9/8/2021 11:51 pm 

Life was - no -

is 

whirling - 

A Wedding,  A House of Love - 

Eternity, A House of God -

 Filled-to-the-brim Life.  Days upon days,

It is good.

Yet, tonight I sit alone "getting work done" and...

This aching churns and burns in my chest.  

I 

feel 

so 

alone.

I believed he loved me three days ago.  I knew I loved him.

I was surrounded by all of it (the Love).

Soon enough

it will just be one and one, and, 

Tonight I wonder if it's all a lie.  He's still somewhere I can't see.   

The house sits quiet while I wait.  Wait and see..

I don't get to hold on to anything.  

None of it is mine, and I feel a little lost in this quiet house

Tonight.  

Being Stretched

I am trying out a yoga book.  

I am so stiff.  So weak and unbalanced. It is a lot of work to try and move this way.  I fall down a lot.  Despite this, I find that it feels soooooo good.

I can't help thinking how much it is like my life right now.

Bending to new ways of living.
Most of it is really, really good stuff
And some of it is a bit scary / unsure / or just plain challenging


Well, it's a mix of both, really, I guess

Sam the bishop, the devoted dad, the kind husband to a hormonal and sleep deprived wife,  facing a still unknown career change -and doing it all with poise, and purpose.  Truly a great man.

 

 

 

Fast approaching teenage years - and teenage challenges - delightful and sweet

New baby - New bliss - Relearning everything again

It will sound silly, but the yoga is helping to remind me in all areas of my life

to breathe,
readjust,
focus,
find balance,
be purposeful,
accept what I can do - accept my current limits - but continue to stretch myself,
and always, always make time for restoration and meditation (which, for me, includes prayer).


I am hoping to get to the point where it becomes a daily practice.  It's hard.  I am hardly ever in the mood to start.  But it's good to stretch. 

Right?

Can it Be Saturday Now?

I need to vent a little  a LOT and I will start by sharing an aspect of my personality I'm not particularly proud of:

I resist making big goals, or more accurately, I resist working hard toward big goals, because I'm afraid of failure.

If I fail at a goal that I sort of approached willy-nilly, then I have my reason for failing - I didn't really try, so big deal.  Somehow I've perceived that notion as much better than really giving my all and in the end not being good enough.   I know that's ridiculous, that this fear of failure is what's keeping me from bigger and better things.

In that light and with a desire to really change how i "do life" - I made one of my resolutions in January to complete a race that is well beyond my physical capabilities (or was at the time).  It's one that I've wanted to do for a long time.

I've been working toward this goal since then and now Saturday is D-day.  The day where I get to see what I'm made of.  It's not like I'm even trying to win the thing.  I just want to finish, is all.  That would be a big deal for me.  That's my goal. 

This week leading up to it has been dreadful.  I am having a terrible case of the "what-ifs".  If I don't accomplish this goal, I won't know how to handle it.  Because I actually worked for this one.  Maybe not perfectly, but diligently.  I kept it as a real focus - despite time constraints,  injuries (a bike crash) and lack of sleep (3:45am start times) - I kept moving toward this goal.  What if it's all for not in the end, HUH???

Then there's my competitive nature.  My PRIDE...  There have been a few, who upon hearing of my goal, took one shocked look up and down my fleshy, middle aged frame and actually asked me stupid questions, like,  "You realize how long that race is, don't you?"  or "Do you even know how to swim?" or  "Oh wow.  I hope you've been training!" 

Dee. You. Eytch.

Yeah, I'd love to stick it to those haters. ;)



UGH.  Why can't I just be fun?  Just go and have an adventure, see what happens? 

Come Saturday morning I will be in a better state of mind, I know I will.  Until then, I have this knot in my gut that is driving me crazy!!!

I suppose that if I don't (for whatever reason) finish - it will be good for me to have pursued a goal, long term, and measure those results.  It's not a loss.  It's not for nothing!
And really, in this way, I suppose I've already met my main goal - changing the way I approach things, giving something a GO - really going after it, seeing what I'm made of.


Okay, now I feel better.  Wish me luck!!!

Ready Or Not, There He Goes...

I have anticipated this day with some dread. 
This day.
This ominous looking (yet gorgeous) day...

And why?  Because I sent my first born away for an entire week to scout camp.   It's hard for me.  He won't be home.  He won't be around.  I'll worry.  I just will.  He did not ease my misgivings with all the talking about swimming and rifle merit badges and hiking in mountains with animals.

But I am not freaking out about it or anything...

Not much anyway.  He's never been away this long (unless he's with family).

I told him I was tempted to keep him home.  I wanted him safe and sound and here with me.  (He's my sidekick, my super-helper-kid).


The trouble is, he's been packed since last week.  This kid loves scouting.  Loves adventure.  Loves camping.  He is going to have the time of his life this week.  I know that.  So how could I keep him home?

I remember taking my first stay away camp trip.  I'll never forget my first long hike in the mountains, standing in the middle of a forest of aspens as the sun shone through the fluttering leaves.  I was amazed.  I was in love with it all. The smell of sun-baked dirt on the trail, the ever changing scope of the landscape.  It was constant beauty and fresh air and sky. I learned how to tie boondoggles, make my first campfire (all by myself).  The overwhelming night sky uninhibited by the city lights and exploding with stars -all while telling stories with friends.

I hope he doesn't miss me nearly as much as I will miss him. 

Parenting is a stage of life's journey where the milestones come about every fifty feet.  ~Robert Brault

day twenty-five: Closeup

Not just a closeup photo, but a closer look at some of my issues:

Who needs this many pairs of pants?  Do you know I live in a relatively small house with 4 other people and 2 cats and a bird?  My husbands also works in the home.  Every square inch is like gold around here.

I am determined to make the most of my space!  I am on a quest to UNLOAD as much as possible this summer.

Why, why, WHY do I have all these clothes?!

I have been holding on to so many clothes, thinking that I will eventually fit into them.  Clinging to this ridiculous hope that someday, someday soon I will get there - that super lean weight.  But, it just ain't gonna happen. 

..Besides, even if I could - even if I do - who in their right mind needs to house this much denim?  Really?  I need a pair for every day of the month?

Eh, no.


Today marks the beginning of a most liberating summer!  I will make the best of what I have (and what works) and the rest I will UNLOAD.  If it doesn't fit, it's gone.  If I don't love it, it's outta here.

This will be a process, because I have some cute things, dresses, books, etc.  I don't want to let go of (even though I never, ever use them). 

Today, I am starting with a tower of pants.

I am looking forward to:

• being able to wear everything I own
• not having so much clutter to shift around and clean
• a happier, more purposeful living space
• a functional garage (oh mama,  I can't wait)
• free time, free space, MORE time to play and explore a do fun projects with the kiddos.  

This is long and silly I know, but I'm excited (note all the italics) for what lies ahead the rest of this summer.

A Happy Resolve! Just an update.

Despite the fever and chills, I don't feel discouraged or very frustrated.  Don't get me wrong, I really dislike being sick.  And I should probably be a little more uncomfortable than I am right now about my lack of productivity today - but, nope. 

My awesome attitude [smiley emoticon]  can be attributed, lately, to these things:

*I am wearing my puffy coat, it never lets me down (ha, ha puns are fun).

But seriously:

* General Conference:  I love it.  I do. 

* A rediscovery of The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People - Wow, what a great resource.

 * A New Challenge - to put some of what I've been learning to the test.

 * Spring.  (no explanation needed).  

Oh So Attractive Beach Closeup - Carpinteria 2008

That's all.  I'm not always sad, or heavy-hearted.  Posted, just for the record.    

We Used To Call Them, "The Babies"

I read somewhere that you shouldn't refer your twins as "the twins".   You know, because they're individuals after all.  And calling them "the twins" creates a negative stigma...or something.

So I called them the Babies.

And then one day, they were just too big for that.



Some things having twins has taught me:

* THROW the baby books out the window. (Okay, don't.  But read them with a few grains of salt, because life is meant to be palatable, and DOABLE).
* You can't deny or squelch their individuality--there's just nothing you can do about it.
* Don't worry so much about the sharing of everything...Twins pretty much like being twins.  I mean, it's a pretty cool thing, you know, sharing a womb and a birthday...eating from the same bowl of rice cereal (My kids always shared a bowl and a spoon Cath, I never even thought about it- I loved your twinspin today!  You are much more conscientious than I am.)  But yeah, being a twin is part of who they are, and it's kind of a big deal. 
* I am so lucky.  So so very blessed.



Well, the babies are NINE today.  I'm sure I'm still learning, but I don't seem to realize it while I'm in the thick of things...I'm just glad everyone got to school on time and didn't fight all that much.  :)

I love birthdays!

Four More Seasons For All That's Broken To Mend...

Or also to be titled:
 "But When We're Sixteen". 

Or also to be titled:
 "This Is So Ridiculously Long There is No Way Anyone Is Going To Finish Reading It"

A dear friend of mine turned 33 on the 30th of March which is exactly two months to the day before my birthday.  I've known her since I was 10.   Neither of us were the hooked-at-the-elbow kind of girlfriends and we've gone years without so much as speaking to each other.  But when we do, we catch right up.  And, if I may be so bold to say so, I feel we are kind of soul mates.  It's a friendship I will always hold very dear. 

In our junior high days we went to the same school and so we spent more time together.  We'd often take walks and dream out loud.  She was on the basketball team and I was a cheer leader.  Like typical teenagers, even with those titles we didn't feel that we fit in anywhere.

One time I remember walking in her neighborhood.  We were 14 years old.  We talked about our insecurities and thought about how amazing we could be.  How awesome and beautiful we wanted to be.  We could have it all together.  Be visions of stunning awesome-ness.  The details of how to obtain such dreams weren't really laid out in detail, but we felt it so strongly.  It had to do with perfectly fit and naturally beautiful bodies, along with a sharp wit, deep confidence and talents galore.  We knew we could accomplish it and "when we were 16" we'd blow everyone away.  That gave us a whole two years to make it happen.  We decided we would do it.

And now she's 33.  Which means in exactly two months from her birthday, I will be 33.
Which also means, I am approximately 17 years past my deadline of becoming "stunningly awesome".  What a let down.

My whole life I've envisioned excellence, but feel I have not only not achieved it, but rarely actually even pursued it.  And when I do, I find distractions and obstacles all over the place!  I was reminded of this when I pulled out my guitar the other day, spent an hour strumming the same old songs over and over, never improving.  Never paying the price.

Today I feel so overwhelmed by all that I want to be, all that I feel I should be.
I feel so underachieved.  (Is that a word?)

As I approach the culmination of 33 years,  I feel so tempted to create another deadline.  Always a deadline.  "When I'm 16" became, "When I'm 18", then "When I have my baby" then "When the twins come", then "When I'm 30"  "When I go to the beach"  "When the school year starts" and now I've been flirting with

"When I'm 33".  Visions of accomplishments achieved in the next couple of months and throughout the coming year are swimming through my mind.

Except this time I mean it, I'm really going to do it,  I swear.
Hm.

~Leah's feet, in the sunshine

 A couple of years ago, I was standing in a parking lot with my mother in law.  We had just finished a Jazzercise class.  And she said something like, "I don't have to be amazing anymore."  My reaction was, " but you are so amazing!"  (It's true, she is).

But I knew what she meant. She was talking about this arbitrary standard of excellence we create for ourselves, believing that you are amazing because others look at you in an admiring way; because you scrapbook, or you keep a clean house, or you run marathons, or read books, or whatever.  She didn't need to "be amazing" anymore.  I could see in her face how freeing it felt, to be in that place finally.  She is free to be happy, pursue the best in life, and be her best, just for the joy of it.   At least, I think that's what she meant. 

I'm not sure because I don't think I'm there yet.  But I think I'm getting there, or at least considering it.  I am determined to have a great year, and challenge myself, learn some new things and hopefully grow up a little more.  I'm starting to see how shallow this illusion is, of "being amazing" - or rather getting to a point where I'm finally "there".  At that perfect, amazing place - where I have the ultra fit body AND the clean house AND have the minor pentatonic scale mastered AND help my kids with their homework AND magnify my calling AND sew that dang quilt, AND read the books... AND, well, you get my drift.

It's just not going to happen...not at the rate I'm going anyway.  I'll be lucky to accomplish one or two of those things.  I am SLOW with this kind of stuff.


It's so funny to think of myself and my friend at 14, dreaming, hoping, young and already awesome.  What did we need to prove?

I still want to be excellent.  I don't want to  resign to a life of mediocrity.  I desire to improve myself, it's my nature.   But I'm sick of the deadline.  Or rather, the 6-12 week deadlines to becoming  "astoundingly amazing".  It's ruining everything.  What does that even mean, anyway?

 











So.

I'm 33, minus 60 days (give or take) and  I'm throwing the deadline out the window...for now at least.  And maybe sometime this year, I'll be able to let go of that vision of "awesomeness" - whatever that means.

Maybe.

It's Happening....

 

I wish one of these wrinkles would crease deep enough

All the way, into my brain.

Doesn't matter which one

Or how it came

Whether from 

-having to do hard things

 -sleepless nights with babies

 -laughing at Sam's jokes

 -squinting in the blaring sunshine

 

All of which happened.

Anyone of those things would make me wiser, better. 

A grown woman inside.

My experience is marking my face

But

 I wish it would sink in.

Just a little deeper.

Because  though I'm starting to look older

I feel more

callow 

juvenile

dumber than ever.

Can someone tell me

 What is that all about?

Christmas 2009 Memory #2: Christmas Magic

I learned this year-
When you don't have it together,
You can still have Christmas.

Christmas Eve morning I stood in my messy, messy (I mean, messy) kitchen.  Dishes overflowed the sink and onto the sticky crumb-filled counter tops.  Garbage and neighborhood holiday gift carnage strewn everywhere.  Heaps of laundry sat in piles downstairs.  We were out of towels and pants and I had not one clean washcloth with which to wipe my dirty counter tops.  I was overwhelmed by the hustle of the season.  And my house seemed to be past the point of restoring order.  I couldn't keep up.

As I stood in the kitchen, looking at the fruits of my disorganized and distracted (let's just say it) lazy nature - I had a decision to make.  Will I make toffee before Christmas?  I really tried to prepare for Christmas, but I only got half of my Christmas cards out and I just couldn't get my act together when it came to our yearly tradition of toffee and braetzlis. 
Dishes first.  I need to at least see the counter tops before making a decision.
I strapped my ipod to my arm and turned on the hot water.  I  began singing loudly with the music (not Christmas music, I wasn't in the mood) only to press pause periodically when my kids wanted to speak with me.

My family is often plagued by the sound of me singing along with my ipod.  Being able to hear oneself is an important aspect of singing well.  Also, it's nice to have an accompaniment.  As the one wearing the ear buds, I am oblivious to the negative effects that occur when these two elements are removed.  My family is generally very patient and long suffering in regards to my loud habit.  On this morning however, when I paused to speak to one of the kids, I noticed that Sam speedily took advantage of the moment and plugged in some Christmas music before I could start up again.  I took the subtle hint and turned off my ipod.

The  kitchen counters began to emerge. Once the pots were clean I felt like I could make some candy.

And that fast it felt like Christmas.  Even though my house was a disaster,  Even though I knew I wouldn't have time to deliver this toffee before Christmas.  I was working in the kitchen and my family was all around and I felt happy.

Eddie and Jack were at the table, drawing.  Ada had spent the last few days working on a story.  It's about a girl named Ann who will prove to her father that she can be a warrior, even though she is a girl.  I stirred the boiling candy and Ada stood beside me reading about Ann bravely facing the black knight and cleverly getting past the moles and into the thick forest using her clever sense of humor.  Ada's big eyes expressed focused vibrancy as she used different voices for each character, or looked up at me to make sure I got the funny parts. Occasionally, she would pause to explain the specific details that will go into the movie once her story is bought.  Every few minutes, she would be interrupted by one of her brothers who came in to show me their new creations of fierce, scaly eyes for the dragons they were drawing.  Dragons that blew ice crystals instead of fire.

And in the background I heard sweet sounds of Hallelujah and praise for the One who makes up the difference.  It was at this moment when I realized, It is a joyous Noël, because I fall short.

Hallelujah!
He is born.
I am warm in my messy house.
I am filled with His love and compassion as I look upon my own.
I am supported by a dear friend and companion who refuses to give up on me.
I am determined to be better.

Christmas Magic.

Watch Out!

They're Baaaack!

In less than...2 minutes, I'll be hopping on my bike to go pick them up. I hope they had a good day.

Today they will come home to fresh baked cookies and milk.
They will be shocked.

WWW...the extra 'w' is because this entry is wordy (once again)

===-===-===-===-===
Last Week's Challenge Update:

Well, it went pretty well. No, very well. I'm cured!!! (just kidding). But I think I'm finally figuring this whole "body image" thing out... Some thoughts that occurred to me during the week.

1. The first day. I was walking barefoot along the beach, listening to the water, being re-introduced to the salty, heavy sea breeze - I felt a strong sense of nostalgia and gratitude. I've walked those beaches as a young newlywed, as a pregnant mom, a new mom, a swollen, rash-covered narcissist...I realized that place has history for me. I was reminded of the beautiful life that I've had. And in all those memories, even the one where I broke out into hives because of my anxietous vanity, or the one year when I was big and pregnant trying to body surf, only to come out of the water unknowingly bearing my maternal breast for all the beach to see-- what I cherish is those beautiful memories, even when I didn't feel so cute at the time. They are a part of me.

2. Another day: I was picking up rocks and shells. I picked them because of how they looked, but once I got them into my hands, they all looked like regular rocks. They looked more plain because now they were out of context. They looked exceptional, beautiful, colorful, shiny, and bold when laying in the sand, being washed and polished by the waves. If that's not a metaphor for ya? I, too, feel more beautiful when I'm in beautiful places, with people I love. To surround yourself with beauty, is to bring out your brightest, boldest most beautiful features.

3. Losing my shorts: I had shorts to swim in and I wore these granny underpants underneath. Which worked fine until I started body surfing. I was having so much fun! I was finally starting to get the timing down, but the waves would pull my shorts off. I would grab for my shorts, and then get all scraped up on the rocks at the end of the ride. So, I took my shorts off, shoved them into my top and waited for the next wave. It was a great ride, except this time I started losing my underpants...I managed to snag them just below the knee (before it was everlastingly too late), but once I pulled them up into place I realized my shorts were gone!

You may not think this is a big deal (that's because it isn't), but honestly, I have not shown my fanny, or upper thigh portion to the sunshine in almost 20 years. I was wearing the Umbro's/swimsuit combo WAY before board shorts became mainstream. Not to mention the fact that I was wearing old underwear (granny style with panels and everything) that may or may not have holes in them.

Oh, and I didn't have a towel on the beach I could quickly run to and hide in. So I was stuck. My niece and sisinlaw did a once over for me in the water to make sure I didn't have any revealing holes, and I worked up the guts to walk out of the water and all the way to my camp site. My goal was to not act stupid about it. (But I did kind of did act stupid about it). Still, it was a good experience for me. The truth is, not ONE person gave more than a second's thought (if that) about my white fanny. Nobody cares. Seriously. A big ToDo about nothing. That's what I've been doing all these years. What precious time has been wasted in such self-absorbed thinking.


4. Before I left: I read this article about our body image and our genes. I have features I have thoroughly berated in the past, that are direct features from even my most immediate ancestors. This article pointed out that perhaps we should be more appreciative of those very traits. After all, if they've stood the test of generations, it's because they are dominant genes, and/or they work, right?

As many times as I've complained about my nose, I wouldn't change it. It's my grandpa's nose. And his dad's too. And my grandfather is not only handsome, he is one amazing, AMAZING man. I don't mind having a daily reminder of where I come from, and the examples that have been laid before me. I have short legs like both my grandmothers. They were/are attractive, have/had hustle and are a couple of the hardest working ladies I've ever known. so when I attempt (and fail) the look of the skinny jean, at least I know these limbs have proven to be able to do great things --minus the knees: thanks dad ;)-- And by golly, I'll wear my skinny jeans anyway, thankyouverymuch.

It was a good week. And a giant gold star for you if you actually read this whole thing.

:-===-:

THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE:

I don't know, maybe it was because C referred to me as a poet... but I feel inspired to work on my creative writing. Actually I don't feel inspired right this second, which is part of the reason for this challenge, WHICH IS;

Each day I will submit a poem/song that I have written... for all the world (okay, all 10 of you) to see.

This is kind of scary for me, because:
1. I'm not actually a poet... I lack the knack for rhyming, and I tend to make up words (note the word 'anxietous' above).
2. I have written less poems than there are days in the week, and I've already posted most of them...
3. I'm risking looking really dumb, or unintentionally revealing more of myself than I would like.

K- here I go!

#1

SLIP

Explanations,
Poses,
Constructed Themes,
The direction you are now facing.
Meaningless.

You've already given it away.

Without even a word.

One look
And it's gone from you.

It only feels taken because you
Weren't paying attention when

You revealed yourself
To me.

===-===-===-===-===

I Have Shocking News...

I do not have the perfect body.

Or do I?

Okay, so I had this plan to write something about body image and my past anxieties about it but I'm out of time. Ready to hit the road and head to Cali for some sun, sand and surf...

Since I promised a beach challenge I will have to spew out something quickly.

I have a history of disliking, no, loathing my body. I could tell stories about not wearing shorts in the summer all through junior high and high school, breaking out into hives before going to the beach, and oh so much more.



But the bottom line is this: I'm learning that I seriously need to change.

HOW LAME am I to spend ONE second on this kind of thinking. How unfortunate that I spent the first half hour at the pool last week glued to my towel because I was too self conscious to move around, worried about the cottage cheese and spider veins on my thighs. How very sad that I decided a few aesthetic criterion was the deciding factor on how I spent my time. How I felt about myself as a person. How I related to others.

DU-UMB!!!!! Dumb, because I'm better than that. This body is capable of so much. It has immense potential. Substantial, beautiful potential. So it should play, serve, love, wear a swimsuit and frolic on the beach, because it is able and in this way, WAY closer to perfect than imperfect. (right?).

(While at the pool, I finally came to this conclusion and got up the guts to jump off the diving board, and PLAY. It was interesting how my self image improved just by doing that).

MY WW CHALLENGE: THE BEACH MANTRA

I will not spend ONE SINGLE second in berating my "imperfect" figure. I will not waste precious moments that can be used to develop relationships with loved ones by focusing too much on myself. I will get wet, and not worry about how my suit is going to stick to my body. I will play horse shoes, or volleyball or frisbee or explore sea animals with my kids. I will journal about this everyday and update when I get back.

I don't have time to proofread, I'm leaving in a matter of minutes...BUT I had to put something down.

I'm going to the beach and sleep by the ocean, and play music and card games by the fireside, it's a hard life, but someone's got to do it!

Toodles.

The New Children's Healthcare Program...(Oh, and Another Way in Which I Am Just A Little Insane).

* There are photos of blood and puss in the form of open wound. You were warned.

Who needs doctors?

Eddie has been dealing with a nasty infection in his leg for about two weeks. Here's the quick rundown:

1. Went hiking with the cousins and got a "scrape" (It looked like a scrape anyway, and a little swollen).
2. It got worse, red, white lines which lead to: Doctor. Culture. Antibiotic.
3. Culture shows nothing. But he stays on antibiotic because-
4. I go out of town. He dutifully and responsibly takes it (a 4x daily dose).
5. I come home and check it out. It looks WAY better, except:
6. Now he's got a hole in his leg, hard around the edges, still oozing puss.
7. Doctor app.: Possible foreign body. Ordered to soak it (3x daily) and come back Friday.
8. Soaking tonight. I can't leave it alone. I clean a needle and mess around with the hard puss around his sore.
9. Eddie HATES this (it's really sensitive). And begs me to stop. He tells me if I just let HIM remove the tiny hard puss ball with some tweezers, then we can continue.

10. Tweezers cleaned,I hold the leg and Eddie-Steady (his new, earned nickname), starts to remove the tiny "puss ball" by himself.

THIS IS WHAT EDDIE PULLED OUT OF HIS LEG (and this is what I said as he was doing it):

" OH! "

" MY! "

" HECK! "

We cheered, hi-fived, and Eddie shed a couple of tears of joy. We will be heading back to the doctor's to make sure we got it all, and make sure we didn't do more harm than good.

We are very proud of our boy's first foreign body removal.

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

And now...

AVERYLONG SIDE NOTE REGARDING MY PATHOLOGICAL NEED TO BE LIKED:

Albert Einstein is said to have described insane behavior as thus;
"Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over, expecting to get a different result"

Many of you who know my history with our pediatrician are undoubtedly scratching their heads. For those of you not privy, I will briefly elucidate:

Our Ped? Well, she's kind of a scaredy-cat. She wouldn't even remove stitches from Ada's chin. (Another long story which ends in me swearing to the heavens in front of all those in listening range that that was IT!!! No more. Over my DEAD body will I ever return to that place. "I WILL find a new doctor!" I vowed.

That was 4 years ago. Nothing has changed. Every time I go to see her for some kind of minor injury, she sends me to people way over qualified, with extremely busy and/or time consuming schedules. Still, after these many years, I have yet to keep my impassioned vow of finding a replacement. Why?

The honest truth is, I don't want to hurt her feelings. I realize how pathetic (and expensive AND wasteful of my precious, precious time) this reasoning is.

Listen folks, she employs a nurse that I absolutely adore. This nurse all but came to my house to help me with appointments and care when the twins were babies and visiting so frequently. She genuinely loves my kids, keeps track of our lives and is just plain awesome.

And our doctor? She gives endless praise about how brilliant and beautiful my children are, how thin I am for having had twins and even commented today on how Eddie could easily be a doctor himself someday...or anything he wanted. He's just so smart. So clever. So wonderful. My vanity, which regularly subdues plain logic, is unwilling to quit such effusive flattery. Even when she is too chicken to take a few little stitches out (or a jumbo splinter). I know it's ridiculous. I know I really need to change doctors.

I'm, well, I'm just embarrassed now.

SO HERE'S MY NEW SOLUTION:
I suppose I could just call Debbie (the nurse) and she if she wants to go to lunch sometime. She'd be a nice friend to have.

Maybe I'll find a new doctor (for those minor injury situations) but still continue seeing our timid, but kind, Pediatrician once a year for the well-child check ups (and positive strokes)...

You're still scratching your head, I just know it.

Endeavoring to Emulate...

The women in my neighborhood who are primary leaders in the church to which I belong.

I have been watching them. They have busy, human, demanding, stressful personal lives and yet they make time to give to the children of this community (and not just the kids who are members of our church).

They believe in serving and loving others. They organized an activity, that included approx. 40 children. Most of which speak very little English. Many are from Myanmar (Karen refugees), and one family from Iran joined us.

The activity:
Take ALL of them to the Museum of Church History and Art downtown for a tour:

Meet at the church by 8am on a MONDAY. We'll be there until 11am, and then come back to the church for a treat.

My first thought was: "Are You Kidding Me?" This would not be an easy task to see through.

I watched these ladies spend hours visiting homes in order to help each parent fill out permission slips--they had to personally visit to do this because of the language barrier. They tried to make sure every child was included. They spent subsequent hours; finding other compassionate folks who were willing to help drive the children, finding translators, in filling out name tags with all needed information (this is NOT as easy of a task as it sounds - we are all still trying to learn every body's names).

I watched them do this. NO complaining. None. I would have complained. A lot. I would have suggested that we do something easier, something close to home. Something far less stressful.

Observing today's events turned out to be very humbling for me. These ladies are truly compassionate. And, unlike me, they see the bigger picture. They are willing to do the hard thing for the sake of others. I feel so lucky to know such amazing people. These are the people who show up. And wasn't just the leaders. It was primary teachers and people who have really no affiliation with primary, but were willing to give up 5 hours of their Monday simply because they have a van.

I have learned a great lesson today. I hope not to forget it.

They went the extra mile, and the kids loved it. It was sooooo worth it!

I tagged along and took some pictures...

Dressing Up as the tabernacle builders:
Nay Say, Mou Keai (?), and Amou

The Future MOTAB
(this group really could sing!)

My Ada and Krysta, waiting for the fun to begin

Nay Say Paw: pioneer girl gathering eggs :)

My Eddie, and Connor: a.k.a. Brigham Young and Gordon B. Hinckley

About half the group: Sitting in those "comfy" tabernacle style benches ;)

Kim Moo Kim (& Nay Say Paw) displaying their wood grain work

Want more? Go to this blog.

And in the end, we ate Creamscicles with relish. Plus I learned a lot about some ways that I can improve myself. I'm glad to have lots of good examples close by.

BIG NEWS!!!

CALEB TIMOTHY BROUGH

My nephew has officially arrived to the world this morning via C-section.

• Healthy Mama? (check. Mama, is my sister.)
• Healthy Baby? (check)
  
• Mecham Lips? (check. It's not just a dominant feature, it's a dominant gene.)
• Mom & Pop relieved, elated, exhausted? (super check.)
• Big Brother (Elijah) approved? (still waiting on that one.)

I wish I wish I wish I could be there!

Jack-O-Lantern

Sunday night, Jack was chewing on a blanket (don't ask why - we don't). When all of a sudden, out popped a tooth! He hasn't even had a loose tooth yet, so it was a completely unexpected triumph.Hooray! This boy has been waiting, and WAITING to have his own visit from the toothfairy. Watching Ada lose four teeth in a matter of months was almost too much for him to bear. I've never seen a kid so excited to go to bed, carefully placing his tooth under the pillow.

Unfortunately for him, the toothfairy has a tendency to be a flake.

I'm not sure if it was because it was Sunday, or because the toothfairy was starting a new job early in the morning...but she completely forgot. Completely. And this was not the kid to forget about.

I go to bed. Next thing I know Jackie's at my bedside, like every morning. Except now, he is sleepy and sad, mumbling something about his tooth. Slumps back to his room. I'm still clueless, so Sam helps to refresh my memory.

I felt so terrible! My mind is racing to think of some kind of excuse or solution. Nothing. I sit up. I notice the time...It's 3am.

Redemption!

I go to his room, Jack's tooth has been flung as a result of his eagerness to see how his trade with the fairy paid off...so we hunt around (it's the tiniest tooth I ever saw). We finally find it. I told him the night's not over, not to worry, yadda, yadda...and he went back to sleep.

The toothfairy came. At precisely 3:37am. He woke a happy boy. (Phew!)

It's probably silly thing to do, but I did say a little prayer of thanks...I'd hate to let that sweet boy down.

#4

Okay, this time I had to watch... and I am in awe of my Sweet Girl.
This is how it went down;

Sam: "Hey Ada, come here. Let's pull it." He says, as he removes his Leatherman multi-tool- thingy from it's case.

Ada: "Okay" She replies, nonchalantly, as she gambols her way into her beloved Daddy's office. She stops, immediately opens her mouth wide. At this point Sam has placed the pliers on to her (semi-loose) front tooth. Ada stiffens and begins to breathe fast and hard, like she's some kind of linebacker getting ready to take a 285 pound hit...

And then Sam yanks that sucker quick and clean--he's gotten quite good at this procedure.

So what does Ada do at this point? She shakes it off without so much as a whimper and grins a bloody, proud, toothless, ear to ear grin.

That girl is one tough chick. Amazing. I was the girl who hid from my parents at the first sign of a loose tooth. I withheld smiles. I hid in closets where I frantically wiggled, twisted, and with long-suffering persistence, gently coaxed my baby-teeth out of my mouth before anyone had a clue I was embarking on "permanent tooth-dom".

If gumption is genetic, I know she didn't get it from her Ma.

REMEMBER TO VOTE!!

pass the pigs
A CARTER FAMILY FAVORITE
Not so interesting to anyone but me, probably, but I thought I'd jot it down. This is a fun game you can play as a family (even with really young children, we've been playing for a few years now). Shake the pigs- it kind of works like Yahtzee, I think.

It's fun to watch my children play. Jackie is a risk taker, he just keeps on rollin' (probably when he should stop). Ada shakes her head instead of her hands when it's her turn to roll the pigs. And Eddie is always fine-tuning his "roll", looking for the perfect point-getting maneuver. He's also getting to be a better sport about not winning a game. (The parents are still working on that).

ADA: THE FEARLESS. and the toothless.

BELOW IS AN ENTRY FROM JERRY--ADA'S GRANDPA-- WHO WITNESSED THE TOOTH-PULLING EVENT ON SATURDAY. I THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY SWEET:

"Sam pulled Tater Tot's tooth last night. she was eager to have him do it! I don't think this girl feels much pain, or maybe she just ignores it when it comes. If so, she possesses a great life skill.

On Cristie's suggestion, we had a family prayer when Sam & Melissa and their kids were ready to leave. I asked Jack to offer it. He uttered a sweet, fervent prayer and was very serious about it. Last week at Johnny Nielsen's farewell, I watched young Ed, sitting in front of me singing the hymns without parental coaching (heck, he wasn't even sitting with his parents). I remember my grandmother being very interested in how the gospel was being accepted by her grandchildren. I see it in my mother, and now I too take great joy in watching my grandkids sing, speak, pray, and most of all accept the ordinances of the Priesthood."



finally: The Word of the Day

***
Woolgathering, noun:

1. Indulgence in idle daydreaming,
2. Melissa's best talent & most time consuming pastime.

I love this word.

***
The above artwork is by artist Bo Bartlett (one of my faves)- this particular piece is titled, Sleeper Awake (2003). Bo Bartlett is a contemporary artist. He does beautiful things with light and color. I'm not sure of the legality of having this on here, if anyone would like to give me a heads up 'fore I get a subpoena or something, that would be great.