her luthier sweetheart, Adam Day, who besides making violins, has helped in making four children (a Dramatic Dreamer, a Sensitive Scientist, an Obedient Organizer, and an Expressive Entertainer).  When she's not teaching her children, she enjoys mentoring music students, writing, reading and her weekly ARC class. Her passion is learning truths, creating beauty and helping share those truths and that beauty with others. I never miss a post. 

2. Joie de Vivre


I'm not letting go!

Robyn is a blogger I feel lucky to count among friends, even though we used to be S-I-L's. I adore this woman, her story, her humor, her heart and the fact that she moved back from Texas. She blogs about a family of hugging, kissing, laughing, tickling people who love to karaoke and dress-up in wigs. She also has a deep love of the gospel of Jesus Christ and hopes to make her life like His every day.

3. A Blog About Love




My friend Laurie's brother, Danny, and Mara have a blog I've mentioned before and read often. They post on... Divorce, Forgiveness, Love, Marriage, Infertility, Peace, Happiness, Overcoming Trials, Choices, Dating, Being Single, Family, and Life in Brooklyn. 

*****

OK, I'll have to brag about the other two on my list another time. How about you - which blogs are your absolute must-reads?

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Parley's Gift



Time to get ready for the show. Adam has a bloody nose, Sheri didn't hit him, he just started bleeding, like he does sometimes. My mom's nose does that sometimes too. Mom takes Adam over to lay down on my nap-time bed. She puts a wet washcloth under his nose and tells him to lay down. Blood doesn't scare me. It's not even gross. Adam is 7 and is my only brother. My three older sisters, and my mom and dad all skate together in the show.

Since Sheri is 2 years-old, she stays at the hotel with a babysitter. She gets to skate next year, when she can skate as fast as me. I like our dressing room at this place (Civic Center in Philadelphia) it is bigger than the one we were in last week. I have room to play doll's under the table. I'm almost dressed so I stop to have a snack. I still need to find my other white glove. Everyone is talking and laughing. I love being here instead of stuck in the hotel room with Sheri crying all night since she misses my mom.

There is a man in our dressing room tonight from the newspaper. Dad is telling him the story of how we started skating in the Ice Follies. It is the same story he tells over and over again. Three years ago, no one in my family could skate. My dad sold land in Provo. Before that he sold hamburgers in a Little King franchise business and before that he ran a Boys Ranch. My sister, Marilee, wanted some skates for Christmas. So, my dad bought her some. Since my mom drove us all with her to lessons, we all started lessons. Except my dad. And then one day after the show had come to the Salt Palace he called them up and told them he had three little blond ice skaters. They called my dad back. Marilee, Lara and Monet also had been singing with Our Gang singers and learned how to sing three part harmony. My dad had started skating too and so my whole family - except Sheri - joined the show.

I turned four-years-old in Bangor, Maine, and had my party at a restaurant where they brought out a huge chocolate cake with sparklers on it - I had never seen such a cool cake in my whole four years of life! lol Since I am all ready, I ask the man that is writing things down if he wants to go downstairs and watch Cookie Monster from backstage with me. I love Cookie Monster and he sometimes gives me rides on the ice behind the curtain before he goes out to skate. I have to keep sniffing since my nose keeps running (I am pretty sure I had allergies even back then!) and finally use my dress so it doesn't run down my face. I remember just waking up from the nap dad make me take even though I wasn't sleepy. So I am kind of hungry. Since I love cookies (still do) I get one from the bag that Adam said are his, but they are for everyone, mom says. I almost take a bite but then I remember that I should share because the man might be hungry too. He doesn't want one so I eat it all.

I ask the man if he wants to see my autograph since I just learned how to sign my name and he says yes. While the man is listening to my mom and Marilee talk about the time mom fell down, I see the book mom was going to read me before my nap. It is my read-along version of Bambi and I always cry when Bambi's mom doesn't make it out of the clearing. I tell my mom that she forgot to read it to me and she says, "Later, honey..." She says that and then forgets. Lara will read it with me though. I can almost read by myself from listening to my tape recorder and turning the page when the chime rings like this...

I can count to 10 all by myself though and the man asks me how high I can count. So I ask him too. I'm still hungry so I grab another cookie, but he still doesn't want any. Adam's nose is still bleeding and he is standing over the sink so that all the blood can run out. If it all runs out he will be dead, I think to myself. Marilee hears the music before ours playing and my dad says "It's Showtime". My dad is wearing his one-piece garments so he hurries to put on his costume. My tights are twisted and falling down so I try to fix them by pulling them down and readjusting them. Mom has time to tape my curls to the side of my face so they don't fly back when I skate and we all hurry downstairs to do our number.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This story from my childhood is easy to be descriptive about what I remember because luckily, there happened to be a reporter there as well. You can read Pete's version of the story here, however my version includes how I felt. :)  

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Feeling Beautiful

It was hard to find a photo of myself that I genuinely love, that doesn't have my boys in it as well. Most of my favorite pictures are of me smiling with my laughing boys, when it's not just their mouths turned up, but their whole faces animated with joy. 

{It's not even very good quality because it was taken ten years ago on an old camera.}

This picture I haven't posted anywhere before. Except for my Photobucket account to back up my files.

I was on the Seine River my first night in Paris. This day involved many fun events, one of which was a night boat ride. I had never seen the Eiffel Tower before and when the boat came around the bend, the lights all turned on and it took my breath away, the gorgeous iconic building in the City of Lights.

I love the elegance of this picture. It's so peaceful to me. Being in Paris was very exciting, but this sight was beyond words. One of the quiet joys was feeling beautiful, and believing that feeling beautiful is okay. This picture helps me remember that.    

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Change

I heard it said at my nephew, Casey's, commencement that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world - Chaos Theory




I've been having a hard time accepting that I have to work and I am missing so much. I need to remember that I can have my moments with my boys; I can still have a meaningful life. I need to let go of what I cannot control and grasp the time I DO have. Even if it is only one hour, that is MY hour, my free time for who really matters.
When I was at Lara's house for the BBQ on Saturday she told me that her house just sold, Hayden moved to Hawaii last week with his dad and then added that she is going in Thursday for cancer surgery and will need quite a bit of downtime with her recovery. I blinked back tears as I heard her words, thinking surely there must be some mistake—not courageous, beautiful, strong, determined Lara … not my sister who has become a hero to me and so many … not the amazing mother of four who would survive all that she has and outlive us all. 
For the past several days, I've had no words, only heartache. But then inspiration came—offering me a chance to learn something from her. 
The following promise is how I will live out my days here on earth—inspired by Lara, my remarkable sister whose life is the epitome of what really matters.
Because of you, I will smile at the grumpy cashier. I will smile at those with no smile because I don’t know what battle they're facing today.
Because of you, I will say yes to candy machines and to holding that little fluffy puppy that will probably pee on my hand.  Because these things make my kids happy—and one day they will remember I said yes to candy and puppies, just like their aunt Lara.
Because of you, I will buy the pretty dresses on the same day I say, “Yes, I’ll eat ice cream.”
Because of you, I will celebrate the rare occasion when my 10-year-old grabs my hand as we walk through a parking lot.  And I will notice the unusual occurrence that he leaves his hand in mine far longer than needed.
Because of you, I will let that aggressive driver into the line of traffic even though I waited my turn. I will even wave and wish him well.
Because of you, I will stop for sunsets and butterflies that hit me when I'm riding my bike down Millcreek canyon. I will acknowledge such things are miracles. Because they are.
Because of you, I will take the stairs. I will take the scenic route. I will take a chance if it’s something worth fighting for.
Because of you, I will carry spare change just in case I see that man on the corner of 1300 E. and I-80 with a sign that says, “Anything helps.” Because you always want to help.
Because of you, I will schedule my mammogram and ob/gyn appointments. And I will remind my friends to do the same.
Because of you, I will sing in the car. I will sing in the shower. Even though it sounds a little pitchy. Even if I don’t know the words. I will sing.
Because of you, I will give hugs to people in pain. And because you would save anyone, anything from pain and suffering if you could.
Because of you, I will live life now, not “someday.”
Because of you, I will call all my sisters at least once a week. Even if it goes to voicemail. Even if all I say is, “Have you heard the new Taylor Swift song? I think you would love it.”
Because of you, I will say, “I am sorry.” Even when it’s difficult to say. Even when I think the other person should say it first. 
Because that is what you taught me to do.
Because of you, I will bless the butterfly that hits me while I'm riding my bike. Because you taught me everyday miracles are everywhere if we just open our eyes and look for them.
Thanks for helping me learn about living and loving like today matters, because it does. 

Monday, June 17, 2013

Summertime

Summer vacation is here! And while my boys love to have some three months off from school, I've been noticing a slight wave of anxiety growing in the pit of my stomach. As my work at the hospital and teaching schedule changes I find myself wondering how I will accomplish my work while still being a loving mom to my boys.
So with that said, My boys and I have come to a decision about summer. And I share it with you because we all have responsibilities that beg for our time, attention, and energy.
So what exactly are the things that kids want? Would you believe there is a list of such items coming from children themselves?
When I stumbled on this list of what kids love their parents to do, I felt as if I had a chance. A chance to live so that my boys remember the summer of 2013 as one of the best.
A wise teacher named Erin Kurt happened to have the insight to ask her students what they most liked their parents to do with them. She asked this same question every year for 16 years and from these responses she revealed, “The Top 10 Things Kids Want From Parents.”

The Top Ten Things Kids Really Want Their Parents To Do With Them
  1. Come into my bedroom at night, tuck me in and sing me a song. Also tell me stories about when you were little.
  2. Give me hugs and kisses and sit and talk with me privately.
  3. Spend quality time just with me, not with my brothers and sisters around.
  4. Give me nutritious food so I can grow up healthy.
  5. At dinner talk about what we could do together on the weekend.
  6. At night talk to me about about anything; love, school, family etc.
  7. Let me play outside a lot.
  8. Cuddle under a blanket and watch our favorite TV show together.
  9. Discipline me. It makes me feel like you care.
  10. Leave special messages in my desk or lunch bag.
So based on this new-found knowledge, I've decided exactly what I want our summer to look like. Because the simple fact is this: I hold the power to determine what my family’s summer will look like based on the choices I make. But be warned, some of it may not look pretty.

Today there was …
{Less clean surfaces and more projects that reach across the table for hours...maybe even days}

{More sleeping in}

{And less drawer usage, more piles}



{Less keyboard time and more old-fashioned fort building}

{Less formal music and more playing of the tunes in our heart}

{Less sitting on the side and more jumping in to the action}

{Less time spent on how we look and more hats on unwashed hair}

{Less hurry up}

{More pause}


{Less watching Netflix and more watching of the clouds}

{Less time driving kids around and more time letting them drive}

{More baseball - Markus' first All-Star practice this year}

{More spontaneous, less seriousness}

{Less hours spent in the kitchen and more casual picnic dinners on the patio}

{Less baking perfection and more helping hands}

{More friends, less fighting}

{Less running and more unconventional forms of exercise like climbing fifty flights of stairs}

As you can see, a day in the life of our summertime is not always pretty. It's not always organized. It's not efficient or productive. And it's definitely not perfect, but I can breathe; and I can laugh, and play, and feel joy - which are impossible to do if I am too busy working, constantly trying to pick up the mess and stressing over details that won't matter ten months from now let alone ten years from now.

I vow to make this summer my handsome grown boys will remember as their favorite summer. 

They won't remember the summer they went to Disney World. 

And they won't remember the summer they went to Lake Powell or even if they ever go to Hawaii. 

It will be the summer of 2013 when we grew our own tomatoes and made fresh squeezed lemonade. The summer we had perpetual grass stains on the bottom of our feet.  

This summer will have more...


thinking of others

walks to the park with Molly

flip-flop wearing

play on the floor - board games and yahtzee


rainbow spotting

having good attitudes

patience
I come from a long line of overachieving workaholics. I have a tiny drill sergeant in my head that tends to drown out my inner voice with demands of productivity and perfection. I know three little boys who can hold me accountable for the summer to remember. And they even agreed to help me by helping more with chores, cooking meals and having positive attitudes with me and each other. All day long, we have choices we make on how we spend our time. Today's the day we became mindful of these choices, me and my boys, to remember things - not being perfect but giving them the perfect childhood.