Hayden turns 14

My sister Lara's son, Hayden turned 14 today. He invited us to have lunch with him and then go paint balling. I am feeling better today than yesterday. I so dislike being sick.

This Time

Tonight, I’m pulling down all the Christmas decorations. The baby Christmas tree will be casually folded then cheerfully shoved until it (mostly) fits in the box it came in. The decorations will be jiggled carefully into their special container, the cards decking our windows put in the Christmas card bin, and the last of the mess will be swept up and away. At my place tonight, Christmas will be over, and we’ll be getting ready for new year's eve.


The big event is fast approaching, bringing much noise, chaos and dancing– the long awaited, much anticipated celebration, which happens to be my nephew Connor's second birthday. I’m not excited about it at all.

Sure, I have some presents for my buddy (as yet unwrapped), and my sister Sheri has sent out the invites. But I am just having a hard time accepting the fact that he will have to have his next heart surgery soon.
And that this time next year, he’ll be three. And that in five years’ (four Christmases and birthdays, one [please God?!] completed university degree and a whole lot of desserts) time, my eldest son will be old enough to be a senior in college and in this year, my fortieth birthday party (which, considering the last five years, may include straight-jackets as party favours – wanna come?)

He-Who’s-Nearly-Grown-Up whirled up to me recently and said “What are your New Year’s resolutions?” I considered his question, pulling him in for a hug. “You know,” I told him “I’m not sure I’m going to have any.”

He pulled his head back, saying “Whaaaa-? But why not?”

“Not sure. I haven’t thought of any.”

“Ha! You’re funny, Mom” he laughed then spun off to another game.

Every time I think of New Year’s Resolutions I think of a quote by Neil Gaiman:

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

That’s a New Year’s goal, wish and resolution I can fully agree with and aim for, this time next year.

I don’t know what I’ll be doing, but I can hope. Hopefully I’ll be getting ready to pull down the Christmas tree and wrapping Connor-Man's Third birthday present. Maybe thinking about what resolution I should/shouldn’t make (more dessert/less dessert?) for the upcoming New Year. Most of all, I plan that this time next year I’ll be thankful I recognised I (hopefully) have five tiny, fleeting hurtles around the sun left before I kiss my firstborn farewell for eons, and that I spent the year accordingly. That I wore the year out with laughter and enthusiasm, with love and new memories, and look forward to more of the same.

Do you make resolutions?

Post Game Potluck

{Max had a scrimmage game tonight vs. the Bantam Dawg team}

{His coach asked me if I could organize a post game party}

{So I did, complete with pizzas, subs, veggies, drinks and more}

{The boys all had a great time playing and eating together afterwards}

How I spent my Christmas Vacation

Watching 61 boys playing hockey for 3 hours each day. Max and Markus both are doing the hockey camp this week at the oval. Since Max is skating with the older kids and Markus with the younger ones I spent the day driving them out and picking them up. I ran on the huge track that goes all the way around the rinks and watched both of their scrimmage games. It was sunny and warm and I enjoyed every second of it.

Test

So here is a test post sent from my iPhone. Let's see how it works ...

Personal

I am a personal person. I really like personal things. I like giving little bits of myself to other people, and I love when other people give parts of themselves to me. I love things that are homemade. This takes on a lot of forms. I appreciate that extra bit of heart in a lot of ways. I love depth in conversation. I like to talk about ideas and experiences. I have a hard time getting through without referencing a study or something really interesting from NPR or the Wall Street Journal. I love it when people listen to me, when they remember those things going on in my life, when they get excited with me over accomplishments or upcoming events and trips. I love it when they tell me about their ups and downs and great ideas. And compliments… who doesn’t love those? I don’t often forget a very sincere compliment. They go in a special place in my head (kind of like that top drawer of my 8-year-old’s dresser where he keeps all his school prizes, found money, and piñata loot) and they get stashed there for rainy soul days when I need a little validation.

{Max and Markus playing outside with their new Christmas Toys}

 

Then just today I came home from Christmas at Grandma's and found a surprise package in my mailbox (it contained treats and a sincere note). It was the most welcome thing, as I had just been thinking about what awaited me at home was a list of the most dreaded mom tasks imaginable—grocery run, post office, library, laundry, Christmas décor take down, 2 day mail sort, and an accumulation of business tasks. My night was made so much better by this personal offering.

I could go on and on about the friend who is known for her handwritten notes, homemade cards, sewing creations, or the one who sends the best birthday video messages, or the one who dutifully comments on my blog.

At a women's conference at BYU one of the speakers said, “Our love is often lazy in its failure to individualize.” This thought has stuck with me for these past 10 years. It reminds me to put in that little extra effort, to use my agency to make life better for others. It’s amazing how the smallest things are really what make our days worth living. So here is to wishing you all a personal 2012.

What is meaningful to you?

Silent Night

all is calm
all is bright

And then wham, bam, out of the darkness comes Markus crashing down his slide! It's Christmas at 5:01 a.m. And boy is he excited!!!

Santa brought him way too much. As usual. And he didn't think it was very much! Ha!

Happy Christmas!

Night Before Christmas...

A slide show through my December would consist of a mad-fast jumble of contrasts.

Twenty crazed minutes mid-Christmas Eve inside a crowded Walmart, accompanied by overloud, carnival-sounding Christmas songs.

A quiet, tearful hour or two spent with my frail and ailing–to be honest, dying–66-year-old mother-in-law.

Faces against windows, pressed closer to better see displays of lights and merchandise. Airports full of strangers. Streets and stores packed with shoppers. Some cross. Some kind. Not a one in any way as invisible or insignificant as they all seem to be to one another.

Primary children and adults in a crowded but cosy chapel. A dining and living room full of friends and family. Not just known, but also much loved.

Frantic (and exhausting) busyness.

Precious few quiet moments, desperately stolen from the demands of the day.

Smog. Sun. Grey. Green. Hurt and heartbreak. Love and Joy. Crowds. Quiet. Sickness. Health. Death. Birth.

Even knowing what I know, sometimes I don’t quite know what to make of it all.

Do you?

Greedy

The other day I asked my cute son, “So what do you want for Christmas?”

“Hmm, not really anything,” he replied, “I already have a lot. Give it to charity.”

Sixteen-year-old with an iPhone, an iPad and a PS3. He is well-clothed, well-fed and adored by his parents. His dad always makes time to shoot zombies on video games; I celebrate daily life with him in a thousand little ways.

Much is said this time of year about selfish kids penning mile long Christmas lists and demanding the latest toys and electronics. I’ll make the statement that kids do feel greedy at Christmas– they want more of our time.

My 12 year old wrote a Christmas wish list filled with items like:

• make homemade gingerbread cookies 
• read a Christmas story every night (check!)
• go to mountains to snowboard (check!)
• make gingerbread houses
• cut paper snowflakes
• Decorate Sugar cookies (check!)
• set up the Christmas tree (check!)
• Play games with cousins (check!)
• light the candles (check!)
• it goes on….

  

I don’t think my son’s list is unusual. Children love the magic of the Christmas season; gifts are just a small part of the celebrations.

Now don’t get me wrong; I love presents. I delight in finding just the right surprise and I am often so excited that I can scarcely keep a secret.

I’m certainly not suggesting any child with a Christmas list is selfish. Dreaming of a gift outside of usual purchases is part of the magic of childhood. When else can a child ask for a new Lego set?

“Entitlement” is another negative word applied to today’s children. It seems unfair to label an entire generation as selfish and lazy. I suggest our children are entitled– to our time. I’m a defender of kids as much as I’m a defender of teenagers. Kids are good,– it’s only we adults who mess up the world; who turn Christmas into a commercial frenzy. I write this as a reminder to myself this season– if I’m too busy for my children, I’m simply too busy.

Now off to mix up three batches of gingerbread…we’ve got a list to tackle.



Smiles

Christmas '99

{Max's First Christmas}

{Also - the first and last time I tried to do "Christmas Card" photos}

Twelve years ago I rushed my family out of bed on a Saturday morning. We shoveled down some toast, threw on the clothes I had laid out, tamed hair and piled into the car, hurrying to make it to our favorite backyard before the sun was completely up in the sky. We pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later than I had hoped for, but six minutes late still felt like on time. My photographer, really a sister, was waiting for us in the parking lot when we arrived. It was early enough that the frost coating the grass had only melted when the rays of sunlight had broken through. It was cold and I didn’t really want to take our first family pictures in jackets. I envision that we take these things in matching sweaters, like us in our natural state, but with a smidge more effort than usual. lol

The kids, while patient and good sports for the most part, were not as convinced. They looked at us like we were crazy as we coaxed them out of their warm outerwear to take a few photos by a stone wall or in between a cluster of trees where the early sunlight framed their faces with the soft glow of morning. It was beautiful, but they were freezing. We tried to get them to laugh, tried to entice them with a promise of a hot breakfast when we got home. Desperate to get some Christmas-card-worthy pictures out of that morning.

We got the proofs back and I was happy with them. The lighting was gorgeous; the backyard was beautiful in the early morning sun. But I looked at us and I was a bit disappointed. Max is looking a different way in almost every one of 36 photos. Argh. And it is obvious that not all our smiles are genuine. As much as I wish that were not true, it is. There will always be something slightly awkward: a false smile, hair sticking up, a slouchy pose or some one looking the wrong direction.

Thankfully, there was one photo where they look much happier, and even with smiles that appear genuine. But still, I look at the pictures and they don’t seem to tell a full story. It is hard to get a real snapshot of my family, as much as I wish I could have that, and that we could be dressed nicely in that picture if it existed.

{This is the one that was sent out}

What Happy Is...

If someone asked you what makes you happy, your first answer might be pralines and cream ice cream, Caribbean cruises, or fabulous sex, but the effect of those things on happiness is fleeting. Happiness includes not only pleasure, but also engagement and meaning. Lasting happiness- like lasting love- is more than a good feeling. It is engaging work, satisfying relationships, and spiritual connections. But, even the most engaging person can bog down without regular laughter, fun and delight. Here is what I think "happy" is:

1. Getting some exercise. Exercise is the best long-term happiness booster there is, but sometimes I feel worse rather than better when actually pumping that iron or pounding that treadmill. I still benefit both physically and emotionally from exercise, but occasionally I have to put up with not liking it while I do it. I like running with a friend or dancing in a class.

2. Counting blessings. But not every night. The happiness boost wears off if I keep doing the same thing day after day, I'm better to count my blessings once or twice a week.

3. Doing five small acts of kindness one day each week. While a great thing to do, if I clump my good works onto one day of the week and change what I do I am more likely to actually feel better.

4. Pursuing interesting goals I’ve chosen (as long as they are goals that interest and challenge me, not just things that guilt me if I don’t do them). I also think being goal-oriented is better for creating happiness than being goal-accomplished. Actually reaching goals is sometimes a letdown.

5. Practicing my most defining character strengths like curiosity, humor and the ability to love. I'm happier if I spend most of my energy contributing to the world from these strengths.

6. Spending: just some of my cash on treats and frivolities. Not spending money on a new boat. Sorry, the big hits are memorable but small things spread over a long time will more likely boost my mood. I would rather have some friends over for dessert and games instead.

7. Writing - it feels good. Reminiscing is fun, but writing about what I learned and how I grew in the face of trials is even better.

8. Dreaming about what my life would be like a year or ten years from now if I accomplished all my goals. Imagining what that might look like, even if I don’t get there, builds hope.

{Markus ~ Three Years Old}

So what is your "Happy"? 

Happiness is the ultimate currency.

It is how everything else in life is measured - to make us truly and lastingly happy.

Hot Dawg

{Dawgs Scrimmage Game Tonight}

Max was invited by his teammate Jake tonight to play out at the Oval. The Dawgs were hosting a scrimmage game vs. some players from the county league. It was a great game and Max scored the first goal of the game. They also practiced after the game ended for about another 45 minutes or so, with shooting games. Max came off the ice sweaty and smiling. I wish that he could play like that every night.

Hooray!

 Pond Hockey at it's finest.

 Max and Marky were invited by their friend Che to go play on a pond in the mountains today after school. It was sunny and beautiful up there, and so nice to drive up out of the foggy, mucky soup that is our weather in the valley right now. The boys had a great time until it got dark. Then Che's dad drove them home, since I was at the rink teaching. What a great way to spend the afternoon. We are going up again later on this week. Hooray for pond hockey!

Losing it

I admit it. December is a month that finds me particularly scattered, more so than usual. In some ways I love the bustle and hustle. Other times I reach my limit of treading the holiday doings on top of the usual activities of life. Even when I try to keep it simple, I still have the gift list, the decorating, the kids’ concerts, the church meetings, the work functions, the Christmas card (skipped that one this year), the neighborhood goodies and, yes, my lofty expectations that all of this will achieve that memorable holiday experience. How do I know when my treading water has overtaken my capacity to keep up? Oh, it’s hard to miss.

Last night I went to Costco. I parked out in the nether regions of the lot since it was an hour before closing and everyone in the metro area had realized they needed bulk toilet paper and mega packs of dog food.

I went in and spent a good 40 minutes gathering the packs of milk, double sleeves of bagels, containers of blueberries, and three boxes of cookies (for the primary teachers Christmas gift today). I tried to buy my things, pack them into boxes, and head to the car.

That's when it hit me. I DIDN'T have a debit card. Duh! I completely forgot about the fact that it was stolen on Tuesday night. I tried to see if I had enough cash. I didn't. So holding up the line, I quietly explained what had happened to the cashier. She politely voided the transaction and said that she would hold my order for me in the cooler until I could come back with cash or a check. Seriously. Preoccupied doesn’t even begin to describe it. Oy.

After traipsing home to find a check in the box at home, I went back to collect my boxes of cookies and blueberries. I loaded them in the house and loaded the laundry back out to spend a completely festive night at the laundromat, complete with Feliz Navidad playing on the radio. Yes, it is a great week for my washer to break too...

At home, I confessed the whole saga when the boys got home. Go mark this date on the calendar as the day your mom began to lose her mind.

This does, actually, have me worried about my brain. Please tell me you’ve done something forgetful + absent minded + loopy at some point, too?

Eye on the Prize!

Marky, Che and Amanda

{My camera is starting to do some weird things}

{some of these photos turned out ok, but then others were wigging}

{Max helped his team beat the Fightin' Irish today 6-5 with 3 goals and 1 assist}

{Marky had a great breakaway goal today to lead his team to victory}

{over the Broncos 8-4}

My mom was so cute when she came to Marky's game today, she was so excited and clapping for Markus. She has come to a few of Max's games before but not one of Marko's. She couldn't believe he knew how to play so well. It was kind of fun to see her enjoying the game so much.

Sweet Sixteen!

My sister Monet had a surprise birthday party for my niece Kailey tonight! Kailey had no idea when she came home from cheering at the high school basketball game that everyone was inside waiting for her. Surprise!

Beautiful Kailey wearing her birthday crown!

Monet had the room filled with balloons!

Which, the boys all inhaled the helium from, by the time the night was over.

I love Kailey.

Her energy and enthusiasm for life is contagious.

I read her blog to get a glimpse into her life as a cheerleader, and a girly girl. She is in love, obsessed with all things pretty, enjoying life, and excited for what the universe throws her next. stay cool. be classy. and rock on, is her motto. xo

Avery



Avery Diane



Meet my newest little niece born tonight at 6:30. She weighed 7 lbs. even and is a very cute little girl and a lucky one to have Mark and Ashley as parents. If I lived in Montana I would be holding her right now for sure. So sweet.

I Cry

My sister, Sheri, posted on her blog that one of her friends had a son pass away this week. His name was Keegan and although I never met him, I cried.

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

I was sitting at the funeral of a lovely lady who went to our church. She had just passed away from Leukemia and was the wife of a doctor. It was a beautiful funeral. Beautiful flowers. Talks. And music. When her husband, the doctor, got up to speak, he should have had his clipboard with him.

The man tucks his pen in his breast pocket. And with all the tenderness of a tongue depressor, says: “Ah, such is the Lord's plan. You had best not think about it. Best get on with your life.”

He needn’t offer me any tissue. I was dry as a cinder block.

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

I'm at church. This ward of well-meaning strangers is struggling to know what to do with her. I know this because from where my friend and her family sits in a sodden clump in the back pew I watch as eyes flit from looking into hers. Smiles are strained. Shoulders turn away to some sudden preoccupation. And behind her echo all the words I know she craves hearing—honest ones, simple ones like, “I know what happened and I’m sorry.” But none are spoken. For weeks upon weeks, silence swells.

Such silence sends the message that her son’s death—and his life—never happened, don’t matter. That, and the general levity, the apparent solidarity her family cannot join in, makes me think that, well, it must be time to “move on,” “find closure,” “be grateful,” “rejoice.” My gut winds itself into a knot as thick as ocean liner rope. Is wanting someone to ache with her too much to ask? Is quietly weeping through the sacrament hymn ill-placed? Is my grief selfish?

The knot groans.

And then one day in late winter a man who hadn’t spoken to her until that moment strides up to her, plants one hand on her shoulder, and with the other hand pumps hers, exclaiming, “Smile! It’s such a great day to be alive!”

My scriptures still bear the little warped pockmarks from the tears I shed on them that day as I took refuge in my car.

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

Troy is straight from the cast of Grease: blonde, blue-eyed, with a smile, as quick and light on his feet as John Travolta, perfectly proportioned and looks thirty-one. Or nineteen. Ageless. He’s also been diagnosed with cancer. He catches me off guard: “Life’s short,” he says, stretching smooth a piece of his hair, eyes held at attention. “There’s never enough time to love the people who matter the most to us.”

His exact words. My heart stops. My throat constricts.

“You’re right, Troy” is all I could say. My friend Kathy buried her husband Troy four months later. When I went to his funeral, all I could say to Kathy was, "Wha...what a great man." Tears welling up in my eyes, and with a groan, she bends toward me to wrap my shoulders in a hug. “Oh, no. I am so sorry, so sorry. . .” is all I could get out.

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

It’s true. Not everyone is a Troy. So many people are, gratefully, like him. . . and then some: expressive, unafraid, patient, intuitive, selfless, inspired. Being the recipient of such compassion has been utterly awe-inspiring for me. What’s been perplexing in the vicarious journey I’ve shared with many bereaved friends, has been the hurt and alienation that have come from hurtful “avoidance silence”.

Author and bereaved father, Nicolas Wolterstorff writes,

“Your tears are salve to our wounds; your silence, salt.” The comments (and silence) are almost always rooted in a lack of understanding of the nature of grief, (its duration, depth and necessity), in a misunderstanding of faith (its compatibility with grief and its potentially increased density as one reaches the bedrock of grief’s valley), and in a misapplication of “doctrine”: the mis-belief that faith supplants grief, that grief can be eradicated or curtailed by quickly “getting your mind off yourself” in service, and that if grief lasts more than “X” months or if it cries it is pathological and will damage those left among the living."

But what about the wisdom found in the 23rd Psalm? “And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. . .”

How can I not want to walk or crawl or claw through that valley with them? I just cannot insist they hurry, do the fake jollity-jig, buck-up, or bungee jump over it. If we, share some of that journey together, while we will be bruised and bloodied, we will also be bonded.

Inimitably to each other.

I {heart} Haters!

Some families I know have a rule at their house that if someone says something not nice about someone they have to follow it up with something nice. So today I get to rant and rave about where I live. Because it’s my post and I’ll make rules if I want to, there are indeed some rules:

 

Tell me something you really hate about where you live. But here’s the catch. Since I’m a bad news first good news last kind of girl, you have to follow up your rant with something you really love about it.

 

Hate: 

• I hate thieves and burglars. My debit card was stolen tonight right out of my purse in the locker room at hockey. Seriously?! Having three bikes stolen out of my garage kind of sucked too.
• I’m getting pretty sick of the tiny measly excuse of a winter we’ve been having lately. I mean, come on! Bring me a good snowstorm, already!  
• Besides the crazy-can’t-make-up-my-mind weather is a feeling that although everyone and their dog want the schools to be better, not one of those people (or their dogs) are willing to pay the taxes necessary to make the schools better. 
• I hate the price of gas – but doesn’t everyone where ever they live?

 What I LOVE:

• Neighborhood block parties
• Kids riding their bikes and feeling safe
• Waving to everyone outside in their yards as you drive by because you actually know them and are friends with them
• Views of the Mountains
• I like that grocery stores are open 24 hours and that there are some that are closed on Sunday.
• That my kids can play night games in a very safe neighborhood, and I like my neighbors.
• I love that there really are good, good people here (although I’m quite certain I’d find good people everywhere).
• I love that I can bike everywhere.
• I love that most of my family is here so close.
• Snowboarding 
• Lots of good places to eat.

I love where I live. Love it.
I also love the saying Bloom where you are planted.

Mele Kalikimaka

{Aloha}

My sister Sheri sent me this picture from Hawaii. She is there visiting Shane's brother before he leaves for Afghanistan next week. I can't think of anywhere nicer to be right now. Well, maybe just one place. :)

Pond Hockey

{Max, Marky, Che, Boo and Will - all skating on the "Pond" today}

{It was actually a flooded tennis court located at Promontory Point}

{They just opened it yesterday and it was a perfect afternoon for pond hockey}

Traditions. They’re the customs that bind us together as families, and no time is as traditioncentric as Christmas. It’s hard to complain about them without sounding like Scrooge’s evil sister. But good gosh, some traditions are making me feel like a hamster on a holly-trimmed wheel.

I admit I’m not a planner and having to do things a certain way at a certain time of year makes me a little antsy and claustrophobic. Of course, nobody loves traditions as much as children, so I really don’t have much of a choice after about December 1st. Onto the list go the gingerbread houses, the advent calendars, the nights in front of the Christmas tree. I like these things, I really do. It’s just the thought that they must happen. There is no flexibility. Some years I try to streamline, to simplify. “I’ll just do the important things this year", I say to myself. And then I’ll end up at a meeting where everyone discusses their favorite Christmas traditions and I’m left feeling like the most non-festive, bah-humbuggy woman ever born.

Once in a while, though, we’re brave and we dare; we throw out a tradition that isn’t so dear to our hearts. A few days ago I read on my friend Stephanie's facebook post, “First Christmas tree in 11 years.” How liberating. But that’s just one that she chose. Not one she was forced into like the Christmas Pickle.

I don’t really want to get rid of most of our traditions. A lot of them are lovely and create happy memories. I hope that pond hockey is one of the new traditions. Maybe I just don’t want them to be so iron-clad. Maybe it would be nice to skip them every once in a while. Hopefully my boys will be flexible enough to realize that traditions are a nice bonus, but they’re not what Christmas is all about. One day they will have their first holiday with a spouse. Let’s just hope it’s focused more on love and Christ and not whether it’s weird to serve Crab Dip on Christmas Eve. Because that tradition is staying. :)

Two Wins

{Marky had his game first this morning against the Wolverines}

{He had an awesome break away and scored before riding the pony!}

{He helped his team hold the Wolverines to one point as well and they tied}

{Max's game was next and he scored three goals and had an assist before going back to Defense}

{His whole team played great and five or six different kids scored}

{to help the Terriers win 8-4 against the Wildcats}

If you are getting tired of hockey just text the word "stop". lol