Church of the Mountains

Right, wrong or otherwise, about two times a year The Hubs and I will wake up on a Sunday morning, look at each other and say, "Church of the mountains today?" 

Then, rather than having the kids get all scrubbed and dressed for church, we make pbjs, put on jeans, grab some flip flops and a blanket and head up to the mountains. 

Although we know it's important to attend church on Sundays, we love these rare free days of ours.  We love taking the mental health break away from work, house and other expectations.  We are truly free to do as we want. 

Today was one of those days.  It was a little windy and cold, but we took turns listening to our favorite songs on my iPod while we drove up to Pineview.  Then we waded in the frigid waters and enjoyed a picnic lunch at the Huntsville Park.

Some days I need this reminder of why I work so hard.  I need to back away from the nity grity of life and be reminded that the most important things in my life are the 5 people riding in the van with me.  They are my top priority above everything else. 

And they are worth it.

I don't believe that God intended for us to loose sight of the wonders we knew as children.  He sent us to families for a reason.  And yes, family life takes work, but it's also the place where we learn about love, trust, relationships and finding happiness.

And where better to take a deep breath and realign ourselves than in the mountains?  The earth that He created for us is beautiful.  

When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.


Then sings my soul, My Savior God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Savior God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

Today, there was nowhere more important for me to be.

Epiphanies

I hate to admit it, folks, but I do have bad days. Today was one of them.

While I was doing dishes I was thinking to myself that I keep waiting for things to get better. And they don't. My floors keep needing to be mopped and swept. My dishes keep getting dirty. My kids keep fighting. My lawn keeps needing to be mowed. My car keeps needing gas and repairs. My bank account keeps emptying. Sickness comes again and again and again.

If we're honest - which I am - hoping that life will get easier as my family ages is an exercise in futility. I know that because I was a kid and I grew into a teenager. And I know my parents were wondering when that was going to end.. ha ha...

My kiddos may start sleeping through the night and spilling less food, but then there will be acne and hormones. There will be driving and teenage drama and dating. There will be extracurricular activities, college tuition, weddings to pay for. Then there will be in-laws. And I probably won't understand them. (I'm pretty sure that I'm a confusing anomaly to my in-laws about 99% of the time. But they try to love me anyway. I'm grateful that they keep trying. I hope I can do the same.)

So, really, waiting around for things to get better is kind of a bum deal. Because nothing is going to magically change in the circumstances of my life. I have no Fairy Godmother.

You know what I do have?

I have faith and hope and trust.

I have shining moments of perspective when I know that even though life will probably never be without phones calls and emails bearing difficult news, a house and family that need my constant attention and failed diets, it's a thrilling ride.

"I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing".

~ Agatha Christie

It's not about waiting for the sun to break through the clouds. It's about taking the rainy days and learning to love them. Instead of sunny beaches and lazy days in the hammock, it's about growing to love cozy days wrapped in a blanket.

Life isn't supposed to be perfect.

We're supposed to come out of it with smile lines around our eyes AND with frown lines around our mouths. We're supposed to have gray hairs for the hard times AND the wisdom it represents. Our hands should be gnarled from years of hard work and worrying AND soft from years of holding little ones close and gentle caresses.

You can never learn anything worth learning if you never struggle.

"Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but

the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are".

~Arthur Golden

And someday, when these years are behind me, I have faith that I will look back with wonder at what I went through and survived. I have hope that I will be able to see the growth and the wisdom that came through the trials. And I have trust that I will have my family and our shared memories, our stronger bonds and our deeper love.

And I'm sure, that someday, I'll even have gratitude for lessons learned.

"If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn't lead anywhere".

~ Frank A. Clark

For now I will look forward to many more sunrises and their promise of a fresh new day. A day where I can make the choice not to wallow and worry, but to laugh and cuddle and LIVE.

The choice to enjoy the journey, the bumps in the road and the detours, so that when that smooth stretch comes I can cruise along it with my arms out to my side and my face lifted to the sun...

Knowing that I earned every last mile.

Tall Tales

This past weekend the unthinkable happened. 

My family accused me of making up stories about our family's past history.  I believe my mom's exact words were "You seem to remember a lot of things that no one else remembers."

How Dare You!

To that I say - It's not my fault I remember things that you conveniently forgot. 

Someone has to be keeper of the lore.

I believe the hornet's nest got stirred up when we were discussing a previous blog post I did dedicated to my brother where I mentioned a few memories I have of him and I growing up.  My sister Camille mentioned that as she'd read through that post she'd been surprised that she didn't realize how many things Ben and I did together.

**Insert my mom's MEMORABLE line here about my telling of falsehoods**

I suggested that perhaps Camille and our youngest sister Emily didn't remember these things because they are much younger than me and would have been busy riding their tricylces around their Barbie house while Ben and I were off on such adventures.

I would also suggest that my mom doesn't remember because she was raising 4 young children and all she had on her mind was meal prep and laundry.  Personally, now that I'm in her shoes and raising my own young family of 4 children, I'm hoping that when I'm her age my memories of this time will have faded too :)

It saddens me to admit that I don't have a ton of memories of my younger sisters during my childhood.  They were still wearing pig tails and I was off driving and working and going away to college.  So my relationship with them really cemented itself after we were all married and started having babies.

But, in the tradition I've established of telling "tall tales" I present to you one story I DO vividly remember about my sisters. 

Let me set the stage for you.  I was married, but still pre-children, and on some Saturday mornings my sisters would come over and have breakfast with Steve and I.  Camille is older by like 20 months or something (I'm not doing the math right now).  Emily had just gotten her driver's license.

They showed up at our apartment a little later than Steve and I were expecting and they looked something like this:

There was gravel in their hair and their clothes looked kind of dusty.  Things had clearly not gone well.  I wondered if perhaps there had been an attempted car jacking on their way over.

Turns out I was right.  There was an attempted car jacking.

It was Emily attempting to car jack Camille.

Ha ha ha.

When Emily got her license she foolishly felt like her and Camille should have equal driving privileges.  But, in a rare show of backbone, Camille asserted that as the older sister it was her right to drive at all times when they were together.

This little "discussion" ended up with them wrestling on the asphalt just outside the open driver's door of their sweet ride.

And just what, you ask, kind of sweet ride would cause such competitiveness and a need to be behind the wheel?  An Isuzu Trooper that looked like this:

This little "discussion" / WWF tourny ended with a neighbor pulling his car alongside them and rolling down his window to make sure they were okay.

UNCOMFORTABLE!!

Let me tell you that when you're 16 and almost 18 you really shouldn't be wrestling on the road over who gets to drive.  Really you just need to deliver a quick dead leg and jump into the pilot's chair while your opponent is incapacitated.

They were sufficiently embarrassed and got in the car.

Camille drove.

Bet they wish I'd FORGOTTEN that little story.

But my mind is like a steel trap. 

(Evil Laughter)

Conversations With Joel

This is Joel.

He is my 3rd born and stole my heart from the moment he took his first breath.  He continues to steal my heart with conversations such as these.

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

All snuggly with my blankie, dog leash and hula hoop

Joel was playing outside with some neighborhood kids while I visited with their mom.  I had to come in to take care of baby but said he could stay out and play.  He came in about two seconds later.

Me:  Joely, why aren't you outside with the kids?
J:  I want to be with you
Me:  But it's such a beautiful day outside.  I wish you'd go enjoy it.
J:  But I don't like the hot thing out there.
Me:  What hot thing?  (Wondering if the kids started some rogue fire or something)
J:  You know, that hot thing in the sky that's big.
Me:  You mean the SUN?
J:  Yep.  That thing.  The sun. 
Me:  You don't like the sun?
J:  Nope. 

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

ARRR... it's the dread pirate Joel E Bear

I was getting ready to make lunch.

Me:  Joely, what do you want for lunch today?
J:  I want mac 'n cheese because it's orange.  And yesterday Cadence played with an orange dog named Dee Dee.  But she wanted to be a pony because she really likes cats.  But sometimes I like to drink chocolate milk.  Regular chocolate milk, not purple chocolate milk.  But Els likes purple milk 'cause it tastes like nuts.
Me:  So... you want mac 'n cheese?
J:  Yeah.

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

He he he he he he he he he.... SNOW!

Middle of the night.

J:  Mom, mom?
Me:  What?  (super groggy and trying to be nice)
J:  I think I have poop on my leg.
Me:  What?
J:   Yeah.  Poop.  Or, just something else crazy.
Me:  Did you go potty in your bed?
J:  No.  I just fell out and hit my head.  But I think there's poop.  But, there's not poop.  (Laughs) Silly me.  It was a toot.  Good night.

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

Claire & Joel.  BFF's

And my all time favorite lately:

Joel had his cousin, Claire, over to play and they were doing a puzzle at the kitchen table.

Claire:  I wish we had some help with this hard puzzle.
Joel:  You know who could help us?  My mom.
C:  Your mom?
J:  Yeah.  'Cause my mom's a genius.
C: Your mom?
J:  Yeah.  Do you know what a genius is?
C: Yeah.  It means they're smart.
J:  Yep, that's my mom.  Smart.

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

Who you callin' crazy?

So lucky to have this kid in my life.

The Knee Bone's Connected To The...

NOTE:  Please be aware that this post will contain correct names for body parts.  It is not meant to be crude, but is necessary for telling this story.  If you read through this blog and find yourself offended, well, can't say I didn't warn ya.

I've had a bit of a struggle going on ever since a tiny Ms. Els pointed at her nipples in the tub around age 2 and said, "What are this funny little thingies?".

At that point in her life I was able to just say, "Oh, it's your chest" and she was satisfied.  But then came the pointing at my "chest" and asking what "those big thingies" were.  And what are you supposed to tell a kid?  Do you go with the proper name, "Oh, those are my breasts", which sounds WAY strange coming out of my mouth, let alone out of a toddler's?  But somehow telling her, "Oh, those are boobs" is awkward and sounds kind of flippant.

I went with breasts.  And I was right.  When I overheard her telling Cadie Lu a while later it sounded odd in their little girl voices.
 

I was pretty worried when J-Bear began potty training and I knew that at some point I would have to instruct him to hold his privates while aiming.  I hadn't quite decided what to call that part of his anatomy.  I mean, technically we all know what it's really called, but somehow having a little boy refer to his parts as, well, a penis sounds gross.  (I don't even like to use that word and had to wash my hands off with soap after typing it).  But I also am not a fan of all the other little names they can be called. 

Luckily for me J-Bear named it himself one day while I was kind of pointing in it's general direction and telling him he'd need to aim.  He said, "oh, you mean my pee-pee?"  I smiled and happily accepted that we'd be calling it that for now.

After many, many viewings of America's Funniest Home Videos on Netflix my children naturally became curious about the amount of times they see video of men getting hit in the crotch.  And the questions came up again about that part of the male anatomy.  I told Cadie Lu to just call it his "privates".  I feel good about that.  It isn't disrespectful or crude and it isn't too babyish.

Just days later we saw yet another crotch hit video and Cadie said, "Oooh, that guy just got hit in his privates" to which Ms. Els replied rather condescendingly "Uh, it's called his junk."

OH NO!  No, no, no, no, no. 

After all my worries and trying to keep my kid from being the one going around calling things weird names, we were not failing now.  Junk?  Were did she even hear that?  I mean, I'VE heard that, but I'm sure not saying it to the kids!  I'm to busy calling it a pee-pee and avoiding taking the next step to more mature words.

She's been instructed to call it privates.

And I thought the conversation was over.

But no.

The other day while getting ready for the bath J-Bear comes in naked and just before getting into the tub he points at part of his pee-pee and asks me what it's called.

ME: Uh, that's your pee-pee, Buddy.  Get in the tub please.
J: No, not that part.  This part under here.

(If you don't know what he was pointing to, you will....)

ME:  Uh, well, uh.... (in my mind I'm thinking AACCKK.  GET IN THE TUB AND STOP ASKING QUESTIONS!)

J:  Mom?  Are you listening?  I said what is it's name?  What's it called?

I caved.

ME: Well, Buddy, those are your testicles.  (Correct name won out.  Much like my girls being told they're breasts.  He's so getting beat up on the playground)
J:  Tetsisles? (Obviously he can't even say it right)
ME:  Yep. 
J:  Wow!  That's just amazing! 

And he looked up at me with a huge grin on his face like I'd just told him the best thing.

Amazing?  Huh.  

Nice.

And I guess to kids that's what it's all about.  It shouldn't be uncomfortable.  They don't care what it's called, they're too busy discovering their body and it's fantastic abilities.  God didn't make mistakes when he put together our beautiful bodies.  Every part has it's function and kids appreciate that.

Eventually they will go to school and their peers will instruct them in all the crude and terrible names for various body parts. 

Until then I can focus not on what the names of those parts are, but on the gift of perfect little bodies with AMAZING possibilities.



My beautiful baby

It's More Common Than You'd Think

Last night while at my monthly Dinner Club gathering (monthly get together with my friends of 20+ years) we got on the subject of JC's recent break up with a man she'd been dating on and off for about 18 months.  She would like to stress that this is the FINAL time...unless, of course, her house happens to need some repairs this summer .

Anyhow, as some of the details came out we discovered that he surprised her by admitting he lived with his ex-wife and their 9 children.  JC had known he was divorced, but was only told about 2 children and wasn't aware that Exie was his roomie.  I would suggest perhaps he only told her about his two favorites in an effort to put his best foot forward. 

For some reason this struck me as highly humorous.  Probably because it is.  I could just picture how that awkward and somewhat delayed conversation went down.  I asked JC for more juicy details, but she refrained.  I then suggested I would be forced to blog about it and come up with my own idea of how it went.  She picked up the gauntlet I'd thrown and suggested I do just that... then she would tell me how close I came to the actual truth.

Challenge  Accepted.

So, without further ado, I present to you: 

The Saga of JC and T-Dawg. 

Star Crossed Lovers

JC:  You know, T-Dawg, we've been dating an awfully long time and I haven't had a chance to meet your kids or see your house.
TD:  I know, Baby, I hear ya.  But I just want to make sure we're for real before I bring you into my inner sanctuary.
JC:  What more do I have to do to prove that this love is the real thing?  I've let you re-roof my house, fix my AC unit, mow my lawn, change the oil on my car, paint my kitchen, clean my carpets, install a new bathtub and plant my garden.  This is the real thing!
TD:  Well, when you put it that way, Sugar Lump, I can't argue.  Why don't you come on over tomorrow night?
JC: .  It's a date!

JC's heart pounds painfully as she drives to T-Dawg's house the next night.  As she drives she pictures the cozy little cottage of familial love that he's described to her.  His yard will be beautiful, the shutters on the house will match the trim, his two darling little children will greet her in the yard with freshly pressed clothing and big smiles.  They will have picked flowers from his plentiful gardens to present to her on this momentous occasion.

But, what's this?  Something isn't right as JC pulls up to what has to be the right address.  She double checks.  She gets out her GPS.  Yep, right place.  But, this isn't the cozy little love cottage she's always pictured.

Not T-Dawg's Actual House

He must be having some sort of family gathering, JC tells herself, because there are hordes of cars in the driveway.  Slightly embarrassed to be intruding, but grateful that he apparently wants her to meet his entire extended family, she checks her new bubble gum lip gloss in the mirror, tweaks her bangs, and gets out of the car.

Before she's made it past the first set of parked cars T-Dawg comes racing out the door.

TD:  Hey Sweet Cheeks, we need to go in the back and keep it down.
JC:  Why?
TD:  Because, I want you all to myself, my little Bunny Boo.

JC cheerfully goes along, blissfully imagining the evening they'll have together of laughing while T-Dawg serenades her and the children put flowers in her hair.

But, when they are settled in the dark basement JC begins to wonder why this reality is so different from what she expected.

JC:  Where are you darling children?  I'd love to meet them.
TD:  They're with their mom tonight, My Dove.  You'll meet them some other time.
JC:  But, T-Dawg, I was really looking forward to meeting them.
TD:  Settle down, Dear Heart, we need to keep it quiet or my Ex-wife will hear you. 
JC:  Ex wife?

At this point T-Dawg has the sense to look slightly embarrassed. 

TD:  Yeah, she's upstairs with the kids.
JC:  Oh, it's her night to visit?  Why doesn't she take them to her place?
TD:  Uh.... funny you should ask that.  I've been meaning to tell you that technically, I mean, literally speaking, they, uh, kind of are at her place.
JC:  What?  Oh, so that's why this house isn't what I pictured.  But why would you have me come to your ex-wife's house and meet you in her basement?
TD:  You see, Pussy Willow, this isn't her house.  It's our house.  Mine and hers.  Together.
JC:  You live together?
TD:  Well, sure.  I mean, when you're raising 9 kids you can't really afford to live separately and still make the bills even if you are divorced.

JC begins choking on her breath mint as she sees her dreams beginning to crumble to the dust.

JC:  How many kids?
TD:  Uh, now, don't go overreacting about this my Huggy Bear.  But, I may have not told you the entire story.  See, I have nine kids.
JC:  Not two?
TD:  Well, yes, I do have two kids.  But then I also have 7 more.

I'd imagine that the rest of the conversation went something like this:

Poor, poor JC.   She gave 18 months of her life to this man, who while handy for home repairs, a free movie ticket, and appalling pet names, was apparently a big fibber.

As she drove home that night and jumped straight onto her favorite social networking site in order to let the world know what a rascal T-Dawg really is, she knew that her heart would mend in time. 

She was firm in her commitment as she replayed T-Dawg's parting words....

TD:  But NumNums, what's the big deal?  It's more common that you'd think!!!!

In My Free Time Dreams

Funny how when I was the same age as these guys…

I thought holidays were about fun, candy, time spent with family, games, candy, sunshine and happiness. 

Now I know the truth.  Holidays are about dishes, sweeping and mopping

Today while I was sweeping for the 192nd time I started daydreaming about what I would do with all my free time if I didn't have to sweep any more.  In no particular order, here are some of the ways I'd spend my free time:

I'd buy a giraffe, saddle train it and ride the days away enjoying the beauty of nature.

I'd ride a hot air balloon to the top of a high mountain and drop water balloons on all the foolish people actually hiking the trails. 

I'd assign my children well thought out nicknames, such as Meat Brick.

I'd install a lift kit on my minivan and drive over the people holding up the carpool lane.

I'd wander various Walmarts looking for more people to add to PeopleofWalmart.com

I'd breed beaver-ducks.  (Okay, that's a fancy name for platypus).

I'd become a rap star and go by the name Tweets Littlefoot.

I'd explain the difference to my son between Darth Vader and Thomas S. Monson (Oh yeah, he actually confused the two the other day!).

I'd finally master the Fushigi wonderball.  I'd be so good that David Bowie would come to me for an apprenticeship.  (Dance Magic Dance).

I'd figure out what's really going into fruitcake...mystery solved!

I'd would train aardvarks to train monkeys to train dolphins to help the Coast Guard with rescue missions.

I would insist my children learn to roller skate so that we can put on a family show of Xanadu. (My pride insists I admit that I've never seen that show.  But The Hubs and my in-laws assure me it's a gem.)

I'd purchase Antelope Island and built up the world's largest herd of free range chihuhuas.

I'd give The Hubs laser hair removal.  One… Hair… At… A… Time.  Oh wait, let's try to keep this list realistic!  Nobody has THAT kind of time!

Alas, I believe I hear crumbs falling on the floor right now.  So, back to the grind. 

Lay still, sweet dreams, for one day you'll be mine.

My Brother

I'm feeling nostalgic, weepy, frustrated and full of angst today.  And since this is my blog I feel that it's my right to put those feelings down here on paper - so to speak - so that I can walk away from them.

My brother is fighting cancer.  Again.
 

My brother, Ben, with baby Jasec Benjamin - named after him.

I'm mad about it.  Mad doesn't really capture the depth of my emotions.  I'm angry, bitter, frustrated.  I want to scream at the sky like people do in movies.  But I'm not in a movie.  And my kids would be freaked out if I did that.  But I want to.

This is his fifth fight.

Last night around midnight I was up with the baby and got a text from Ben's wife, Sara, saying they were at the ER.  Ben is having severe chest pains.  I got another text from my Dad at 1:30 a.m. saying that they were trying to stabilize his pain and would stay over night.  7:30 a.m., another text from Sara saying he was being admitted to the hospital.  He was in too much pain to be transported to Huntsman, so he's just in the local hospital for now.  But they don't "do cancer" there. 

Luckily my kids had a previously scheduled play date this morning and I was able to recruit my MIL to watch the baby.  I headed up to spend time with my brother.... after hugging my kids tight and thanking God that they are healthy.  Because this could be me in 30 years, watching my kid fight in a hospital bed.

As I sat in that hospital room this morning I looked at my little brother - yes, bigger than me, but always my little brother - and I thought about these things:

We used to ride our bikes down to a pond area and catch tadpoles in old milk jugs.  We'd line those tadpole filled milk jugs up along a wall in the garage and hope they'd grow into frogs.  They never did.  So we got smart and started catching frogs.  But they just hopped out of the jugs and were gone by morning.

We built lego fortresses in the raspberry bushes along the back fence.

I talked him into stealing the babysitter's bike and she was so ticked.  It was awesome. 

I talked him into flushing a hot pad down the toilet after the toothbrush didn't clog it.

I talked him into trying to make himself throw up by sticking his finger down his throat.

When we were little Ben got sick with cellulitis (sp?) and had to stay in the hospital overnight.  My dad was out of town and so I stayed overnight with Ben to keep him comfortable and help him feel safe.

One time a boy my age hit Ben in the face with a flat basketball.  I tackled that boy, sat on his chest and punched his lights out. 

We used to take Ben's motorcycle up in the hills around my parent's house.  I'd ride behind him and we'd go all over the place.  Sometimes, just to bug him - although I secretly think he liked it - I'd sing the Batman theme song in his ear while we rode.  He'd tell me to knock it off.  But he'd laugh too. 

The first time I got bucked off  a horse, Ben was there.

The first time a boy broke my heart, I told Ben all about it.

One time a rooster attacked me.  Ben hit it with an umbrella to get it off.

When I learned how to ride a bike, Ben hurried and learned too so that he wouldn't be left behind.  He was four.  And I was glad I didn't have to leave him behind.

The only time in my life I ever stole anything - long story, don't judge - Ben was there in the getaway car, laughing and high fiving.

One time Ben tried to run away, but I talked him into coming home.  'Cause I'd miss him.

I'll always do my best to talk Ben into coming home. 
Because I'd miss him.

Love you, B.