Family

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.