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Today, I am 31 years old. The only time that seems way old and kinda makes me panic is when I see it printed or on the computer. I don’t feel old, but 31 of anything (except maybe dollars) is a lot! I have a lot of years!
I feel like this year my theme is doing things that scare/excite me that I’ve procrastinated doing. For example, in October (so not technically this year, but just go with the flow with me on this) our good friends moved in with us. Now we all live in the same house community style. We’ve had people live with us before but this was different and exciting and really scary to me. I loved the IDEA of living with others, sharing our lives…joys, burdens and all. But the actual reality of it scared me. What if we got in fights and on each others’ nerves? What if we ended up not being friends anymore? That was my greatest fear. However up to this point, living together has been fantastic…better than I could have imagined. And yes, we are all still friends.
Another example, I got my wisdom teeth pulled last month. For some of you that really isn’t that big of a deal, and after it was said and done, you’re right it wasn’t that big of a deal. But I was terrified to get my teeth pulled. I have been putting it off for FIVE years! Now that it’s done I can see how silly that was.
So for your edification and my accountability, here’s a partial list of other things I’ve had on my mind that I want to make sure I do this year:
-Get my Utah driver’s license. I still have my Oregon licence and we’ve lived here in Utah for two years. Again it’s silly but I get myself scared thinking, what if I don’t pass?! Then I won’t be able to drive at all. I won’t be able to drive home from the test! Silly, but that’s what’s kept me from taking the test for the past two years.
-Run, run, run. No, not from something, for something. Before kids Kris and I ran three times a week, in Oregon (read: in the constant drizzle). When we did this I always felt more fit and my back and legs never ached like they do now. So I am making myself get up and run in the mornings or after the kids go to bed. For added motivation I’ve signed up to run with a team in the Wasatch Back relay race in June. Nothing motivates me better than the thought that I could let my other team mates down if I don’t push myself.
-Get lasik eye surgery. I don’t really have a fear issue here. It’s more a continual state of being pregnant or nursing that’s kept me from this goal. But, God willing, come June Korban will be one and weaned. Then I will be able to actually see further than my hand held up in front of my face in the middle of the night. Sigh, that thought makes me happy. 
-Skydive. Well, this goal will kind of be met soon. I can’t acutally sky dive yet. I don’t think it’s a good idea to jump out an airplane while my kids are still so little. If something happened to me they’d be too young to remember what an awesome mom I was. BUT nearby there’s an indoor skydiving place that looks really cool. So this weekend, for my birthday present, I’m going indoor skydiving. I’ll let you know how it goes.
-Make a will. The idea of talking about when I’m dead just isn’t very appealing to me. Can anybody else relate to that? However, because of activities I’d like to do someday (see above) and because I have children, I feel it’s important to get as much nailed down as possible.
-Snowboard again. This one is done! I LOVED snowboarding when I was younger but hadn’t done it for several years. Last weekend, for our date night, Kris and I went night skiing. I was nervous that maybe I would have to relearn how to glide upon the snow, but it all came back to me. The snow, oh the snow, was like super soft cotton that’d gone through a food processor. Even when I did fall it didn’t hurt a bit, thus giving me more courage to try little jumps and maneuvers. I’ve just added another reason why I love Utah to my already long list. Now…whose going to buy my season lift ticket next year? 
-Play the violin…more. This one is also already happening. The main reason I started learning to play was so that I could one day play as worship. In my mind that meant years of lessons and practice, including a complete understanding of music theory. Well, that latter part hasn’t happened but the worship part has. I’ve been gently pushed to play with our church’s worship team by my housemates. It has been super scary and my bow still shakes like a feather when I do play in church. I don’t sound very good but the worship team has been so encouraging and supportive that I’m not quitting. Each time I play I’m a little less nervous, a little bit bolder, and enjoy it more.
I’ll try to let you know how these goals go. Be sure to ask me about them if you’re curious.
What have you been putting off that you know you need/want/should do?
I got this idea from my cousin’s blog. I love the idea of sharing things ( big and small) that are blessing us.
1. Waking up and seeing fluffy snow covering all the tree branches outside our bedroom window.
2. Good coffee and conversation with a good friend.
3. Ice cream in a coffee cup (it’s better that way).
4. Watching my son crawl to me, with a huge grin on his face.
5. Warm vanilla custard on a berry pie. Mmmm, thanks Heather.
What are your five things for today?
This last weekend our family had a dinner/planning meeting to attend. We had a lot of business to discuss but our hosts wanted to serve a meal and also asked us to bring our children so we wouldn’t have to make arrangements for a sitter. They wouldn’t let me help with the meal by bringing anything either.
Due to a series of uncontrollable events we got out of our house much later than we planned and were running very late for this meeting. I HATE being late. All through our marriage if we’re running even 5-10 minutes late I insist that we call our hosts and notify them that we are on our way and apologize. This was no exception. I made Kris do it this time. On the phone our host told Kris it was no problem and made sure we knew how to get to their house.
The whole (45 minute) drive there I grumbled verbally and in my mind about being late and stressed about how we would face our hosts. I feared they would be irritated with us, feel pressed for time to cover all the material we needed, and think poorly of us.
As we arrived at their house they came out to the car to greet us. My first thought was that they weren’t even going to let us get out of the car. I feared they were going to say, “You’re too late. There’s no point in meeting, just go home!” I quickly pushed this fear out of my mind as I saw their smiling faces. I jumped out of the car and began apologizing. I thrust a home made loaf of bread in my host’s arms as a peace offering. Imagine my shock when our hosts responded to my pathetic apologies by saying, “Oh, thank you for being late. I was able to take a shower!”
After my very ungracious thoughts and words in the car I was quite surprised to be thanked for being late! All through the evening our hosts demonstrated the upmost grace and love towards us. They served us a wonderful meal, offered repeatedly to help with the kids, commended us on our parenting and ambitions, hauled toys out of the garage for our daughter to play with while we talked and spoke words of encouragement to us.
As they walked us out to the car to leave, our arms full of left over food and a dozen fresh home farmed eggs, I was feeling a little bit confused. Normal people don’t act like this. They didn’t need or want anything from us and yet I felt the way I feel when somebody is trying to butter me up, before the other shoe drops. These friends of our had every reason to be irritated with us and yet they seemed truly thrilled to spend time with us. ”They’re so…nice!” I said quietly to Kris as we drove off. I realized that they were genuine. They were not manufacturing an emotion or pretending not to be irritated with us. They were going with the flow, relaxed, at ease and able to enjoy the evening. Their graciousness towards us was a wonderful surprise and also something that I long to have in my relationships. I can quickly get my feathers ruffled if things don’t go my way or follow my schedule. Usually I can cover up my frustrations but then my actions aren’t genuine and I think some can see through my guise. What I saw this weekend, because of the way I felt when I left their house, is something I want to learn.
When I was younger I would regularly and loudly bemoan the difficult life I had as an oldest sister. I have MANY stories of how I suffered due to the actions of my younger sisters. Oh, what? You’d like to hear a few? Okay.
-I was given several beautiful fancy hats, the kind that make little girls feel like twirling and curtsying in. I had one that was my particular favorite. When my little sister and I played dress up I would always let her wear a hat, but never my favorite one. One day she played dress up by herself and chose to wear my favorite hat. Then she decided to go outside and show nature and all our farm animals her elegance. Being a very small child with a very small attention span she quickly forgot about her elegance, dropped the hat on the ground and proceeded to find something else to play with. Our hat was found by our fox terrier puppy who did not appreciate its elegance, just the delightful taste of fake plastic grapes and old fabric. Goodbye hat.
-I was a teenager when my littlest sister and brother were born. Being from a large family in a small town was not always something I saw as a good thing. Many people asked me, “Are you mormon?”
“No”, I would respond.
“Oh then you must be Catholic” they would conclude. I wasn’t this either but usually I would just roll my eyes and walk off instead of trying to explain what we were that would provide an adequate justification, in their eyes, for our large family. I don’t know that there was a right explanation.
-Being the oldest girl I often was the primary babysitter for my younger siblings. Most of the time I loved it and and now I can see the great value in the childcare training I received. But there were times that I wanted to go do things with my friends but had to stay and babysit instead.
-I decided to change the way that I wrote so that my handwriting was distinct and recognizable. It took me many hours of erasing and re-writing my a’s, y’s, and j’s to create a habit of writing them differently. I wrote my a’s just like they look in this current font and my j’s and y’s were curvy at the bottom. About a year after penning my new style I noticed a paper written by my sister….with a’s and j’s JUST LIKE MINE! I was furious. It didn’t calm me in the least when my mom explained the imitation was the sincerest form of flattery. I didn’t want an imitator when I was trying to be unique!
-Clothing and jewelry often disappeared from my room and then later my own house at the hands of my sneaky littlest sister. She was always only “just borrowing” them but sometimes they were “borrowed” for months at a time.
-Once when my sister and I shared a room and a bed we sneaked out of bed after bedtime and at some of our Christmas candy. I ate my piece of candy and then fell asleep. My sister, however did not bother to finish her candy and we were caught in the morning when my mom found a cherry lifesaver stuck in my sister’s hair. We both got spanked because Jillian said I told her to eat candy with me. Yeah, like I had to command her to eat candy.
Now I laugh at these little antidotes but at the time I felt they were the most sincere forms of torture a girl could suffer and I did not suffer silently but made sure my sisters and parents were well aware of this burden I carried.
This weekend when we went back home for a visit I realized that over the past couple years I’ve gotten payback for all…well, okay most of the wrongs I suffered.
Each time we go home for a visit my youngest sister has bags full of clothes that she is giving away. I feel bad taking her adorable clothes and I know they don’t look as good on me as they look on her but I love getting the “new” clothes. My other sister practically swoops my kids out of my arms when we arrive and would take them the whole of our visit if she didn’t have to share with others. Several times during the weekend I left my kids upstairs and went downstairs to take naps.
So now I feel like the tables have turned and I am the one that is getting all the good from having little sisters. Not to say that I didn’t get lots of great experiences out of them when we were younger, but I think I am more able to appreciate them now.
Thanks Jilly and Liv.
I’ve been thinking a lot about germs and dirt recently. Maybe it’s because every where I go there’s disinfectant wipes and hand sanitizer available. Perhaps it’s because the H1N1 virus has been headline news for months. Maybe it’s because I have a two year old who touches EVERYTHING and a mobile seven month old who wants to taste everything he touches. Maybe it’s also because there are eight people living in one house and I get to thinking about how we are exposing each other to a myriad of germs from all the places each individual has been.
Kris gets pretty bad allergies each year. Though they are nothing like what he experienced in Oregon (reinforcing his theory that he’s allergic to rain) they are frustrating to him. He was recently reading up on why allergies are becoming so common place in 1st world countries. One interesting theory he read said that that our bodies are made to fight off germs and illnesses. However in our ultra clean environment there is less for our bodies to legitimately fight. So it goes looking for a fight and becomes ultra sensitive to silly things like pollen and grass. The article argued that allergies such as hay fever show up significantly less in second and third world countries, where there are real germs to fight. Interesting.
A couple months ago I made the mistake of letting one of those vacuum cleaner salespeople into my home. She said she would clean one of my carpets for free…which is how they get in the door. What she didn’t tell me, while standing on the door step, that she had a two hour presentation and a $2500 vacuum! Yikes! Anyway, her main sales tactic was to try and scare that $2500 out of my pocket by showing me all the dirt that’s in my house, even after I use my cheap vacuum cleaner. She would lay out these black squares of fabric with piles of icky dust and fiber on the coffee table for me to stare at while she demonstrated all the amazing elements of this vacuum. The worst part was when she vacuumed a mattress and showed us what was picked up…what we sleep on every night. ICK! And then came the punchline, “Your vacuum is not picking this dirt up. Isn’t your goal to have a clean house and have a vacuum cleaner that picks up all the dirt, not just some of it?” I didn’t say this, but in my mind I thought, no, not really. If I really was trying to get all the dirt off of everything in our house I would never stop cleaning because there is dirt and germs everywhere. We live with them and it really doesn’t bother me that much.
We do a lot of hiking and living out of doors when the weather allows. I am sure that on our hikes we inhale LOTS of dust and that when we stop to eat our lunch our hand are dirty and sweaty. If we drop some of our food on the ground we usually just pick it up and eat it. Yet I’ve never gotten sick after a day hiking. I think our cultural fear of dirt has been taken a little bit too far.
Have you ever noticed that the families who slather on the hand sanitizer, eat only food from the health food store and avoid places (like the library, zoo, and playground) because of the germs are the ones that seem to be always getting sick or getting over something? Hmmm.
I’ve written about this before but I think I just need to get this out for my own good.
I recently was in Texas visiting my grandparents. They are in their late 80s and had never met my son, thus our visit. As I puttered around their house, removing porcelain figurines and the 100th pair of reading glasses from my daughter’s mischievous hands I was struck with bittersweet emotions. I have so many memories in this house and of these two people. I am sad that they will soon be leaving this house, with the address I have memorized, for an easier living situation. But I’m also relieved for them.
They are old. My gramma forgets things. So far it’s been little things, like whether I’ve met my cousin or if she’s already told me about the birthday party they are going to on Saturday. But soon it may be big things, like why she turned the oven on and if she turned it off. Or when she last took her medication. My grandpa’s mind is still sharp as a tack but his physical health is declining. He weighs less than me and there were several times that he lost his balance and nearly fell. It makes me sad to see them like this and I find myself thinking, is this what I have to look forward to?
There is silverware (real silver) under my gramma’s bed that hasn’t been used in 20 years. There are Get Well Soon cards from a surgery my grandpa had nearly three years ago. There is stuff, just stuff everywhere. And as my grandparents begin to mentally and physically process this move they will be making, this stuff weighs heavily on their minds. My gramma had piles of things she wanted to know if I wanted to take home with me. Some things are family heirlooms, some things are trivial, like a sample package of paper towels. She opened a bag packed full of crocheted doilies, made by my great grandmother and great aunt. Gramma was going to make something out of them but never got around to it.
I can relate to that. I have many little knick knacks in my guest room closet. Things that I’m saving for a project that I haven’t gotten around to yet. This trip was a wake up call for me. Because I don’t want 80 years of stuff that I’ve saved because I’ve not gotten around to doing them. I don’t want to save the good china for special events anymore. I don’t want to save the pretty cards for special notes. I don’t want my kids to out grow their nice shoes before they get to wear them. I guess I just want to be generous with my stuff and adventurous with my daily plans. I hope that when I’m 80+ years old I will have few things and lots of good memories.
Recently I overheard a conversation between two of my friends. One is a mama whose daughters are healthy, well adjusted adults. The other is a mama who is in the midst of toddlerhood. The conversation went something like this,
Older Mama: You are doing such a good job with your daughter. She is a delightful, caring little girl!
Younger Mama: (A little embarassed) Oh well, it’s not anything we are doing, it’s all God.
Now, I can totally relate to this younger mama’s response. In fact I’ve probably said something very similar to this before but the fact is, what she said is simply not true. It’s nice to give God credit for creating a child who is naturally sensitive and caring, but she didn’t get that way on his own. I KNOW that her parents work hard to train her and encourage her to care for others. I’ve seen this mama relate to her daughter and she takes great care in the words she selects in communicating with her. Both parents work to communicate immense love for and to their child. In short, they have worked hard and done a great job with their little girl. So what’s wrong with accepting a little pat on the back when another mother recognizes all your hard work?
As a parent of young children, I’ve found that my job is never done and often times very difficult and frustrating. When my mom, the one I always call when I feel like I’m about to pull out my hair, tells me that I’m doing a good job and to keep it up I feel so refreshed and encouraged. She is telling me what I know, but need to hear in that moment.
I’ve been told that in Chinese culture when receiving a complement it is appropriate, polite even, to argue with the complementer. For example if a man tells another man, “Your wife is very beautiful” or “Your son is so smart” the receiver of the complement should say something like, “Oh no, she is quite ugly. Look at how fat she is.” or “He’s really very average.” I don’t think our American culture is quite to this point, but I do think it’s very common to poo-poo or negate praise when we receive it. Maybe it’s false humility, maybe it’s embarrassment, maybe it’s an attempt at true humility. Whatever the reason I think it’s silly and maybe even harmful for us to deny well earned praise. We need to be reminded that our hard work is noticed and will pay off.
So I encourage you, the next time you receive a complement, whether it be about your cute hairstyle, well behaved child, or a job well done, don’t downplay it. Simply smile, say “thank you” and enjoy that feeling of satisfaction. You deserve it.
I’ll admit I’ve always loved recognition and praise. I’m sure most of you would agree that it’s nice when people notice that you’re doing something great and then tell you that.
My problem is that sometimes I think my motivation for doing that great thing switches from the good in doing it to the good I feel in getting praised for it. Not only is that ugly, it also backfires on me when I don’t get praised. Then I feel like I just invested my time and effort into something for nothing.
Recently I’ve had opportunity to practice just enjoying that fact that I’m doing something good without getting any recognition. In one case, I spent hours working on a report that was to be presented to a large group of people. I did a good job on this report, it was interesting, complete, and even included illustrations. At the presentation, through some mix up, my husband got credited for creating the report! Now my first desire would have been to make a correction and make sure I got the credit due to me. But then I stopped and thought, what’s the harm in letting people think my husband did a great job on this report? I guess it harmed my pride a bit, but nothing else.
My husband and I are currently coordinating a college level extra curricular class for nearly forty people in our valley. Planning and carrying out this class has been a LOT of work for us over the past 9 months. It’s a fifteen week course and we are through over half of it (Yeah!). This class has been phenomenal and something Kris and I are so glad that we are part of, however most of my work on this class has been behind the scenes. Because of our kids and my fantastic organizational skills I’ve been the one who makes sure everything runs smoothly but isn’t in front of the class actually carrying out the details. This has been hard for me. I know that I am doing a good job (most of the time) but I’m not usually the one the people say, “Hey, you’re doing a great job!”, to because they don’t see me actually doing the work. A couple times I’ve tried to put myself in the spotlight, volunteering to lead activities or make announcements in class. Each time I’ve been completely humiliated for one reason or another (screaming son, miscommunications, etc). So I’ve decided that I’ll happily sit behind the scenes and play my role. This has been a good reminder for me about doing good work simply for the sake of the good work…I guess my head must have been getting too big.
Have you ever had this thought? If you’re a mom, I’m sure you have. Today was my day to ponder this. Actually, I was more wondering why I even bothered getting my kids dressed today. Here’s the story….
My two year old daughter is a little bit shy and withdrawn in larger social settings. On her own or in small familiar groups she does great but whenever I take her to a public place, with lots of kids (playground, zoo, library, etc.) she pulls into a shell. She stares at the other kids like they are freaky aliens and refuses to leave my side/lap/arms. In an effort to help her break out of this shell I’ve been trying to expose her to more activities. Last week we went to the library’s story time. I loved it, I loved the books, the silly songs, and watching the other kids–she didn’t. Oh no, I will not sit on the rug with the other kids! Oh no, I will not do the hand motions to the songs. Oh no, I will not take a shaker and shake it with the song…okay I will take a shaker but I will NOT put it back when the song is over. I’m sure you can picture how our story time went. All the while my adorable, laid back four month old sat sweetly in the stroller, never making a peep.
I was not deterred, however by last week’s theatrics. And so this morning I got us up and dressed and with books in bag we returned to the library. I had studied my enemy (newness) and prepared a strategy this time. We arrived early, perused the books and got comfortable with the surroundings and the other kids. Jennika was doing great! I was so excited as story time approached.
Then, it happened.
Not two minutes before story time started, my little man filled his pants…man style. I didn’t have time to check out our books, run out to the car with both kids in tow, and change him. So I made the fatal error of hoping his diaper would hold until story time was over. Thirty minutes, just thirty minutes, please God!?! In we strolled to story time, Jennika still smiling, though a little uncertainly. She didn’t sit on the rug and didn’t do most of the hand motions, but she did listen to the stories and was having fun. Somewhere into the second story Korban started fussing. I tried distractions and movement but he wanted out of that stroller (who wouldn’t when they are sitting in their own poop?). I undid the buckles and scooped him up…then I almost dropped him as my hands felt icky, sticky poop all over his pants.
What to do? I glanced at the clock on the wall, still a good 15 minutes before story time was over. I glanced at the exit door and all the children and moms I’d have to weave through to get out. What to do, what to do. Well, some of you may frown and shake your head and I know I’m not going to get nominated for any Mother of the Year awards after this admission; I put him back in his stroller. For the next several minutes I distracted him any way I could, short of holding him. Korban handled his poopy pants like a champ…for about five minutes and then he was done. There was nothing I could do in that little library room to make him happy. So I apologetically pushed my stroller with screaming, offensive-odor-emitting child and carried my disappointed daughter through the sea of little hands, feet, and big mormon mama purses.
In the car, as I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned all that was poop-covered I wondered, why do I even bother? Why does it have to be so hard? Why can’t we go to the library for an easy relaxing story hour? Had any experienced mother sat me down before kids and told me just how hard, exasperating, and humiliating being a mother would be, if she had really and truly told me all, not sparing any of the gory details, I think I would have signed up sterilization that day. But no wise mother did, because she knew that the joys and the love wash over those moments when we want to pull out all our hair and scream. That those moments when we think we would willingly sign up for chinese water torture in exchange for just a few minutes of a normal life without food on our clothes and sleep-deprived circles under our eyes are really just one bitter drop in the bucket of all the sweet experiences we have with our children.
So though I am frustrated and discouraged, I will not give up. Next week we will go back to the library. And next week I’ll have better studied my new enemy (poop) and will have a strategy for victory (pants fashioned from plastic bags:-) ).
I have to go now…Jennika is standing on Korban’s tummy.
I recently wrote about my husband being away and how I recognized the incredible blessing in that he’s usually home. Continuing in that same thread, I have to share with you all the little amazing things that stood out to me about him this week.
First, I noticed how incredibly good looking he is. This took about five seconds to notice but for days after he got home I’d be overwhelmed by it. I’ve always known my husband was hot, but wow, when did his hair turn so blonde and his skin get that beautiful shade of brown that compliments his blue eyes so well? Has he always been so muscular? (Yes, he has.) But somehow, being gone four days made me forget just how easy on the eyes he really is.
The next thing I noticed was what a fantastic dad he is. I mentioned this in my other post but I just have to reiterate, Kris is a GREAT dad. He delights in sharing experiences with Jennika. Countless times this week I was brought to tears listening to them laugh together or hear him laugh in delight at something she said or did. I was also reminded of how wonderful it is to have a partner who shares responsibilities as Kris got up early with Jennika and got her breakfast while I slept in. I reminded of that same thing again yesterday when our three week old son had a huge diaper blow-out. I wasn’t even aware of it, I was outside with Jennika, until after Kris had changed and bathed him. Wow.
I noticed how nice it is to have an adult to talk to, or not talk to just to be with. Because Kris is home all day there are times while at the dinner table or in the evening when we don’t have anything to say to each other. We talk throughout the day, sharing thoughts and experiences. There have been times when I’ve wished I could think of something to say, just for the sake of filling the silence. However I’m learning that it’s nice to just be quiet with somebody. There’s a comfortable silence that doesn’t need filling. On the other hand, it is so nice to have a coherent conversation with a grownup. I realized after Kris got home that other than phone conversations with my mom and Kris, I really hadn’t spoken to another grown-up since he left.
The old saying wisely states that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and I guess in a way that’s what I learned this last week. It was the little tiny things that I forgot about or had grown accustomed to that increased my love for my wonderful husband.
