This Kid

Between catching my breath, letting my prayers go and shoving my hopes heavenward these last two months, I’m surprised I a. haven’t passed out, b. have hopes left and c. haven’t lost my grip on reality beyond all expectation of repair.

I've unclenched my fists a little, enough to allow the hint of a breeze and the tickle of desire to sneak in and play. My heart has been hammered as well, grief and gratitude tangled up together, seeping into the lonely, thirsty corners and giving direction to my decisions. It’s been a terrible, incredible month.

A significant push from the beginning was reading my friend Jessika's text. Jessika and I had a quick flurry of texts one day in February about the fact that I need to come hold her twin babies before they are off to kindergarten! I told her I had school on Wednesday and work on Thursday, and in writing that I could come Friday. I didn't go that day and have felt badly. She knows how busy I am with parenting, working and going to school and I certainly wasn't expecting any texts last Friday. I knew that Jessika would be sensitively aware of all the painful wounds that I carry being a divorcé and I told her that I was waiting until I bought something to bring for her two beautiful babies. As it was, her text touched me deeply. 

"That is crazy!!!! I don't need anything except your friendship and beautiful spirit. B, you are a single mom going to school. Please just be in my life. I miss you!"

Truth told, it didn't touch me but rubbed the stubborn, stony edges of my heart against something softer, and knocked some callouses and doubts from my eyes. 

Because lately I've been worrying (okay, I’m pretty much always worrying) because I’m not doing any of the big things I see other dad's do for their sons – the camps away, the fishing trips, the coaching in sports or mowing of lawns – and am, therefore and obviously (at least according to the bitter pill I sometimes swallow in buckets), failing my boys. Yet again. But it was in reading the text of Jessika which made me stop and think about what the boys have recently seen me do. They are tiny, practically insignificant moments, at least on first consideration.

Sunday afternoon of my first hour home after work, Morg flew inside saying “But if you're off work, Mom,” (no hi, no how are you, nothing but this sentence, as soon as he belted through the door after his work) “you’re not too tired to move my bedroom downstairs, are you? So how are we going to move my bed? I bought a big screen tv with my tax return, so I can have it in my room and, you know, play Xbox!” My chest ached like I’d been double punched the night before, and I couldn't quite smile or cry. Because Morg was planning forward of his accord, working out how to be independent, how to get what he wants and not have to share a room with Max instead. My eleven year old son, Markus wasn't thinking about school or friends or what holds the moon up, but why Morgen couldn't stop to help support his family, because “Morgen just ruined the nice room we had downstairs, and the chalkboard wall you just painted, Mom.” Learning that lesson from what I've done, and to see it reflected back to me – that’s an example of being a parent all the way to the final outcome, right there.

Then the next night, Max told me that he wants to keep playing hockey. "Baseball is boring" – he’s already thinking about it, wanting to play with his friends, to make a team. His life is laid out before him, and he loves it all. “I think all the teams are good, Mom, but I’m not thinking of trying out for the one in Colorado anymore. I’ll do that when I get better and stronger.” School, hockey, growing, friends, family, and gospel – it’s as unarguable and obvious to him as his brown eyes. But I can’t take credit for it.

Then, about a month ago, my heart was ambushed at the boys hockey team's last tournament of the season. Twenty-seven boys played (not all of them, due to Spring break) and two of those skating youth were my boys. I went to the Park City rink, and it literally rocked me to my toes – I was at the last tournament of the season and so were my boys. We were there, inside, shooting and sniping and celebrating, all at the same time. We hadn’t been at a tournament together all season. Two teams. Eagles for Max. Sharks for Markus, the coach had asked him from seeing him play, he and 12 other players from all the other teams in the state to form an evolution hockey team coached by Metcalf. They had four practices and two scrimmage games before playing in the tourney of four games over three days against teams from Wyoming, Colorado, Montana and Utah. 

When BOTH of their teams won the championship I tried to shrug the occasion off with a casual “Wow, that’s wonderful, B, now focus!” but couldn't. Especially when Markus' coach Greg, sent me this text: "It's a great weekend to be one of your boys." I felt warmth and celebration surround my shoulders and carry my heart above my head. No, I felt, toes curling amazed against the concrete, it is AMAZING. It is WONDROUS. It is worth making a deal about! YOU have done this, gotten your boys here, through everything. It could have gone so many ways, but you are here, and so is Max, and so is Markus and THAT is worth celebrating. I cried, right there in the bleachers, my heart getting an incredibly gentle wash and tumble in the grace and mercy of life.

Maxi and Marko tumbled from the rink doors into my arms that night, and joked and called each other benders and laughed all the way home. We stopped for ice cream from Cold Stone, and they both thanked me repeatedly (mouths full, hearts grateful) both for the treat and for letting them play hockey. In the chomping half-silence as we continued on home, it became clearer and more wondrous. They are watching and learning from me, in ways I haven’t even considered. I remember when I had to prompt them “Say thank you?” as babies. Think about everything they've had to learn to this point to say thank you for sweet ice cream, B, let alone for playing hockey, to process and choose to do it of their own choice. They’re watching, and they love you. You’re doing alright!

So I won’t take any credit for my sons being themselves, but I will take some of the credit for helping them get to where they are. Because being a parent, like being a coach, is incredibly hard work, particularly if you’re trying to do a halfway decent job of it. And having acknowledgement or encouragement or even a crumb of commendation is a welcome and deserved trophy; usually tossed into the furnace to feed the next effort, but a glowing source of heat and comfort nonetheless. Even – actually, ESPECIALLY - if that trophy is from and for yourself.

I Choose

http://youtu.be/ffD0BMH5_PM

Time For Some Gratitude

{This is Markus' first time pitching in the Majors.}

Feeling grateful for:

• This weather!!!! We're back in baseball season here.  :) :)

• Whole Grain Bread. This has saved me completely. A friend of mine said he buys Dave's Killer Bread from Costco and I now I take a piece with me in my lunch bag at work most times in case I get in a bind and I can't take a lunch break, it's something to eat. (I toast it and add a little peanut butter.)

• Water. Yes, I'm serious. The fact that water is clean and drinkable! (Though this isn't the case in all of the world.)

• A paid-off car. (Better than a car payment every month on my tiny budget.) Little things are completely thrilling me these days.

• A walk in the park.  I love where I live and take Molly there on most days.

• Molly. (Her tumor that Max found on her mammory glands was cancerous). I love that our vet was able to remove it all and gave her a good prognosis and only charged me $475 instead of $590. 
• New students. Yes, in a week I've already had four new students call me (in addition to wonderful established students and several friends that have me teaching their children.)
• Wonderful, wonderful teachers who love my boys almost as much as I do!!! 

• And happy, kind, loving boys who (get this) LOVE to eat ice cream. 

What are you grateful for today? I love to sit and think about it and make a list. Doing this during the darkest time of my life was actually a huge part of how I transformed it.

P.S. I am going to be off biking...again. I really can't believe it. I mostly entered the Little Red lottery for my friend Sharon. But I got in! And since - my sister, brother-in-law, nieces, and nephews are all up in Preston, and the bike ride starts in the town of Lewiston, how can I not go join them?! Sheri lives in a beautiful home with more than enough room for all of us. It's a beautiful, bike ride on the first weekend in June in Cache Valley and everyone knows each other. Off I go, my friend. My next adventure begins!

No One

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rywUS-ohqeE&feature=kp

Hope for Imperfection

This morning when my son proudly lifted the championship trophy over his head, I was taken aback. Since he started the season in September, his team has never won a tournament-only a few games here or there. But today, I witnessed a "Miracle" of sorts. This is what I saw:

 

 

 



{My 11 year old's smile says: Best hockey moment ever. One of my favorite's. The trophy will be engraved with his team name - Squirt Lightning 2014. Around his neck is the medal he will bring home.}

Hugging Max who was sitting next to me, I balled myself up in the corner of the stands and I cried. I can't pinpoint exactly why I felt so emotional...perhaps it was because I felt so proud of him and his little team for not giving up, or maybe it was because I was hit with an indisputable awareness that my children will someday be here without me.

 

What popped into my mind was this realization:

 

Now I know what I am feeling. Living NOW is a gift you give to your child that becomes something eternal, forever lasting within your child later.

 

And I have the evidence to prove it.

 

I raced out of the stands, taking two steps at a time to arrive at the crowded hallway to the locker rooms. I looked down the hall until I found Markus who handed me his sweatshirt we had purchased the day before, in good faith, hoping that in time, he would be able to get the word "Champions" ironed onto the sleeve.

 

And now was the time.  

 

I gave him a hug and he made sure I knew which sleeve to put it on (the right) and he went on his happy little way to celebrate in the locker room with his friends. He manages to make each one of them feel magnificent. He not only knows their name, but their nicknames as well. And he stays in the locker room until everyone has gone out, partly because he likes that part of playing hockey the best and partly because he doesn't want anyone to be left alone.

 

 

My mom had come to watch him play yesterday but I somehow wish she could have seen this game. She has many names of affection: Mom, Mommy, Sandra, Sandy Lee, Grandma and Great Grandma. She is many things to many people-but to me, she was everything.

 

 

My mom worked outside of the home while also being with our family. She lived her life for us, somehow making every moment special for each of her seven kids. Yes, seven kids! Can you imagine having seven kids and making each one of them feel like the magnificent seven? 

 

 

Well, that's exactly what my mom did.

 

 

My family endured many struggles for a just-below middle class family, but what we lacked in money and things, we made up for by having each other-most importantly by having our mother. She loved us openly with a smile, soft hands, and a hug that made everything feel better.

 

 

My mom was so much about others-about her kids, family and students. She worked as an ice skating instructor from the time I was 11 and she would take me with her in the family van along with all of her students from Park City once the rink closed for the summers up there. I was in awe of her reaction to her students and in turn, how they reacted to her. Again, it was her warm hands and her smile, her patience and her ability to listen-the students loved her and trusted her for the same reasons my brother and sisters did.

 

 

My mom loved to read, but it was historical novels on Abigail Adams not self-help books on how to be a better parent. She was educated in a sense from BYU with some classes on Elementary education but she just instinctively knew what we needed. For each of us, she handled things by just being there. She had one thing of monetary value, her gold charm bracelet, and she gave me the temple charm off of it one time I remember. What she always gave us was her time. TIME. No matter what she was in the middle of doing, she would usually stop when one of us kids came to talk to her.

 

The way my mom listened made me feel understood. I can still hear her saying, "Honey, let the little things go. I love you." Whether I was head over heels with a guy at age 17 or debating on which skating dress to wear, she was always there with an encouraging word and a smile.

 

Many times just by talking things through with my mom, worries would turn to laughter. When I didn't know how to kiss a boy she told me to whisper in his ear and he would get "all hot and bothered." My mom taught me that no matter what I faced in life, being able to laugh and stay positive was the best way to survive in this world.

 

 

On the day I left my family and everything I knew to be married, the last hug I received after the reception was from my mom. As always, the hug was accompanied with words of encouragement and ended with "I love you." Almost every sentence my mom ever spoke to me ended with the words, "I love you."

 

 

My mom lives her life and loves her children to her fullest potential. Perhaps that is why she can face everything with courage and grace. I am sure she made mistakes along the way, but I don't remember them. I only remember that she smiled and hugged with soft hands. She laughed a lot and finished her sentences with the words, "I love you."

 

And what has created a new found hope throughout the trying days on which I feel I've failed miserably as a mom is this:

 

It's not about trying to be a perfect mom to my kids; it is about trying to provide a childhood of love that is perfect for them.

 

Because it is love that sticks with us.

 

It is love that we pass on.

 

It is love that will endure even after I am gone.

 

I hope for imperfection, and love - LOVE without conditions and without restraint.

 

Spring Fling

Favorite Song

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4m2R6CLkvyQ

Five For Fighting

I'm Trying

I encourage my boys to talk to me about anything. And when they do, I strive to remain calm and non-judgmental—simply listen and help them feel understood. I realized tonight that with all the distractions of this age, I'm not the perfect listener, but I am trying.

When my boys are with me, I make a point to cook dinner so we can sit down together at the table for conversation and fun. In the hustle and bustle of hockey season, sometimes a quick meal is necessary and a family dinner doesn’t always happen, but I'm trying. 

My daily goal is to laugh with my boys, and let go of the things that tend to cause frustration and discouragement. It's easy with Max and his friends in the "Mahalo" to cherish the simple moments and keep what is important in perspective. Due to the stress of school, work, and parenting, sometimes I don't cherish the moments that matter, but I'm trying.

Although I realized there are days I fall short on being the mom I strive to be, I hear a loving voice telling me not to give up. This same voice reminds me that there is one area where I usually get it right:

I never fail to express love to my boys. I usually try to tuck my boys in bed. And I never fail to say the words, “I love you”—sometimes even whispering the words as I kiss their foreheads after they’ve gone to sleep.

Because at the end of the day, I know it’s all about the love … love that is accessible, warm, open, continuous—like the love my mom and dad gave me that I am now passing on to my boys.

"How did I get so lucky?!"

My sister Lara married her sweetheart on the twenty-first day of February. 

In her text with this photo she said, "How did I get so lucky?!"

She must have done something right, the mother of a twenty-year-old missionary, Tanner, who told me after having delivered his farewell address, that his mom was always there for him.

 

Although her daughter, Sierra, has never drifted a bit even during her teen years, she is thoughtful and caring enough to buy the engagement ring Todd used to propose (since the one he ordered wasn't ready on the day that he had arranged for the missionaries to film the proposal on Temple Square) and she genuinely enjoys spending time with her mom and Todd.

The way her eyes light up when she talks about the renewed relationship with her mother. She seems relieved about how things have turned out.

“I must have done something right,” Lara could be saying to her self. Instead she is counting her lucky stars.

Her oldest son is twenty seven. My oldest son is eighteen. I don’t want to wait nine years to know whether or not I’ve done something right. Because now is when I need to hear it.

Now—when I am in smack dab in the middle of raising my boys.

Now—when I feel the pressure to examine every choice I make, wondering how these choices will affect them now and in the future.

Now—when I want to trust my gut and live by heart rather than simply go along with mainstream opinion or “expert” advice.

Now—when I need little glimmers of hope to cling to each day.

So I have decided not to wait.

Each day for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been looking for a little rightness—a little what-is-right-in-my-world.

Notice I say “a little.” Because what I am talking about is practically unnoticeable. It’s hardly note-worthy. And it’s definitely not anything worthy of public sharing—at least not according to blog standards. But that’s why it’s working for me. That’s why it’s encouraging to me. Because looking for what is right in my world – in my day – in my hour – is far more encouraging than looking for what is “right” in my world according to popular opinion.

I invite you to take a look. Maybe this list will inspire you to see what is right in your world today.

Right in my World

I took him to the “free” pancake day even though I knew nothing is truly free.
I took him to try on sweatshirts. Lots of sweatshirts.
I took a deep breath when I felt like I might explode.
He took my hand as we walked across the parking lot and left it there a good long while.

I’m doing something right.

I gave him a leg rub when the couch was calling my name.
I gave him a second chance and he used it for good.
I gave him some help cleaning up that disaster of a room.
He gave me a happy-to-see-you-smile when I came to pick him up.

Lara was doing something right.

{Corona Del Mar}

You Only Live Once

Into each day we're blessed with so many things, it's true

we need to count our blessings

In all we say and do.

So this little teaspoon can be used 

But is a keepsake you can treasure, 

For a dash or spoon or heap of all

Will bring joy and love 

Beyond measure. 

 

{Into each day...a dash of kisses}

 

My mom came all the way down from Heber today, just to take me to lunch at Mimi's Café. I love that she takes the time to notice when I have been having a hard time. She gave me a little care package with this spoon in it and some peaches. She knows that you only live once...so you need to take the time to stop and notice the people you care about in life. Even if it is just a smile or a wave, it can make all the difference in the world.

 

Y.O.L.O.

Live For Now

In honor of Markus turning eleven years old today - here are 11 things I really love and admire about him. 

I love how much you love to explore this beautiful world...

I love how you're not too cool to still go sledding with me, even when your friends are around...

I love how you include your friends' little brothers when you're playing with them...

I love how you dive head first into everything you do...

I love your smile and the sweetness that goes with it...

I love how you watch out for others...

I love listening to the conversations you have with your teammates...

I love that you can take the puck coast to coast. And also that you DON'T unless your coach tells you to...

I love that you gave me a rose for Valentine's day...

I love how cute you look in hats, especially moose hats...

I love seeing your eyes light up seeing all the Legos in the toy store...

Markus - 

I love you! Thanks for being my son for eleven awesome years. I hope this one is your best year yet. 

Mom

Star Valley ❤️

When I drove down the road into Star Valley, Markus said, "This looks just like Sun Valley." I had to agree. What. A. Beautiful. Place.  

Communication

"The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said."

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XjwZAa2EjKA

“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.”  –e. e. cummings

It's almost spring

And that means baseball will be back. Two different emails today told me so, one for Liberty League and one for Babe Ruth. Hockey is winding down with the last JV hockey game tonight vs. Park City. I love watching Max play. Children add joy, purpose, and meaning to our lives. They provide optimism, hope, and love. They bring smiles, laughter, and energy into our homes. They also add clutter. As parents, balancing life and managing clutter may appear impossible—or at the very least, never-ending. But what if there was a better way to live? 

I see my boys seeking real life moments and real life connections because they want it for themselves, not because I said so. But I had to let go first. 

 

What If There Is No Tomorrow?

There wasn't one today. 

Do you remember that line from Bill Murray's character, Phil, in the movie Groundhog's Day? And, how in it, Phil becomes the good guy who performs selfless acts of kindness, not manipulatively, but for their own sake. This, naturally, wins him the love of the whole town, and, of Rita. And not surprisingly, he comes to love himself. “No matter what happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life,” Phil tells Rita, “I’m happy now because I love you.”

I am happy to look my children in the eyes and step into their world.

And to remember what my heart loves to do and then stop making excuses.

To close my eyes in gratitude and open my eyes wide in wonder.

I am happy when I have face-to-face, soul-to-soul connection with the ones who share my life.

I am happy to

read a book.

Play in the snow.

Say, “Take your time,” and mean it.

I promise to

Give a good kiss.

Leave a surprise note.

Do absolutely nothing every now and then.

And to

Rest

Laugh

Play

Wait

Dream

And breathe.

And breathe.

So I can truly live.

It’s been real. My journey has not been perfect. Sometimes I stumble, but I get back up by reminding myself that my to-do list doesn’t contain the most important tasks of the day. It is my heart that tells me what I need to survive and thrive—as long as I stop long enough to listen.

I have the power to save a life and so do you.