Nineteen And Counting

Monday was our 19th anniversary. Allen and I decided to go out for dinner and to see a musical to celebrate. Good times! The kids had never done anything for our anniversary in the past, but when we got home on Monday night we saw this on our garage:


Glow sticks! I love the creativity. Upon closer inspection, we realized there was more to it:

Oodles of notes from the kids! The next morning I went out to get a better look.

What an awesome idea. We loved reading every single one. They ranged from profound:

to family jokes and stories:


Some were clever:


And some were painfully honest:


Of course there was a Star Wars reference:

(ElemenoB has a thing for Han Solo)

And some cute artwork:

But my favorites were the messages of love:




It doesn't get much better than that.

Good Morning Sunshine

When I reach down and pull back the blankets from my sweet baby boy each morning then lift his soft, warm little body up to my face for a kiss he rewards me with a coo and a heart-melting smile.

Have you ever unwrapped a gift and found that it contained exactly what you wanted without your having to ask - so you feel all warm and happy and loved because someone took the time to thoughtfully choose something that was just right for you?

This is what seeing Baby B's face at the start of each day feels like. For a brief yet solid moment I have the feeling of a perfect Christmas morning and the child-like excitement of a trip to Disneyland and unconditional love and all-encompassing joy which just consumes me.

It is like unwrapping a gift of sunshine.

Every. Day.

That's How You Know

Each Sunday that I missed church over the last couple of months I have been presented with a Tootsie Roll from Hubba as soon as he gets home. The awesome family who is in charge of running the church library on Sundays always has a dish full of treats available for those who return their borrowed items - and for those who just want a treat. Hubba has stopped in there faithfully each week to get himself a pack of Smarties and the customary Tootsie Roll for his mom. (Because: chocolate! That's why.)

A few weeks into this new ritual I asked Hubba why he brought home a Tootsie Roll for me every Sunday. "Because I love you!" he replied in a tone that would suggest I was insane for not already knowing the answer.

Since the day of my accident I have had people bringing things over. Plates piled high with cookies and cinnamon rolls, get well cards and packages in the mail, books to read and other things to keep me occupied. We still had friends and family bringing us meals six weeks after my fall. I'm sure if I were to ask why so many people did these things for my family and I the response would have been the same as Hubba's. Because we love you! What an overwhelming feeling it is to really see and know how very loved you are.

I wish I had a Tootsie Roll for every one of you.

You don't have to ask. You know why. Thank you.

Reflections

Hello, world.

The snow falls so lightly this morning that it almost appears as a shimmering mist outside my bedroom window. In moments when the sunlight escapes through the clouds and reflects off of the falling snow just right I could swear that the world is being covered in swirling sparkles of glitter.

The morning I slipped and fell on my driveway, the concrete sparkled. I didn't notice this until after I had fallen and was laying there in the gutter in front of my home with my injury, unable to move. Maybe it was the angle from which I could now see the driveway, maybe it was because I had experienced firsthand the ice rink that my street had become. Perhaps the glimmering I saw was simply a result of the shock I was experiencing due to the pain in my leg. Either way, I remember thinking that if I had to lay there for a long time before someone discovered me, that driveway sure was a pretty sight. I started to wonder if maybe there was actually glitter mixed in with the concrete when my neighbor Mr. C., out walking his dog, came to my rescue.

Probably the one thing I have thought about most as I lie here in my bed day after day is the timing of my accident. Because it was 9:00 in the morning during Christmas break, my neighborhood was still asleep. I wonder if Mr. C. took regular walks at this hour or if something may have held him back or pushed him forward so that he left a bit sooner or later than usual. Just as when Coolister broke his ankle last March, I have learned that there are no such thing as coincidences in situations like these.

It was no coincidence that Mr. C. came by when he did and crossed the street to where I lay in order to offer assistance. I have never even met this man before that day, yet he did not hesitate to come to my aid. I have honestly thought in retrospect that we could have named our son after Mr. C because that is how grateful I am for his help that morning. I'm not sure I could ever really express the depth of my gratitude.

It was not a coincidence that this happened during Christmas break, when my older kids could be home tending to the younger ones so that Allen could stay in the hospital with me. When the paramedics showed up, All-a-Boy was downstairs playing a game with the littlest kids so that they would not see me in pain, surrounded by strangers in our front room, carted on a gurney to the ambulance.

It was not a coincidence that our nurse in the emergency room was the daughter of a neighbor who we knew well. It helped me feel at ease to talk about something familiar as I waited to hear what course of action would be taken to repair the dislocation and breaks in my ankle and leg.

It was no coincidence that the on-call surgeon was the same one who operated on Coolister's leg last march. We found him to be a bit arrogant and rude throughout Coolister's ordeal but we saw firsthand how Coolister's ankle healed beyond what we were told was possible and had confidence in the doctor's skills as a surgeon. I also do not think it was a coincidence that the aforementioned surgeon was actually kind and considerate toward me (well, minus the waiting time before surgery) despite his typical reputation.

It was not a coincidence that, when our little boy was born 3 weeks early, he weighed in at 8 pounds, 4 ounces and was perfectly healthy and ready to be here.

When I went for my surgery the day after I had given birth, it was no coincidence that I saw my OB twice (there to perform surgery on others under his care) while waiting for my surgeon to show up. He offered me words of encouragement and support when I was ready to explode with some mixture of anger, fear, frustration and tears. He helped me feel a sense of calm when I needed it.

As Allen waited on me in the hospital, it was no coincidence that our neighbors showed up at our home to provide our family with pizzas for lunch, meals for dinner and treats for whenever they wanted one before anything was coordinated to make this happen. It helped me to know that my family was being watched over while I selfishly kept Allen by my side to help tend to the needs of our newborn baby as the nurses tended to the needs of my post-surgical healing.

There are many more instances of non-coincidences over the past 2 weeks which I'll keep tucked away to be remembered personally by myself and my family, just as they should be.

In all instances, I know this for sure: coincidences did not exist in my world over the last couple of weeks. Tender mercies? Gifts from a loving Heavenly Father? Blessings? Even miracles? Yes to all of them... but no coincidences.

The afternoon as I waited to leave the hospital I was holding my baby boy. His eyes were curious and seemed to be searching mine with that innocence that comes with being new. I reveled in this moment, basking in his newness and the overwhelming happiness of being able to do this again, to mother another sweet newborn babe. As I sat there gazing at him, I noticed my own face reflected in the eyes of my beautiful baby boy - and then he smiled.

Coincidence? I think not.

It's Coolister Outside

I wrote about my littlest munchkin and now I need to write about Coolister, the oldest. I think I've already written quite a bit about the range of emotions I am experiencing as I think about him being at the university next year, making his own choices and dictating his own schedule. I know he'll do well. He'll muddle through if he has to and figure things out because he's smart and he knows how to get by. I'm proud of him for all he's accomplished in his life so far in regards to school and sports, too - but I think that what I really want to focus on right now is his heart.

At first sight, Coolister is kind of a goofy, silly kid. He's extremely fun-loving and comes off as irresponsible (okay, sometimes he is) and self-centered at times. Pretty much your typical 17-year-old boy, really. But behind the scenes, as his mom, I get to see the side that many others don't. The kid has a heart of gold. He is quick to forgive, always one to help others feel included and filled with a light that comes from really knowing who he is and what he has the potential to become. Coolister is also a kid who has a willingness to help out whenever someone needs it.

Take today for instance.

Last night we had quite a snow storm. So much snow that this morning Coolister and his dad braved the cold at 6:00 a.m. to shovel our driveway, sidewalk and even a path around the suburban so that we could actually get into it without wading through snowdrifts to our knees. I sure do love those two!

After school as I was dropping off a couple of the kids in our carpool I noticed an elderly single woman (I'm pretty sure she's in her eighties) in our neighborhood out trying to shovel a path from her garage so that she could pull her car out. I called home on my cell phone and Coolister answered. All I had to say was, "Sister N. is out shoveling her driveway by herself..." before he answered, "I'm on it, Mom."

Coolister helped her shovel just enough to get her car out of the driveway and when she tried to pay him he told her that was not necessary and started to walk away. Once she was in her car and on her way he returned and finished shoveling her entire driveway and sidewalk.

After about an hour and a half I began to wonder where he had gotten off to. I drove over to Sister N's house and saw that he had finished shoveling at her house and and made his way next door to where another single lady in our church congregation lives. There he was with his jeans wet to his knees, almost finished with shoveling her driveway as well. No one had asked him. He just saw that it wasn't done and started doing it.

These are the things that make my mama heart swell with pride. These are the important things that his dad and I have hoped to instill in our kids' hearts and minds. Smarts at school are valuable and important but even more vital is the knowledge that serving others without any thought for yourself is the key to real happiness in life.

Oh, how I love my biggest boy and his huge heart.

Change = Not Easy

(Eleven of my 14 favorite little friends)

Yesterday was a toughie.

My 'job' at church was changed - I will now be the secretary for the Primary (kids aged 18 months-11 years old). I'm sure I will eventually enjoy these new responsibilities, but man oh man is it tough to let go of my little class.

Yesterday was my last week as teacher to my little 5-6 year-olds. I hated having to tell them this news, although it was likely harder for me than it was for them. Kids are pretty resilient, really. Besides the emotional breakdown that Hubba had when I made my announcement, they all took it fairly well.

I went all out for my last hoo-rah, making sure that every child's favorite things to do were included in the lesson. We colored. We taped. We told stories and used visual aids and finger puppets. Each child was spotlighted for their amazing talents, which were printed on a bookmark. I played my accordion for them, which was accompanied by a little impromptu dancing. I even passed out take-home treats at the end.

For the first time, ever, I don't think anyone asked to go to the bathroom. Miracles happen.

As each of them left they gave me the customary high five or hug. Almost every one told me they were going to miss me, which was making me a little teary - until it came to Super C. He gave me a hug and then said, "Don't wuh-wee, Sisto Bwack. We will get an awesome new tee-cho and then we won't hawdly miss you at all!"

The problem is, I am selfish. And Super C's words are exactly what I am worried will happen. My church class is like my little Sunday family! I want invitations to their future art shows and sporting events and wedding receptions. I feel like I'm putting my Sunday kids up for adoption and just hoping for the best when it comes to a new parent. Will he/she remember their birthdays and notice when they aren't there? Will he/she appreciate how creative and witty and clever they are? Will he/she make an effort to contact the two kids who only make it to class on occasion? Most importantly, will the new teacher love them like I do? (Impossible!)

I'm sure things will all work out. I know that early next year, when I'm carrying a carseat around with me again, it will be much easier to fulfill my secretarial duties than to wrangle a precocious class full of young'uns.

But still...

I'm just going to miss it, that's all.

PG-13 Bonus Material

(Awesome darkish camera-phone picture)

Allen and I celebrated our 18th anniversary this week with a matinee showing of Lion King, an excess of great food, some needed shopping and overnight stays at two of our favorite Bed And Breakfasts.

The second place we stayed keeps guestbooks in each of their rooms. Last year we stayed in a different suite and discovered a treasure hunt that someone had started in that room by reading the past entries in the room's guestbook. This prompted my reading the book in this year's room - but a different surprise was in store.

You would think that a simple Thanks for a great stay or Loved the room & breakfast! We'll be back! would suffice, but no. We could not believe the things that some people had written in these books; especially knowing that others would read their words and see their name signed just below what they had to say.

Would you like to see a few of the guestbook entries that we found unbelievable and/or humorous?

I thought you might. But let me forewarn you, some of them are a bit... well, racy.

Remembering

bumper sticker found at ihatecancer.net

Ten years ago this month my father was diagnosed with Glioblastoma Multiforme, the most aggressive kind of brain tumor.

You may recognize this post at 4 Perspectives from a couple of years ago on my blog, but it's what has been on my mind for the past couple of days so I decided to re-post it.

I just miss him.

Race For The Cure

This post is LONG overdue...

Waaaaay back in May I had the chance to attend the Susan Komen Race for the Cure in Salt Lake City. A group of friends went to participate in support of our friend Jes who had surgery to rid herself of cancer. (p.s. I hate cancer.) She is doing awesome and is SO loved!

Our team was called "Wish Upon A Star". We were encouraged to wear plenty of pink to show our support of kicking breast cancer in the trash, so I found this amazing ensemble at the local thrift store for only $15 total! Can you believe it? I wish you could see my awesome pink shoes, too. And don't you love the wand?

When we found out that roughly 18,000 people would be participating in this event, we decided to ride Trax in to Salt Lake. That ended up being a very wise decision because the streets were PACKED! On the way up my friend Clint and I lamented over the fact that there was no way we would find Jes among a crowd of 18,000... but all was well. We had a post-race meeting spot all planned out already.

When we exited Trax, miracle of miracles, there was JES and her family! She had ridden in on the very same train as we had, just one car up. We got to walk the whole route with Jes and quite a few others in our group.


The shirts that people came up with were my favorite part. I didn't think to take pictures of everyone's shirts until the end, when I saw this one:


But a few of my other favorites were:

"We're Walkers For (insert name here)'s Knockers"

"Save second base!"

(On a man's shirt) "I'm here for the boobs."

I am not sure that words can really express the awesome feeling of being one person in a sea of 18,000 - all there united in one cause.

It. Was. Amazing.

I am not sure pictures can show it accurately, either, but that's what you're gonna get...


Here's Team Wish Upon A Star:


I think our shirts said it all...

It's About Time

As school has been quickly approaching my kids have expressed their anticipation to return. "You'll just be wishing for vacation days once you're back in school," I reminded them. One child responded with these words: "Well, summer hasn't been that great because you never let us do things with our friends. At least when we're at school we get to see them everyday."

Ouch.

It is not true, by the way, that I never let them do things with their friends. I will be the first to admit that I am a bit more protective than most parents, but I try to be sure that my kids have plenty of friend time intermingled with their family time. They are already running around enough as it is with Cross Country practices (sometimes twice a day), Scouts and church activities, piano lessons, appointments, etc. We are not all at home together as a family often enough.

Here's the way I figure it, though. I only get my kids for their first 18 years. That's nothing! Do you know how quickly we went from this:
to this?
It was like a blink! This month we will celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary - but I can still distinctly remember picking out that awesome peach dress with the big shoulder pads and lace collar for our first professional photo together. Time flies!

So I blink, and 18 years have passed. Then, one by one, we lose the kids to college, roommates, jobs, missions... and even eventually to their own marriages and families. Maybe lose isn't the right word. I do look forward to these landmark moments but recognize that they will have their own lives at this point - they will make decisions without needing my approval. They will take care of themselves and no longer be dependent on me for life's necessities. I do look forward to this aspect of their independence... but at the same time I do not look forward to it. My heart is torn when I think of their futures. More specifically, their futures without me, their mother.

Why can I not pull this jumble of thoughts from my head and form them into coherent sentences!?

What I'm trying to say in all of this rambling is that I want my kids around as much as I can keep them here while they're still under our roof. 18 years is such a short time! They are going to be living with Allen and I for probably less than 1/4 of their lives. Why does that seem so unfair to me? I want to build an abundance of memories and share plenty of laughter. I want us to dance and sing together. I want to teach them the value of service and the skills they will need in their individual futures. I want to bake them their favorite treats, cook up the meals that they love and talk about what they have learned in the books they are reading. I want them to have gospel knowledge and strong, unwavering testimonies. I want to help them gain a love for arts and cultures and nature. I want to teach them to be self-confident and kind.

I want our home to be a place where they will long to return once they have ventured out on their own.

How can I do these things, create this bond, if they are away with friends all of the time? Perhaps I am selfish. Perhaps things will be different once some of my younger kids are the oldest still at home. I don't know. What I do know is this:

I love my family. I love having my children here at home with me. I love spending time together, creating happy memories. All I can do is hope that, once they have left the nest, they will see the value in my possessiveness. When it comes their time to go, I hope they will fly away with confidence and knowledge and kind hearts. I hope they will come to their father and I for advice and encouragement and laughter and love.

In the here and now I hope they don't resent me too much for trying to keep them around as much as possible while I can.

And in the future I hope that they will all choose to remain close to our family while doing the same for their own kids.