near death

Today my mother told me about the day I was inches away from death.  My mom, her then boyfriend, Ron, my two older brothers and I were going swimming on a hot summer day 1986. I was seven years old. We had to park across a large highway from our swimming hole. We all hopped out of the van excited to swim.  I, being seven, was anxious to get there.  Without looking both ways before crossing the street, like my mother had always taught me, I stepped out into the highway.  My mother saw my action and also saw the oncoming semi truck.  As I stepped out into the oncoming traffic, she reached out and grabbed my pony-tailed hair.  While she pulled be back toward her and before I was even clear of the highway, the massive truck sped past us, missing me by mere inches.  I am sure that we continued on to the swimming hole.  I am certain I was oblivious to the real danger that I had narrowly missed.  I have no memory of this day or the events that occurred in it.  For many years after, this image of me stepping into harms way, haunted my mother's dreams.  A true mother's nightmare.

Seconds. Inches. These are the fragments of time and space that stood between me and death before the age of accountability.  Since Mother told me this story earlier today, I have had images flashing in my mind.  Not only images of grieving parents who have lost their only daughter, but images of things that would have never come to pass if that summer day had become fatal.  Two childhood best friends would never have become sisters.  A certain blind date would never have led to love.  Three beautiful spirits would have been born to someone else.

But seconds and inches are all that is needed to preserve life.  And because of the quick actions of a mother's instincts, I am here living a beautiful life.  Today I count my blessings a little more sincerely, because all it takes is seconds and inches to take them all away.

way to go

I ruined Father's Day.  Right from the get-go.  Way to go, Whit.  I'm pretty sure this will go down in record books as Q's worst father's day E.V.E.R.

I think it's because I'm such a lousy mother.  If I could figure out how to parent better I might not have had a major melt-down at 6:30 this morning.  The plan was to get up, take care of the kids, make breakfast, and let Q sleep in until he had to go to his Sunday morning meetings at church.  I got up, but that was the only thing that went right.  I was incapable of keeping Sol from literally kicking and screaming at me for 30 min straight which caused the mommy meltdown, I ATTEMPTED (amid sobbing) to make breakfast, and with all the racket going on in the next room Q did not get to sleep in.

I wanted it to be a great father's day, for an amazing father.  Quinn is everything I could have hoped for in a father for my children.  He shows and tells them he loves them, he teaches them, he plays with them, he is a great example of goodness for them, and I don't think any child on earth has a better father than my children do.

a natural instinct

Eliza has given no interest in babies and dolls.  She would pass right by them not giving them a second look.  Choosing animals as her place to focus her love and affection.  I have noticed a change in her recently.  She has been asking to have a baby doll.  {This after I gave her three dolls away because she insisted that she was never going to play with them and didn't want to keep them.}  She suddenly wants to take care of them and clothe them and play with them and feed them and love them.  Then today she said she wants to grow up quickly and "stay a grown up forever".  This again was odd behavior for her. Normally her mantra is, "I don't ever want to get old. I want to stay a kid forever." - just like Peter Pan.  So I inquired why she would want to grow up so quickly.  "So I can have a baby and name it and change it's clothes and love it. And I won't ever get mad at it."

Someday my baby girl will have a baby of her own.  One day she will be a wonderful mother.  The instincts she has within her, that are starting to manifest themselves now, will someday dominate her actions.  When indeed she does have a baby of her own, those instincts will be the one thing that helps her know what to do when she first lays eyes on her own precious child.  No matter what I teach her or who influences her over her life, her natural instinct to know how to be a mother will be what matters the most.

a day to remember

Saturday was one of those days I hope I never forget.  I took Eliza and Corbin snow skiing.  It was Corbin's second time and Eliza's first time.  Corbin was zooming down the mountain (lapping us...he did twice as many runs as E and I did).  Eliza was a trooper, never crying, even when she stayed on the chair lift too long and had to jump off.

One of the things I enjoy most in life is watching my children learn something new.  I love seeing the joy on their face when they realize this new, yet difficult, task is worth the effort it takes.  That great things can come with work and endurance.  Both Liz and Corbin were learning that even though we sometimes fall and get hurt, that it is always worth the effort to rise and try again.  That the reward is greater than the sacrifice.  Who knew that learning to ski could teach so much?

it hurts

I hurt when my children hurt.  When they cry true tears of sadness, I cry too.   I ache inside when they feel lonely or afraid. I think that's what happens when hearts are linked.  When love is deep and souls are united.

I think there is nothing more heart wrenching than watching my children go through trials.  Sometimes it is when a five year old is frustrated because she can't tie her shoe.  Other times it is watching a 7 year old get left out when three is a crowd.  Whether those trials are big or small, sometimes all I can do as tell them I love them and watch them as they learn that while trials are hard, they make us stronger.

I once heard a friend say that our children should grow up knowing two things: 1. That they have a personal testimony of Jesus Christ, 2. That they know they are loved.  I hope that my children know these things, and as they are learning and growing their testimonies. That they know that I love them and God loves them and that those two things will never change.

 No one knows our children like we do.  No one else sees themselves when they look at my child.  But mothers do, and so do fathers.  We long to give them everything, teach them everything, and hope that when we fall short they will still find a way for themselves.

little people

I think I've turned a corner in my life.  It's been coming on for a while.  Let me explain.  I used to not like other people's children...very much.  I know it sounds horrible.  Aren't women suppose to be the nurturing ones?  Don't get me wrong, I love my own children, I just didn't have a desire to be around other people's children for extended periods of time.  Two hours was my limit on babysitting.  After that I was constantly checking the clock, wondering when their parents would come.  

A few years ago, a friend told me how much her children loved their uncle.  And she appreciated how he would talk to each of them individually and make them feel special because he was genuinely interested in them.  Something changed in me on that day.  I realized that children, weren't just children, they were little people.  And if you took interest in them, they could become your friend, not just your friend's child.  So I gave it a try.  Amazingly it worked.  Once I began to see children as individuals, they became so much more interesting.  It became fun to learn about them and I began to enjoy their company.

Years have past since this initial trial and the children around me have become important in my life.  Today I spent the entire day with other people's children.  And at the end of the day I am happy.  Happy to know and influence such interesting little people.

finding balance

I struggle between wanting to give my children everything and wanting them to learn the value of work.  I want them to know that life isn't free but sometimes just want to give them something special "just because".

I recently read the book, "Glass Castle" that depicted the amazing life of a family who lived on nothing.  Among other things, they ate moldy bread and canned ham with maggots and food from other people's trash.  They lived in a shack and as children the loved going to school because it meant they would be warm and dry and have at least one meal that day.   They considered everyday items like shoes, clothes, baths and food as luxuries.  My emotions were so conflicted between feeling sorry for them and having a great admiration for them that I would put the book down not knowing if their life, or my life was better?  While I realize that my life with its warm home and bountiful food to eat is probably more desirable, I wonder if the plentiful lifestyle is detrimental to my children's upbringing.  Are they learning anything from being given everything?  Do they understand that although they may not like the taste of their chicken enchilada dinner, that somewhere a child will go without dinner tonight?  That ice cream is a luxury and not a necessity?

I was particularly struck by my internal struggle when in the book, the parents have no presents for their children for Christmas so the father took each child aside and gave them each a chance to pick and name their very own star from the sky.  I compare that to our own Christmas, with presents overflowing from beneath the tree and stockings stuffed with sweets and gifts.  Our children were so excited to see the presents on Christmas morning and loved their new bicycles and toys and clothes.  Then a few days later we gathered with our friends at a fun function to find out that our children were the only children in our group of friends that did not get Nintendo DS's from Christmas.  How do I explain that Santa Claus gave them DS's but not us?  How do I explain to them that we are the "poor" ones in our group, when in fact we are not "poor" at all, but do not have quite as much as others?  I tried to explain that each family is different, that we all live with different budgets and different lifestyles, but to this day (two months later) I daily hear the complaint that they do not have these hand-held video games that everyone else seems to have.  How do I help them be happy with what they have, instead of yearning for what they do not?

How do I help MYSELF be happy with what I have instead of looking at others in envy?

I find solace in the fact that I even ask the question.  The day that my life becomes extreme and I give in to one side or the other is when I should start to worry.  I suppose that is what life is about, finding balance in all things.

seeing myself

A few days ago, I took Eliza to see the show "cascade christmas" at the Cascade theater.  I was transported back in time to when my mom used to take me to see the Shasta High musical every year.  I absolutely loved it.  It's where my love for music and theater began.  I knew that someday I too would be on stage.

Liz was so precious.  She watched every second, and loved it.  She can't wait to be able to do things like that someday.  Just like me, she is shy and so while being on stage is intriguing it is also terrifying.  But it's when we get over our fears so we can do something we love, that we can begin to enjoy life more fully.

thanksgiving....a week late

Now that Thanksgiving is over and my family is coming out of the flu infested weekend, I feel the need to express my gratitude for all that I have.

I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be as blessed as I am.  Ok...I did dream wildly about it, but never thought it would actually happen.  I have so much to be thankful for.  When I start to think about it, the blessings are so abudant that I couldn't possibly list them all, but here are a few.

• I am married to my favorite person in the world.  How many people can say that?
• My three children are quite possibly the cutest kids on the planet. Not to mention the smartest and sweetest and funniest and greatest and most talented and...
• Quinn has a job.  And not just a job, but one that he likes and one that supports our family and helps us live comfortably.
• My healthy body. My family is healthy. 
• I have a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. 
• Quinn is a worthy priesthood holder and leads our family righteously.
• I have amazing friends that I consider family.
• I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.  Somewhere I could happily live forever.
• All the things that I often take for granted, that so many do not have; a beautiful home, a comfortable bed, an abundance of food to eat, clothing to wear, a warm shower...

Many, many more come to mind.  But I must go take care of those cute, talented, smart children.

a day of rest

The Sabbath is suppose to be a day of rest.  Mine usually is not.  Sometimes they are more work than any other day of the week. 

I'm not sure why, but it seems the kids are grumpier on Sundays.  In turn, I am grumpier.  I don't want to be.  I don't want to lose my patience on the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th time to take a child out of sacrament meeting.  I don't want to lose my cool, when my 5  year old blatently disobeys.  I don't want to feel frustrated when another child tells me he thinks he's going to throw up while we're sitting in the church pew. I don't want to angrily take away the new birthday toys of a strong willed child, throwing a fit.

But I did all those things today.

It's not that I had to walk in and out of the chapel 5 times, or discipline a disobedient child, or nurse a sick baby that leaves me feeling defeated at the end of the day.  It's the disappointment in myself that I did not combat these things with compassion and love.  Instead I let annoyance and anger take over.  And for that I am ashamed.

At the end of the day I want my children to feel loved.  So I took some time to cool off.  I went to lay down with Lu who had been banished to her bed for the night.  Told her I loved her, kissed her goodnight, and vowed to have a better day tomorrow.

no voice

My voice left me today.  I have wisper voice, or strange scratchy, squeaking voice.  Neither of which do me much good.  Eliza says, "Mom, you need to talk like a real mom."  Good Idea.  I guess it's better than the other day when I was not feeling well, she said, "Why are you acting like a sleepy mom?"  I guess I haven't been the best mom lately.  I need to work on that.

The good thing about my voice being gone is that I can't answer every little question the little ones have.  It's not that I don't want to answer their questions, but sometimes, I answer so readily that they don't figure things out for themselves.  It makes them think a little more. 

I do miss talking to Sol.  He makes me smile when he jabbers. A sure way to get him going is to ask him questions.  But without questions being asked his voice is gone too.  And that makes me sad. 

Tomorrow will be a new day, and hopefully it will bring with it my voice.