Ravings of Intentional Motherhood

Intermittent

2011-12-28T08:23:00.000-08:00

I'm going to back off blogging here, as I hardly get any comments I don't think you'll miss much, because I've discovered something about myself. Writing blog posts every week satisfies that instant urge to write that I should be using to write my books.

I'll still be around, though you won't hear from me every week anymore. It will probably be for the best, since you're more likely to get thoughtful, poignant posts if I wait for the inspiration to strike.

I'll still keep you posted on what the kids are doing, and stuff like that. NO worries.

Baking

2011-12-21T12:04:00.000-08:00

Yesterday and today I'm baking gifts for friends and loved ones. I'm out of money to mail things, but I've got lots of love to spread out here, so it's all good. Yesterday I made batches and batches of cookies. Today, it's breadsticks. I'm going to put a little Christmas poem in with each package and deliver them tonight. Fun, fun. You can click HERE for the Christmas poem. I posted it on my author blog.

I have some news, but I'm going to wait to share it next week. Let's get through Christmas first, for goodness sake!

Focus

2011-12-14T06:53:00.000-08:00

The shopping frenzy is done. Now it's time to remember what this holiday is really about.

I'd love to say I purposely saved my baking and gift mailing for next week because the kids will be home and they can help me share the spirit of Christmas with our faraway friends and loved ones. I'd really be feeling like an amazing mom if I could say that. But let's be real. I'm me. And the truth is I am making secret presents this week and have no time for baking and mailing. The kids will be able to help and share in all that by default.

I take no credit for it. But, I still think it will be fun.

We do make an effort every year to remind the kids what the gifts actually represent. I'm fortunate enough to have kids who don't put a lot of emphasis on what they WANT for Christmas. So many times I'm the one asking them because I'm not sure what to buy, or what to suggest to family. Sometimes I feel like I'm raising kids too tender for this world. They understand the spiritual nature of our roles here so well.

For the record, I don't take credit for that either. They are simply amazing, even though they have the ability to completely frazzle my nerves and dance on my last shred of patience. I mean, they are children. Let's be fair.

I hope all of you can take a bit of time this crazy season to let a little truth into your hearts. That sweet manger scene isn't just a prop after all.

December 7

2011-12-07T06:15:00.000-08:00

It's December 7, and all my Christmas shopping is done. Yes, I'm bragging--but only a little. I mean, last year I had book signings all month and only had time to do my Christmas shopping in the few days before the actual holiday. It. was. madness. SO glad to be done!

Of course, December 7 has a different significance. This is the day in 1941 that the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, and our response as a nation drew us into WWII. My grandfather served in WWII. He was always a man I loved and admired--and not just because of that. He was a most remarkable man. He passed away around Christmas time, so I always have a tender spot for him this time of year.

My grandfather, Walter Charles Rohan, lived a full life. He met my grandmother--a divorced woman with three young children--while she worked as a waitress in a cafe. They began a cautious relationship until her son--my father--looked up at Walt and asked, "When are you going to marry my mother?" He was ten years old.

Walt not only married Ella, but he legally adopted all three children. They went on to have two children of their own, and built a house up on SLC's East Bench (which grandma sold for a tidy sum just before the housing market crashed).

Grandpa never distinguished his "real" children from his adopted children. They were all his. In fact, I didn't even know my dad was adopted until I was 16, at which time the family consensus was, "I thought you knew." It was one of those things the family didn't discuss, not because it was meant to be a secret but simply because it didn't matter.

Walt was a quiet man in his older years--when I knew him. As a young child, I remember he could drive, but he became legally blind and could no longer operate a car. Grandma never learned to drive. Grandpa survived cancer. Eventually his body gave in. It had become too tired to carry on. I remember when my brother called me to tell me Grandpa had passed. He cried. I cried because he cried. We knew it was for the best, that he was no longer in pain and now Grandma didn't have to care for him round the clock--but we would miss his quiet, gentle ways. His constant presence on the couch at so many family gatherings. His calming influence on those around him.

He outlived my father by twenty years. It had to have been hard to lose a son, but it wasn't something he talked about. Grandpa came from that generation that doesn't talk about those things. I miss him. I miss them both, sometimes.

All I Want for Christmas

2011-11-30T05:53:00.000-08:00

Guess what the kids all want for Christmas. Yep, Legos. Yep, even the girls. I never considered Lego to be gender-specific. As a kid, I had the Castle system sets complete with horses, knights in armor and a princess in a stupid hat. They're a bit more advanced now, with better little people and more interesting designs.

Lego is one of those toys I don't mind buying my kids, even when the sets can be stupid expensive. They LAST. My boys are playing with my old Lego sets right now. Lego encourages the imagination, which I consider vital to childhood.

Case in point:

Yesterday, hubby and I drove by a sign that said "Do not block gate." I imagined, just for kicks, setting up literal blocks in front of the gate. Obviously not to provide a barrier, but more of a play on words. Hubby took it farther than that. "I could have Brandon build a padlock out of Lego."

I laughed. Until I realized my son actually COULD build a padlock out of Lego blocks. He's gotten to the point where, if he can visualize it in his head, he can build it with his hands.

That's pretty awesome to me.

I envision a Christmas morning full of that distinct plastic-brick-on-plastic-brick clanging. And that's okay with me.

Because then I get to sit back and see what they all create. :)

Gratitude

2011-11-25T08:17:00.000-08:00

You're getting an After-Thanksgiving-I-didn't-post-Wednesday-making-up-for-it-now sorta post today.

Gratitude. It's part of a healthy lifestyle. I had 19 people at my house yesterday, and, though I love them, let's start there.

I'm glad they're not still here. :) Imagine the food consumption, the mess. No, yesterday was good. lol

I snuggled with my daughters this morning before getting out of bed and having cinnamon rolls. Yep, another gratitude moment.

I'm really glad my husband made the turkey yesterday. It was PERFECT.

A writer friend recently asked, as part of a contest, where/what would you be if you could have anything or be anything you wanted? I pondered this, probably more than I should, until I realized I'm LIVING it already.

I'm not saying my life is perfect. But perfect is boring. Challenge is growth and, please don't take this as an open invitation for challenges, but I know their value.

This is actually what I mean:

I wanted to be a schoolteacher for years. That was my goal, until I discovered writing. I'd always loved to write, but didn't think I could actually do anything with it--until I wrote my first book in high school.

My goals changed. I wanted to raise children and write books.

Then I got married. And we struggled. A lot. For a long time. When my twins were babies, I tried to get a job. Didn't work. I tried working at home. Didn't work. We moved from OK to UT in that time, and when my daughter was a baby I got an opportunity to work for my brother's new company. At home. In my jammies. It was a good job financially but, ultimately soul-sucking (at least for my creativity). So I tried day care. Fun and rewarding in its way; hard and challenging too. But between that and my own family, it left me almost no time to write. At least if I wanted to sleep. Ever.

Something had to give. After the first book came out in 2010, I struggled with time to write and money to live. We never seemed to be able to find the balance. In July, we visited OK again and chose to move back here.

Now, after so much (much of which I have not gone into here), I have a home for my family. I'm writing. I have time with my kids. And my husband. It's an amazing place to be in. That's what I've wanted since I was 14. Sure, there's room for growth and improvement. Furniture, at the moment, would be a great improvement.

But that's the fun of it. I wouldn't want to have everything I wanted right now. Where would the growth be then? ;)

Cinnamon Rolls! And More

2011-11-17T07:30:00.000-08:00

Or, I should say, the BEST EVER Cinnamon Rolls!

You know how it is when you take two things you absolutely love and combine them, and it comes out better than you could have imagined? Oh, ya. And I'm going to do my best to see you can recreate the magic for yourselves.

**Disclaimer! If you're looking for heart-healthy, low fat, gluten-free or anything nutritionally redeemable in these rolls, you won't find it. I'm talking real sugar, margarine (or butter if that's your preference), white flour goodness. You have been warned.**

I've got a killer breadstick recipe. It's a family recipe, and it's the kind of thing we eagerly anticipate every year for holidays or get-togethers. I can talk ANYONE into eating these delightful breadsticks. Even when they shouldn't. Light, fluffy goodness.

After 15 yrs of marriage, my hubby finally says, "I wonder how it would work to make cinnamon rolls using the breadstick recipe." That's right--I did NOT come up with this brilliant idea myself.

Here's what we did:

I put 2 cups of warm--not hot but very warm--water into my largest mixing bowl. Most times a yeast bread doesn't come out is because we either use too hot or too cool water. Warm is relative, which is why you'll find the actual temperature your water needs to be in certain recipes, and, sometimes, on the yeast package itself. I've been doing this enough that I simply do the pinkie test: dip my pinkie into the water to test the temp. I also factor in how much the water will cool when it gets into the bowl, so that the water I heat is slightly warmer than the water I use.

Add 2 envelopes of yeast to the water and let it activate. **Sugar** helps yeast activate, so I like to add the sugar next. For breadsticks, the recipe calls for 1/2 cup. I added 3/4 of a cup to sweeten the dough for cinnamon rolls.

Now we get to the fun part. This recipe calls for a 1/2 cup (1 stick) of butter or margarine. I prefer to bake with margarine and top with butter, but that's just me. Do what you want, but I don't suggest those buttery spreads. Not for this. The recipe also calls for 1 egg, slightly beaten.

(Once, and only once, I forgot to beat the egg before adding it to the bowl. And got tougher than normal breadsticks. I don't know why, but it is CRUCIAL to beat the egg first to obtain the desired effect.)

For the cinnamon rolls, I beat the egg in the 1/2 cup of melted butter. The recipe calls for softened butter, but I melt mine and then COOL it slightly so that I don't kill my yeast when I add it to the bowl.

Where was I? Oh, right. Mix all those ingredients together and you get a sloshy goo. Now, here's where I almost always mess up. Salt. Most of you know salt is supposed to add savory without masking the flavor. If you tastes salt in your food, then you've over salted. I'm notorious for under-salting my baked goods, though no one has ever complained. For years I didn't add salt to any recipe that was supposed to turn out sweet--seemed counter-productive to me. But I'm learning.

For this recipe, I added about 2/3 to 3/4 of a teaspoon of salt.

The recipe calls for 5 cups (or more) of flour. I always do the *or more* and I believe this is partly because I never sift my flour. It all breaks up in the kneading process, which I particularly enjoy, so I don't bother. But I probably end up using more flour than I actually need. Oddly, the bread NEVER comes out heavy.

Basically you add flour until you can knead the dough smooth and it's not sticky. But, again, if you pre-sift or buy the pre-sifted flour, you will probably be happier with the results.

Then you put the dough back into the bowl, cover it with a towel and ignore it. For 3-4 hours, or until the dough is doubled in size. You can probably do this the night before and refrigerate the dough for fresh cinnamon rolls in the morning, but I never have. Try it at your own risk.

My family's favorite part is punching the dough down. Oh, my.

So after the yeast has done its thing, and you punch the dough down, you can roll it out on a floured surface until you have as even a rectangle as you can make it. I don't stress this, as I'm just going to roll and cut it anyway, but my husband insisted on an almost ruler perfect rectangle.

Here's where it gets tricky. I don't measure ingredients for half of what I do. Which means, I can't tell you how much softened butter to smooth over the rolled out dough. I can guess we used about 1/4 cup. You really want it to be able to melt and be gooey, because that's part of what makes the cinnamon/sugar mixture inside the roll so wonderful. But, you don't want to put in too much because it really just falls or oozes out during the rolling and slicing process, leaving most of your work on your floured surface and not in the rolls. Sad.

My cinnamon/sugar mix: I literally poured a little of this and little of that into a bowl, mixed it with a fork, and spread it out across the buttered dough. I can guess that I used about 1/3 cup brown sugar and 1/4 cup white sugar. I use a blend. Brown sugar makes the inner mixture of a cinnamon roll particularly yummy. You can use all brown sugar if you want. It's a matter of taste. Then I added about 2 teaspoons (or a little more) of cinnamon. Mix that all together, spread it on the dough, and get ready to roll it up.

Here's where you'd add raisins if you like them, before the rolling up process. I don't. It's a texture thing for me--feels like eating baked bugs.

When you roll the dough, you start at one edge and roll as small as possible. When you get to the other end, you sort of pinch the dough together so that it doesn't unravel after you cut it into rolls. I always use the strand of thread method because using a knife tends to flatten the cinnamon rolls, making them silly-looking. Remember, we eat with our eyes first. :)

The strand of thread method is easy to understand. I cut a long strand from a spool of sewing thread and work it under the roll of dough, then bring the ends up and cross them to slice the thread through the entire dough. Repeat until you've done all of the dough, trying to be as even as possible. We got 23 rolls, but some ended up bigger than others. I'd say the recipe yields 24 (2 dozen) healthy sized rolls.

Always pan spray or grease your baking pans before placing the cut cinnamon rolls into or onto them. I prefer my 9x13 glass cake dish (fits 12 rolls), but that's me. Cover and let the rolls rise about another hour. Meanwhile, you can preheat your oven (350 degrees) so it's ready to go when the rolls are.

I baked them about 20-25 minutes, until they were a light golden brown and I could be reasonably certain the rolls baked all the way through.

Note: If you're wanting to just do the breadsticks, omit the extra 1/4 cup of sugar and the butter and cinnamon/sugar filling. You simply roll the dough out, cut and shape the breadsticks, let them rise and then bake them at 350 for about 10-12 min.

I let the cinnamon rolls cool about 10 min in the pan after they cooked before drizzling on the glaze. You don't want them too hot (been there) or the glaze simply pours off and pools at the bottom of your baking dish. Patience really does pay off, even though they smell amazing and you can't wait to bite into one.

Glaze: Really depends on whether you want a drizzling glaze or a spreadable frosting. Regardless, you start with 2 cups of powdered sugar. Add 1-2 teaspoons of vanilla extract. Then add enough milk to obtain your desired consistency. It doesn't take much, so I'd recommend adding slowly, like a Tablespoon at a time. Stir it with a spoon until smooth, spread or pour on your rolls.

And prepare to have your socks knocked right off!

Isn't it Great?

2011-11-09T06:03:00.000-08:00

Isn't it great when a mother can leave town for 5 days and come home to find everyone has survived?

Survived being home unsupervised with their siblings for 5 hours, 2 days in a row?

Survived getting on and off the bus without incident?

Survived Dad's cooking? (kidding--he actually is really good in the kitchen)

Survived...an earthquake?

I find it ironic that we move from UT, where there's that lovely Wasatch fault line that could potentially decimate the civilization out there, to an area literally nicknamed "Tornado Alley" and we feel an earthquake.

Just so you know, we live almost 2 hrs south of Oklahoma City, where the quake hit hardest. In fact, my family didn't feel it at all. My father in law did, only because he got up to use the bathroom about the same time it hit. If he'd been asleep, like my kids, he'd probably have slept right through it.

My son thinks he may have felt an aftershock early this morning. I'm not holding my breath as his evidence is a little shaky (terrible pun, I know), but if you hear about it you can say I told you first. :)

As much as I loved my time away, I'm glad to be home. I'm even more glad to not have any plans to go anywhere for at least the next 6 months. I've spent the last 2 days helping my in laws spoil the kids to pieces. Now I'm going to work on getting this house in order. We have a table and chairs and a microwave (yay!!), but I have no bookshelves to place my beloved books and only one little love seat. This house is completely devoid of dressers (and that is just weird) and the boys are still sleeping on air mattresses. They've been great about it, but I'm starting to feel like a bad parent.

All that being said, what am I still doing here? :)

City of Light Preview, Continued

2011-11-02T08:41:00.000-07:00

If you missed the beginning, you can go to my AUTHOR BLOG for a recap.

Chapter 1, continued

People packed the streets, as though they had all come from their houses to trace the source of the voice. Genna led Aisilyn through the throngs, anxious until she saw the high walls of their home. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her mother standing at the doorway. Her mother would have a solution.

Her mother wrapped both daughters in her embrace. “Come inside.”

Genna stepped into the house, her childhood home. Never before had she appreciated how safe she felt there. As they entered the main living area, her father, who had been sitting on a well padded chair, rose to his feet. He took Aisilyn by the arm and led her to the gilded chair by the fireplace. Her mother sat on the thick cushion at the foot of the chair. She put a hand on Aisilyn’s knee.

“You look pale, child,” she said. “I’ll have Sorai bring you water.”

“No, thank you.” Aisilyn put a hand on her arm.

Genna looked at her father. His deep frown was at odds with his trembling hands. He was nervous, she knew, but he would approach the problem with logic.

He didn’t disappoint. “The Council will check the birth records. I expect they will summon Aisilyn soon, along with any other women named Aisilyn.”

“How many can there be?” her mother asked.

“In a city this size?” He stroked his beard. “A dozen, perhaps, but I can’t be certain.”

Genna’s mother breathed a sigh of relief. “Then it may not be our Aisilyn.”

Aisilyn’s eyes found Genna’s. They didn’t realize, Genna thought. They don’t know.
Her father continued. “Exactly. I propose we not panic until we are given a reason.”

“What if it is her?”

Both her parents looked at Genna as though she’d grown a spare head. She regretted the words, but couldn’t keep them inside. She knew with a certainty that shook her that the chosen bride was her sister. She also knew Aisilyn felt that, too. How could she make them understand?

“Genna, child, you mustn’t worry your sister,” her mother said. “Your father is right. We don’t know yet who is the chosen Aisilyn. Besides, this isn’t the first time the City of Light has been threatened. We don’t know what is going to happen.”

“The Barrier of Light has protected our people from the demon’s agents for centuries,” said her father. “Even if he has a servant who can breach the Barrier, our soldiers could easily stop one, lone enemy.”

Genna thought of the soldiers, the peacekeepers of the City, who patrol in their shining armor but have not fought for generations. They have no trouble apprehending the odd cutpurse, but how would they fare against an enemy who could fight back?

She held her tongue; it did no good to argue with her parents, and she didn’t want to say anything that might further worry her sister. “Aisilyn and I made some purchases this afternoon. I’ll go help Sorai put them away.”

Home Alone (Again)

2011-10-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

So, last week, right? What a rush. How crazy was that? :)

Hubby showed up super late Tuesday night. Woke up the kids Wednesday morning. Had a birthday Thursday, got a call for a job interview. Got the job Friday. Started yesterday.

Not bad.

But it does mean I'm home alone again during the day. Not all the time. His new job has a weird schedule, where he's off various days and working other days. I still haven't figured it out, but the days he's home one week aren't going to be the days he's home the next week. At least the sleep schedule is the same, right?

What it does mean, for me, is that I need to take full advantage of the time alone that I DO have to get that all-important writing done. Because on the days he's home I don't get any writing done. It's an established fact. We'll just go with it. Some day next year (probably) I'll have an actual office, but, until then, I have to work at actually being productive when I'm alone and--most importantly--NOT going back to bed after everyone leaves in the mornings. :)

I'm SO Glad when Daddy Comes Home!

2011-10-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to spend a lot of time here--haven't seen the hubby in 6 weeks, people--but I did want to say how awesome it was this morning when he went in to each kid's rooms and woke them up for school. The reactions were pure joy and utterly priceless. It was better than when we surprised them with a trip to Disneyland. Loved it.

Also, with him coming home earlier than we'd initially thought, I scrambled to get my BofM reading done, and finished Monday. Awesome. I'm starting over. It has helped me so much!

Have a fantastic day. I'm going to.

Being the Best Me

2011-10-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

There have been a lot of personal affirmations floating around Facebook. Some are pretty good, and I like to pass those along. Others are trite, obvious or downright stupid. But everyone is different, and just because I don't like one doesn't mean it's not doing someone some good.

Just to keep you updated, today I start Alma. I've read 8 books in the B of M in the last week. Alma is where I always bog down, but if I read about 50 pages a day I'll be done by the end of the week. I knew it would help me, but I didn't realize all the ways it would help.

For one, I'm more patient. I don't get as frustrated as QUICKLY when the kids are acting up, bickering or being sassy.

Two, my vision is so much clearer. I'm not talking about my physical vision. When I look at my daughter, the one who's caused me so much angst over the last several weeks, I see the Daughter of God she is and not the stubborn, willful child. Being able to see her true worth has made me so much better for her.

It's been a really rough couple of months, but it's almost over. Bryan is coming HOME and will be here Wednesday, so I'm stepping up my goal. I'm going to finish the B of M before he gets here. Shouldn't be that hard. After Alma, which will be done this week, there are only 6 books left, and a couple of them are super short. I know reading scripture like I read novels isn't getting me all the book has to offer, but it's brought a marked improvement to my life.

And, when I'm done, I can just start over again. :)

In the Trenches

2011-10-05T05:50:00.000-07:00

There are some days I can't believe I signed up for this. Being a mom is hard.

Yesterday was one of those days. I cried off and on all day. I couldn't write. Finally, that afternoon I sat down and read an entire section of The Book of Mormon. Did you know 1st Nephi is 53 pages long? You do now. I finished the last three chapters in Moroni and just flipped back to the beginning.

The Book of Mormon shall be your textbook. That's from my Patriarchal Blessing. Yesterday was a day I really needed it.

You know those movies, particularly old WWII movies, where the kid too young to enlist fakes his age and signs up anyway? You know, deep in the trenches in the middle of a firefight, at some point this kid has to be thinking, "I can't believe I signed up for this!"

Yes, I'm likening motherhood to WWII. Because some days there are victories and glory, but most days it's just trench warfare. And marching. Lots of tedious, repetitive marching. (For me, "marching" is the repetitive chores like dishes, laundry, grocery shopping, getting kids to do homework, etc)

You don't have to agree with me. It's okay. I won't be offended.

I have a new goal, though. I'm going to read The Book of Mormon in October. Because I need it.

See you on the other side. Maybe next week I'll have a "victory" day.

It's Important

2011-09-28T07:35:00.000-07:00

About ten days or so ago I decided I wanted to unpack all my wall pictures. Most had been packed for over a year and a half since we lost our house. As I pulled out picture after picture of my kids and nieces and nephews at varying stages of development, I quickly caught on to the theme.

My family.

This is what really matters to me. The truly important things are brought into sharp focus at different times of our lives. Say a house fire. Or even the less traumatic cross country move. In a fire, you're only concerned that everyone is safe. With a cross country move, you whittle down your belongings to the most important.

I've had this picture for decades. It's rather large, and difficult to pack, and has no glass to protect it. Rather than packing it this time, my son took a picture of it--an improvement, to my estimation--and plan to get an enlarged print to frame down the road.

When he took the picture, he didn't notice the clouds reflected on the plastic, which to me makes the picture. Don't you agree?

Reconsidered

2011-09-21T07:47:00.000-07:00

I had a whole post all set to go about my stubborn daughter and how she purposely threw a test she didn't want to take, but I decided you all really don't need to listen to me rant about someone I love so much. You get it--if I didn't love her I wouldn't care and get so bent out of shape. You're smart.

I really miss Bryan. Parents work best in teams. And this isn't just my opinion, I do have some facts to support it. Remember, I grew up in a single parent household. And, in different stages of my kids' development, Bryan has had jobs where he's gone large chunks of time. Most of that was driving trucks, but he has spent months at a time at different airports on assignment with TSA.

And each time I've noticed a distinct shift in my kids' behavior.

When they were little, they were simply more unruly. Less quick to obey, more willing to get into trouble. Stressed, I guess you'd say. And it's harder when we're broke and I don't have ways to distract them. I don't mean going to the movies every night, but with gas prices as they are I can't even justify going for a nice drive out to the lake.

As they've gotten older, and Bryan's been away less and less, their angst manifests itself in physical ways. Primarily, little arguments get blown WAY out of proportion and escalate into stupid fights. The boys are really bad about this right now. It's all the hormone fluctuations and the testosterone. Two Saturdays running, I've woken up to fighting. And, with the oldest, he will keep repeating himself until you acknowledge him--even if he has to be louder and angrier each time.

In short, I'm done with this stupid separation and I'm more than ready for his transfer to come through.

That's not to say life is perfect because Daddy's home. The kids still bicker and such, and chores get neglected, etc., but--and this is what I don't understand--the kids seem to respect me more when Bryan's around than when he's gone. I'm still me. I'm here the same as always. But I don't get the same level of recognition and respect when he's away. Weird, huh? I'm sure it has something to do with the little changes I experience having him away. I'm different, so they treat me different. Sometimes I feel like a psychiatric study in progress.

And I'm tired of being experimented on.

We're Never Done

2011-09-16T08:28:00.000-07:00

I learned something amazing about my son yesterday.

He. Is. Incredible.

To be fair, I thought I knew that already. Really. This kid has survived 2 near-death experiences, he's zany, tender, and can draw like no other kid you've ever seen. He's just as incredible as my other kids, who are all incredible in their own ways.

But this kid showed me something. He showed me the depth of his heart. And it rocked me to my core.

This is how my journal would read, if I kept a journal:

He entered her hospital room, and nothing in the world mattered except her. He sat down next to her bed, took her hands, and asked her how she was doing. Then he asked her how she was feeling, which are two different things. He held her hands the whole time. Talked about his day. Talked about school. Told some stories. LISTENED to her stories. They laughed together, and they also sat in silence. I had to end it, because I have 4 other kids to tend to--but I promise you I wish I could have left him there a couple hours more. I witnessed something miraculous: A 12 yr old boy's love for his grandmother.

I take no credit for this child. He is the personification of the love Heavenly Father and Jesus has for each one of us. He is an angel walking among us, masquerading as a lively--and occasionally irritating--preteen boy. His capacity for love and compassion are astonishing.

This is the boy the school wants to evaluate and test to see if they can find something "wrong" with. I promise you I will not let him be labeled. I will protect his heart with everything I have. He sees the world differently, but that does NOT make him wrong.

Which Way is Up(hill)?

2011-09-14T06:06:00.000-07:00

I promise I will post pictures of the house when I get it in some sort of order--and when I find that sweet little cable that connects my phone to the computer to download pics. It's in a box...I hope...

So far, I've only managed to go for a couple of walks. I timed how long it takes to walk up to the high school at the other end of town (to prove to the boys it can be done), and I had an appointment Monday that I walked to rather than using my lovable, but gas hungry, Durango.

Couple of things I noticed. One, dogs are funny. If they are barking their heads off at you and you conversationally talk to them--it really confuses them. Two, I know I can expect OK to be a lot flatter than UT but, really, the difference between uphill and downhill is really minimal. For instance, it's uphill to the school. At least, that's what my poor, underused leg muscles tell me. And my meeting Monday was downhill, but, oddly, coming home wasn't uphill. Why? I basically returned in the opposite direction that I left. Still working on that one.

I'm starting to feel that near-psychopathic need to stop living out of boxes. Thing is, I don't have enough furniture yet to justify the change. It's starting to bug me, though, that there are a few things I can't find. The camera cable, for instance, that I mentioned earlier, was not in any of the computer desk related boxes I unpacked. And I can't find the dang pencil sharpener, which I only think about when the kids' pencils break while doing homework and we have to scramble to find something else for them to use. At this rate, the boys may have to take up whittling just to perfect that sharpened pencil. On the up side, I did find the power cord for the sharpener, so I may be on the right track. Maybe.

I am loving the quiet life. Things are hectic, mainly because we're still settling in and Bryan is still living in UT, but it doesn't diminish how wonderful I feel being here. The best part? A couple of the airports out here opened up positions for screeners last week, so he may be joining us soon.

I'm Not Going to Whine

2011-09-07T07:49:00.000-07:00

We're here, in Oklahoma! We made it. I've chosen to focus on that aspect, and not the things that went wrong. First of all, let's go over what went right.

The truck didn't break down.

The kids didn't kill each other.

We didn't get into an accident.

We didn't get charged extra for the trailer.

We made it.

I'm focusing on all of that for two reasons. One, the trip ended up being more expensive than we'd anticipated, and that has caused some issues that may be problematic. And two, people went to our apartment in Tooele mere hours after we left and looted the area, despite the fact my husband was going back to finish up later that week. Even that had a silver lining.

Our neighbor was paying attention, got a license plate number, and we were able to retrieve our camping gear and my husband's tools. What bothers me about the whole incident, and continues to bother me, is the mind set behind it.

Point one: It's impossible to hide from anyone driving by that we were moving, since it was a chaotic mess for three days and we had a U-haul trailer parked in the driveway.

Point two: We were sure to put out anything we didn't want at the curb, so that people would know it was being discarded should they care to take anything.

Point three: We weren't done moving yet!!! People not only scavenged the curb, but also went ONTO the property, i.e. trespassed, to claim things IN THE SHED and IN THE YARD. Did they go up the stairs and check to see if the apartment was locked, too?

There are some of you asking why I'm making an issue of this. It's the mind set behind the actions. I personally wouldn't dream of going onto someone's property, whether abandoned or not, to take things that I may be able to use or that I need. When did this become okay in our society? That disturbs me immensely. These strangers had no way of knowing we'd payed rent through Sept 5th and drove away believing the things we'd put away would still be there when my husband returned. They didn't bother to approach and ask. They just went in and took. Not because they are evil, horrible people, but because they felt they understood the situation enough to believe we had gone for good.

Thing is, people, you can't just assume. As the guy who had our camping stuff now (hopefully) understands. The police explained things to him, and he returned it all. We opted not to press charges, as it was a misunderstanding, but at the same time I have to shake my head and wonder when looting became okay. Because even if the people are gone, you don't own the property, and are, if nothing else, trespassing. Last I checked, that was still illegal. Not to mention rude.

Okay, pretty sure I'm done venting about this now. I've been processing this for a week and still had some fairly strong opinions that needed an out. Being robbed, even by people who don't understand what they're doing, is a violation, and it takes some time to get over.

Next post: The joys (and other things) of small town living!

T-Minus 5 and Counting

2011-08-24T11:56:00.000-07:00

My girl got her stitches out today. They had to use a scalpel on one because it was so tiny, but she's healing up great and is now wearing a cute heart bandage on her forehead.

I'm still recovering from the wisdom teeth removal Monday. All 4 gone now, but I'm definitely not feeling tops today. Hope I feel better tomorrow. I have to get back on the packing wagon tomorrow. 5 days and counting.

This seems to be the blog that suffers most when stuff is going on. Shorter posts, info dumps, etc. But, I'm taking another break from Mommy blog posts for a while until I get moved and settled in OK. Real life tends to do that to you. That--and I'm not sure when we'll have internet out there.

So, hang in there. I'll be sure and post all our moving adventures when I can.

You Should See the Other Guy!

2011-08-17T07:41:00.000-07:00

I had such plans for Monday. I was all set to wash all the girls' clothes and get in and pack up their room, leaving out ONLY the essentials for the next two weeks.

Then I didn't have to work, so I slept in.

Then the kids got up and wanted to go play.

Then I had a lady coming to look at/take my computer desk.

I broke down and let my 10 yr old daughter go out to play, since she'd asked me about a dozen times that morning. The other kids I assigned various chores while I cleaned off the desk and thought about doing some laundry.

Then I heard people on the stairs. Trust me, where I live, you can hear people come up your stairs to the front door. Knock, knock. I thought I heard sobbing.

I opened the door. Supported by a friend so young she only comes up to her chest, was my daughter. She was crying, and no wonder. She had a large gash in her forehead about an inch above her left eye, and blood seeping down her face. She'd already gotten blood on her pants and shirt. She was hysterical.

Fortunately, I'm not a panicky type of person. I tend to deal with what's going on and react later. It happened when I pulled a dog out of the drainage canal in Phoenix. It was the same when I was robbed at gunpoint. It was the same Monday.

I took her inside, yelled for my husband (still in bed--his day off). Had her sit on the couch. Grabbed some baby wipes to wipe off her face so I could see the damage for myself. Hubby comes out, and by then I was able to relay to him what my daughter said happened to her.

"She got hit in the head with a golf club."

There's something you don't say every day.

The cut was not long, but was deep and would require stitches. My daughter had calmed down enough that she could speak coherently, and as my hubby got dressed I got her ready to take down to the ER. Then I had a thought. Maybe the Dr could just do it in his office? So I called. Yes, he can. Great. I just knocked our $125 ER visit copay down to a $20 office visit copay. Looking back, that was incredibly logical and detached to even have that thought. Weird.

We took her down together, leaving the other kids at home with the 14 yr old in charge. Usually we leave a phone, but didn't. On the way to the Dr's office, we took pics of her wound with our phones and let her call her big sister--who had survived her own share of head wounds and could commiserate.

When the Dr saw my husband, he called us back immediately (particularly after we told him why we were there) and put us in a room. I think he didn't want my daughter scaring the other patients. It is a pediatric practice, after all. It took some time to get it all taken care of, but my little girl was a champ through the whole thing.

Then my dear hubby said, "I'm just glad he didn't hit her an inch lower and slightly to the left."

Her eye. A fraction of a difference in what happened, and she'd have lost her eye.

I glared at him a little. "Gee, thanks." That lovely thought hadn't even occurred to me. Other would hit me later.

Had the hit been any harder, she could have cracked her skull. The blow could have killed her (though likely not by a 10 yr old boy).

She was just playing outside. They weren't even fighting; they were getting along. Playing golf. She'd hit the ball the farthest, and he wanted to match her hit, so he swung hard--and she leaned in for a better view at just the wrong moment. Wham.

Four stitches and hours later, she's okay. Her head is tender, especially now that all the lidocain has worn off, so I gave her some Tylenol and sent her to bed. It's her 2nd dose. She has shown absolutely no ill effects from her ordeal, other than some lingering pain. She never lost consciousness; she never got dizzy or showed any kind of impairment.

(But, of course, everyone has a story of someone who was perfectly fine just after an accident and dropped dead a few days later. And of course I'm thinking about that, and watching her, and not looking forward to a great deal of sleep.)

The thing is, it was an accident. I KNOW it was an accident, and I'm not angry, really. But I'm having a hard time processing this. And it's really bothering me. I just want to hold her, and hold her, and hold her. I'm so grateful she's okay, but I'm still kind of tense and freaked out. It's taking me a long time to come down from everything that happened.

She is going to have a sweet scar, though. It probably won't show much in a year or two, but for a while it will look really cool. And, if it ever bothers her, she can just grow her bangs out again.

This is Why

2011-08-10T09:30:00.000-07:00

Now that we've made the decision to move, I started asking myself some hard questions. One--why didn't we do this years ago? I know most of the why is me. Moving back has always been somewhere on the table, but hasn't been at the "center" of the table. I've resisted the move for lots of reasons, the largest of which is the sheer cost of moving vs. just plugging along where we are.

I mean, when we moved to Tooele it was with the intent to find a house big enough for all of us because we thought Bryan's daughter was going to spend a school year with us. In retrospect, we never should have moved before things were certain, but she seemed so resolved to do it, and, I admit, we got excited. So we made that choice, and pushed our way into a house before we were really financially ready.

When we lost the house, and had to move, we had the choice then to simply return to OK. But--me again--it felt like slinking back in defeat with our tail between our legs. I didn't want to feel like we'd been beaten. We had, but I didn't want to go back on those terms.

So why didn't we move back to OK sooner? It didn't take me as long to figure this out as it has taken to explain it, so here goes:

If we'd moved back to OK before now, I'd never have met KAREN. She's one of the most awesome moms I've ever known, and one of the people I'm going to miss the most. I wanted to move onto her street before we chose to move to OK. She totally rocks.

I wouldn't have known REBECCA, or been inspired by her incredible courage in the face of having her life turned upside down by a cancer diagnosis. Or been inspired to write some incredible stuff, not to mention develop my own inner desire to help, to serve, and to uplift.

I wouldn't have known Heidi, who has opened up her heart to four more children so that they will know the love and stability of a family--not to mention some crazy dad antics thanks to her husband. :)

I'd never have met Dani, who has been such a sweet, welcoming soul despite her own problems and health issues.

Or Kathy, who has always been warm and friendly. She hugged me when we met--not everyone does that. And her smile is completely infectious.

There's more, but I'm running out of room. The point is, by lingering in UT I've made friendships and formed bonds I wouldn't have otherwise. And I'm so very grateful for every single one.

Confession

2011-08-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

It seems I use my blogs to confess a lot. What does that mean, exactly?

I'm not going to hold you in suspense. Here it is. We have every intention to move out of state at the end of this month.

What? Are you crazy? What brought this on? Why? Help!

Whew. Now, to explain.

As you know, if you've read the blog, I took some family time in July to go to OK to visit Bryan's family. It's supposed to be a vacation, but you can't really call it a vacation when you take all your work with you, as I did. I had the kids, and book signings, and the pressure of writer deadlines (that I did nothing about--but that's another blog lol). When it was time to actually go, I was so stressed out I told Bryan to just leave me here and he can take the kids to OK and back. Of course, I went because I had obligations. But the magic of going had gone.

Out there, we became part of the extreme drought and super high temps that the area has suffered with this year. Couple 110 degree temps with high humidity (but no rain, how wrong is that?) and you literally are sweaty before you get into your car. I had a bout of insomnia while I was there, got up and took a drive at 7 am and it was already almost 90 degrees. Aside from the visiting family part, it wasn't exactly a dream trip.

Except something happened while we were there. First, the truth that Bryan's dad needs family close hit us full force. Sure, Mom is in the home now, and they take care of her daily needs, but Dad still feels a great desire and responsibility to spend time with her, and his age is starting to show. He can't keep up with the house's needs as much as I'm sure he would like, and he's not getting sleep like he should. Bryan's sister, who lives out there now, has been trying to move for the last few years. They've been there for about 7 yrs, and feel it's time for them to move on.

Bryan was the first to broach the topic--again--of moving back. Mind you, by the time we got there I didn't even want to be there, but I was overcome with the desire to be back there. Despite the drought. Despite the extreme temps. Despite the upheaval of the family and cross-country move. Despite my author network here, and my responsibilities. Despite everything.

Then the kids fell like dominoes. "I don't want to go home." "Why did we ever move away in the first place?" (my boys were all born out there but we moved when the twins were a year and a half old) "Why can't we live here?" When a family the size of mine all agrees on something this big, you have to sit up and pay attention.

So, why at the end of August? Well--I have 5 kids in school. School starts out there Aug 11, but I can't pack up this apt in a week and get them out there. It's stupid to enroll them in school out here for a month or two and then move them. And, there's really nothing cementing me to UT.

This is a move we feel, I feel, is best for the family. We'll be close enough to help out Papa, I'll be able to write without having to work on the side, the kids will be where they feel they belong. We'll have a house with a big yard. We'll finally be able to put our household in order, instead of the constant struggle to get by that we have out here.

It's good. It's right. It's still hard. I don't look forward to the goodbyes. But it has to be done.

The Working Vacation

2011-07-27T09:39:00.000-07:00

So, we took the kids to OK to visit grandparents and all, and I also scheduled some book signings for while we were there. I guess I'm still trying to perfect the working vacation.

It's a myth, really.

Like I told the hubby, this is not a vacation. I took my work with me. While everyone else got to play and sit around, I was finishing up last minute details, shmoozing, and all that other fun stuff. I'm not saying I didn't have a good time, but you can't really call it a vacation.

I really need one of those. :)

Blog Break!

2011-07-06T08:07:00.000-07:00

Just thought I'd take a second to warn you all that I'm giving this blog a two-week break. I'm going to use that time to have a little summer fun--at least I think that's what it's called. And I hope it ends up being fun. I'm going to do what I can to focus on the kids, rather than telling all of you about them. :)

But, never fear! I'll be back July 27th with some fun stories about their antics!

In the mean time, here's a poem:

Baptism

This day is your special day,
wonderful in every way.
Today you will be baptized.
Not every little girl and boy
gets to share in this precious joy.
Not every little child of God
gets to be where they belong.
But, my dearest, hopefully,
there you will always be.
From this day on, listen close
to the Spirit's still small voice.
The Holy Ghost will be with you
telling you what you should do.
But it is up to your own might
to always do that which is right.
So treasure this most precious gift;
a token of God's love for you,
and when from the waters you are 'lift,
remember that I love you, too.

May 27, 1994

COOKIES!

2011-06-29T06:52:00.000-07:00

I've been having some fun with cookie recipes lately--Mint Ravioli cookies, Inside-Out chocolate chip cookies, and these little babies: Giant Toffee-Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Here's the recipe (you know you want it!):
makes about 1 1/2 dozen cookies

1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup margarine or butter, softened
1/2 cup shortening
1/4 cup honey
1 egg
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 package (12 ounces) miniature semisweet chocolate chips
1 package (6 ounces) almond brickle chips

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Mix brown sugar, margarine, shortening, honey and egg in large bowl. Stir in flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Stir in chocolate chips and brickle chips.

Drop dough by level 1/4 cupfuls about 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 12-14 minutes or until edges are golden brown (Centers will be soft. Cool 3-4 minutes; remove from cookie sheet.

Variation: Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 10-12 minutes or until golden brown. About 4 dozen cookies.

Now, here's what I did: First of all, I like toffee with MILK chocolate, not semisweet, so I went for regular size milk chocolate chips rather than semisweet minis. I went for the regular size cookies, for quantity, rather than worrying about making giant cookies. Finally, I don't know why they say ungreased cookie sheet. Toffee is like caramel--when it is warmed, it gets soft and sticky. I never would have been able to get them off the cookie sheet once they started to cool (and stick to the sheet).

Don't they look yummy? Well, they taste even better! This may well be my family's new favorite cookie.

This is my test: I love making cookies, but I don't really care to eat them once they cool down. I love warm cookies, but once I'm done baking I don't really eat any. This recipe is in great danger of changing all that. The cookies are so good, I almost made myself sick having *just a few* more. :)

Enjoy!!

Unexpected Enjoyment

2011-06-22T07:45:00.000-07:00

I wanted to share these with you because I think they're awesome. My friend, between her chemo treatments, makes them to help keep her busy. She's a lot like me in that she has to have something to keep her mind occupied or she may go crazy. I may also ask her if she'd like to read some of my unpublished stuff and give me feedback--but only if she feels up to it.

Today, I took my youngest daughter and the two toddlers I tend out to visit some horses. My question to you: What do you get when you mix a 3 yr old, a 2 yr old, and 5 Arabian horses? The answer? A really, really cute video. The problem? It's on my husband's phone because I'm a genius and forgot my camera, and I can't share it.

The 3 yr old has been out there to visit horses before, and cried when she had to leave. Today, rather than holding her, I let her hold my hand and walk. She went right up to one of the stallions chanting, "I wanna pet the horsey" and he turned that great head and offered his nose to her and she got a really good look at how big he really is.

To her credit, she did NOT scream and run away. :) But she was much more comfy in my arms petting horses.

We got some video of my nephew's boy petting one of the mares and sent it to his dad's phone. That was pretty awesome. He's a bit more reserved than the 3 yr old, but was still just as excited to pet the horse's nose. And Miraya, the darling, just held her head still and let him.

Mind you, Miraya is my husband's girl friend. No, I do not harbor any jealousy toward her, even if she is in phenomenal shape for a girl her age and has the biggest brown eyes ever. And the longest eyelashes. She's a beautiful horse, and seems to like me as well. One time I was in her paddock area and she just followed me around like I had carrots in my back pockets or something. She's the greatest, and has a real motherly manner to her. She loves kids.

Next time we go, I'll remember my camera so I can share video because it was a great experience. It's exhausting because I'm hyper-vigilant so we don't have any problems, but it's still loads of fun.

When They're Helping...

2011-06-15T09:57:00.000-07:00

I have an uber-helpful 7 yr old.

I mean, if it's there to be done she'll do it--whether she's physically capable or not. And it totally ruins her day if you say no. I mean, seriously. Her emotions are all or nothing. For the record, I have yet to SEE the "nothing" stage. She's seriously awesome, if a little intense. :)

Conversely, my 9 yr old daughter behaves as though helping out is a teeth pulling exercise. She'd rather be doing ANYTHING else, which is why--in large part--I want to be sure she's part of this new project I'm working on. I want her to realize the joys of having a charitable heart, so that she can grow up to be a compassionate person.

I know a lot of these stages are age related, but my older daughter has always been a touch more self-absorbed than the other kids. So I realize teaching her charity will require more effort on my part than reinforcing the behavior of her sister. It's just further proof that children, even when raised in the same environment, are individuals who will process the same bits of information differently.

Kids are cool. And they are worth the effort. I love both my girls, but there's no way I'm going to say they are the same. :)

This is Not a Kitten

2011-06-08T10:17:00.000-07:00

Beautiful, no?

Did you know the normal gestation period for a horse is 11 months?

Or that within hours a newly born foal is ready to run with the herd?

How about that a gestating mare needs regular exercise throughout her pregnancy? Sounds familiar...

Like most girls, I dreamed about horses growing up. And, partly due to my writing, I've always wanted a horse or two. Hubby and I have discussed the idea of having land, eventually, and putting a horse or two on it. Getting the kids riding lessons.

As a kid I owned a book where a girl talked about the daily work involved in caring for her horse. The book included detailed pictures and lots of information. I really wish I still had it, now.

I don't know of an experience that would be more amazing and more educational than starting from scratch with a new foal and raising it to adulthood. Sigh. :)

I want a Kitten

2011-06-01T08:33:00.000-07:00

Having a pet is completely out of the realm of possibility right now, but that doesn't stop me wanting one.
Maybe one with blue eyes.

Or maybe one with fluffy white fur.

I've actually had to stop myself from going to the local shelter just to "look around." Yeah, right. I can't even fool myself with that one. :)

Ah well. My time will come. Eventually.

Or maybe one with fun stripes.

Milestones

2011-05-25T07:24:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, big sister came out to visit. Of course, the kids were thrilled. They don't get to see her much since she started college. Little sister, in particular, got to spend some quality time with her. They made cookies. Yummy ones. :)
Last night my oldest son graduated 8th grade. Yeah, I know. But, it had to happen eventually. We stayed up and watched a late movie after the ceremony, so he's still in bed. I'm such a pushover.

Don't worry--I'm pulling him out of bed in a bit to help with dishes. :)

Ah, my little graduate. Not so little anymore. I'm pretty sure he has no idea what's in store for him. Should be interesting to watch.

Change--In an Instant

2011-05-17T08:44:00.001-07:00

Last week, I posted about the house that has really been calling to me, the one I thought I wanted more than any other house for my family.

This week it hardly seems important.

Wednesday night, my friend Rebecca White told her friends and family she has breast cancer. She's 35, like me. She has a young family, like I do. She does these awesome crafts and home schools her kids. She even beads necklaces.

Friday she had a mastectomy. Yesterday, they removed the bandages.

I'm bleeding inside. I feel like I've dodged a cosmic bullet. This could just as easily have been me. I've had grandparents with cancer, but nothing has hit me so hard as this. Becky's young, she has her whole life ahead of her, and I want to do everything I possibly can to help ensure she can enjoy it.

Click HERE to find out what I'm doing and how you can help. It's just my other blog, but there's a lot of information there I want to share with you.

It's not logical or practical to just install myself in her house so I can hug her all the time. But I want to be there for her any way I can. Becky is a generous, loving, caring person, but at this time in her life she needs all the angels she can get.

You can help. Be one of her angels.
Thanks for listening.

Out of Reach

2011-05-11T07:44:00.000-07:00

It's confession time, again. Have you ever wanted something so badly you could taste it, but that thing remained just out of reach?

Last year, we lost our house. Despite the bank saying they'd be willing to work with us, they foreclosed and we had to move. It's been really hard on the kids, and especially hard when we downsized to a 3 bedroom apartment.

My oldest lost his private bedroom.

They lost their yard to play in.

We lost the privacy of not sharing walls or ceilings with anyone.

None of us likes living here, but with our credit in ruins we have little options. In desperation, I've been teasing myself by looking online at houses for sale. I keep thinking there has to be some way we can improve this situation.

I found the house of my dreams. Here's the LINK for the full details.

Why is a woman with 5 kids taunting herself with a 2bd/1ba house? Check that square footage again. The entire upstairs is unfinished. Let me tell you what happens when I go inside this house (yes, I've had an agent show it to me twice). There's very little carpeting--great for my allergy-ridden family. The room I would give to my girls is spacious with two closets--just perfect for them. There's even shelving in one of the closets for their books and shoes. The kitchen is the exact center of the house, right where it should be. I've been a mom for 14 yrs. No matter what, we always end up in the kitchen. The house also has a formal dining room. I fantasize putting a full table in there, similar to the one we had to give up last year.

The unfinished space upstairs would be the master suite, complete with sewing room and library. When I go up there, my imagination is inspired in ways I can hardly describe. There are two large bay windows. I see myself up there writing some of the best stories I've ever come up with. If a house can be a muse, that's the one for me.

There's also a cute little one bedroom apartment separate from the house, emphasis on the little. I don't delude myself. I'd use it like a guest house, sort of a studio apartment with the bed in the living room (because not much would fit in the "bedroom"). My guests could use the kitchen and full bathroom to their hearts' content. And, in the mean time, it would give us a 2nd (3rd when the upstairs is finished) bathroom in case of emergency.

This house sits on 3/4 of an acre. Think of all the space my kids would have to play. We could have a garden. They'd still have tons of playroom.

I've told you all the highlights. Now, before you think I may be deluding myself, I know there are reasons why this gem is so inexpensive. There's a bunch of siding torn away from the walls of the house and places where it's exposed to the wood. With all the rain and snow we've had this year, I know there's damage that would have to be fixed. One of the downstairs bedrooms, an addition in fact, has a leak that I know hasn't been tended these months the house has sat empty. That would have to be fixed. There are weeds growing through the chimney siding that would have to be fixed. The entire upstairs needs to be finished. And it has no furnace or a/c.

The bank doesn't want this house. They want someone to come along and pay cash for it. I can't come up with $50k, or I'd offer. The house has been on the market for longer than 3 months. They took it off to auction it, but ended up putting it back up for sale instead. I know there are plenty of problems with the house, but when I look at it, I see potential. I see what it could be. I see a house my family could live in forever, and be so content.

And I hate to feel it slipping through my fingers. Anyone have 50,000 friends who'd contribute $1 each to see my family in a home again? :)Just kidding. Mostly.

Sometimes...

2011-05-04T07:26:00.001-07:00

I really love our ward book club. I mean, I really, really do. Maybe I'm putting too much emphasis on it, but it is so nice to get out and sit around and talk to women about things that are not necessarily child related--though they sometimes are. :) It's a recurring event on my phone, so I'm always reminded to go.

Last night, after coming home, I was completely exhausted. I mean, utterly. But I had to search for 45 minutest to try to find my iPod because it's part of my ritual to fall asleep. (insomnia, how I loathe thee) I never found it. So, today, I'm still ridiculously tired.

But, as I lay there trying to shut off my brain long enough to fall asleep, I had a mini-epiphany. I realized, in my quest to find the perfect time to incorporate physical activity into my day, I've had the perfect time all along.

And now I know what time I can walk every day. And it's perfect.

Sure, it's a small victory, but sometimes you just have to take what you can get.

But I still have to find my iPod. Grr.

Motherhood

2011-04-27T07:32:00.000-07:00

My brother sent me an email yesterday. He's speaking about mothers and motherhood in church for Mother's Day, and wants to know the good side of being a mother.

I haven't answered him, yet.

It's not that I don't know what the good things about being a mother are, it's just that I struggle to express them properly.

This is what he wants: Can you each email me with a description of the benefits of
motherhood? What are the good things you, personally, have enjoyed
from being a mom?

His goal is to get his mom, grandma and sister (me) to weigh in on this, so he has a multi-generational picture to share with the congregation.

I feel a responsibility to show motherhood in it's proper light, but he only wants the good stuff (kidding, lol). How do I properly portray how I've always wanted to be a mommy, but how I didn't want to have as many kids as my mom because she never seemed to have time for us all? And then, how it ended up not mattering anyway because God has his own ideas about things like that. :)

What about how it feels to feel the first flutterings of life inside you? Or the bond that forms when you hold your child close, whether you can nurse them or not? Or the amazing feeling of giving birth (or at least the aftermath), when they put that squalling, wriggly baby on your belly and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your entire life (even though it's a gooey mess lol)? Or the heart-stopping moments after they take the baby out and before you hear his or her first sounds?

How about the ways you find to relate to each child individually, because they are each so unique? And yet, you still subject them to the same house rules and guidelines, because everyone has to learn to get along in this world.

Sigh. I'd better get started. Mother's Day is only 2 Sundays away.

Child-Inspired Poetry

2011-04-20T06:51:00.000-07:00

So last week I bragged about my brilliant son who writes cool stories and poems for school assignments. This is a poem I wrote about him, in honor of his birthday tomorrow. Mind you, it's his birthday, his twin's birthday, and his little sister's birthday--kind of a busy day tomorrow. :) If you want to read the poem I wrote about his twin brother, you can find it HERE.

Daniel

If it weren’t for walls,
and the occasional door,
nothing would stop
this boy not yet four.
He sleeps with a blanket
flung over his head.
He runs with pure joy
and, yes, jumps on his bed.
He plays with his daddy,
his uncles and brothers.
He’d play with the baby
if she weren’t such a bother.
His eyes are so glorious
and full of sweet love.
His smile lights the room
as can no star from above.
I live for his hugs;
his kissies make my day.
His sweetness has saved his life
more times than I’d care to say.
I love my Danno, I’m worth more today
because he loves me--
that I’m proud to say.

April 23, 2002

Bragging Rights

2011-04-13T08:16:00.001-07:00

I have this awesome overachiever son. He's the kind of kid who's ahead of his grade in math, has papers he writes get read aloud in class by the teacher, and scores A's on science projects. Ya--I have no idea how he got to be this way, either. But I'm loving it.

Today I'm sharing a fun poem he wrote:
What do Scholars do When the Teacher Isn’t Looking?
By Daniel Chesley

When teachers don’t look,
We make funny faces.
What else do we do?
Leave books in bad places!

We get out some paper,
Then fold it a lot,
Out comes the airplane,
Oh, yeah! Evil plot!

So then get it ready,
As the clock goes tick,
Pull your arm backward,
Then give it a flick!

It flies around the room,
The teacher doesn’t look,
She is way too busy,
She’s reading a book.

Down it’s descending,
The small paper craft.
Then, something’s just blowing;
A little wind shaft.

It blows the plane up,
High up to the sky,
Then down it descends,
To hit the teacher’s eye.

“Who threw that airplane?”
She cried in a rage,
She was nearly blind,
Not to turn a page.

The room is so timid,
No one says a word,
And so not a sound
By the class had been heard.

The teacher says, “Fine!”
Goes back to her book,
I yearn to get up,
‘Cause I need a look.

I creep off my seat,
Then crawl on the floor.
I am very careful,
When I dart out the door.

I sneak up on teacher,
Then take a little peek,
I see a little bird,
With a very long beak.

It is called a Toucan,
It said in the book.
I lean in closer,
Just for a better look.

That was a mistake,
For then I was caught!
The teacher was angry,
I had a dumb thought.

Was sent to the office,
Right on the double,
The principal was mad,
For I was in trouble!

So now, my dear children,
As I read to you,
Do not be naughty,
Or you’re in deep doo-doo!

How Big is your Box?

2011-04-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

(image courtesy of legacytrunks.com)
My husband and I have been talking quite a bit about the growth and change I've gone through the last few years. And, subsequently, the growth and change my changes have put the family through. Don't get me wrong; he's nothing but supportive. Sometimes I think he wants this more than I do.

Because I asked him, "When do I get to crawl back into my box?"

And he said, "You don't." Gotta love him.

Before I accepted my other role in life, that of being an author, I was a mostly-contented wife and mother. The discontent came in the form of work. I hated my job, and always felt there was something "more" I should be doing. Don't get me wrong--I had a dream job, but it didn't satisfy me. If fact, over the years, it drained me of creativity and left me frustrated and angry. Mostly the frustration stemmed from why I couldn't just be satisfied by this dream job. I mean, I got to work in my pj's, didn't have to interact with customers, was highly respected and earned an incredible wage for a person with no college education.

Looking back, so much makes sense. The times I'd spend in the shower imagining what I'd say in front of large groups of people. I didn't dream of the public life--the part of my life I most enjoyed was being anonymous. But, in direct contrast with that, I'd practice what to say in front of crowds.

Then someone said to me (and the rest of the congregation), "Life's too short to not do what you love."

The timing was perfect. I'd just begun my journey of self-discovery. And this really hit me, hard. I knew what I loved--my family and writing. But, it was another year or so before I sighed, looked heavenward and said, "Okay. If this is what You want me to do, then I'll do the very best I can. You've got me."

The learning curve is sharp. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes I feel like I should be doing so much more, working so much harder, moving so much faster.

And, sometimes, I just want to crawl back into my box and be the invisible one again.

The problem? I think I outgrew my box.

Once Upon a Time...

2011-03-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

Morgan was bothering me, blah, blah, blah...

Direct quote from my then 2 yr old niece. Priceless stuff.

I really love kids. Don't misunderstand; I'm not always a fan of all the work involved in raising kids, but I do really enjoy having them in my life. My own kids, kids I tend, nieces, nephews--it's like having my own, personal "Kids Say the Darndest Things."

My son, coming to me with tears in his eyes, "Brandon can't fly."
Stepdaughter, when learning she was not flying from AZ to OK, but traveling by car. "All the way?!" (they were in NM at the time lol)
Son, all alone in his room playing. "Jeffrey? What?"

And then there are the fun ways they choose to pronounce words:

Farmady (Pharmacy)
Feedeere (Theater)
Dutch (Brandon--no idea, my daughter started calling her big brother Dutch and we never learned why)

Limitless. Charming. Troublesome. Endearing. Children.

And, no, Brandon still hasn't master the art of flight. :)

Glorious, Elusive Sleep

2011-03-23T09:44:00.000-07:00

Doesn't this baby look blissful?

I'd love to be asleep right now.

I admit it; I love sleeping. It's honestly my favorite thing to do, ever. And lately I feel like I've been trying to make up a lost decade of insomnia. It's not that bad, really, but, sometimes....

We were without internet last week, so I missed all my regularly scheduled blog posts. Never fear--I made good use of my time. Not only did I finish my book, I also now have 2 girls with 2 Easter dresses ready to go for next month. I read 4 books. I made dinners. And, I didn't really miss the internet.

Let's get real. I missed it. I honestly felt like I'd lost a limb or was in a cast or something. Part of my regular schedule had been interrupted. And my son thinks he doesn't deal well with change...

The hardest part was feeling like I let people down. My blogs didn't get done. Emails didn't get answered. My poor writer group showed up at my house Thursday expecting to hear a bunch of info on ebooks, and all my info was online still. Sigh.

But we survived. And, I do get a lot more done without the internet. :)

The Worst Feeling

2011-03-09T07:21:00.001-08:00

I worked my tail off yesterday (I wish, but that's a different story). When I sent my hubby off to work (as usual) and climbed into bed around 11 last night, I was more tired than anyone has a right to be. Without my usual nighttime ritual of listening to music and playing games on my iPod until my eyes wouldn't stay open, I started to drift to sleep almost right away.

In that peaceful, sleepy state when you can feel yourself drifting away, my thoughts wandered to my husband. And then a voice came to me, clear as anything, and said, "He's dead."

Sleep evaporated. I got that horrible, sinking feeling like my entire life had changed--and for a second I believed it.

Fortunately, reason set in quickly and I realized it was just my subconscious being incredibly cruel to me. Incredibly. Cruel.

I did convince myself I was being stupid and went to sleep, but I will admit to breathing a sigh of relief when I heard his voice this morning from the living room.

Sometimes, having an overactive imagination is simply not fun.

And Then Some

2011-03-02T23:29:00.000-08:00

It's not technically Wednesday anymore, but, since I'm sitting here with a raging case of insomnia, I decided I can't let another week go by without a post.

I was talking to someone today, probably the only person who asks me "How are you?" and wants a real answer anymore, and I realized things are in a really good place right now. Sure, I've got things to stress over--who doesn't--but I know in my heart we're going in the right direction. And even if half the things I've planned don't pan out, we're still going to be okay. That's been a long time coming.

A Facebook friend asks every Tuesday that people express gratitude for the good things in their lives--specific things. I try to remember something every week, but sometimes it's not easy. Sometimes those things don't occur to me on Tuesdays. :) But, I do have a grateful heart. And I just realized I'm on the verge of being grateful for my challenges. It might be a little too late in the day for me, folks. :)

My youngest had a rough day today (er, yesterday. Whatever--Wednesday). It seemed like every time I turned around she really needed me. So, when I sent everyone else to bed, I let her lay on the couch in the living room and I sat next to her feet and watched the news. Mind you, the news is boring to a 6 yr old, so it wasn't long before she started nodding off. First she stopped talking. Then she stopped wiggling. Then her eyes started fluttering closed, and those blinks sure got long. Finally, her eyelids won and she was out.

It's been years since I got to watch her fall asleep. That's precious.

Humbling Moments

2011-02-16T07:51:00.000-08:00

My son wrote this poem at school yesterday. He shared it with his class, and then read it in the van on the way home. Then he read it to me. He's had a lot of his classmates request a copy of it. I'm stunned. Utterly stunned. And humbled. So I'm sharing it with all of you.

"You're My Friend"
by Daniel Chesley

When I was doing my math test,
and wanted to cheat off your paper,
you told me it was wrong.
When I was about to spray-paint the walls,
you stopped me.
When I tried to start smoking,
you threw away my cigarette. (which he misspelled, love that boy)
You did those things for my own good.
That's why you are my friend.
I didn't know that then, so
I'm sorry I got so mad,
and did something so bad.
I wish I didn't have to tell you this,
standing at your grave.

Did I mention he's 11?

Time for a Change

2011-02-09T09:52:00.000-08:00

She doesn't know it yet, but my little girl's world is about to change drastically.
1st Grade.

2nd Grade.

3rd Grade.

And now 4th Grade.

It's been a struggle. Every year since kindergarten. She doesn't do her schoolwork. She takes HOURS to do her homework. She complains that no one likes her, yet talks regularly of friends. The girls are mean to her. She hates school. And so on, and so on, and so on.

And I'm done.

Rather than write a series of children's books about a 4th grade genius whose mother is afraid she's going to grow up to be a supervillain, I'm going to home school my daughter. We're going to start with the online schooling system K12, at least for the rest of 4th grade, and see how that works. The idea of giving up my computer time...sigh...but I can make it work. I hope.

I might write that series anyway...

Wish me luck!

Focus, Focus!

2011-02-02T07:24:00.000-08:00

What do you do when you know you need professional medical attention in order to get better, but your bank account doesn't cover the cost?

You probably suffer, like I do.

I did get over the sinus thing, finally. I think fighting the virus has awakened my mono virus, because I've been absurdly exhausted. But now, just as I feel mostly on the mend, I've started experiencing some intense pains. After a few days of analysis, I've determined it's probably more of a muscle ache issue than an internal organ issue, which is something. So that means I either need a chiropractor or a massage--which, ironically, cost about the same.

The short story is I have a hard time sitting for long periods, which has put me even farther behind in the edits I'd hoped to have done by now. The long story is I am having a hard time doing anything, and I can feel the other muscles in my back tensing and tightening in their effort to compensate for the sore muscles I've been favoring.

I may have a rib or two out. Coughing can do that, and I've been coughing a lot. Been there, done that. Hate repeating the act.

I'm really tired of being all messed up. At this rate, there's no way I can wait until all my edits are done before I work on repairing my body--the original plan. It's funny how some things just make themselves a priority, no matter how you personally feel about them. :)

The Sick Season

2011-01-26T09:53:00.000-08:00

This week, I can count on one hand (barely) the members of my family who are sick. In fact--only 2 of us aren't sick, and one of those was really sick a little over a week ago. We're a mess of coughs, runny noses, etc. I've been sick for almost 2 weeks, been to the doctor, and am ready to be better now.

I'm not telling you all of this for sympathy. I'm not even griping. :)

This just happens to be what we're dealing with right now. We go through this almost every January. The kids bring home all sorts of fun viruses and bugs from their interactions at school, and we--being the loving family we are--share copiously.

The one thing that bothers me about being sick is my energy level. I can handle the symptoms with medicines and all that, but I can't do anything about being tired all the time. Really, really tired. My limbs feel heavier, like they take more energy to make work, and--being the mom--it's not like I can just stop.

My editing has fallen about a week behind, which makes me mad. But, I don't feel like making dinner, baking or playing with the kids. It kinda stinks.

But, here in a week or so, we'll all start to feel better. And we'll be able to enjoy those days during the UT winter where it warms up to about 40 degrees or so, and the sun shines.

That will be lovely.

Why Does my Daughter Not Look 6 Anymore?

2011-01-19T06:51:00.000-08:00

How exactly does this happen? You find yourself looking at your child in the months before their birthday, and think, "You are looking older now."

I find myself curious if this is a physiological change in them, or a psychological change in me.

I mean, she's still 6. Until April 21st, she's still 6. But she doesn't LOOK like a 6-yr-old anymore. Especially after her 9-yr-old sister did her hair today.

Sometimes, I miss my baby. Particularly over the last two years, she's morphed into this amazing, adorable, caring little girl. She's no baby, anymore.

It's moments like this where I remind myself, "They don't stay young forever. Capture it while you can!"

Coming Down

2011-01-12T11:51:00.000-08:00

My family does this every time. And you'd think I'd get used to it. Or at least know to prepare for it.

Well, I do know that last one. Sort of.

My stepdaughter, now that she's 19 and in college, doesn't come visit as often as she used to. But, every time, the kids yearn to spend as much time with her as possible. To that end, they try to squeeze a year's worth of time into a week or so. It's pretty crazy.

Now that we're on the winding-down side of her visit this time, tempers are getting short, separation anxiety is building, and we're all talking about the next time she will come.

This is the hardest part about living away from a part of your family. If she lived here, it would take years for the kids to get used to her being here--and of course, now that she's an adult, that isn't going to happen.

This is the part of love that hurts. And we're going to be aching come Sunday.

But I'd do it all over again. She's worth it.

Hey There!

2011-01-05T07:20:00.001-08:00

We're really excited over here this week. Today I'll run up to the airport and pick up my stepdaughter for a visit. I have serious doubts my kids will be able to focus on anything at school today. Their little brains will be too busy reciting, "Sissy's coming! Sissy's coming! Sissy's coming!" Good thing they don't have cell phones-they'd be calling me. "Is she on the plane yet? Has the plane taken off?"

I don't think I can grin big enough. Still too tired.

Last night, I started wearing a mouth guard because I grind my teeth in my sleep. It's a stress thing--I grind my teeth even when I think I'm having a relaxing night. Lately, it's been really troubling my husband and I finally decided to listen to him. I carry a lot of tension through my jaw even when I'm awake, and sometimes have to consciously check and see if I need to relax it.

There's a lot going on that stresses me. Money issues are always high on the list. We'd been waiting for a while for a substantial check, only to learn just before Christmas it won't be coming at all. I'm also struggling with time issues. It's been hard for me these last few months to set up and stick to a writing schedule that fits into everything else I need to do in the day.

The conclusion I've come to is something has to go. I have to lighten my load. And I'm not happy about the decisions I have to make, but I know in my heart it's for the best. That's not going to make it easy, though. And most of the issues I'm having is that it's going to hurt people I care about, and cause them extra work.

But, as a mother, I have a primary responsibility to my family. My children. And I need to keep that in focus. As a Child of God, I have a responsibility to fulfill my roll in God's plan on this earth. That's the writing and publishing books. And in these latter days, I feel time is of the essence. People I care about will question the practicality and logic of my decisions--some of them anyway--but I have to do what I know is right for me and mine.

There's also the serious health issues going on in my extended family. We are at a loss how we can adequately provide support to those giving the care, while extending our love and thoughts to those who are ill. Distance and money are the handicaps there.

So, when I lay me down to sleep every night, my mind fills with all the things that need to happen, that aren't happening, and that should happen. It's little wonder I grind my teeth, isn't it?

Peace.

Sibling Rivalry?

2010-12-29T10:16:00.000-08:00

This is not a writing post. It's about my kids, eventually. First off, I lost a follower last week. I guess my posts aren't all that inspiring. Ah well, I still love my followers. :)

It has been said that writing and publishing a book is a lot like having a baby. I'm inclined to agree, especially given my current experiences and how it seems to effect my family.

One, the weight gain. Yep. Still wondering how to get that off, since that's one part that's NOT like having a baby.

Two, when the book came out my hubby and I wanted to show it to everyone. Very much like having a newborn.

And three, now that I've spent most of December on book signings--call this being busy taking care of the newborn--I'm experiencing what I can only call a sibling rivalry from my other kids.

Last week, my son asked me to not do anything that had to do with books or writing for a whole day. "Spend time with us." It's not like I'm neglecting them, honest. I'm here more than I'm not. At home, that is.

Then last night my daughter wanted a date--just her and me--and it had to have NOTHING to do with books.

Any time I talk about going to a signing I'm met with groans of disappointment.

I think the shiny wrapping that comes with a newborn has worn off. They're still proud of the book and all, but they definitely aren't fans of having it take so much of my time to be an author.

Christmas Poem

2010-12-22T11:27:00.000-08:00

"Jesus Child"

The star shone high and bright,
in the sky above our heads.
We tried to tend our flocks,
but followed it instead.
How far it led us, we know not.
Nor do we really care.
For we'd have trod a thousand steps
to see who we saw there.
He was so small, this Son of God,
an infant child who lay
in a manger, with Mother dear
on a bed of hay.
His eyes, so bright, just like the star
that shone in Heaven above,
looked on us with approval
as we gazed at him in awe.
Others came, but we were first
this sweet child here to see.
And we knew then, deep in our hearts
our Savior he would be.

December 19, 1994

A Simple Christmas

2010-12-15T09:01:00.000-08:00

That's what I want. I don't want a complicated, busy, hectic Christmas.

But, here I am signing books like crazy all December--I've barely done any Christmas shopping and I have ten days before the big day.

The girls are easy to shop for. That's the greatest thing about girls. My boys, actually, aren't that complicated. The thing is, as they get older, their wants get bigger and bigger. And more expensive. Except for that $1.41 power cord my son needs for his game boy. That was awesome. :) I should have gotten two or three.

It's the time I lack. As usual. My days are full of craziness. And it's a good crazy, but it takes up all my time. It's too late to order things for the kids to be shipped here without spending tons of money I don't have anyway, so that option's out. And I tried to do some shopping for them Monday on my way home from my signing--and didn't get to bed until 2am. Not smart.

My simple Christmas idea was born partly from necessity, and partly from a desire that my kids will appreciate the true spirit of the season more if they weren't overwhelmed with toys and things they don't really need. I don't like the idea of raising greedy kids. Which is why the Nativity has been up for weeks, while we have yet to put up the tree.

The necessity aspect of it is simply that we have no space to store anything. The kids' rooms are full of stuff. We have needs--like a new washer and dryer, or a new couch, or new mattresses for the kids--but we don't have a budget for that.

So I have to be smart. And savvy. And creative. Good thing God is on my side, or I'd never make it. :)

Reflections

2010-12-08T08:30:00.000-08:00

Sunday, a friend of mine said something that absolutely broke my heart. She said she'd gotten a call from her cousin that week saying their 4 year old child had died during the night.

You just never forget those kinds of calls.

When I was fourteen, yes--a millennium ago--my mom got a call like that. It was my oldest brother, who said their second son, 17 month old Mitchel, had died in his sleep. Watching my mom start to cry as she slid down to the floor was something that I'll never forget.

It was so much like the call we got when my dad died I knew what had happened before she told me.

I was seven when my dad died, but that's the kind of thing that brands your memory in a searing, permanent way. My mom sobbing on the phone. My brother holding me while I cried. And it had started out as such a wonderful, fun day.

When Mitchel died, no one was expecting it. His death affected me in so many ways. I'd never met him on this earth. The year before he was born, we'd tried to drive up for a visit and rolled our car after hitting black ice. In my youth, that experience made me incredibly nervous to attempt that trip again, so when my mom went up there when Mitchel was a baby, I was too scared to go. Stupid 13 yr old thing to do. But there you are. I couldn't go to his funeral either, since it was near the end of May and the school told my mom we couldn't miss our final exams. Stupid school. BTW, no school will ever dictate to me what family events my kids experience or miss. Just sayin'.

I'm not trying to lessen the pain felt by Mitchel's parents, or the lasting effects his death had on his current and future siblings. It's a devastating thing to lose a child, no matter how much of the gospel you understand or accept. It's hard to take comfort in the knowledge that they are in a better, safer place and that they are now spared the evils of the world when you are ripped apart inside. When you see their favorite shirt, or toy, or their room, and can't help but think you can't hug or hold them anymore. For now, at least.

I would sneak into my kids' rooms and watch them sleep, and make sure they were breathing, well past their second birthdays. I couldn't help myself. The idea of waking up in the morning to a dead child haunted me for the longest time. In some ways, it still does. We are not in charge of when God calls his children home. That's why, after Jeffrey had his life-saving surgery, I started counting the months and years I had him with me. He could have died before he turned a year old. Having him in my life now means a little more because of that. I don't take any of those moments for granted.

Or at least I try not to.

Oops

2010-12-02T07:38:00.000-08:00

I missed posting yesterday, but I have a good excuse. Sort of. While I should have prepared my post earlier in the week, we had some sickness issues, and Tuesday was a complete wash. In fact, I was up until 2 am Wed morning just catching up on everything I had to to Tuesday.

Yesterday, I didn't post because I had a book signing. Living in Tooele makes book signings inconvenient, unless they're here in town. That rocks. :) But, I drove into Orem yesterday, which meant I had to leave early enough to get out there, allowing for any weather conditions and traffic back ups that may occur--and arrive early enough to set up. Coming home takes much less time, seeing as I can just pack up and go.

Lately, I've been begging my kids for patience. I don't know how it happened, but I ended up being the most popular person in the house. EVERYONE wants their time with Mommy. My 9 yr old daughter commented recently that, now that I'm a writer, I have no time for them anymore.

Of course, I explained to her that it was my day job that took away the time. If I didn't have to work, then I could write while they were in school and have time for them when they get home, instead of trying to play catch up on my writing every evening.

But she got me thinking. I've never been a great time manager. I set up schedules that make perfect sense on paper, but I can't implement in my life. And December is going to be a mess, with 11 signings in one month. Plus my day job. Plus my family. I know they're really going to feel like they're getting the short end of the stick by New Year's.

I had the brilliant idea to just take one kid with me to each signing, save the one I did yesterday. 5 kids, 10 signings, that's 2 signings per kid. And they'd get one on one time with me. Wouldn't that be great?

But reality set in, and I thought, "What if the stores find it incredibly unprofessional that I bring my kids along to book signings?" Nix that idea. I HAVE to make a good impression--I'm a newbie. And I want to be invited back. A lot. :)

I try to equate it to them like this: the more books I sell, the less I'll have to babysit. As it is, I bring in less than $200/wk. If I can make that up in signing and speaking engagements, then I won't have to work and I'll have more time to write.

Of course, you know that when I say I won't have to work, I mean at another job. The being an author thing is a job. So, when you think about it, I'm working two jobs right now. Kinda stinks. But we all do what we have to do. This writing thing is my dream; it's what fulfills me inside. I love the kids I look after, but it's not where my heart is. If that makes sense.

Life is fun, no? :)

Wow. Just Wow.

2010-11-25T09:07:00.001-08:00

I did promise, before you saw me again, I will have seen Tangled. And I did. I could have posted last night, but family things prevented me from doing so.

Go see Tangled. It is awesome. You will love it.

I had the greatest time yesterday seeing that movie. Seriously, I could have sat through it twice if the kids hadn't demanded their dinner. Ya, I know. We do have to prioritize.

Disney seems to have mastered animated hair. While I've wanted them to do this movie for years, now I'm glad they waited for technology to catch up. Seriously, Rapunzel's hair is at least one other character. Maybe two, it's so long. But it flows like hair. Flynn Rider's hair falls like hair. It's just amazing. And I love the freckles across the bridge of Rapunzel's nose. Makes her cute; matches her personality.

I won't give away the secret of Flynn's name. But I will say, in my family, we appreciated the truth more than some other people might.

I have shamelessly stolen these pics to use on my post, but the credit for them belongs, of course, to Disney. There, so no one thinks otherwise. Like I can draw like that. :)

I wanna see this so much!

2010-11-17T18:13:00.000-08:00

When I was little, I adored the Disney princesses. I loved Sleeping Beauty, but didn't have a copy, so I watched Cinderella until I could recite the entire movie word for word. Sadly, I still can, lol.

But, I always had two favorite fairy tale princesses that I hoped and wished they would do a movie about. One is The Goose Girl, which author Shannon Hale immortalized in her wonderful book of the same name. The other princess I loved--Rapunzel. When Disney moved away from making princess movies, I thought I'd never see that dream realized.

Until now.

Check out my new favorite movie HERE. And it doesn't even come out until next week.

I promise you, before I post again, I will have seen this movie.

I'm going to see this one before Harry Potter.

Almost makes me feel like a little girl again. :)

Family

2010-11-10T06:44:00.000-08:00

I've been fasting and praying for the people in my family who most need it. Sunday was rough, though, as it was a regularly scheduled Fast Sunday--I had Bryan and two of the kids on my fasting team. But, fasting, praying and going to church meant all my emotions were just barely beneath the surface.

I barely made it. Actually, we left church early. But I tell myself it's because I had a sick child at home with only his twin brother for company.

Really, I knew they were okay. But it was either go home early or go up to the pulpit and blurt out things that aren't mine to tell. Secrets are horrible things.

I'm serious. Secrets are deadly to the soul--an inner poison. The things you never tell do some of the worst damage to your spirit. My author blog this week is full of confession in story form. Painful things I don't talk about. Next week will be more of the same.

I've been taken into confidence many times in my life. Always with the idea that if I tell people what I know, especially the people who need to know, I'll do more harm than good. So I try to protect those I love.

Recent events have reminded me of another incident years ago, something that I believe someone specific should know. But I've left it up to the person it happened to to tell him, and I don't know if she ever did. Really, it's not my business. Except I was brought into the secret by someone who felt I needed to understand the gravity of the situation.

Getting outsider feedback can be vitally important, yet we still cling to secrecy. Ever heard "You can't see the forest for the trees?" Possibly you're in too deep to be objective. We are not infallible, none of us.

But all of this makes me a hypocrite. Why? Because, years ago, I asked this question:

"She's adjusted really well so far. Wouldn't it hurt her far more in the long run to find out everything she thought she knew was a lie?"

Don't worry. I'll be okay. I have God on my side. And He's really good to me. :)

Well, it Hurts

2010-11-03T06:02:00.000-07:00

I'm going to pour my heart out, and if it doesn't make sense, I'm sorry. There's things going on right now that I can't talk about, but the worry and despair is eating at me. And if I don't get to regurgitate some of this mess somewhere, I may explode.

First off, everything's fine at home. Well, fine as it can be. We've got our issues, but Bryan and I are solid, and the kids are great. God knows I love my kids. They are the best kids anywhere. I'm so grateful for them.

As many of you know, Bryan's mom's health continues to decline. We're kind of in the waiting phase. I hate the waiting phase. It feels so macabre to plan what you're going to do in the event of the death of a loved one.

But right now, with my whole heart, I wish it was only her death I was anticipating.

Have you ever lamented keeping your silence? I mean, really. Something will happen, and it seems small at the time, but you know how hindsight is always 20/20 and, looking back, you see how asserting your belief could have made a difference. Why do we keep silent? Is it fear? Probably, most of it. We're human, and we fear being disagreed with, or mocked, because of what be believe.

The worst kind of shocks come when everything seems to be going well. But we all know how that feels. And, it seems like, the better things are the worse the hit is when it comes.

So, right now I'm anticipating my first novel this December, going around and preselling the book, talking to ppl about it, feeling pretty on top of the world in some respects.

You can imagine how hard the hit was, and still is. (Don't worry--everything's still on track with the book as far as I know. This is a personal hit)

I ache for those I love who are affected. I'm fasting and constantly praying for them. I'm scared out of my mind I'll get that phone call. And I hate feeling afraid.

In short, I'm a mess. And only God can fix it.

Declaration

2010-10-27T09:02:00.001-07:00

This post is more for me than any of you reading it. Not that there are a great many of you, but that's cool. Right now I don't need a huge audience. :)

I've spent the last year and a half being really, really lazy. I know I can throw out all those fun excuses like babysitting, having kids at home, spending lots of time in front of the computer. Let's face it: Being an asthmatic writer allergic to most things that grow doesn't exactly make me a prime candidate for physical fitness.

But, see, I went to the doctor a couple weeks ago and got some really disturbing news. Without going into details, here's the thing:

I weigh more now than I ever did while pregnant--and remember I had twins.

I weigh 75 lbs more than I did 20 yrs ago.

I weigh 50 lbs more than I should. Ick.

I'm not a dieter. I watched my mom diet most of my life, and it doesn't really work. This is my plan. I will eat better (not necessarily less because it's not quantity that's my issue) and move more. This is going to take time. It's not one of those commercials where you see this gorgeous woman in a bikini who says she lost 50 lbs in 12 weeks, or whatever. I'm not crash dieting, and I can't suddenly let physical fitness take over my entire schedule, or my life. At this point, I'm not even in charge of what food we have available in the house to eat. And I certainly don't have the money to purchase those meal plans.

This is a slow process. I'm only going to weigh myself when I go to the doctor, so I don't become a slave to the scale. It may be months before I post any kind of progress. I've been doing a lot of sitting and very little moving, so it's going to take some time for my body to get the idea that we're moving more. Again, it's slow going.

But I'm doing it. I'm tired of being tired all the time. I'm tired of being sick all the time. And I know the things that will drastically improve my state of being.

Now I'm committed to doing them. Wish me luck. :)

Mommy Musings

2010-10-20T08:14:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days where you can't function because your kitchen was a mess? That was me yesterday. Seriously, I can walk over a carpet that needs cleaning, ignore the clean clothes piling up to be put away, but if the kitchen is full of dirty dishes and the counter is a mess--forget it. I can't think of anything else.

But hand washing dishes is therapeutic, in its way. Even if I still hate it.

Kind of reminds me of being a mom. Some days, one issue looms over me and completely obscures my vision. Last week it was my oldest son's grades. This week, so far, it's been the middle daughter's math assignments.

You know, if I was Supermom, I'd totally home school my kids. Because if I was Supermom, I could afford to take them to gymnastics, dance, scouts, and sports so they could relate to other people and forge the necessary social connections that get us by in this world--so I wouldn't be raising a bunch of hermits. I'm probably over thinking that. Honestly, my kids are just social creatures and love to interact with others.

But, in home schooling, I could give them the challenges they need, stand over them so they'd do their work, and give them that individualized attention that teachers with over 20 kids in their classes can't give. But, if I'm standing over them making sure they're doing their work, how do they learn good study habits?

Sorry. School irks me in so many ways. I believe the system is broken, but so many of us don't have options to work to fix it. I have the utmost respect for teachers. I simply have issues with the way things are run. But that's me.

Ok, rant over. Back to your daily lives, people. :)

This Time it Should Stick

2010-10-13T07:49:00.001-07:00

As part of my renewed blogging agenda, I'm returning every Wednesday to post something new and--hopefully--of interest to you all. If you scroll down to my last post you can see how long it's been, so once a week is a HUGE improvement.

This year, all 5 of my kids are in school all day long. But, don't forget, I have plenty to keep me busy. I babysit during the day, and write when I get the chance. I still love the little mental image of the stay-at-home mom who sits around eating chocolates all day and watching TV. That is SO not what really happens. Just the same, I love having my kids in school without having to make two extra trips there and back every day for a kindergartner.

Hubby is still working. After spending the entire month of August at LAX, he has a new appreciation for our little SLC International Airport. And he's glad to be home. His birthday is next week, and I've planned a few fun surprises. It's a really good thing I got his gift several months ago, though I have to say keeping the secret has been excruciating! Next Wednesday is his actual birthday, so I can spill the beans then.

Have a great week!

Kicking and Screaming

2010-07-22T12:38:00.000-07:00

But not literally. It wouldn't be dignified. And it sets a bad example for the children. ;)

This week--aside from the birthdays Monday and Friday--is a flurry of last minute wardrobe checks, voice practices and studying. Why? Because the ENTIRE FAMILY is speaking in church this Sunday. And the kids are singing.

Like how I got out of that? Yeah, I'm pretty proud of myself.

Next week will be a different kind of flurry. And not necessarily a happy one. Because on August 1, my husband is flying to LA for a month to work.

And I haven't told the kids yet. I know; I'm a coward. Really I don't want to put a damper on their speaking engagement Sunday, or my daughter's birthday tomorrow. So we'll tell them Sunday night or Monday.

I'm going to miss him. I hate that he's leaving, even though financially it will be very good for us. And it's not like we haven't done this before.

So, you might ask, what's the problem?

Bryan and I function as parents very, very well when we're together. Alone, either of us is about 30 percent effective. I don't know what causes the drop, but honestly, it's true.

Many of you may not know, but I started out my marriage like this. By the time I was pregnant with Brandon, Bryan was gone for sometimes weeks with his job. Then he joined the over the road crew when the twins were babies, and for most of their first year was in Wyoming for 3 weeks of every month--and home for 6 days. No kidding. He quit because the boys hardly recognized him when he'd come home, and it broke his heart.

When we moved to UT, Bryan was still driving. So he was gone a lot. But I love the big lug, and none of this experience has made it any easier to let him go for a month.

And I have to the the grown up, mature one about it. Smile, nod, hug, and let him go.

I hate being mature.

But, you know I'll do it. Because it's what's best. And, hopefully, this will be the last time.

Learning from Simple Moments

2010-07-03T09:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, on a whim, I took the kids to our city pool. Though some of them have gone there on field trips, and my oldest took his swimming lessons there--I've never gone. This is partly due to the fact that, up until a couple months ago, most of my kids were afraid of the water and couldn't swim.

A little background. I love swimming. I grew up in AZ and, even though we didn't have a pool, I had ready access to other pools. I swam a lot. In fact, I was swimming the day my dad died. But I digress. Seriously, I love the water. I love swimming. And I miss it.

We're going to skip over my pathetically out of shape form and my equally pathetic swimsuit and get right to the fun part. The kids about raised the roof when I told them we were going to the pool. It cost us $10 to get in, but I think I can manage that a couple times a month. It's really worth it.

The pool is actually 3 pools. They have the baby pool, which is at it's deepest about 2 ft. They have the current pool, which is actually where we spent most of our time. At it's deepest it's about 3.5 feet, but has a fun current you can laze away in or a water slide.

And that's where I got stuck. Oh, my goodness. I LOVED the slide!

See, I'm one of those people who learned pretty early on that mortality touches everyone. In short, everyone dies. And it could come at any time. And as part of a financially impaired (like the PC there lol) family growing up, I didn't have a ton of opportunities to do crazy, fun stuff. I did my share, but they didn't involve heights, water slides, or upside down roller coasters.

And I hate heights. Seriously. Hate. Them. I freak out when my husband tries to put me on his shoulders, and he's only 6'2".

But about five years ago, I was faced with a choice. And I realized that, for my kids, I have to take risks. I don't want them to grow up with my silly fears. And I don't want to be the mom who "doesn't do that." More, though, I don't want my fears to influence their thinking.

So I rode the upside down roller coaster. With my eyes shut. Screaming the whole time. And had a blast.

Back to the water slide. I kept my eyes on the steps in front of me going up, and didn't think overly hard about the height. The slide itself curves, so you can't really see how high you are. Easy peasy. And I had my 6 yr old with me. I can't let her see my fear, or she might decide to be afraid. We sat down, and launched ourselves into the slide.

And we had a blast. And went back. Again. And again. And again. :)

If you've ever been to Lagoon Park in Farmington, UT, you know about every year they add a new ride. When I took my son as a reward for reading 10,000 minutes last year, the newest ride was Wicked. If you don't know, they launch you almost straight up, take you over this tiny hump, and then drop you straight down. Then you go around the rest of the track.

My chest gets tight just thinking about it. But, with my son, I did it. I was scared his thin frame might shoot out of the restraints the whole time, but we survived.

At it's most base level, I know why I do these things that scare me. It's noble and all that I want my kids to live uninfluenced by my irrational fears, but it's deeper than that.

I refuse to be ruled by my fears. I will not live a life of fear.

And, in the meantime, I get to have some serious fun with my kids at the pool.

I've Got a Great Man

2010-06-28T14:39:00.000-07:00

And he's not even here to defend himself!

I've got a lot of respect for a man who fulfills his commitments. That doesn't make him perfect, but it does make it easier to overlook the little annoying things he may do. And I've got one of those men.

Bryan was divorced just a couple weeks after I met him. That's nearly 15 yrs ago. In May, his daughter, who turned 18 last fall, graduated high school. That heralded the end of his child support obligation. He didn't have a perfect record, especially in those early years, of being current or always on time, but he did catch up on all those payments and has been current ever since.

He called the state offices back in February to see what had to be done to make sure the deductions from his paycheck stopped at the right time, and was told he didn't have to do anything. It was in the computer and would stop on time.

But Bryan works for the Federal Gov't. Sad. They need a specific form from AZ in order to stop deducting the amount from his pay. And guess what? AZ didn't send them the order to desist. Last week, Bryan got a check in the mail for the amount of child support taken from his check.

That's right, people. AZ is receiving money from Bryan's TSA checks and issuing it, in check form, to him. And mailing it to him.

Dollar signs of indignation are going off in my head. Imagine the money wasted by the state of AZ child support enforcement division because of this. I can't imagine this is the only time it's happened. The obligation to pay has ended, but the money keeps being taken from the checks and sent to AZ. They don't send it to the payee, since the obligation has ended, so they issue a check that is mailed back to the payer. Now multiply that by 50 states. Insanity, thy name is gov't.

Okay, so it's a downer for us, too. It's nice when an obligation is done to be able to close the mental file and have it be over. Now we have to wait. And since Bryan is camping this weekend, he's going to have to wait to make his phone calls and try to get the wheels squeaking along next week. Sigh.

Oh, and the only way he can contact his particular caseworker directly is via fax. They won't give out her phone number because of the propensity some paying fathers have to be belligerent.

Rant over. I just had to get that out somewhere. I understand the need for the noncustodial parent to help pay for their child's needs. I may have mentioned it, but my parents divorced when I was 4 and my mom's biggest complaint was my dad never paid or didn't pay it all. And I know there are a ton of deadbeat dads out there, and that we're all lucky to have been in this situation and have it work out so well.

But now I'm ready for it to be over.

And this blog background may need to be changed. I reminds me of chocolate and makes me hungry. ;)

Peek A Boo

2010-06-11T05:37:00.000-07:00

I don't make it on to this blog like I know I should. There's something off in the balance, because I'm a mother first and foremost. I could claim that, between my two jobs and Mommy-ing, I don't have time to blog about it--but the truth is I've been kind of dry on topics. Sometimes it's hard to see from the trenches. :)

At the end of May, we took a family trip down to Phoenix to see my stepdaughter graduate high school. AMAZING. Oh, and the ceremony was good too. Seriously, though, that girl just rocks my world. I was not so driven and motivated at her age. I felt lucky just to have survived that long. But she's got a plan, and great grades, and scholarships--the world is literally at her feet. And she's gorgeous to boot. I'm so proud of her, and so happy for her.

On the same trip, we met up with Papa and sent my number 2 son with him to Oklahoma for a visit. This kid is in HEAVEN being spoiled by his grandparents. I'm pretty sure they're having a good time, too. I love all my kids, but this one has a special way about him. He's so gentle and caring and compassionate I know he's not just mooching their attention and not giving anything back. And he was so excited Sunday when we called him and I said we'd call him every Sunday. I like knowing we made the right choice. He was supposed to go last year to visit, but I just don't think he was emotionally ready. This year it's working out great.

My youngest also graduated kindergarten this year. She's now bragging to everyone that she's a first grader. Her teacher didn't have enough room for all the nice things she had to say about her. What a fun way to wrap up my procession of children. (remind of that when she's 12 and driving me crazy lol)

And, even though I get next to nothing done writing-wise, I do love summer. I love having the kids out of school, if only so I can appreciate it that much more when they go back. Kidding. I think. This August, all 5 of them will be in school all day long. Supposedly that will free up time during the day for me to write--but since I still have the day care baby and her terrible two's, maybe not.

My remaining twin is coping well with his brother being in Oklahoma. He sometimes has that lost look about him, like he's missing an arm or half his brain, but most of the time he behaves like himself. I hesitate to say normally--that's such a loaded word.

And my other daughter, of course, is still a challenge to decipher. Today she wants to be a rock star and perform for her new friends, even though yesterday she freaked out when the boy downstairs told her he likes her. I just looked at her and said, "What do you expect? You're adorable. It's going to happen." So she shrugged and decided to be okay with it. Later she told me it's tough being the friend of a boy, because everyone else thinks he's your boyfriend. Sigh. I remember that all too well.

My oldest son is the topic of my Tooele Mommies blog post today. He's all fired up to be an 8th grader, and didn't hesitate to point out when he's a freshman in high school his big sister will be a sophomore in college. Yes, son--I know you're growing up. I still remember you when you were tiny, so don't push it. :)

Oh, and I got to see a movie this week! You probably have no idea how rare that is. My mom took me to see, of all things, Shrek Ever After. Cute, and a nice tie up of the series. Hopefully they won't push their luck and try to do another one.

Creativity and Motherhood

2010-05-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

I believe, passionately, that everyone has at least one talent. Discovering that talent should be a priority in all our lives.

Now it's also true that some people seem to have MANY talents. Sometimes I think that I come across that way. But the truth is, I only have the one talent. Creativity. It manifests in different ways--drawing (which I hardly do anymore), writing, baking, sewing, taking pictures--but it is essentially a single talent.

Fortunately, creativity is a talent that serves me well in my role as a mother. But there's difficulty making time to exercise my creativity in healthy outlets. The primary outlet I've chosen, because I can do the most good with it, is writing. Occasionally I will let myself believe what others have said about my skills. Most of the time I deflect compliments because they make me uncomfortable. But the truth is, there are a LOT of talented, creative authors out there. Which is a good thing, since variety is the spice of life.

But having an overabundance of creativity often clashes with my duties as a wife, mother and day care provider. Not that I can really call watching one toddler a day care. But I have enough experience with children to confidently call myself a professional. That's another story.

Here's an example of what happens when I don't exercise my writing demons frequently enough: Yesterday I showed up early to pick up my kids from school. I chose to use the time to relax, and parked under a shade tree at the nearby church, turned on my iPod and played Pyramid Solitaire while listening to music.

After a few minutes, a white car pulled into the parking lot. It drove all the way to the back of the lot and sat there for ten minutes. During those ten minutes, my imagination took me on a wild ride where the occupants of the car fight, one shoots the other and dumps the body, then drives by my van on the way out and fires some shots at me. What would I do if I was suddenly a witness to murder? How would I protect myself and my family if the murderer came after me? It went on from there.

Remember, all that white car did was drive into the parking lot and sit there for a bit before pulling out again. In reality, not much different than what I did. But my mind ran with it.

The other problem I have is turning off my brain long enough to fall asleep. Did you know that insomnia is defined as an inability to fall asleep within 15 minutes of starting to try to sleep more frequently than once or twice a month? Guess what--I'm an insomniac. Why? Because it takes me no less than 45 min to 2 hours to fall asleep EVERY NIGHT. And it doesn't matter if I go to bed at midnight or 9pm. It's the same thing. Lately I turn on my iPod and listen to music and play games until my eyes refuse to stay open. It actually works, though it does mean if I want to go to sleep around 11 I have to start my ritual around 10.

Otherwise I'll just lay there, going over story scenarios and scenes and plots from my existing stories forever.

Here's where I'm lucky. My kids and hubby are universally supportive of my writing. My kids even pray I'll get published, which is what I credit for my current publishing contract. Once I was under contract, my youngest started to pray that I'd be published "all the way," which to her means a book in hand. Gotta love that kid.

It's great to be able to be myself in my little family, and have them love me anyway. I'm blessed, and I'm grateful.

Now I can spell it.

2010-04-21T20:16:00.000-07:00

I t. See, I spelled it. K, end of post.

Kidding.

Here's the word I learned to spell: epinephrine. Had to look it up and everything. Why? Well, I figured if something was going to be injected into my body, I should at least know how to spell it.

I know what you're thinking. Why? Why did I have my little brush with epinephrine? As it turns out, I'm allergic to Avelox--the antibiotic. I was on it for an ear infection a month ago, right in the middle of our move. Toward the end of my 10 days on the medication, I broke out in uncomfortable hives all over my body. But I attributed it to stress. I mean, there was tons of stress at the time--it made sense.

So yesterday I went back to the doctor because I was miserable with congestion and sinus pain. I'd tried to ignore it, thought it was allergies, but the pain won out. He asked me, as he always does, what works best. I told him what he gave me last time. So he wrote me a prescription for Avelox and sent it over to the pharmacy to be filled.

I had some running around to do, so I didn't pick up my prescription until lunchtime, and didn't take it until after I took my youngest to school. My hubby woke up and rejoined the world of the living, and I sat down to finish reading a book for a blog review.

The first thing I noticed was that I started getting hot. I asked Bryan to check my skin and see if I felt warm. He told me I did, and that my neck looked red. I went back to my reading. After a while, my discomfort increased so I took some ibuprofin and hoped it would take down my fever. Except I noticed that the creases of my arms were red. And my wrists. And my lips felt funny.

So I got up and took a look at myself in the mirror. Not only was my neck red, but the red stripe went all the way up my face to my forehead, and my lips were swollen. I'd also started to itch. Bryan took a look at me and exclaimed about the redness that was now obviously everywhere.

I called the doctor's office to report that I seemed to be allergic to the antibiotic. I remembered the previous rash that I had attributed to stress and told them about it. The receptionist said she'd let the doctor know, and that she'd call me back. When she called back, we'd already decided I should go in and were halfway there.

The saddest thing was that I had to wake up the baby I was tending from her nap. It took her a solid hour to wake up and start jabbering again.

I took some Benadryl before we hurried out the door, so it had started to work before we got there. By the time I walked into the doctor's office, I looked like a puffy lobster. Redness everywhere. And boy had it started to itch.

The doctor ordered a half dose of epinephrine, which was probably for the best. My heart started to race and pound; my hands started to shake. My teeth started chattering. We sat there for nearly a half hour so they could monitor me, check my pulse rate--basically make sure I wasn't going to have some horrible reaction. The redness started to fade. My heart rate slowed down to passable, and I started to feel the tiredness that always comes when I take Benadryl.

Crisis averted.

Bryan took me home and then went to do my afternoon running around--dropping kids off, picking kids up. I stayed home, got a little cold, and put a blanket over my legs. I kept my feet uncovered--the doctor had warned me not to get too hot or too cold, or I could aggravate the rash and make it come back. He's a smart guy.

By the time Bryan got back with our kids, my feet and lower legs were striped with red. We applied cool towels, until the rash heated them up--then we cooled them again and reapplied. The redness started to fade, so Bryan stopped worrying so much. I scared him. I kinda scared myself.

I drove myself to the pharmacy that night to pick up my new prescription. Ceflex. I've taken it before, but still. I kinda held my breath when I took my first dose this morning.

I did convince him to go to work that night. He called me at 2am to make sure I was taking my next dose of Benadryl. Today, I still kinda feel like I was run over by a truck, but at least I haven't broken out in any rashes. Hopefully, by the time Friday rolls around and I go off to Provo for the Storymakers conference, I'll be able to keep up.

After a near 2 week hiatus...

2010-04-18T18:35:00.000-07:00

I'm back. I hope.

On my AUTHOR BLOG, I'm participating in an A-Z Blog Challenge for the month of April. Coming up with a creative, letter related blog post for every day of the month aside from Sundays leaves me drained.

But I had to share something my kid said today. And I quote, How can I possibly count all my blessings? That's impossible!

Okay, maybe paraphrase. But the point is the same. Cute kid.

Hey, this looks like my home

2010-04-05T20:45:00.000-07:00

I spent nearly all of Saturday unpacking and organizing my living room. I also did the kitchen and both bathrooms--mainly because I was sick of not knowing where anything was when I needed it. Why did I do this?

I was sick of walking through boxes. I was tired of everything I looked at reminding me of moving. And I really needed the living room put together for Easter and for today, when I started babysitting again. Can you imagine trying to find a 22 month old in a sea of boxes?

But, the good thing is it's starting to look like home. And it helps to bring home the fact that--no matter where we live--we are a family. Pretty soon I'll start hanging pictures.

But first I have to finish unpacking my bedroom. That's kind of a cosmic joke at the moment. :)

Lost in the Shuffle

2010-03-18T10:10:00.000-07:00

My poor little mommy blog. Have I been ignoring you? Aww, sorry.

It's a really good feeling to know we now have a place to move our family. We signed the contract yesterday on a cute upstairs half of a duplex with enough room for everyone, at least in the short term. I can't imagine three teenage boys and two preteen girls fitting in there very well, but for now it will be fine.

I was even thinking this morning about the things I could start moving in and setting up.

Of course, hubby and I both had to get sick this week, so we're about three days behind on our packing. We decided yesterday to wait to move in until the 27th to give ourselves time to get better and get our packing back on track. My poor, sick body just gets tired at the thought.

Tonight is my writers' meeting. That will be a nice diversion. I haven't had time this week to do any writing, what with being miserable and still having home and family to care for. Self imposed deadlines loom in my mind. But, first things first.

Let's get moved.

What doesn't kill us...

2010-02-28T17:20:00.000-08:00

...can only make us stronger.

I don't get attached to places. I do, however, get attached to people. And I hate having to tell my friends that we're going to have to move.

The problem is, we've moved so often, I've left what feels like a trail of friends across the nation. Some I'm better at keeping in contact with than others. Some I have to keep in contact with because we're family.

I've done a lot of growing these past 4 years. I've opened up to more people, and let more people in. I've created my persona as an author, and networked with some of the best people I've ever met.

And now that I've firmly entrenched myself in the community of Tooele, UT--we have to leave our house.

This isn't something people advertise. The economy isn't perfect, but truth be told if we'd planned our family finances better we'd have been able to weather the changes. I take my share of responsibility in our turn of personal events. It's only right. Last night my husband apologized to me for letting this happen. I told him to stop it. We got into this mess together and we'll get out of it together.

After all, the only thing constant about life is change.

Having said all that, I want to stay in Tooele. First and foremost the kids have a great school that they're all really responding to--you can't find that just anywhere. Secondly, I've committed to being the Tooele Writers Group Chapter president for two years. I'm not going to form the group and then bail on them. That's not right. Thirdly, this is a great little town. Sure, I'd often love to be closer to a wider variety of shopping options, but it's not like I'm rolling in dough and need to shop all the time. It helps me budget.

I'm not going to pretend there aren't pulls in all worlds of directions. I have family and friends in places like Arizona, Alaska and Oklahoma that pull hard on my heart. And even a short jump over the mountains that separate Tooele from the rest of the Wasatch Front would greatly increase my ability to network as an author. It would make all those author-related workshops, conferences and signings that much easier to budget both financially and time-wise.

What will play the biggest part in our decision, aside from those things mentioned above, are the cost and size of housing we can get and the distance to the airport, where my husband works. After all, the less we have to pay in commuting costs and wear and tear on our vehicle are of primary concern, as is just how many people you can legally cram into a rental--since we aren't exactly a petite family.

Like we told the kids last night, we have two choices. We can choose to look upon this as our next great family adventure, or as the worst thing that's ever happened to us.

I love having options.

I finally got back

2010-02-22T19:52:00.000-08:00

Last week sort of vanished from my world. Not entirely, I mean, I remember snatches, but really most of it is a blur. That can happen when your child has surgery, even minor surgery.

We've had our share. When Jeffrey was 10 months old he had the abdominal surgery that saved his life. (for years he said it saved his "wife" lol) He doesn't have an appendix, but otherwise he made a full recovery.

In October of 2006, I had my nose surgery. In Feb of 2007, on Valentine's Day, my twins had their tonsils and adenoids taken out. The next month, it was their sister's turn. After that, the youngest had her turn. Brandon is the only one who hasn't been under the knife.

Daniel took a nasty fall out of his top bunk around Thanksgiving 2006. Aside from the concussion, the blackout and all that great stuff, he also mashed the cartilage inside his nose. They tried to fix it the same time they did his tonsils, but he freaked out post-op so they had to take all the packing out of his nose and the fix didn't take. We knew we'd have to get him in again to get it fixed, but, like everyone else, our finances kinda tanked.

Well, we finally did it. My mom pushed a little to get us to get him in while she was externing with the surgeon's office. Financially we should have put it off a little while longer, but Daniel really needed the procedure. The poor kid couldn't breathe out his nose, which leads to all other kinds of problems. And it had been going on for almost three years. Yeah, I'm a great mom aren't I?

He had the surgery Mon Feb 15th. Gah. The kids had the day off, of course, but I didn't. So last week I took care of Daniel, slept in the living room with him, and still did all the regular mom and work stuff I always do. That's the mom's job. It's what we do.

But, it's kind of exhausting. Tuesday night, he freaked out and pulled out his packing. Wednesday the doctor made a special trip into the office to help us out. By Friday, he was feeling pretty good. No more medicine. He was talking and acting as normal as possible with a bandage across his nose.

Oh, and Thursday night I hosted an author's meeting in my home. Yeah, I know. But it went really well.

Friday I pretty much crashed. Hung out in my jammies until mid-afternoon. Even taking the kids to school that way. Good thing I didn't have to get out of the car. I literally got nothing done. The kids ate leftovers from the fridge for dinner and I slept nearly all night long, but still on the couch.

Things are pretty much back to normal today. Daniel went back to school. His nose is no longer leaking ridiculously. I slept in my own bed last night, finally. And it feels pretty good. In fact, I think I'll head back there when I'm done here.

But I wanted to leave you with one thing. Thursday night, as we bedded down for the night, Daniel in the recliner (that broke Saturday--timing) and me on the couch, he said one simple sentence that made my mommy heart swell.

"Mommy, thank you for taking care of me after surgery."

Anytime, kiddo. Anytime.

Valentine's Day

2010-02-11T08:43:00.000-08:00

This holiday and I have a long, bloody love-hate relationship. I don't see the need for it. I don't need a "special" day to tell my loved ones how I feel. And let's not even get into the pressure put on us to send cards, buy gifts or otherwise bankrupt ourselves so our main squeeze can understand how much we love them. Grr.

Did you know Saint Valentine was martyred? And we're celebrating this? I don't get it.

You can read a little about my feelings for the so-called holiday HERE on Associated Content. I don't post there much anymore, but I put this up last year. Somewhere in my teen journals I wrote about February 13th and 14th, and my observations of myself and my friends at school. This included getting elbowed in the eye when my friend tried frantically to save a dozen falling roses given to her by her boyfriend.

When so much emphasis is put on relationships and love, I feel bad for the people I love who are not in a relationship. I have a single brother, a single brother-in-law who's even currently estranged from his kids, a divorced mom and a several single friends. Imagine how they feel to have their noses rubbed in their singularity every time they turn on the TV or computer. That's got to be tough.

I won't go so far as to schedule a Valentine's Day boycott--let each person celebrate as they see fit. You just won't see me in the pink and red aisles until Feb 15th, when all the candy and paper valentines are 50% off.

Ooookay...maybe it can all be Sunshine and Puppy Dogs

2010-02-06T19:24:00.001-08:00

I adore this beautiful child of mine. I truly do. After my previous post, admittedly written during extreme frustration and confusion, my adoring daughter has been the picture of wonderfulness. Is that even a word?

Regardless of my dubious vocabulary, she's been a gem. I admit this is mostly based on her own reports of her behavior, but she's done all her class work and all her homework, she's been cheery and pleasant. I rewarded her good behavior with a little personal time today, and even that was fun.

So, other things crept into my head. Is she bipolar? manic depressive? Multiple personalities? (No, wait, that's my son)

This is what happens when an author with a violently overactive imagination has children, by the way.

We had a dark moment, but it doesn't even bother me that much, because after reasoning her through her emotional overreaction (no I didn't call it that, she was crying her eyes out because she wasn't going to the sitter's. I consider that an emotional overreaction) she was just fine. That's improvement. Last week a similar episode would have put her in a dark funk for days.

What happened to cause this change in her, you may ask? Well, we had a talk. Her daddy and I sat her down and told her we've been trying to think of some way to help her be more even tempered, do better in school and not be so hard on herself. One of the options we've considered is sending her to her aunt and uncle's (who happen to live around the corner from Gramma and Papa)for an extended period of time to give her a different perspective of the world around her. She likes this idea. But now that she's being such a gem, I'm rethinking it. For many reasons.

Ah, the life of a parent. Just think--when I'm dead, maybe I'll stop worrying.

It can't all be Sunshine and Puppy Dogs

2010-02-01T08:07:00.000-08:00

It does not bode well to me that my 8 yr old daughter and I already have semi-epic clashes. We are two forces of will, but when we are at odds--watch out.

I love my girl. She's dynamic, independent and brilliant. She is also stubborn, intractable and devious. She'll get an idea in her head and nothing will shake it. While that superpower can be used for good, she doesn't always apply it like that.

And the thing that worries me most, sometimes she'll say things like she's stupid, ugly or worthless. And it's difficult to shake her from these funks when they set in.

This isn't about her being obedient. She doesn't have to do everything I say the way I say it. But she is giving her school teacher fits, and both her teacher and I are at our wits' end as to what to do about her.

Kindergarten was great. She loved it. But ever since first grade, she's decided if she doesn't want to do something she shouldn't have to do it. Nothing could be further from the truth, but my stubborn little girl is winning this battle. Now more than half way through third grade, the only reason she's passing anything is a combination of adult tenacity and her superior test scoring.

Girls are a mystery to me. And I am one. This daughter of mine confounds me more than most. She has a younger sister--sweet, loving, enthusiastic about school and success. That's not to say I expect her always to be that way. But I don't want her to follow in her stubborn older sister's footsteps.

It wouldn't upset me so much if I didn't love her to the ends of the earth and back. When raising children, you don't get to give up when it gets hard. You can't let up because you're out of options. So I'm going to keep plugging along. And I never stop looking for ideas on how to get through to her and help her to find her place in this world.

Today, I'm grateful

2010-01-21T06:08:00.000-08:00

I love my kids. I really do. But what's more, I like my kids. I appreciate my kids. They're spectacular people. For one, they put up with me. I'm not always the easiest person to get along with. (throw a little appreciation for the hubby in there too) But there's more to it than that.

I have somehow found myself in the middle of raising 5 polite, caring, compassionate human beings. The other day, my 12 yr old spoke of the feelings of others. He was telling me about one of his really good days--playing in the rain at the curb during a summer storm--and mentioned the part where an ambulance drove by. I know, like most males, he likes the large machines--trucks, trains, emergency vehicles that make noises--so I said, "That just would have made it better for you, wouldn't it?" to which he replied, "Maybe, but not so good for the people who needed the ambulance." My heart melted. I'm so easy. Compassion. What a kid.

My second son brought me his report card yesterday. We'd barely hit the road after picking them up from school when he announced his D in independent reading was because he failed to turn in his reading log for December. I'm actually very okay with that. For several reasons, I object to a school system "grading" a child on how much they read. I know he reads, I know he comprehends--I'm not worried about the grade. But that one thing brought low his entire reading grade, and his writing grade because they're connected. The rest of his report card was A's and B's. He gets Honors in citizenship. This is not the kid we worry about in school. But he's going over the report card with me and talking about how he can do better next time. Those C's are NOT okay with him. What a guy. This is the one who's wanted to be a doctor for the last 6 yrs.

I'm a very lucky mom, and I know it. In the interest of blog length, I'm not going to single out each child--but I know I've got good ones. It's been a rough week emotionally, especially on my Mother heart. My husband's friend lost his wife. I grieve for their 9 yr old daughter. A member of my niece's extended family made a heartbreaking choice two days ago, one that I know can't have been easy for her, but still makes me ache with sadness for the losses that resulted. This is the time where I squeeze my kids a little tighter, where I wax nostalgic about their babyhood gone by, and where I bask in gratitude for the people they are becoming.

Now back to work. :)

Miss Me, But Let Me Go

2010-01-17T11:43:00.000-08:00

This poem was written by Anonymous. Yeah, I know, she gets all the credit.

When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want to tears in a gloom-filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little-but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me-but let me go

For this is a journey that we all must take
And each must go alone.
It's all part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home

When you are lonely and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds
Miss me but let me go.

Rest in peace, Melissa Shepherd. May God cradle your family in His tender embrace.

Tripping down memory lane...

2010-01-15T18:22:00.000-08:00

I stumbled upon a chance to share my experiences in motherhood, and popped open my electronic journal to get inspired. Sigh. I had such cute little kids. And they said the darndest things. And did the dangdest things. This is going to be fun. :)

Here's to the New Year!

2010-01-03T14:41:00.000-08:00

I have never been one for New Year's resolutions. The first time I heard about the process, I was a depressed teenager with no real view of the future. So, let's just say I didn't greet the idea warmly.

This is where I got the idea to try setting goals instead. For those of you who don't know her, Josi Kilpack is an incredibly talented Utah author with an awesome wit. She simply rocks. You can find her at josikilpack.blogspot.com

So, for my 2010 goals:

1. Lose 10-30 lbs. I realize this is ambiguous. I could lose 10 and meet my goal, but honestly I'd be happier with 30. It's difficult to admit how lazy I've been this past year, but I went to the doctor in the fall and found I'd put on almost 20 lbs since my previous visit. Ouch. Time to kick it into gear.

2. Get a publishing contract for my book. I may be excruciatingly close to this as I type. But it's happening in 2010. The book is loads better now than it was back in 2007 when it got its first contract, so it shouldn't be that hard. I mean, from this point. It's been sheer hell so far.

3. Play more with my kids. My lovely, adoring, patient children need their mom back. I've spent a lot of time and energy working on my writing, polishing my books, etc. I need to do that, but I can't neglect my kids for it. Hubby and I are working on a plan for this. His goal is to be in a position so I don't have to work. I would then just write and concentrate on my family. I'd love to help him meet that goal. :)

4. Play more in general. I have a tendency to dive completely into something and forget to recharge with play and fun. It's taken me years to figure this out.

5. Focus on and attend 3-4 writer's conferences in 2010.

6. Read 40-50 books in 2010.

A lot of this post is author related, but in talking personal goals I felt it would be best to put it here. My writing career is intertwined with my home, family and motherhood. They are forever bonded.

Merry Christmas to All!

2009-12-22T10:57:00.001-08:00

Recently my husband, who works security at the airport, came across an interesting passenger flying out of Salt Lake City. As he stood at his post, items came along the moving belt that captured his notice. First a wide black belt, with a large, ornate buckle. Then a pair of tall, black boots. And last, a large red coat trimmed with white fur. The owner of these items had a bushy white beard and a twinkle in his eye.
It is difficult for children to believe in Santa. It seems like they lose their belief at a younger age now then in years past. Each one of my children has said this year that kids at school tell them Santa Claus does not exist, and my youngest is in kindergarten! But my children still believe. They believe in a generous heart, they believe in doing good works. They believe in being kind to others.
There is no harm in Santa Claus. The harm comes when we put receiving above giving, when we let ourselves get caught up in the next big gift item and make the packages under the tree more important than the true reason we celebrate Christmas in the first place. Essentially, it’s a matter of choice.
Last Sunday, on the way to church, one of my children announced he would like to do more Christmas shopping—just for fun. I pointed out that people seldom shop this time of year for fun; it’s fast becoming an Olympic worthy sport. So we talked about the shopping they had already done, and I reminded each of them Christmas is not about the gifts. “Why do we celebrate Christmas?” I asked. “Jesus’ birthday!” they chorused.
I believe in Santa. But I also believe he has many helpers all over the world who catch things one lone man may miss. After all, the spirit of service essentially means we look after one another—if our Heavenly Father and his Son are pleased by our assisting each other, surely Santa Claus can benefit from our sharing of the true spirit of Christmas. We are each a little warmer of heart when we consider the needs or wants of others, even in the smallest of ways.
And who’s to say Santa didn’t take a quick stop in Salt Lake City this year on his way back from vacation? My family and I would like to wish you all a joyous and generous holiday season.

Much love,
Cheri Chesley and Family

You don't have to play along, but...

2009-12-17T17:03:00.000-08:00

...I'm going to whine a little. I'm sick. No, it's not H1N1; just a regular old sinus infection that aggravates my usually dormant mono virus. I'm totally wiped out. As I lay here web surfing a little bit ago I thought of all the things I had to do today, and my body literally melded to the cushions. I felt heavy, like I suddenly weighed 100 lbs more than I do.

But, I'm the mom. I had things to do. Kids to corral. They were already getting into plenty of mischief with my being stuck to the couch. So I pulled myself up and out and got things going. Now, every hour and fifteen minutes I have to get my twins up to help me with the laundry. Someday, when we get the dryer fixed, we won't have to shlep our clothes next door and upstairs to my mom's apartment and back to use her dryer. It's almost 6PM and I just found out it's casual Friday at their school and nobody has clean clothes to wear that aren't what I call "Saturday clothes." You know, the full of holes and so worn you can almost see through it.

I'm still tired. I'm coughing and I do it more when I move around. My throat is raw and hurts each time I swallow, even water. But I don't get a chance to be sick. Life does not stop for the sick mom. Especially this time of year.

Is it bedtime yet?

With pleasure, there must also be a little pain

2009-12-09T15:27:00.000-08:00

Otherwise we wouldn't know how to appreciate what we have. If we live an easy-breezy life, how would be learn to recognize when stuff is really good?

But I'd like to caution against extremes. If you live a life of extreme hardship, you become conditioned to difficulty and you lose the simple joys that are possible every day. If you live in a life of no worries--ever--then you are painfully unprepared when something bad, even only a little bad, hits you.

I for one would very much like to experience a few ups to go with my downs. I think it would make me a better rounded person. Otherwise I'm turning to cheesecake to round me out. Kidding.

Believe it or not, there is an expectation of me in this world. I am the responsible one, the practical one, the level headed one. I'm the one someone would send in to a crisis to defuse and deflect. I don't feel particularly worthy of this label, but in moments of extreme clarity I'd have to admit its accuracy.

But get me in a group of girls and I become giggly, goofy, and loads of fun. At least that's what I'm told. Man, this is starting to sound arrogant isn't it? You can stop reading if you like.

I faced something in the past few days I did not expect. And it's what has captured my mind more than anything else that happened. Now I have to decide what, if anything, should be done about it. I'm tempted to believe this is one of those things that actually WOULD go away on it's own if I just ignored it.

It's officially December...

2009-12-01T20:40:00.000-08:00

...and I'm back. And I did it. I wrote my novel in a month for the National Novel Writing Month of November. Whoa. 50,820 words. It's not complete. I did write a beginning, middle, climax and ending but it's all kind of out of order and needs a lot of work. It's also the final installment of my series, so I finally know what happens from beginning to end. It will make the revisions so much easier.

Somehow my family survived. They were all remarkably helpful during this time.

I have work to do now. Our family is facing a huge crisis, or potential crisis, and right now we're fighting to keep things right. In the meantime, I'm taking a completely unrelated but also family-themed trip to Alaska.

You heard me. Alaska. In December. On purpose.

I'm excited to see my family. It's been a while. It will be so awesome. At the same time I'm apprehensive. I hate cold. I am not a fan of long flights. My legs desperately like to stretch. I don't have an easy time sitting through a movie. Now imagine that during a 5 hr flight. Sigh. I really hate coach.

Ok, honestly I'll be so glad when this week is over. When I wake up in my own bed Wednesday morning I will breathe again.

And then it's back to writing. Here's hoping my family will remain in tact while I'm gone.

Sudden Silence

2009-11-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

No, I actually have not been sick since my last post. I've been busy. Several things have crossed my mind to post, but I haven't had time. As mentioned in my other blog, through November I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). This is where insane people, usually with other people talking in their heads, sit down and pound out at least 50,000 (that's fifty thousand) words in 30 days. Seeing as I'm working my little fingers off doing that, I won't be posting much here.

Suffice it to say, my sons are still handsome and my daughters still beautiful. The youngest will continue to be precocious through the month of November. The oldest will still keep trying to wear my shoes. The twins will still be silly, and yet brilliant. Did I miss anyone?

See you in December.

I lost.

2009-10-25T15:44:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd get away with it. Last Friday I gave in, and thought I'd won. But no such luck.

No sooner had the kids gotten picked up Friday evening than my fever started. I went to church today, even though my husband begged me to stay home. But this afternoon the entire thing came crashing down on me.

I lost the fight. I'm sick.

You know that feeling when you stand up too fast and get dizzy? Well, for the first time I did that and experienced searing pain through my head. I couldn't get my balance and, for a moment, thought I just might lose my lunch. Ironically, I had just been considering whether or not I should try to get to the doctor's on Monday. Now I'm going for sure.

The 800mg of ibuprofen coursing through my system is the only reason I'm able to type this at all. I can't move my head very fast, so I'm not moving fast at all--if I have to move. I am taking a rare sick day tomorrow. There's no way we're having day care until I know for sure what I've got.

I hate being sick. Who has time for this?

Reflecting

2009-10-19T13:08:00.000-07:00

Twenty years ago, though that hardly seems possible, my mom got a phone call from her oldest son. Listening to her side of the conversation and watching her tears, I knew something horrible had happened. And it had. Their 17 month old son, Mitchel, had died during the night.

At 14, I was already well acquainted with death. My earliest memories are of my grandfather's and then my own father's funerals. But these were people older than me. Mitchel's death forced me to rethink my perspective. And it left a lasting impression on my that has affected many aspects of my life.

It is never easy to lose a child. But it happens. Just before my oldest turned 5, I miscarried a baby in my first trimester. I hadn't had the joy of feeling my baby move inside me. She was too small to conclusively identify her gender, and was sucked out of me through a tiny tube and disposed of in the hospital garbage. It's not delicate; I regret there couldn't have been a more reverent way of putting her body to rest. But I didn't have any options at the time.

If a mother miscarries, she can torture herself with the what ifs. She never got to hold her child, hear her child laugh, or even change a diaper. You regret what you miss. But losing a child who has already been born, has shown you their personality and cuddled with you, is a different kind of pain. I don't pretend to determine which is worse. They are different, but they both cut shafts of grief through a mother's heart.

We are fortunate as Latter Day Saints to have a clear understanding of the life after this life. We know losing our child is a temporary thing, and if we remain worthy we can be with them again. We can take comfort in the idea that our child was spared the pains of this world are are assured a place in the highest kingdom of heaven. It doesn't mean we don't grieve. But it does mean we don't have to dwell.

Because of Mitchel's death during my formative years, when I became a mother I found myself obsessive over my children while they slept. I'd check on them two or three times a night. And I wasn't satisfied to see they were there; I'd have to check to be sure they were still alive. I relaxed once they hit 18 months, because it had become a sort of milestone for me, a marking point. Then I'd only check on them once a night.

It's also had a positive effect. I treasure my children. I'm more conscious of the temporary nature of childhood and how quickly it's gone. I'm also acutely aware that we don't know what tomorrow will bring, and so I try to live my life with my children to the fullest. As far as I'm concerned, that's the only way to be.

The Weekend

2009-10-12T22:38:00.001-07:00

While I had a miserable weekend, part of my family was having the time of their lives. And sometimes I feel like I set the whole thing up.

Doubt me? Last year I signed us all up on Disneyland's website for the free park entry on each of our birthdays. I thought of the special, remarkable birthdays the kids were having this year and figured it would be a great way to see each of them remembered in a big way.

Of course, I didn't set out to have a miserable weekend. That was fallout. Oh well.

I wanted Bryan to have a really great time one on one with his oldest daughter for her 18th birthday Saturday. Rianne tagging along was a last minute idea--mine, too. Are we getting the idea I think to much? Turns out it was great. The three of them had a fantastic time and got to bond in ways they otherwise may have missed.

Dad got to share a great day with two of the most important girls in his life, not to mention they're his youngest and oldest children. The 5 yr old turns out to be an amazing, stupendous road tripper and handled the car time there and back with maturity that surpassed her age. I'm hoping the oldest had fun. Her texts made me think she did, and the pics Dad brought back sure makes it look that way.

What a wonderful memory they share, and what a day they will be able to look back on fondly as the years go on. I'm glad for them. I'm grateful it all worked out, and especially grateful to our financial benefactor, who loves his grandkids to pieces and wants only for them to get the most out of their lives.

Boy Blog!

2009-10-09T20:03:00.000-07:00

I probably don't talk about my sons as often as I talk about my daughters. That's easy--I know boys. I have 4 older brothers, 2 stepbrothers, my best friend growing up was a boy and a solid 75% of the kids I ever babysat were boys.

Boys are no mystery to me. My girls, on the other hand, intimidate me a little. They're so emotional. I don't know what they're thinking or how to follow their thought processes. AND I AM A GIRL!! It's frustrating, so I talk about it.

But, tonight, the one oft overlooked is weighing on my brain. This is my "middle son" Daniel. I put "middle son" in quotes because he's technically the younger (by 2 min) of my twins so officially he's my third born of 5, putting him smack dab in the center of our little family tree. The reason I call him the oft overlooked one is simple, I have 5 squeaky wheels and he's not one of them.

First, there's my stepdaughter. Because she lives in another state, anything she does gets extra recognition--phone calls, texts, emails, letters, visits, etc. Then there's my official first born, the one who lives here. He's my oldest child. He's my husband's first son. Add to that his learning issues and, you guessed it, extra attention.

Now we come to Jeffrey. Jeffrey is my heart. He is the child I almost lost, twice. Once as a baby when he had a digestive obstruction that was killing him until the doctors found and repaired it. And the second time happened when he wandered into the street--right in front of a car--at my sister in law's house. It was one of those moments where every other adult assumed someone else was watching the kids. We were even all out in the front yard together. Just as I looked up and thought, "where's Jeffrey?" I heard the car horn. Add to that Jeffrey's learning issues, health issues and intensely creative brain and it's safe to say he gets a whole lot of attention.

Then we come to our girls. Ignore Kylie--I dare you. After nearly 10 years of living without his daughter, my husband got another one and let me tell you he has made the most of it. She's so fixed in a princess mentality that we've been working since first grade to convince her she has to do the schoolwork--even if she doesn't want to. And none of the other kids have to do what she says just because. Don't get me wrong; she's actually a very sweet, loving child. But she's got a stubborn streak a mile wide and steel in her disposition. Don't know where she gets that from (whistles innocently).

Last, but certainly not least, is the baby, our newly minted 5 yr old. She's the last child; she's the youngest and she's a girl. Plus she's incredibly brilliant and her brain works like quicksilver. NOT. POSSIBLE. TO. OVERLOOK.

And we're back to Daniel. Brilliant, creative, fun, bubbly Daniel. He's helpful, cooperative and is absolutely any teacher's dream. This kid gets straight A's without trying. He offers opinions when asked, raises his hand, is exceptionally polite and quite intelligent. He's friendly too. And not remotely shy.

And, because of all those things, he probably gets the least attention in the house. Sad, isn't it? A couple of years ago, I noticed Daniel had become withdrawn and lost his enthusiasm for school. I knew he was bored in class. Though I appreciated the fact he did his classwork anyway, I knew it presented no challenge for him. But my mommy sense told me something else was going on. I knew he needed extra attention. He was falling through the cracks.

I had an inspired idea. We sent him to stay with his grandma and papa in Oklahoma for a month. He had a blast. (And came home too big for his clothes) He ate cheeseburgers, slept all morning, played video games and watched Spongebob till all hours of the night. He rode Papa's tricked out golf cart all over the yard. He went fishing with his Papa. He caught fireflies and toads. Little boy heaven.

It taught us all something. And I haven't forgotten. Sometimes the quiet wheel needs a little grease, too.

Reader, Beware!

2009-10-01T18:42:00.000-07:00

I'm going to get religious here for a bit, so if you don't want to get that intimate--stop reading now.

Ok, you asked for it. No apologies now.

I read a lengthy portion of Elizabeth's Smart's testimony of her treatment in the hands of Brian David Mitchell today. I have so much respect and empathy for that young woman. What she endured; her bravery--the times she tried to deny him. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, her family threatened, forced into a farce of a marriage and imprisoned for months. The fact that she's so whole now is a testament to her faith and the healing power of God.

Watch this girl. She's going to contribute something incredible to the kingdom of God. Maybe in little ways; maybe not. But let's break this down. For nine months, ironically the length of time it takes a child to grow in the womb, she was attacked on all fronts--physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. The man attacking her is so possessed by evil it has polluted every aspect of his mind. He's not insane or weak minded. He's cold, calculating and a sociopath. He used every device at his disposal to destroy her, to make her malleable and submissive. And it didn't work.

God protected her. I'm sure in those dark moments of despair she had to have doubted, had to have wondered why this had happened to her. An innocent child of 14 taken from everything familiar and abused in the worst ways. Yet the woman she has become is a testament to the healing power of faith, to the special gift of love of family and to the power of a loving God.

It may not have always seemed like it, Elizabeth, but God is with you. And He loves you. Serve well, my sister.

Little Things Mean A LOT

2009-09-25T12:07:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, my stepdaughter texted me a cryptic question. "What size shirt do you wear?" This week the question was, "How long does it take mail to get from here to there, or there to here?"

Thursday I received a package. In it was the shirt pictured on this blog.

It's probably not a huge deal to most people, but to me it meant that she really does know me. She doesn't know the detailed history I have with this movie, but she does know I like it. A LOT. And that works for me.

Labyrinth was the movie I best identified with as a child. The very first version of my book, The Peasant Queen, was heavily influenced by my love for that movie. Over time the story evolved until now the only remnant of the movie is my hero is named Jareth. (yeah, I know the bad guy in the movie has that name but I like it, and I liked him for the most part)

I love the movie. I love the shirt. And I love her. It's a good thing.

What do Moms do all day?

2009-09-23T08:10:00.000-07:00

A friend put this on Facebook and I had to share!

What do you do all day??

A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pyjamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and 20 wrappers strewn all around the front yard.

The door of his wife's car was open, and so the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog. Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall.

In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.

In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on
the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.

He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of
clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that
something serious had happened.

He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the
bathroom door.

As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys
strewn over the floor.

Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.

As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the
bed in her pyjamas, reading a novel.

She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.

He looked at her bewildered and asked, 'What happened here today?'

She again smiled and answered, 'You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?'

Yes,' was his incredulous reply.

She answered, 'Well, today I didn't do it.'

Send this page to a woman. This is Priceless.

Made it!

2009-09-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

Ok, I had my doubts at first but I did manage to survive the weekend. And I actually enjoyed myself, despite everything I missed back home.

Let's face it, we're hardwired for guilt as moms. And going away for the weekend when your child has something going on, even if it's to further your career or even if you can't get out of it, makes you feel like sludge. I'm so good at this I unintentionally punish myself. Sure, I'll go, but you can't make me like it. I'll actually "plan" to have a miserable time.

Before I left, and we're talking the 11th hour, I got some incredibly sage advice from someone who knows me better than I know myself. He told me to go and have a good time. Certainly I should be open to learning whatever comes along, but I shouldn't focus on learning so diligently that it prevents me from having fun. Does He know me or what?

I spent the hour and a half drive out there concentrating on relaxing my jaw. I'm amazed my teeth aren't all hopelessly cracked from the constant pressure they're under. I clench my teeth so much I don't even notice until I relax. It's pretty pathetic, but there you are.

The weekend was great. I had a fabulous time. I laughed. I talked to perfect strangers. I smiled at people I don't even know. And some I do know. I handed out my business card (mostly to show off my book cover, but oh well). And I did learn a thing or two--good stuff, important things that will make me a better author.

And now that I don't have to get up insanely early each morning, I know what to do with the extra time I have in the evenings.

ACK!!!

2009-09-14T20:17:00.000-07:00

My baby made it in the play!

Ironically, none of the other kids got a part, but the little 5 year old, the definition of "precocious" got a spot in the mini cast. My beautiful, caring, exuberant child is performing in her first community play this Saturday.

AND I'M GOING TO MISS IT??!!! WHAT KIND OF MOMMY AM I ANYWAY??!!!

This is one of those things I'm going to have to take day by day, play by ear, etc. I'll probably waffle back and forth half a dozen times between now and Saturday. I may stay through the Saturday banquet at Roundup, or I may cut out early so I can see the second performance at 7. I have to plan the drive into my timing and all, since Midway to Tooele isn't a short trip.

I want to see her on stage. As a mom, I know the video tape isn't going to be enough. Parents miss their kids' milestones because of distance, jobs, divorce, etc. And if I want to be considered an author, I should consider this trip part of my job. But, like every other working parent, I have to find the balance between work and family that I can live with.

Wish me luck!

Double Whammy

2009-09-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

Early this year I committed to attend the League of Utah Writer's annual author roundup. It's part of the continued commitment to my writing, to take time and (family) money and attend regular conventions and author gatherings to connect with others like me and to improve myself as an author.

I paid my dues as a member of the League, and later committed to share a hotel with another author (it's fun making new friends) and send in my registration and payment for the Roundup. And then I got hit with life.

My son, the one who doesn't like trying new things, brought me the flier for a play and begged me to try out. How can I say no to that? He wants to broaden his horizons, stretch as a person and perform in a play. I'm thrilled. But guess what? They have this fantastic one week timeline where the auditions are Monday (today) and the performances are Saturday (while I'll be in Midway at Roundup). Wait, hold the phone. My kids are auditioning for a play with likely success and I'm going to miss their performance??? Talk about sacrifice!

Then my local bookstore, The Purple Cow, is having Brandon Mull and Lisa Mangum out for this great author fest thing Saturday. And I'm going to miss it. I need some explanation from the universe about why everything is happening the same weekend.

Sure, if it was any other weekend I'd take the kids down and we'd visit with the authors and partake of their wisdom, but let's be honest. I want to see my kids in the play. Even if only one of them is accepted I want to see them on stage. It's their first performance of anything outside of those mandatory school performances where everyone participates. And for at least one of them, I suspect it might be the beginning of a life love of acting in plays.

Why can't mothers clone themselves?

When Life comes back to Haunt You

2009-09-08T09:46:00.000-07:00

My kids are grateful---though they don't know it---that I still remember being a kid. That's why I can sympathize with my son about his stolen bike, instead of bemoaning the expense of replacing it and his irresponsibility that got it stolen in the first place. What I haven't yet told him is his experience brought back vivid memories of when my own bicycle was stolen.

Unlike my son I had earned the money for my bike myself. I had worked and saved and put a bike on layaway (when they still had layaway), making small payments on it every week until it was paid off. I'd had it only a few short months when I rode it to the store and left it outside.

Like my son, I was old enough to know better. I knew I needed to lock it up but didn't. I was only going to be in the store a few minutes, after all. How many times do we use that justification?

Of course, when I came out of the store my bike was gone. I told a policeman, filled out a report, but nothing happened. It was Phoenix after all.

This morning he got up and was mid-way through his morning when he remembered about his bike. I explained to him how his inaction is in part responsible for his bike being stolen. It's like when we're told to lock our car. An unlocked car is easier to steal, just like an unlocked bike. We aren't done talking about it. I plan to share my experience with him. We just might go through the motions of filing a police report, if we can remember enough details to make the bike identifiable.

I'm gonna gripe a little

2009-09-05T19:34:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, one of my older brothers was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because of construction on the freeway onramps, he took 900 East in Provo home on his motorcycle. Just after turning onto 900 East he noticed the car in the right lane was going slow and glanced back to check traffic to go around her. When he looked forward again a split second later, the car was across both lanes making a Uturn from the right lane. He locked up the tire and slid into her car.

But here's the problem. She happens to be an 18 yr old in the car with another 18 yr old and a 17 yr old and, apparently, would rather lie than get into trouble. She claims to be in the middle lane preparing to make a Uturn when my brother's motorcycle hit her car. If she was in the freakin' middle lane what the heck would he be doing hitting her car????

Thanks to crappy report taking on the part of the officers, which includes taking everyone else's statements but my brother's, he's struggling with insurance company crap and all sorts of nonsense--along with medical bills and bike repairs--none of which should be his responsibility. That young driver made a stupid move and is lucky she didn't kill someone. But her insurance company denied my brother's claim, saying he's half at fault.

His only fault was being on that road at the same time as this kid. Right now I just hate the crap insurance companies force us to go through and then deny the claim anyway. If he files with his insurance company it's like admitting liability and that's a load of crap. So now he has to look into getting a lawyer.

Grrrrr.

Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to Me...

2009-09-01T06:56:00.000-07:00

I won't go on because that sounds silly even in my head.

I'm not a huge fan of my own birthday, but not for the reasons you may think. I'm a horrible gift receiver. Really, I am. I hate it when people get things for me. Bryan had to pester me for weeks till I finally broke down and let him get me something last weekend. It's especially hard when it's him because I know the money we don't have and I don't want to spend it on me.

It goes back to my childhood, but I also hate the pressure surrounding birthdays. When you think about it, it's just another day. And 34 isn't a landmark birthday, like 21 or 30 or 40. So what's the big deal?

See how bad I am with this? It's even harder with kids. They're THRILLED it's your birthday. Can't wait to tell EVERYONE. I hate that kind of attention.

I'm not the kind who obsesses about getting older. I don't bemoan missed opportunities or lost chances. While I believe in learning from my past I see no need to dwell there.

So I'll slap on my happy face for my family and just ignore how I personally feel about today.

Time Marches On

2009-08-26T06:57:00.000-07:00

Being a stepmom is hard; being a good stepmom is somehow harder. It should be easy. You fall in love with a man who has a child (or children) and when you marry him, you take these kids into your heart as well. It didn't quite work out that way for me.

I saw her first. This adorable blonde headed child bounced into my life 14 years ago and I fell in love instantly. Then I met her dad and my fate was sealed. In my naivete, I thought I could develop my own relationship with her and it would be separate from the relationships she had with her parents.

After many years of pain and disappointment, I've come to realize it doesn't work that way. The hardest to cope with has been how other people's decisions hurt my children, and how I can do nothing to change that. I can only help my kids cope with pain and loss and hurt. I've had to tame that "mama bear" inside me that rears up any time somebody hurts my kids.

We all know the stories of bad stepmoms. The ones who see their stepkids as intruders into their lives and would rather not deal with them. There are others who don't fall far from the stepmoms of Grimms' fairy tales--the ones who actively scorn and belittle their stepchildren and make them feel unwanted in their own father's house.

I've always loved my stepdaughter. I've never tried to replace her mom--it's not even possible anyway. I've always known a mother's place is impossible to usurp and never tried. All I wanted was to forge my own relationship with her, but even that has been a difficult journey.

Now she's less than 7 weeks from turning 18. While I'm excited for her to take these next amazing steps in her life, I bemoan all the other steps we've missed. This coming May she'll graduate high school and in a year she'll be in college. Incredible. And at the same time I know it will draw her even farther away from us, and from my kids.

Kids grow up. They leave the nest. And these days kids have more than one nest to leave. In the day and age where the divorce rate is upwards of 50% it's logical to conclude that many children have mom's house and dad's house, and when they grow up there's a separation from both households. For some it's easier. They can't stand stepmom or stepdad and can't wait to get away.

But for the rest of us, it's very different.

First Day of School! First Day of School!

2009-08-23T09:25:00.001-07:00

Nemo is chanting in my head right now. Tomorrow is it--the day I send ALL my kids to school for the very first time. I'm really not sure which of us is more excited. The kindergartner is really stoked; her level of excitement may be higher than mine. Maybe.

It's unique to be able to send all of them to the same school. Without the opening of the new charter school in Tooele, it wouldn't be possible. I have one 7th grader, two 5th graders, one 3rd grader and, of course, one kindergartner. I got an earful yesterday of the benefits of a "middle school" verses a JR High from the school's director yesterday. It made me remember my own experience.

I attended a K-4 school, then a 5-8 school. I guess that would be considered a "middle school" but to me it felt like an extended grade school. There's no ceremony after graduating 4th grade. We just went on to the next level. And in 5th graded we started changing classes for math and language arts. We had like 3 teachers. We had 4 or so teachers in 6th grade. The experience of 5 or 6 teachers didn't happen until 7th and 8th grades. By then we were ready. More than ready. I never felt traumatized or freaked out by the experience, and didn't experience any of the peer pressure or downright assaults that reportedly happen in JR High these days.

Entering high school after graduating 8th grade did not worry me at all. I felt prepared. Looking back, I think it was the structure of my 5-8 school that prepared me for it. By the time you're 14 and ready to take on the world, having your own locker and going from class to class makes you feel mature and grown up. It's exciting more than intimidating. And that was when I first started writing, so I can't feel bitter about my freshman experience on any level.

I'm hoping these next two years will help my oldest transition into high school. I'm not at all bothered by his missing the JR High experience, though he really was looking forward to spending the next two years with his friend. I can't feel bad about that either. I met the girl once. She deliberately put me into a position of lying to her dad, or helping her lie to her dad, by my actions. I didn't appreciate that and I find it difficult to encourage the friendship. Though I probably won't say anything until he's a little older, I think my son's in a better place if he's not around her influence.

Wouldn't you Know it!

2009-08-18T10:42:00.000-07:00

So, school starts in 6 days. It's like fate--you just know one of the kids is going to do something. This time Daniel took his turn. No it wasn't like the pipe cleaner to the electrical outlet incident, but in some ways it's worse.

While taking his shower Friday, Daniel decided to take Daddy's razor and cut some of the hair off his head, just above his right ear. And not even in a straight line. It's a jagged kind of bare patch and looks ridiculous. His explanation? "I just like the feel of the soft, fuzzy hair."

Of course, with a shaving razor meant to remove hair, it's a bald spot. There's no dancing around it. To make it less noticeable I shaved the surrounding hair to 1/4 inch and the top to 1/2, but geez. This is the impression he's going to make his first day at a new school with all new kids. My option is to either send him to school as "the kid with weird hair" or shave it all to match and have him be "the bald kid."

I'm hiding all razors and scissors in case the girls get ideas...

Reality Check

2009-08-13T16:50:00.000-07:00

It would give my readers (both of them on this blog lol luv you guys!) a false impression of my life if I always posted about how great my kids are and how bright and fun and lively and imaginative. Don't get me wrong--they are all that and more--but there's the darker, underside of parenting that deserves a little light, too.

I'm a human being. I have a defined identity and a strong sense of self. But sometimes I get lost in the needs of everyone else and forget to take care of me. There's a fine line between martyring oneself and making your family a priority. We can't lose sight of that. In the last year I've made my writing a priority, gone to conferences, gotten my first massage and reaffirmed my relationship with God. And it feels great.

But recently I have gotten so bogged down in my daily schedule that I don't write as much as I should. Sometimes my blogs are the only writing I get in, and some days I don't get any in at all. And when I draw away from that crucial part of me, the writer, I lose some of the happiness that makes me a productive member of my family.

Kids are hard work. And it doesn't end when they get out of diapers or start school. I'm not even sure it ends when they get married and are out on their own. Maybe that's why grandparents tire easily. It's not so much age but the emotional exhaustion of worry.

I go to the store in the evenings because I need a break. I need to get out of the house. I stay up later than the kids for two reasons: one is that I like the quiet and the other is I can't go to sleep until my kids sleep.

And now I'm not sure where I was going with this...