Cranberry Corner

Idea Binder and Blackberry Buttermilk Cake

2012-01-25T08:26:00.000-08:00

I enjoy the occasional magazine. I've subscribed to Family Fun, Martha Stewart Living, Cooking Light, and Eating Well at various times over the years. I've had free subscriptions for a few others before too. Magazines can be a great jumping off point for ideas, which is what I love about them. Ideas for birthday parties, holiday traditions, what to make for dinner. . .

But magazines stack up quickly, and before you know it, you've got piles and piles of magazines, each with one or two "must-save" ideas, that you can never find to use. So, many years ago, I started my Idea Binder. It's silly, really, but it works for me. I just bought a basic three-ring binder and lots of page protectors. When magazines come in the mail, I browse through them and any good idea that I see that I think is worth saving, I tear that page out, and then toss the magazine. (I really work hard to keep down clutter.) Then, I slide those pages into the page protectors in my binder. That way, it's like a big magazine perfectly customized to ME, minus all the gross recipes, stupid ideas, and ridiculous advertisements.

I have sections for each holiday, that might include crafts, gift ideas, or recipes:

(Because you know how you see an easy, cute idea and you think, "Oh, I can remember that!" but you can't?)

I also have sections for birthday cake ideas, home decorating and gardening ideas, and then various recipes I might find:

I go through my binder periodicially, (like every few years) and clean out my ideas. Sometimes things no longer appeal to me, so out they go. And I like to browse through and remember my ideas to bring new life to holidays or family time. So, that is what I did over the weekend. I cleaned out my Idea Binder.

On Monday, it rained. Hard. For most of the day, which as you know, is like a dream for me. I decided to treat myself to some homemade hot chocolate and homemade vanilla marshmallows (an idea from my binder, many moons ago!) I made these gifts for a few people over the holidays, and kept some for myself, minus the cute packaging. Both are super easy to make, and both are such indulgent treats.

As the gray afternoon rolled on, I felt a coziness that required baking. You know what I'm talking about. And Family Home Evening was coming up, so I remembered a recipe I'd recently slipped into my Idea Binder for a Blackberry Buttermilk Cake that I'd torn from a Bon Appetit issue, and realized I actually had a bunch of blackberries from a sale over the weekend. Perfect. Let me vouch for this recipe. It is really, really delicious. And the smell as it bakes is heavenly. I highly recommend you tuck this one away. In your Idea Binder. :) I'm giving you links for these recipes instead of typing them out, so that way you can just print them out and have a nice copy for yourself.

(And I wish I had a good camera to do it justice. The cake is beautiful too!)

You should definitely give this one a try!

Summer Flashback: Star Wars Zoo Day

2012-01-22T22:06:00.001-08:00

I was looking through photos tonight and realized I'd forgotten to post these pics. (I think.) Late this summer the Los Angeles Zoo hosted Star Wars Day. I knew I had to find a way to get Conor there. Our zoo membership had expired, but luckily my friend, Carrie, also has a Star Wars obsessed family and a membership, so she offered to let Conor and I tag along on guest passes.

Two things about that day:

1. It was very cool. As in, Star Wars cool.

2. It was probably the hottest day of the summer. (Can you tell from Conor's red, droopy face in that top picture?) And the lines were other-worldly. Like, from a galaxy far, far away.

I love his expression here.

We also saw Han Solo, Princess Leia, and some Ewoks (majorly cute). Some of the creatures were stationed by animals that they have similarities too for "educational" purposes. The Ewoks, for example, were over with the koalas. I desperately wanted to see Jabba the Hutt, who was to be parked over by the hippo, but the negative thing was that they had many of the Star Wars characters scheduled to appear at various times throughout the day, to extend the fun. Figures. Jabba wasn't scheduled till late in the afternoon, and there was no way we were staying for that long. Like I said, hottest day of the year. I don't know how those Stormtroopers wore their costumes for so many hours. That would be like a death sentence for me. Anyway, it was thrilling for Conor, who loves his Star Wars.

We also made a quick stop in the petting zoo:

I love this photo. This poor goat was sleeping in the stifling heat. Conor took full advantage of the opportunity and started burying it in sand. He ended up completely burying his leg there, and then I had to stop him when he started pouring sand on the goat's head. Meanwhile, the goat never woke up.

He did some good, though, giving this sheep a quick grooming.

Gotta love the zoo.

Objects vs. Agents

2012-01-19T10:02:00.000-08:00

This Christmas, Adam and I agreed not to buy each other presents. It was the first time we have ever done that, but money was just too tight to feel good about spending any more on gifts, even if they were needed gifts. It actually was just fine. Long ago for me, Christmas became much more about the giving anyway. However, the fact that we were not exchanging gifts, did help me to justify a small purchase on my own behalf when a coupon for Deseret Book came in the mail. I treated myself to David A. Bednar's newly released book experience, Increase in Learning. I call it a book "experience" because it is different than other books in that it comes with an accompanying DVD with supplemental discussion and learning segments, as well as an in-depth interview with Elder and Sister Bednar. The margins are also quite wide in the book, allowing for note taking and inspiration recording. He writes in the beginning that this book is not meant to be a "quick, casual, or relaxing read," and he is right. This is one to be chewed on, pondered over, and then, acted upon.

The subtitle of the book is "Spiritual Patterns for Obtaining Your Own Answers", and one of the main principles taught is acting as agents rather than as objects. I love this theme. Elder Bednar says that he does not know of a "principle more central, important, or essential to spiritual learning than the principle of acting as agents and not being acted upon as objects." I agree.

I think that so often in the gospel, when we talk about this gift of agency that we've been given, we focus its definition on our ability to choose, when agency encompasses so much more. Agency gives us the power to act as agents. Act, being the operative and most illuminating word there.

Two weeks ago, I introduced this theme to my children for our Family Home Evening lesson. Conor sat in on the discussion with hopes for a Chewy Toffee Almond bar at the end, but the discussion was geared much more towards the older children. I told them to picture a big rock, sitting there in the forest. A hiker walks by with his stick and starts beating upon the rock. Over and over, the hiker beats upon the rock. What does the rock do? Nothing, of course. It sits there and takes it. It has no choice in the matter. Now, what if someone comes up to you wielding a big stick, poised to bring it down upon you? What do you do? You probably don't even let it strike you once! You quickly dodge out of the way! That is the fundamental picture of the difference between an object and an agent. I gave other examples for them to begin to separate these two states of being. Then, I turned from actual objects, to examples of when we, as humans who actually are agents, choose to act as objects. What would that look like?

Waiting for things to happen to them in life.

Blaming the circumstances of their life on what has happened to them.

Excusing our behavior on "that's just the way I am."

Following the crowd: "I had no choice" mentality.

Standing still with information given to us, waiting to "see if it's true," instead of exploring, praying, seeking revelation, and acting in faith.

Etc.

I gave examples from the scriptures of agents: Moses stretching forth his arms to part the Red Sea. An object Moses could have gotten to the edge of that huge body of water and given up. "Well, Israelites, looks like we're dead. No way we're crossing this! Oh well! Sorry 'bout that!" But instead, it was an act of agency that caused Moses to act in faith and stretch forth his arms over the sea.

Joseph Smith, reading the Bible and then deciding to act, and pray in faith to put the words of the scripture to the test to seek an answer to his question. An object Joseph Smith might have read that verse and then thought to himself, "Well, if it's true, then the answer will come." And then, without action, it wouldn't have.

God invites us, constantly, to be agents. To use the agency he has given us. Not just to choose, but to choose to act. That is how spiritual learning takes place. It's also incredibly empowering, especially when we live in a world where victimization is the flavor of life. I wanted the children to think of their own lives in these terms, to start an awareness of acting as agents instead of allowing themselves to be acted upon as objects. So, I challenged them to spend the week looking for examples and then come prepared the next Monday to share an experience when they acted as an agent, and one where they allowed themselves to be acted upon as objects.

Yes, Sunday night I had to remind them. Still, their examples the following evening did not disappoint. With great clarity, they had gotten it! They had examples from everything from their attitudes toward learning difficult material in school, to relationships with friends, to piano practice. Aiden shared how he knowingly sat in the room while Dylan started watching an inappropriate movie (far worse than Children of the Corn, I assure you.) thinking, "Oh well, he's the one who put it on, not me," until I came in, caught them both, and quickly turned it off. He confessed in our family meeting that he knew it was not a movie he should be watching, but he allowed himself to be acted upon in that moment, rather than to call Dylan out on his choice and suggest they change it for something else, or to simply get up and leave. Even Conor, who I swear has a gifted intellect for such a little guy, offered his example:

"Well, remember a long, long, long time ago? (Last Thursday) When we had that really, really, really hard math test? (kindergarten math assessment) Well, it was so hard and I did not understand what was going on and there were all of these bubbles to fill in and I did not get it and what the teacher was talking about, so I just sat there and didn't finish my test? I was being an object."

We took each of our "object" examples and then talked about what we could have done to act as agents instead. It was really cool to see them get it. Our ongoing challenge is to be constantly on the lookout for opportunities to turn object moments into agent moments, and to share our examples of using our agency. We will turn these moments of awareness increasingly over to our responsibility to act as agents in our spiritual learning and development.

David Bednar writes:

"Parents have the sacred responsibility to help children to act and to seek learning by faith. And a child is never too young to take part in this pattern of learning. Giving a man a fish feeds him for one meal. Teaching a man to fish feeds him for a lifetime. As parents and gospel instructors, you and I are not in the business of distributing fish; rather, our work is to help our children learn "to fish" and to become spiritually steadfast. This vital objective is best accomplished as we encourage our children to act in accordance with correct principles--as we help them to learn by doing. . .The spiritual understanding you and I have been blessed to receive, and which has been confirmed as true in our hearts, simply cannot be given to our children. The tuition of diligence and of learning by study and also by faith must be paid to obtain and personally "own" such knowledge."

That, then, is the lesson we teach. And not just at Family Home Evening, but with the lives they watch us live.

My Girl

2012-01-04T19:18:00.001-08:00

Lyndsay's such a complete package of a person. She's so beautiful, and people tell her all the time that they're afraid of her because she's so pretty. (Girls are weird, aren't they?) They're afraid she's going to be snobby and stuck up because she's so pretty. But then they find out she's just as kind and genuine as she is lovely to look at. She's also silly and lots of fun, with the most infectious laugh ever.

But here's my favorite thing about her:

She was at the New Year's Eve dance, and I noticed that she'd left her bedroom light on. Again. No, that's not my favorite part of Lyndsay.

Then, I noticed that her room was a mess and her bed wasn't made. Again. Nope that's not my favorite part of Lyndsay.

What stopped me in my tracks was how I saw her, right there on her bed. Take a look:

All her girlie-girl stuff spread all over (THE HOUSE), as always. She's such a girlie-girl, which I love. But nope, not my favorite.

Look more closely.

A little closer! Here it comes!

Yes! There it is! She doesn't just have cute nails, she's a total nerd!

Brains and beauty. That's my girl.

Hawaiian Haystacks and Lyndsay: A Sort-of New Year's Eve Story

2011-12-31T18:43:00.000-08:00

Tonight is New Year's Eve. I just drove Lyndsay and her friend back over to the friend's house, where her family is hosting a pre-dance dinner for the youth in our ward before they go to the Stake New Year's Eve dance. (didya get that?)

I knew from an inside scoop that they were serving Hawaiian Haystacks for dinner, so I mentioned it in the car as we drove. Lyndsay had never heard of them. "Really?" I said (maybe that's kudos to me, or not, I'm not sure.) "Oh, I've got a great Hawaiian Haystacks story that actually involves you, if you'd like to hear it."

Well, who can turn that down, right?

I told her that way back when, I had a visiting teacher and very good friend named Shannon Oaks. She was one of the very first friends I had as a newly married woman, herself newly married. She and her husband, Dan, became great friends of ours. I can remember her bringing me her amazing homemade cinnamon rolls when she would come visiting teaching. Man, they were good. Well, one day she came for her monthly visit, and by this time, she was great with child, as they say. We got to talking about pregnancies, and I mentioned that my period was late. "How late?" she asked. "Three weeks," I remember saying. And her eyes bugged out of her head.

"Three weeks!?! You're pregnant! Are you kidding me? Take a test!"

I was filled with excitement and anticipation over her excitement and anticipation. Looking back, I'm not really sure what I was waiting for, except that I didn't feel any different (that gross part would hit in another 2 weeks and about knock me off my feet for the next 4 months.) and I wasn't sure when was the right time to take a test to be sure. You know, we were poor college students, and a pregnancy test was no chump change.

So, I bought a test. And I took it. And she was right! A little baby Lyndsay was growing!

Well, she gave birth to her first daughter, Amanda, and she and Dan bought a condo and moved out of our ward. Months later, my husband and I bought our first home and we moved out of the ward also, but we stayed in touch. I'll never forget bringing Lyndsay home from the hospital. She was wearing a little pink onesie with a pink ribbon headband adorned with a silky white ribbon rose. Shannon and Dan (and baby Amanda) were the first to come over to see her and to bring us dinner. (Here it is!)

Hawaiian Haystacks!

A classic dish of the 80's, carried over into the 90's by well-meaning Mormons everywhere. Comfort food. She had all the components in separate bowls for us to construct our haystacks. Rice, chicken, green onions, olives, cheddar cheese, mandarin oranges, pineapple, tomatoes, crunchy chow mein noodles, and of course, the chicken gravy. They were delicious! Of course, I was a ravenous newly postpartum mom whose nipples were blistering and bleeding and whose episiotomy was on its way to becoming infected, but even without those factors, I remember how loved and cared for I felt as I ate that delicious meal made by my first friend as a married woman.

So, I've never made Hawaiian Haystacks myself, that I remember, though I can recall plenty of ward parties where they were served. But every time I think of them, I think of Shannon Oaks, and baby Lyndsay, all fresh from God. And me, a brand new mother, with no idea of what was coming my way in life.

A sweet memory. I often wonder what ever happened to Shannon Oaks. I miss her.

I pulled up to the friend's house, and the two girls jumped out. "Enjoy your Hawaiian Haystacks!" I called.

"We will! And now we'll always think of that story whenever we eat them," Lyndsay said, her friend laughing and agreeing. And just before she closed the car door, she said, "Love you! See you next year!"

Her last year at home.

Funny how Hawaiian Haystacks are now both a first and a last.

Christmas Traditions

2011-12-26T14:54:00.000-08:00

Christmas was really great. Would it be awful of me to say that it's okay with me that it's over? Because I'm exhausted.

We celebrated Christmas a day early this year. Because our children have two families, we only get to have December 25th every other year. This was hard in the beginning, but I decided that it was just important that we had Christmas all together, not necessarily what day it happened to be.

I love traditions. We have traditions like Christmas music beginning the day after Thanksgiving (which is also when we usually put up the tree.) and sleeping under the tree the first night. We read a scripture about Christ each night in December, followed by a Christmas story and family prayer. We have advent calendars. We try to do one family service project each week in December. And we make graham cracker houses.

I put off doing the houses until Dylan could be home with us, and I was glad I did. He may not even be fully aware of it, but I think our traditions have meaning to him somewhere deep inside, and I wanted him to know that he is a valued member of our family.

So, the kids got to work and turned out some pretty cool creations this year:

Another of our traditions is to go caroling around our neighborhood. We saved this one for Christmas Eve so we could have Caitlin and Sean with us. Sometimes, by the time we get to this activity, I'm so tired that I start to justify in my mind why it would be okay to let it slide just this year. But I never say anything out loud, because I can't let the troops know I'm weakening. There would be mutiny. Every year, when we knock on that first door, my heart fills with warmth and happiness and I'm so glad we're out there doing it. Our neighbors have come to look forward to it each Christmas season.

When we got home, we did our scripture reading, and then I had a treat prepared. The Giant Cinnamon Rolls from Mel's Kitchen Cafe. This is an ingenius idea, and a delicious one too! Except that rather than "glaze" them, I frosted them with cream cheese frosting, like Cinnabon. We had egg nog too, and watched a Christmas movie (Elf) before sending the kids off to bed.

Naked.

Frosted. So delicious. I highly recommend.

Of course, we also did the Christmas Eve jammies. And we took our annual family picture in front of the tree. Our 7th picture together. Wow.

Christmas Day itself was wonderful too. Of course, it was Saturday for us, so we didn't have to rush off to church. We opened the presents, I made breakfast (Overnight Caramel Sticky Buns from Our Best Bites.....again, highly recommended. So easy, too.) and while the kids played new Wii games and watched movies, I took a nap. Then I resumed my place in the kitchen preparing lunch and snacks and treats for munching on throughout the day while we hung out together and played games. (Settlers of Catan? Awesome.)

The tradition that seems to flow through every holiday is that I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. Cooking, baking, cleaning up. Eating, cleaning up. Cooking more, cleaning up more. Over and over. I ran the dishwasher three times each day. Having Dylan here seems to multiply the food consumption by a factor of 10. In the five days he was here, we went through 7 gallons of milk and 6 pounds of clementines. And loads of other things. But it is gratifying to feed growing children!

The other tradition is that I finish up the holiday tired. Needing a break. Some peace and quiet. Some fend-for-yourself meals complete with paper plates. Some reading time.

And guess what? That's the (one?) plus of divorce. I just dropped the three big kids off with their dad in Arizona and up next for me is my tradition of decompression and relaxation.

It might be one of my favorite traditions.

My Dad is My Favorite Guy

2011-12-16T10:26:00.000-08:00

You know I love my dad. I really do. He's incredibly intelligent, interesting, witty, gentle, and humble. He's experienced a lot of loss in his life, but never of his faith, which shines so brightly that it can even illuminate the pathway of those around him. It has for me. He is my hero and a mentor to me, and still, even at my age, nothing thrills me like making him proud of me. He's been there for me during some very lonely, trying times. Those experiences have bonded us at the heart, above and beyond the ties of father and daughter.

And yet, it had been almost three years since I'd last seen him. He lives ten hours away, and with his work and my schooling (etc.) the chances to visit become harder to find. But when Aiden turned 12, I really wanted my dad to ordain him, if his own dad couldn't, and my ex-husband was very supportive of that. He, too, loves my dad. My father has been a pivotal priesthood example to my children, baptizing all of them, blessing them many times, ordaining Dylan, and taking Lyndsay and Dylan to the temple with family names. I wanted to carry on the tradition with Aiden.

He and his wife, Raelene, were scheduled to come the weekend following Thanksgiving, when Aiden turned 12, but then a job transition made that impossible at the last minute, so we rescheduled for the following week. The visit had to be rescheduled again, when the day before they were set to come, they had a huge snowstorm which dumped several feet on them and closed the roads off the mountain. So, this last weekend, we made plans again, and hoped for the best. It was tricky for me, with it being the weekend before my nursing finals, but Aiden was so anxious for his ordination, and I wanted my Dad!

What a great visit it was. In fact, the only thing missing, was Dylan. But we had a wonderful Sunday with the rest of the kids. Dad conferred the Aaronic priesthood upon Aiden and ordained him a deacon, and gave him a most beautiful blessing. All of us were there for that. I am so excited to see him get to pass the sacrament this next Sunday.

On Tuesday, I kept Aiden home from school, and we took Lyndsay out early, and we all went to the Los Angeles Temple to do baptisms. When Lyndsay and Dylan were old enough, Grandpa took them and we each did 100 family names. Amazing! Aiden was really, really excited for this special day. He was quite the trooper and he did 157 baptisms! Lyndsay and I each did 64, and then we shared 50 names with three other women who were there to do baptisms. Dad was in the font the whole time and performed them all! I must say, there are few things greater than being in the temple with your children. It was a marvelous day, and a great first experience for Aiden, which I know he'll remember forever. I love that my children can have these memories with their grandfather.

We're all pretty lucky to have him.

One Down!

2011-12-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of my clinical group with our instructor there on the left (Love her), taken last Wednesday following our last day of clinicals at the hospital. Mrs. C. took us all out for lunch to celebrate.

Yesterday I took my last final. The Big One. Cumulative. I hadn't studied much at all, maybe a combined total of 2 hours in bits and pieces since I had my Dad and Raelene here for a visit, and who wants to study when your DAD is here and you haven't seen him in years? But I will say that I had a few things going for me: I had done well on all the exams, so I wasn't starting from too far down in the barrel. And, the day before finals, when the rest of my group that you see up there was in the library for an 8 hour study session, I was in the temple with my Dad and Raelene, and two of my children, Aiden for the first time, doing 334 baptisms for family members on the other side of the veil. I personally did 64 baptisms, and Lyndsay reminded me as I dropped her off at school yesterday morning and I expressed a bit of anxiety at going in for the biggest test of the semester so unprepared, that I would have 64 people helping me. It brought me such peace. She was right. At that moment, I knew God would honor my efforts and my sacrifice.

There were 100 questions on the exam. Nursing exams are brutal, by the way. There's hardly ever one right answer and they're never purely memory questions. They're always analytical, using the information you've learned about body systems and disease processes and applying it to patient situations and nursing judgment. Sometimes every answer is correct, but only one is the best, and that can be really hard. Around question 45, I was so sleepy. I had this overwhelming urge to put my head down on my desk and just take a quick nap. I kept telling myself, "Just one more question. Just one more." Once I got to #75, I got a second wind. And bubbling in #100 I almost started to cry. My last test question of first semester! It was really emotional for me, as memories of what this semester has been like raced through my mind's eye.

I remembered the first day we met together and I was absolutely terrified, not seeing a single familiar face, and knowing I was surrounded by very gifted students. I thought back to the craze of all those early mornings, packing lunches, cooking breakfasts, getting myself and the kids ready for another day of school. I thought of late nights studying after the kids were in bed. How I ran dry 4 highlighters. 4! Trying to keep track of all the different course work in each of the 4 classes. Practicing blood pressures on every willing person I could find. Practicing my head-to-toe assessments on my children. Each grueling exam. That first clinical day when I drove home crying. And then meeting Mrs. P. Winning the Success in Nursing Scholarship. My class presentation. All of the things we learned. And by the end, walking the halls of the Transitional Care Unit of the hospital with the confidence to enter any patient room.

Question #100 was now bubbled in.

I turned in my exam and looked back at the students left in the room. We'd become like a family, and it seemed so surreal that we wouldn't be back in this room for Friday lecture.

My clinical group met for lunch at a cafe in Pasadena to go over exam questions and wait till the time that grades would be released. Then we headed back over to the campus.

I missed 7 questions, which means I got an A not just on the exam, but in the class. The class that in the beginning we were told that maybe 2 or 3 students would get an A in, and that previously A students were relieved and thrilled with Cs. The first semester director came over to me and said, "You might like to know that you are tied with two other students for number one in your class, and that by the end of 4th semester, the number one student gets an award at graduation. No pressure."

Ha!

I am amazed. Stunned. Humbled. To the point of tears, even now. It's okay with me if I'm not number one. (Though I'd like to get As all the way through!) I am so supremely grateful that I am getting to have this experience, and I really don't mean to sound proud or boasting at all. I'll tell you that most of those students have much, much more time than I do, and most of them study a lot harder than I do. I have worked very, very hard, but I know that my success has been a gift from God. I promised Him that no matter what, I would do my best to do important things first, like scripture study and prayer with my children and Family Home Evening. I would make myself (mostly) available to them, and do most of my studying after they went to bed (or at least Conor). And I would honor His holy day and never study or do homework on the Sabbath. I have kept that commitment through three years of schooling now, and I believe that it has made a difference. He is well aware of my limited resource of time, and how much there is to study. And He has magnified my capacity to learn, understand, and retain. I believe with all my heart that God honors those who honor Him. So, I humbly thank Him for His grace and assistance with this first semester of nursing school.

It feels strange to wake up this morning and not have school on my mind. I don't have to read anything or study anything. It's going to take some getting used to! But this 10 week break will be filled with other wonderful and rejuvenating things, and I am very excited for second semester. OB. Pediatrics. Med/Surg. Good things ahead!

My Gratitude in Pictures

2011-11-26T09:37:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday night, the kids and I went to the airport to pick up Dylan. It had been a very busy day. I'd been at the hospital all day for clinicals, and when I got home I had an hour to make four pie crusts, vacuum, and clean the kitchen before Lyndsay and Aiden would get home from piano lessons and we could head out the door. We were so excited to see him. I told the kids, "Listen, I get the first hug. Nobody better get in my way." My only fearless competition proved to be Conor. When we saw him walking down the corridor we were thrilled! I jumped into his arms and started crying. Of course. He was sweet and happy--even gave me a squeeze hug and picked me up off the ground, which thrilled my heart. He's grown! He's officially 6 feet tall now, with washboard abs and a broad chest and strong arms, all of which he was proud to show off. It was wonderful to look at him again and see all of my children together.

When we got home, though it was dark outside, he still decided to hang Aiden's new punching bag for me right then. That was hugely impressive to Aiden, who has missed his big brother, and the two of them worked outside rigging lights and extension cords and finally getting it up in the roof of the carport.

Thanksgiving morning, after blueberry pancakes, they were all outside again, constructing an improved version of the rope (hose) swing that Aiden had begun last weekend, and giving Conor "kiss the tree" rides, which pretty much means, push him so high that he flies into the branches and leaves. He loved it.

Then they came in for some friendly light saber battles.

They pretty much each took a turn dominating, so that was good. And it was hilarious to watch. And slightly terrifying. Every now and then I'd remind them, "We don't have insurance!"

Caitlin and Sean were here to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner with us. I've so missed having all six of the kids around the table. Dinner was delicious. So are the leftovers.

On Friday, we celebrated Aiden's birthday, which is actually today, but we wanted Dylan to be here for his party. We were able to sweet talk the man at the tree lot to sell us a beautiful noble fir before the lot was officially open for business, and Dylan and his friend Brad were pretty much crucial to getting the tree off the car, into the house, and into the stand.

Then the boys strung the lights.

And the kids and I hung the decorations.

I think my kids are growing up too much. This is a big tree and they're completely blocking it!

In the evening, we all went bowling for Aiden's birthday. Here's my sweet almost 12 year old. I cannot believe he is going to be 12!

Adam was there too. He took this picture. And, he's a pretty good bowler.

These two really missed each other.

And little Conor was a hit. He got several strikes and spares and beat all the other kids the first game.

And boy, was he so happy to have his Dylan around.

We stopped for a pizza on the way home and then enjoyed cake and ice cream. Aiden's choice? Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, and this one was fantastic! Between this cake and all the pumpkin pies we've been eating, I'm thinking we're all good in the beta carotene department.

And he made his wish. I'm not sure what it was, but mine would be that he never grows up. Of course, based on past experience, I know that one's not likely to come true, so I'll go with hoping that if he has to grow up, that he stays as kind, forgiving, sharing, helpful, polite, hard-working, thoughtful, and companionable as he is now.

At 5:00 this morning I took Dylan back to the airport for his flight home to his dad. It was hard to let him go, but I feel content inside, and I know he'll be back in a couple of weeks for Christmas.

What a great weekend. I am one grateful mama.

Old Soul, Little Body

2011-11-13T17:44:00.000-08:00

I was studying on the couch a few weeks ago, and Conor was busy on the floor next to me. I paid him no mind until I heard him say softly to himself, "Aiden is going to be sooo proud of me." He got up, satisfied, and was leaving the room, when I looked over to see what had inspired his self-confidence. There sat a chess board, perfectly set up. "Wait, did you do that?" I asked. "Yep," was his reply. I looked more closely, and darn if that kid--who just turned 5--didn't have every piece in its proper place.

I was impressed. But not as much as when I came back into the room later and found them both playing. And Conor had a sizable collection of Aiden's pieces. I was shocked! He knew the names of every piece and he knew how every piece moved! He was actually playing chess with Aiden (who, if you remember, is our little chess champion).

Apparently, Aiden taught him to play. He took an afternoon and taught him each piece, its moves and position. He said pawns capturing diagonally, though they move frontwards, was the hardest part for Conor to remember, but he got it, that kid.

I'm telling you, he thinks he's a grown up. The hardest part about kindergarten for him is the fact that everyone else in his class is 5. He loves school, and he's doing very well. Reading, counting, adding. One of his favorite parts is seeing the teachers, crossing guards, playground attendants, other parents, and bus drivers, many of whom he knows by name. Some he even has regular special hand signals or high fives as he passes them by each morning or afternoon. The students? Well, he tolerates them. After all, they are only 5 years old, so he tries to be patient with them. He told me the other day that sometimes he feels like a jerk. (Well, he has no real "r" sound yet, so at first I thought he said he felt like a "joke", and I said, "No, no, honey, you're not a joke! You're a great kid!") I find it interesting that he's analyzing himself in the way in which he interacts with others. We talked about it, he shared some interesting insights, and then I concluded, "Then, don't be a jerk." He's my 4th kid, you'd think I'd have more sage advice, but this one throws me for a loop constantly.

If you saw my status post on Facebook, you heard about how he decided to clean up the family room, just because it was mesy. His mess, I might add. Toys strewn about. I would have told him eventually to clean it up, but he walked right in, noticed it, and said, "I better clean this up!" I praised him for noticing and cleaning up without even being asked, to which he replied, "That's because I'm being proactive." That's right, Proactive. I'll say. He hears his school principal talk about being proactive every Friday after announcements. But who listens to the school principal, you know? And who adds her vocabulary to his and incorporates it into his character? Well, my kid, that's who. My adult-loving, kid-tolerating kindergartener.

Gotta love him. He's very entertaining. I highly recommend a conversation with him, if you ever get the chance.

I Blinked, and Just Like That. . .

2011-10-31T20:18:00.000-07:00

. . . Halloweens with Lyndsay are just a memory.

Lyndsay's first Halloween

Lyndsay's last Halloween at home

I'm not even a big Halloween fan, but this realization is kind of sad. She's out there gathering the last of the candy that she can beg in her childhood. From here on out, she'll have to pay like the rest of us.

Lyndsay, thanks for making 18 Halloweens such a treat.

Me and Mrs. P

2011-10-17T12:33:00.000-07:00

The first week of clinicals, I drove home crying and traumatized.

We had been learning and practicing beginning nursing skills for four weeks and it was time to go to a long-term care facility and begin caring for actual patients. All of us were a mix of nerves and excitement. For most of us, that first experience was hugely shocking. Taking vital signs on healthy, willing, cooperative college students is a much different experience than taking vital signs on confused, aggressive, ill, and elderly patients. Bathing nursing mannequins is very different than bathing confused, aggressive, immobile, and obese patients. We were threatened and we were yelled at. The work was physically and emotionally exhausting, and thankless to boot. Though this was a "nice" facility, still the atmosphere was dismal and depressing, seeing the later stages of heartbreaking illnesses and a lifelong inattention to health. More than that, I felt completely inadequate. I wanted to know how to handle every situation, and, well, I just didn't. That week we followed a CNA around for her shift, but the next week, we would be assigned a patient that would become our responsibility. I was scared out of my mind.

When the next week came, I was assigned Mrs. P. I had taken vital signs on her the week before, so I was familiar with her, and I had a sinking feeling that she would be my assignment. I only say sinking, because caring for her increased my feelings of inadequacy. Mrs. P. is an 82 year old woman with a myriad of health problems, but the reason she was admitted to this facility was because while reaching for something on her kitchen floor, she fell and broke her neck in two places. She is lying in a halo, for at least three more months. When I first walked into her room, her IVs were being attended to and I was waiting to take her vital signs. She was not complaining, but there were tears streaming down her face, from the pain she was in. I started to cry too. I couldn't help it.

That second week, I walked into her room and whispered hello to her, reintroducing myself to her. She remembered me. Mrs. P is completely blind in one eye and has glaucoma in the other from her diabetes. Her hearing is going, but afraid of losing her hearing aids, she had her husband leave them at home. She's been married for 62 years, to a man she's known since she was 6 years old. They had six children, but lost two. One died in her sleep at the age of 30, and one son was murdered by a 19 year old gunman while on vacation, leaving behind a wife and two young children. Mrs. P had survived breast cancer 20 years ago. This woman was a fighter, but because she was used to such strength, she finds her current helpless and painful condition very difficult to deal with. Every movement is painful. She can't care for herself at all. It was my privilege to feed her, bathe her, brush her teeth, change her, roll her (with the help of 2 other nursing students), rub lotion on her skin, and see that her bed sore wounds were dressed. I changed her linen and tried to keep her warm. I assessed her, administered her medications, and kept track of her vital signs. But mostly, as I cared for her, I listened to her. I would crack some jokes and she would laugh. Sometimes when the pain just became unbearable for her after the routine of bathing and rolling, she would just begin to cry. She would ask me to hold her hand, and I would. Just standing beside her, holding her hand.

The second day that I cared for her, I was so excited to see her. I practically ran to her room. She was so happy to see me again. She told me that she had told her husband all about me. I told her that I had told my husband and children all about her. She told me how grateful she was for my care, that I was not only good at what I was doing, but that I was kind to her. I guess kindness can be hard to find in nursing sometimes. She told me that I would be a wonderful nurse. That meant the world to me because still I felt so helpless to really make a difference for her. Seeing another person suffer so much really affected me. Together we worked through our routine of daily care. We eased our way into each activity, waiting for pain to subside, or enough sheer will to force through it. Sometimes she would cry. I would apologize, and she would say, "Oh, no, sweetie, you've got to do your job."

When my shift was over, I felt I had to say goodbye to Mrs. P. She was in a light sleep, but I didn't want her to wake up and just not know where I was. I walked into her room and held her hand, and she opened her eyes. "Mrs. P, I said, I have to go home now." She began to cry. She didn't want me to leave, and I didn't want to leave her either. "Thank you for being so patient with me as I learn," I said. "Oh, no," she answered, "thank you for being so kind to me, for making me laugh, for taking such good care of me. I'm sorry I can be such a baby, crying all the time."

At that point, I leaned over so she could see me well and I looked into her eyes. "Mrs. P," I said, "you are not a baby. Crying is not a sign of weakness. You are the strongest woman I've ever known. You are the bravest woman I've ever known."

"You mean that?" she asked me.

"I certainly do."

She is. The strongest and bravest.

I can't wait to see her tomorrow.

Rainy Day

2011-10-06T12:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I posted as my Facebook status that God must love me best.

That's because our day of clinicals was canceled due to our instructor being ill, and the icing on top of that was the fact that it rained. Hard! So, I got to stay home and enjoy a gray, gloomy, rainy day, and I felt happier than I can remember in a long time. It was such a gift it was practically Christmas!

When it was time to go pick Conor up from school, I decided to walk in the rain. As I walked, umbrella angled against the rain, and sometimes successfully clearing the rushing water I had to jump over to cross the streets, I wondered why it is I love the rain so much. I honestly doubt if I would ever tire of it.

I realized that, for me, as for the earth, the dark skies and downpours have a cleansing effect on my soul. I am emotional. I crave melodrama. I need time to contemplate and reflect, with even amounts of celebration and regret. I need to purge sadness. I need to pull out all my sentimentality from time to time and feel it drip and run all over me, and bring with it tears. I need a good cry, for no good reason, and for plenty of reasons all at the same time. I need to feel things, and feel them deeply, and that helps me feel alive.

Rainy days are more honest to me, especially living in southern California where the sun pretty much dominates the weather forecast. Rainy days are real. They make me look at things in my life with more discrimination, and they rejuvenate me. I am grateful for the replenishment the rain brings to the earth, and to me. I get all kinds of happy with even the threat of rain, the promise of rain, the anticipation of rain.

So, yesterday was a gift. I got up even earlier than I normally do to cook a favorite breakfast for my children and have it ready before I had to take Aiden to the bus at 6am. I was so tempted to keep them all home from school and just enjoy one another. Instead, I busied myself with caring for them while they were gone: tidying the house, taking care of me (me happy and cared for = them happy and cared for), and then I pulled a chicken out of the freezer and set to making chicken noodle soup and rolls to warm them once they came home. Though I didn't forego my studying entirely during the day, it felt so good to just be home, to slow cook nourishing food--to let the water become broth, to let the yeast swell.

Thank you, rainy day.

Something Worth Watching

2011-09-30T20:19:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of the Gomez family. They are a Mormon family living in Utah, and they are featured on this Sunday's episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition on ABC. A representative of the show contacted me several weeks ago asking if I'd be interested in previewing the episode and helping to spread the word, not just about the television show, but about the cause that's behind it, and I'm not just referring to a new house.

Little Jonah, there on the right, is 7 years old. He has two very rare blood disorders. So rare in fact, that he is the only person in the world with the combination, and the only way to save his life is to find a bone marrow donor who will match him. The problem is, one hasn't been found yet. In his young life, he's already had 65 blood transfusions and been hospitalized 20 times. His health status is so fragile. At the beginning of the show, the Gomez family is living in the grandmother's basement because Jonah's medical bills have left them unable to afford a house of their own. The basement, though, has some mold, and is damp and not conducive to the clean and abundant oxygen that Jonah requires to help keep him healthy. This is a very moving episode--I was in tears several times as I viewed it this afternoon. The beauty of this little boy's spirit shines right through the screen with his broad smile and upbeat attitude. You will fall in love with him (and his amazing mother and sister) in the first five minutes of the show, I guarantee that.

But besides being inspirational and moving, this episode raises awareness to the need to increase the bone marrow donor bank. You will be so impressed by how many people volunteer to be tested to see if they are a match for Jonah. It's an easy check, just a cheek swab, and sadly, Jonah is not the only little guy on a waiting list hoping for a chance at life. There's information at the end of the episode about how you can be checked to see if you might be a match to save sweet Jonah, or another child.

I highly recommend gathering the family together this Sunday evening for this episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. You know I don't have much time, but I am so glad I made the time to watch, and I am going to get myself checked!

(I was not paid or compensated in any way for this post. I was just asked to spread the word, however I chose to do that.)

I Owe You an Update!

2011-09-24T07:41:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for being such faithful readers, and coming each day to check my blog. I feel awful that I've been such an absentee blogger, and I actually think of my blog every day, but you know. . . I've been BUSY.

School is going great, really. It's actually quite fun. Our nursing class is made up of 60 students (actually, I think the number is 54 now) and we're divided into clinical groups of 10. We're with those 10 students for all of our classes, except for the big lecture class on Fridays, when we're all together, if that makes sense. This means that we spend a LOT of time together every day, and we've already become like a little family. My group of 10 is awesome. So culturally diverse, most of us are in our 30's, but 2 in their 20's, and one in his 40's. We have 3 men, 7 women, and we all work really well together. And we make each other laugh, which is a wonderful element of being together as often as we are. I've developed close friendships with several of my group members, and I look forward to seeing them each day.

So far we've been learning lots of basic nursing skills. We've learned aseptic technique and sterile technique, taking vital signs, bed baths, bedmaking (with and without a patient in the bed), several kinds of enemas, feeding tube care, and medication administration (drawing up syringes for different kinds of injections, and measuring other meds), among other things. Starting next week, we'll be caring for patients at a long-term residential care facility. We're all feeling excited about actual patient care, but nervous too. There are so many ways to make mistakes, and learning from books, videos, and on dummies is obviously a lot different than real people. But we'll get it, and soon these kinds of cares will be a piece of cake. So, we'll be at the clinical site two days a week, and at the campus lab for another day learning new skills to add to our hats. Then, the other two days will be the research class and the lecture class.

My schedule at home has gotten so packed. My goal when I decided to start school almost 3 years ago was to make sure that it didn't interfere with what I consider the most important parts of my life as a wife/mother. It's important to me that I still cook breakfast, pack lunches, and cook dinner each day (very tricky now, I assure you. . . maybe a post on just that topic soon.) I still want to read to Conor each evening. I still want to have Family Home Evening and scripture study, and I want to have time for dates with my children. Time management has become even more crucial. I've got some work to do, but so far, pretty good. We're all a work in progress.

On a personal note, I want to thank all of you, friends that I know in person and friends that I have "met" from blogging, for your support and kindness and encouragement. I go back and read my initial "Should I go to school" post from time to time. That post got more comments than any other post, I think, and I'm so grateful for your belief in me! This goal would definitely have been easier had I done it 20 years ago, but I have never regretted starting down this path, and I couldn't do it without you. Thank you so, so much.

Kindergarten Blues

2011-09-12T08:14:00.000-07:00

My little guy started kindergarten last week. He'd been so excited all summer to go to school like the big kids. I got him up early his first day to get him dressed and ready, but I had an early class and didn't get to take him to school. His dad took him, and the first two strikes happened early on: no backpacks allowed for kindergarten (wish they'd told us that before we all took our kiddos shopping!) and his teacher would be serving jury duty for at least the first week of school.

I picked him up that first day, and he was beaming. He looked so adorable sitting at his desk waiting obediently for his name to be called. On the way home, he told me all about his day, and despite the 105 temperature, he clung to my hand the entire way. "He missed me," I thought. "He wants me close."

The next two days I had to drop him off at the curb from the van, to go into the kindergarten yard, where they don't let parents come before school anyway. He slumped slowly in, but both days his teacher told me he cried. As we walked home, I asked him about the tears. "It's just that I missed you," he said. "I looked out the yard, and you were gone."

He was grateful for a weekend.

Sunday night he told me he didn't want to go to school the next day. "I want to stay home with you," he said. I explained that I wouldn't be here; I had school too. He suggested Daddy, but I reminded him that Daddy has to work. "But I'll cry, I know it," he whimpered. "You can do it, Conor," I told him. "You always have a really fun day at school, and when you get home, you can tell me all the fun things that you learned." He persisted, so I tried other tactics.

"You have to go to school. If you don't go to school, they'll kick you out."

He wanted to get kicked out.

"If you cry every day, the other kids will think you're a baby."

"Oh, no, that part's fine," he said. "They all try to cheer me up."

On Mondays, my school schedule allows me to walk him to school, so I figured we'd do that instead of the dump and drive thing. As we walked, he held my hand. And he said the sweetest things:

"I just love holding your hand, Mom."

"I wouldn't trade you for any other mom in the whole world."

"Thanks for walking with me, Mom."

I told him how much I believed in him and how proud I was of him, and how I couldn't wait to hear about his fun day. I told him how many children in the world didn't get to go to school, and how lucky we all are that we do. When we got to the kindergarten yard, I got down on my knees and hugged him for a good long time. He took his Star Wars lunchbox and his water bottle, and walked through the gate. Once through, he came running to the fence, where I was waiting on the other side. "I can't do it, Mom! I can't!" and the tears were coming.

I wanted to burst into tears. I wanted to say to him, "You know what? Forget this public school crap. Come back out of that yard and come home with me. Let's read stories and bake cookies and color pictures. You belong with me." But I choked it back, and put my fingers through the chain link to grab his hand, like one of us was a prisoner, not even sure which.

I reminded him of how brave he is, gave him every pep talk I could think of. His anxiety waxed and waned (mostly waxed) as the bell got closer. When it was time to line up, his big blue eyes filled with water. "You can do this, my boy. I love you." He started to the line, and then ran back to me one last time. We lined up our lips through the chain link diamond and I gave him a kiss of courage. "When you get home," I told him, "go check your bed. I'm going to leave you a surprise."

He lined up, but kept his head turned around to watch me the whole time. Meanwhile I was giving him smiles and thumbs up and blown kisses and cheers. Finally, his blonde head of curls disappeared through the door, and safely now, I let my own tears flow as I walked home.

I hate kindergarten. It just feels wrong to me.

I'll get home from school around dinner time. Aiden will be at a Dodger's game, and Lyndsay will be tutoring. So, it's all about Conor. I will feed him and bathe him, and read to him a few chapters from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. We'll say prayers together and lay together in his bed and he can tell me all about his day. I will praise his strong heart (and mine!) and tell him how doing hard things and facing his fears will make him courageous and brave.

And then, we'll do it all over again.

1 Week Down, 15 to Go

2011-09-02T19:01:00.001-07:00

I finished my first week of the RN program.

Longest. Week. Of. My. Life.

But so much fun, too. I'm really enjoying myself.

My schedule has me at school every day. I've never done that before, and it makes for a long week with all the commuting (20 miles each way). Oh, what this will cost me in gas! And I am trying to coordinate all the other areas of my life around this new schedule, which I was in the dark about until I showed up the first day. It's kind of tricky. Some days I can take the kids to school, others I cannot. Some days I can pick them up, others I cannot. Some days I'm home early, some late. And then there's getting all my piano students worked in there too.

Oh, and enormous amounts of reading and studying.

There are 60 of us in this program. We are the Class of 2013. We are together for the Nursing Fundamentals lecture class on Fridays, but other than that, we are broken into groups of ten for our clinical groups. I already feel like I have a new family in those 10 new friends, and many other new friends in the other groups.

Every day I came home dog tired. One day I thought pizza sounded like a fun way to end the week for dinner, but then I realized it was only Tuesday. Tuesday!

This week, besides all the introductory stuff about the program, we learned handwashing and aseptic techniques, and taking vital signs. I heard my first blood pressure this week, and I've been checking everyone in the house regularly for practice. We are told very seriously that this program is rigorous and will demand most of our lives for the next two years, but that we will be so grateful, and it will be so worth it.

I can already tell.

This Summer in Pictures

2011-08-25T21:30:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is my last official day of summer. Nursing school begins bright and early Monday morning. (Yikes!) Though I didn't really go anywhere, this summer was very eventful.

For starters, Aiden graduated from elementary school.

I celebrated my last night with all four of my children living under my roof.

Conor "graduated" from preschool (where he'd only been attending for 3 1/2 months).

I planted a garden.

I sent Lyndsay and Dylan to Flagstaff to attend EFY (Especially for Youth) at Northern Arizona University for a week. Then they spent some time with their dad.

When they got home from EFY, I sent Dylan and Aiden off to Scout Camp, their only year to go together.

While the boys were at Scout Camp, I sent Lyndsay off to Mexico for two weeks.

I spent July 4th with all my boys, including Adam, of course. We went to the Sunland-Tujunga parade and then a traditional party at a friend's house, followed by fireworks.

The next day was my last day with Dylan, so I took him on a date. Mini-golf and frozen yogurt. Conor came along.

Then I cried really hard when I had to say goodbye to him and take him to the airport.

Then I watched him get on the plane and I cried some more.

Then I came home and turned my grief into action by repainting and re-bedding the boys' room and Lyndsay's room.

I got to spend some time with my sister, Abby, and her family for a few days, and Lyndsay came home from Mexico on her birthday.

How have enough years passed that my little girl has 17 candles on her cake?!

We celebrated quickly.

Because the next day she left again to go on the Youth Pioneer Trek.

Meanwhile, Abby and Orion treated me, Aiden, and Conor to a trip to the Long Beach Aquarium of the Pacific, a place I've always wanted to go.

Then Abby and her fam had to pack up and move on toward New York. I spent days getting health clearances, blood work, and immunizations in preparation for the RN program. Also a fingerprint clearance, American Heart Association lifesaving certification. Oh, and spending a small fortune on textbooks and uniforms. I also did light homeschooling with Conor and got him started reading. And we read the three E.B. White classics aloud. That was fun.

But some days we snuck away to the park, or to go swimming.

Then I took Aiden and Lyndsay to Arizona to spend some time with their dad. Lyndsay came home after a few weeks, Aiden is still there.

Amber surprised me one Sunday afternoon by knocking on my door unannounced. I love when she does that.

I sent Lyndsay off, yet again, this time for a week of Girls Camp.

And I turned my loneliness into jam. Lots of jam.

And I took Conor to the California Science Center. It's FREE! And very, very cool.

Lyndsay came home and we hosted a Game Night for a bunch of friends.

Then the next day we went to the beach.

Then Conor turned 5.

Lyndsay started her Senior year. (Aaaagh!)

And Adam turned 39.

In between, I've read some books, watched some rented movies, and caught up with some friends. On Monday, I start school and Aiden comes home. Summer is pretty much wrapping up. It's been a pretty heavy emotional one for me, with transitions everywhere I turn. One child moving out, a child in her last year at home, and my baby going to kindergarten. And learning to be a real nurse!

All these things shall give me experience, and shall be for my good. Or something like that.

Beans for Butter: White Bean Episode

2011-08-22T12:18:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year I stumbled upon Crystal Godfrey's blog, Everyday Food Storage. I enjoyed browsing around, watching some of her videos, and then I joined her 10 Day Challenge. Most of what she shared and taught was not new information to me, but what I appreciated was the little kick in the pants to put into actual practice so many of the tips I've mentally gathered over the years regarding actually using the food I'm storing. Of special importance to me was using more powdered milk (including making evaporated milk and sweetened condensed milk from that powdered milk) and powdered eggs. Those products don't last quite as long as wheat, and if left forgotten will spoil, and result in a big waste of money. I'm not into that. I saw that Crystal had a cookbook, so in the spring, I bought a copy and read it.

I tried several recipes with success, and I love the accountability that her cookbook provides, with write-in pages committing you to actually practice what you're learning. I set a goal to try each section (Wheat, Powdered Milk, Powdered Eggs, Beans, Fruits and Vegetables). The Beans section particularly interested me because I've read for years and years and years how beans can be substituted for butter or oil in baked goods. I love me some butter, and I don't shy away from it, as I believe it contributes to health, however, I don't know if you've noticed, but butter costs a lot more than beans do, and beans also contribute to health. I wanted to see how things tasted with this substitution because it's very important to my peace of mind to know that under any circumstance, come what may, I can still make cookies.

The thing with bean substitution is that you just use the color of beans that matches your end product. My sister uses black beans in brownies, for example (that's coming up for me!), so since I decided to start with white beans, I was making light-colored baked goods.

I set my goals, right in the book, as directed: (though I ended up changing the oatmeal raisin cookies for oatmeal chocolate chip, because, well, duh.) Oh, and the Chili got bumped to tomorrow night because I had to harvest tomatoes.

I opened up a bag of white beans and set them to soak.

After soaking, which though it takes some time, can easily become just a plan-ahead habit, I drained and rinsed them, and then put them back into water to cook.

The first recipe I wanted to try was actually not in the cookbook, but in the email newsletter from Crystal's site: Homemade Nutrigrain Bars. I figured it would be an excellent quick grab breakfast for the days I have early morning classes or clinicals and can't eat with the kids, or on days that I'm gone and they need something healthy.

First step is just like butter. Just mix the beans and sugar, and then continue on with the recipe. I also used powdered eggs in this recipe, and if you do, you do not add the water portion of the eggs because the beans add enough moisture that you don't need to.

The recipe uses whole wheat flour (which I ground up), oat flour (which I pulsed in the food processor), and suggests almonds (which I also pulsed in the food processor). Half of the dough gets pressed on the bottom of a pan, and then I used some of my homemade strawberry jam for the filling layer, and then the rest of the dough gets pressed on top. Into the oven!

I let them cool all the way, and then cut the pan into 14 bars. They were easy to cut and kept their shape without too much crumbling. Everyone had one for breakfast with a glass of milk.

The rest I packed into snack sized Ziplocs and froze them for future breakfast emergencies. I plugged them into a program I use to find that they each have 270 calories, 5g of fiber, and 8g of protein. That's if you cut 14 bars---you could cut yours smaller if you'd like. Paired with a glass of cold milk it's a suitable, and filling breakfast. In fact, I never even felt the usual blood sugar drop around 11am that I usually feel, reminding me to grab a snack. Lots of whole grains, slowly releasing their glucose into the bloodstream. Now, yes, Nutrigrain bars from Kellogg's have less calories, but they also have a lot of unfamiliar ingredients, and they would never in a million years satisfy me for a meal. Nor would I give them to my children as a breakfast. So, there you have it.

Do you want the recipe? Here it is:

Ingredients:

1 cup cooked white beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs (1/4 c. dry egg powder and NO water)
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup coarse oat flour (take quick oats and pulse in blender until a coarse flour)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder (make sure it's fresh!)
1½ cups chopped almonds, optional
3/4 cup raspberry (or other fruit) jam

Method:

Heat the oven to 350°. Grease a 9"x13" baking pan.

Place the beans and sugars in a large bowl, and cream them until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Beat in the eggs (egg powder).

In a small bowl, combine the flours, cinnamon, salt, and baking powder. With the mixer on low speed, gradually add the flour mixture to the sugar mixture, then mix or stir in the almonds.

Use your fingers to press half of the dough into the bottom of the baking pan. (You may need to grease your fingers with non-stick spray to keep the dough from sticking to your fingers.)

Put the jam in a small bowl and loosen it up with a small whisk or a fork (this will make it spread easier). Spread the jam evenly over the dough, leaving about a 1/4-inch border around the edges.

Sprinkle the remaining dough over the jam, all the way to the edges of the pan, and then press on it gently to form the top layer.

Bake until the top is golden and the edges are starting to brown, about 35 to 40 minutes. Cool completely in the pan, and then cut into whatever size bars you like and serve. The bars will keep for at least three or four days at room temperature, or you can freeze them.

The other recipe I tried was the Reduced-fat Chocolate Chip Cookies from the cookbook. These also used white beans (thus, the reduced-fat), and they turned out deliciously! You do have to spray the cookie sheets when using beans instead of butter. These were yummy, and the batch made 61 cookies for me, most of which I froze for lunch snacks.

I still have a bowl of cooked white beans in the fridge to finish off my experiments, but I am very encouraged so far, and will definitely continue in the effort to try pinto beans and black beans in recipes. I'll keep you posted!

Lessons in Love: Dylan Style

2011-08-18T08:05:00.001-07:00

Today I was supposed to be getting on the road with Conor to go see Dylan in Arizona for the weekend. I was so looking forward to it. I had planned to pick him up from school today and have him walk me around his new campus, just briefly, and then take him for some ice cream. I knew that tomorrow would be a school day for him, so I would take him home, get a quick peek at his new room, and then leave him for the evening and I would spend some time with one of my best friends. On Friday after school I wanted to take him (and possibly Aiden) out to dinner and a movie, and then on Saturday, I'd hoped to take Dylan to a Frank Lloyd Wright architecture school in Scottsdale to look around, and then some mini-golf, and then a swim/game night over at my brother's house where my AZ family was going to gather so we could see each other. On Sunday I was going to go to Sacrament Meeting at his new ward and then head home.

I know he's only been gone since July 6th, but he's already started school, and I missed that. I'm about to start the RN program, and I have no idea when the next time I can sneak away will be. Dylan isn't scheduled to come home until Thanksgiving break, so I thought this quick trip would be opportune. But when I talked with him on the phone last week, for really, the first time since he left, and I was enthusiastically telling him how much fun we'd have and how I couldn't wait to see him, all I got was silence on the other end. Awkward silence.

So, an uncomfortable conversation ensued, and it became apparent to me that he was not interested in my visit. He thought it was "weird" and "unnecessary". Frankly, he was rude and cold to me, and I was terribly deflated and in tears. I told him to just forget it then, that I would not come out, and I got off the phone. I called his dad in my tears and explained what had happened, and he was not happy to hear how Dylan had treated me, but agreed that maybe the visit should be postponed, though he knew how difficult and hurtful that was for me.

I really thought Dylan's conscience would bug him and he would call me to apologize. Not to beg me to come anyway, but maybe just to smooth things over between us and say he was sorry for being so rude to me. But he didn't.

I was really bummed. I felt rejected. I cried a lot.

On Sunday I wrote him a letter, expressing my heart, and telling him how much I love him. I told myself, "He just needs more time, more space." I've been trying to be okay. His dad tells me how happy Dylan is, how he wakes up early every morning, cheerful and ready to go. How he comes home after school and does his homework right away and how he performs random acts of kindness around the home. How they're having so much fun together, and how they are like "peas in a pod". Well, how can he be so happy and still treat his mother like crap? Which is why it's hard to keep that voice stifled that whispers, "It's you."

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Yesterday I had the most blessed conversation with a dear, dear friend of mine. During the years that I've known her, she's been a struggling single mom. Oh, how she's struggled! And though I have tried to be a strength to her, really, it's me gleaning the strength from her. Her faith is so pure and so constant! After she filled me in on the incredible details of the last few months of her life (which, includes a new marriage that happened in the most miraculous way, a move to a new state where she gets to live her dream of being in the mountains, and financial security--really, the last year of her life should be a movie!), she asked how I was doing. I skimmed around the meaty parts, not wanting to bring down the mood, and hoped she wouldn't ask specifically about Dylan.

But she did. She's awesomely in-tune that way.

As soon as I started to express what I was feeling, the tears came too. She listened, and then she chastened me. "Shut up," she said to me. "Shut up! Have you no faith in what you believe, and in what you've taught him his whole life? You have been the most remarkable mother to him. You have trained him up in the way he should go! He just needs time. He needs to become a man, and he can't do that with you. He's gone off to find his way as a man, and to find out what he truly believes and why, and he might make some mistakes along the way, but you have trained him up, and he will not depart from it! He's not even aware of why he's treating you the way that he is, except that he knows that out of every person on this planet, you are the most constant in his life, the safest, most secure source of love. He loves you, Jenna! Don't take his reactions so personally. He loves you, but it's not going to look like the love that you want him to show you. He's trying to become a man, and when he does, you are going to look at him and be so proud of him, and see that he is everything you ever hoped for him. He is going to be such an amazing man, you'll see. And all of your children will rise up and call you blessed! You have done everything you can to be a good mother, and God will honor that!"

It went on longer. I wish I could have recorded it to put it on my iPod. It was so comforting, so reassuring to me, and I felt the confirmation that her words were true. It's so hard to wait! It's hard to wait for the bread to rise, for my schooling to be completed, for the hand of the Lord in my children's lives. And yet, I must remember that while I'm waiting, the bread is rising, my schooling is being completed, and the hand of the Lord is working in my children's lives. Sometimes I'm so faithless.

Dylan is where he is supposed to be, doing what he is supposed to be doing to become who he is supposed to be. I have not failed, and I have not been rejected. This is a season of separateness for us, but it is still a season for love. My love as his mother has been an anchoring foundation in his life, and it will not fail him now.

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Late last night, I checked my email to find a message from Dylan. He hasn't used email in years, but decided to get back on. He was happy. He used exclamation points!!!!!!!!!

And all is well. Including me.

Last First Day

2011-08-16T08:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was bittersweet. Yesterday was the last day I will ever be able to see Lyndsay off on her first day of school. Senior year!

I remember years ago, standing in front of the big picture window in our Show Low house, watching the school bus pull up. Lyndsay and Dylan were standing next to me. We had been homeschooling already for two years. Lyndsay was reading well and doing second grade math. But that day was the day she was supposed to be getting on that bus to go to kindergarten. That day was the day we officially were doing things our way, and my babies were staying home to learn with me. We watched as the school bus pulled away, and there we all still were, together! We got right back to work at our big dining room table.

All those years ago, I had such grand plans for the education of my children. I saw bright futures for them, and I did all I could to help guide them along. Each fall meant boxes of curriculum and books showing up on our porch, one of the greatest feelings ever. I am so grateful to have had those years of learning together. I'm sure I remember much more of what we learned than they do, but those years helped to build them, not just as learners, but as people. Now they are excellent at both.

The decision to send Lyndsay to public school when she was ready for high school was a tough one, but it was a decision that I felt confirmed by the Holy Ghost, and it has been a strengthening experience for her. She has been exposed to many things I wish she hadn't, but she's also been refined and tested, and she glows brighter for it. Now she is ready to embrace this last year of high school, at the top of her game. Next year, she will have a first day of class somewhere far away from home, but home will be always be with her, inside of her, a part of her.

Bat Birthday Boy

2011-08-13T06:52:00.000-07:00

Right now there are two things that Conor loves: Batman and Star Wars. When deciding on a cake for his 5th birthday, without question it had to fall into one of those two categories. We almost went Star Wars, but a few days before, he came back around to Batman, and I was sort of relieved, because I wasn't sure how I was going to pull off a quick and easy Star Wars cake. It had to be quick and easy because time was really crunched, and because I didn't want a huge cake since half of our kids are not at home to eat it.

Conor knew we were going to the beach for his birthday. Early yesterday morning, while we were still in bed, he cracked open my bedroom door, and with his champion bedhead, shoved an open hand in the door, fingers spread, and said, "I'm 5!"

"Actually, no, you're not," Adam said. Oh, great.

Conor looked crestfallen. "Yeah, mom said we were going to the beach for my birthday and that when we wake up we are going to the beach, so that means it's my birthday!"

"Nope, you're still 4," Adam taunted. He loves to do that, taunt Conor.

"Well, Conor, actually, your birthday is tomorrow, but since Lyndsay is going on a trip tomorrow, we are pretending your birthday is today." I tried to smooth things over.

And then he said, "I think I'm going to be sick." (He did look suddenly very pale.) And he ran into our bathroom and threw his head into the toilet.

He didn't actually throw up, which was a relief, and his sudden illness was confusing, but it passed just as quickly as it came, probably because he drank a whole bunch of water when he woke up, and water on an empty stomach first thing in the morning makes me feel nauseated too.

So, we spent the day at the beach. Conor loves the beach. He spent an equal amount of time playing in sand and sea. In fact, he doesn't call it the 'ocean', he prefers 'sea'. And he kept saying, "Will you go out to sea with me?" or "I love to play in the sea."

Back at home around 5pm, Lyndsay and I hustled to get dinner on the table while Conor rinsed off his sand and sea in the shower upstairs. He'd chosen Baked Creamy Chicken Taquitos for his birthday dinner, with some "squashed" (refried) beans, and corn on the cob. He got to choose who said his birthday dinner prayer (Sean), and once the "amens" were uttered, right away he ushered us into our birthday family tradition. "Okay," he said, "Sean, you can go first to say what you love about me." And then he proceeded to order each of us to say what we loved about him. Which is so, so easy to do. But then a surprise ending, as he continued, "What I love about me is that I can control my body so that I can enjoy all my happy things." (He's been especially interested in the topic of self-control lately. He's an interesting guy.)

Next up was Bat Cake, and singing, and making wishes.

How in the world can there be five candles on my baby's cake? At first, he wished for "all the toys in the world", but he said that one out loud, so clearly it's not going to come true. And then I think maybe his self-control hasn't come all that far after all.

Then it was presents time, and he was very thankful and very satisfied. We got Batman and Star Wars covered, and a Leapster Explorer game too.

Lastly, the Gum Ceremony. In our family, children have to wait until they're 5 years old to chew gum. On their 5th birthday, we give them a pack of gum and videotape/photograph their first gum-chewing experience. Lyndsay clearly remembers her Gum Ceremony, which delighted me. For Conor, it was somewhat of a let-down. He popped a piece in his mouth and began chewing. He passed out pieces for the rest of us to enjoy. Then he got up to go into the bathroom. I asked him what he was doing and he said, "I'm spitting it out." "Why?" I asked. "Because that's what you're supposed to do!" he answered. Clearly, chewing something for simply the purpose of chewing it seemed ridiculous to him. Oh well. At least now the mystery and intrigue of gum has been satisfied.

On the way up to bed, Conor said, "This was the best birthday ever! Thank you so much, Mom, for all of my new toys! I love my new toys!"

And I said, "You're so welcome, baby boy. You deserve them."

And he said, "You're right, I do deserve them."

Clearly his self-esteem, if not his self-control, is way above the mark. But I love that he thinks he is something else. I think he is too.

Garden Update: Not So Lovely

2011-08-03T12:16:00.000-07:00

Well, I figured it wouldn't be fair if I only show you when things go well, since many times they don't. My poor garden! It's not as beautiful as it was last year, sadly. I have been so busy, and I have neglected it, I'm afraid. As in, we have a heat spell and I forget to water. My beans have really taken it the worst. They are really sad looking, but I pulled all the beans off to try to give them time to rest and hopefully recuperate, at least some of them. They did put out a great harvest, though, and I have several pounds of beans in my freezer.

But here's the really bad part: aphids. It was like one day they were not there, and I swear, like 2 days later, there were billions of them! Only on the Swiss Chard. And worse than the aphids, were the ants who were herding them. Apparently, aphids produce a sticky "milk" that the ants love, so they shepherd the aphids to collect it. There were so many ants I couldn't walk down that path in the garden or I'd be swarmed. And they bite!

So, I gave up. I know I could have tried ladybugs--and there were many ladybugs there, doing their ladybug best--but it's not like Swiss Chard is my favorite thing, and I just couldn't deal with it at that moment, so out they came. I booted up and gloved up, and went out with my shovel and just pulled up all the Swiss Chard and dumped it. And boy, were those ants mad then!

But on a lovelier note, here are my first three striped tomatoes, which I think are so beautiful. I need to make a BLT, I think. With extra T.

All of the tomatoes are doing well. Here are the yellow pear tomatoes, which I can't stop eating off the vine, warm from the sun. I wish my kids were home to help me keep them eaten!

I have two varieties of paste tomatoes growing, which are really my favorite part of the garden, because I love to make my own sauce and put it up for all winter long. This top plant is a San Marzano, which is prized as being the best paste tomato in the world. I did not know that at the time, but I am so excited to try them! As a plant, the leaves are thinner and the plant itself is more open than the Romas, which grow very bushy and thick, with much wider leaves.

This is one of the Roma tomato plants, where the tomatoes are starting to turn red, finally. I can't wait!

I've also done a lot of jam making this summer as fruit has gone on sale. There's strawberry, apricot-peach, blueberry, and mango-vanilla. It is all so yummy! I made 35 pints all together, but we've eaten some and I've given some away. Still, I think we'll be fine through the year till next summer!

I guess we're having lots of jam on homemade whole wheat bread, pancakes, muffins, and waffles this year! But I'm not complaining!

Yep, I Do Believe I'm an Ant

2011-07-27T09:11:00.001-07:00

Conor wanted to know why we were going to the grocery store again, to buy more strawberries. I told him there are two kinds of people in this world: ants and grasshoppers, taken from one of my favorite fables. I told him how all summer long, the ant worked each day to gather and store food. He knew that winter would come and food would not be plentiful. He used the warm weather and abundance of the season to prepare for tomorrow. Meanwhile, the grasshopper just spent his time singing and dancing and relaxing. He had no need at that moment, and grasshoppers are really only concerned about that moment. Well, winter did come, and the grasshopper was cold, and hungry. There wasn't food to be found under all that snow. The ant, however, was toasty warm in his home with his stores of food filled to overflowing. He could relax and enjoy security in the harshness of winter because he had not wasted his summer in frivolity.

"Now, which would you rather be?" I asked Conor. "An ant, or a grasshopper?"

Well, an ant, of course.

And that's why we're going back to the store for more strawberries.

Also, I reminded him, our prophet has counseled us to do all we can to be prepared for a time of need. Food will not always be readily available, and we do not ever want to be hungry. So, when food is plentiful, as in summer time, and it is on sale, we buy as much as we can!

One of my basic food storage goals is to be able to always have homemade wheat bread and fresh jam available. I don't know about you, but I could live on those two items for a long time, happily. I feel like I've become competent with bread and know that my ton of wheat will never go to waste. Living in California, where fruit is amazing, I decided to make as much jam as I could, to last us throughout the winter---which, admittedly, isn't as romantic a winter as I wish we had, all snowed in and cozy, but still. I try not to buy fruits and vegetables out of their season, which means, I'm not buying strawberries in January, even if I can find them in the store.

I made two batches of strawberry jam yesterday, to add 8 pints to my storage. I plan to make another batch once my pectin arrives in the mail. I then stemmed additional berries and froze them in one-pound batches for use in breakfast smoothies once school starts. As you can see from the picture of my fridge, I still have about 10 pounds left to use--more jam, more to freeze, some to eat fresh on steel-cut oats. Or, in yogurt. Or, just for a snack! And today, when berry prices jump back up to more than triple what I paid, it won't bother me a bit. My strawberry stores are full!

(And I also have peaches and mangos ready to be jammed, and offers to glean apricots and blackberries for even more! Winter will be sweet indeed!)

They Left Over a Week Ago, But I'm Just Still Happy!

2011-07-25T07:56:00.000-07:00

I should have blogged about this last week, but I was busy cramming for a midterm. No matter, because reliving it today makes me all happy inside. The bad thing about living in California, for me, is that none of my family lives in California. The good thing about living in California, is that people tend to come here for vacation. And people that live in Hawaii, who are in the process of moving to New York, have to come to California, and that's when I get lucky. My youngest sister Abby and her family have lived in Hawaii for the last three years and are now being transferred to upstate New York---how's that for a change in climate? Her husband, Orion, is a hard working Army man, and that's the name of the game. So, off they go. And very cool, they planned a cross-country road trip to visit most of the family along the way. I got to be first.

Abby has three adorable children. If you remember from years ago, I traveled out to Kentucky with baby Conor to help her when she had her second little boy, while her husband was in Afghanistan. Now she has a pudgy, delightfully joyful, squishy-soft baby girl, named Kaydence. She is 5 1/2 months old, and I was meeting her for the first time, which I found interesting, since my Lyndsay was exactly that age when Abby and the rest of my family met her for the first time. And now, 16 1/2 years later, Abby has her girl, and mine's about to fly from the nest. I love this picture of us with our brown-eyed girls.

Kaydence reminds me so much of baby Lyns, with her big brown eyes and dark eyebrows. What a little love she is!

Though Conor (as always) was initially resistant to the onslaught of people wanting to play with his toys, he warmed up to the idea, and loved having his cousins, Calix and Maddox, around. After all, Batman is much more fun if you don't have to be the good guy and the bad guys, right?

My kids loved on Kaydence. Aiden will be such a great daddy.

What I was so looking forward to was taking all the kids to the Long Beach Aquarium of the Pacific. I've wanted to go for years! I only had Aiden and Conor by that time, but it was great fun.

Conor took frequent breaks to pat Kaydence's head or hold her hand. He was enamored with her and made comments about how fun it would be to have a baby sister. But that's not happening, sadly. I did love how gentle he was with her.

The boys in front of a large tank: Calix, Maddox, Conor, Aiden.

Petting some baby sharks.

Shark Lagoon was cool! And we had the nicest weather. We spent four hours at the Aquarium, and had such a good time together.

Last I heard, Abby's now in Iowa, having spent some days in Arizona with a crowd of siblings (and our dad) and up in Colorado with another crowd (and our mom). I'm really excited for her family adventure up in New York. I know she's dreading the snow and the cold, but she'll do fine. She has grown up into a capable, wonderful mother with a beautiful marriage and family. I am so proud of her! And her visit did my heart good.

A Brother Forever

2011-07-20T10:27:00.000-07:00

These pictures make me cry. They are the last two days we had Dylan here with us. And they make me cry because though I've been so wrapped up in how Dylan's leaving affects me, I sometimes forget to remember that Dylan's leaving affects each of us, even little Conor.

Conor adores his big brother. Dylan wasn't always the best influence on him, teaching him things for kicks that we would rather he not, for example, but Dylan and Conor have a sweet bond. Dylan was there when Conor was born, cheering me on through the pushes. He has been so kind and patient with Conor and has almost limitless patience with him. Conor feels cool when he's with Dylan. He wants to do the big boy things that Dylan does. In fact, though I was the one in tears the days leading up to Dylan's departure, the only emotional thing that Dylan ever talked about was how much he was going to miss Conor. And they did spend some tender times together those last few days.

I drove Lyndsay and Aiden out to Arizona to spend time with their dad and Dylan on Monday. Conor, of course, came along for the ride. He was so excited to see Dylan. The hardest part came when Conor started talking about his birthday next month and asked Dylan if he would be at his party. When Dylan explained that he couldn't be, Conor's face just fell, and his big blue eyes filled with tears. It broke my heart. He clung to his brother, and when it was time to drive away, Conor sobbed in his car seat back down the I-10 West. When I asked him if he wanted to talk about it, he just said, "I just want my brothers and sister home with me."

Me too, buddy, me too.

I feel sad inside that my children feel sadness. As if my own emotion wasn't enough, I feel all of theirs too. Dylan needs to be in Arizona with his dad right now, I know that. I feel peaceful about that. But seeing how his needs affect the other kids really clarifies to me how important every member of a family is. We need to all be there! It's hard to not be together. Not just for a mom, but for a brother! Brothers need brothers. We all need each other, and when life takes us apart from one another, it's hard.

Dylan only has three years left of living at home before college or a mission or whatever he chooses to do with life. Of course, I had hoped to have those three years here with me, and here with Aiden and Conor. Conor's at an age where he very likely will have no memory of living with Dylan as he grows up, which is very sad to me. We will have to find a way to keep the bonds of brotherhood strong across the miles. After all, we believe family relationships are eternal. Thank goodness for that.

Room Reveal

2011-07-15T11:22:00.000-07:00

It looks better in person, but here's a glimpse into the new bedroom for the boys with fresh paint and new bedding. Conor is loving his graduation to a big boy bed in the big boy room with Aiden, and Aiden is king of the roost on the top bunk.

There's a great big framed print on the wall over the third bed, which you can't see, obviously, and behind this shot is the dresser and the bookcase, all organized and lovely. There's a big walk-in closet in this room too, which we painted, re-organized, and used our newly found space to store 24 of the buckets of food storage that had been in our family room. That helps a lot! I still need to get a curtain in navy blue for this room, and a bedskirt for the third bed.

And then the super big surprise! Aiden and I redid Lyndsay's room too as a birthday present for her! It was so hard to keep it a secret. We did it the day after we did his room. Cleaned everything, repainted, Aiden took down and hung up all the shelving and pictures, hard worker that he is. I found the awesome Amy Butler bedding set at Bed, Bath, and Beyond and fell in love with it. You should have seen Lyndsay's face when she walked in after getting home from Mexico. She is so in love with it! It makes me so happy to make my kids happy. (And clean rooms make me happy too.)

Busy Hands and Happy Hearts

2011-07-12T06:26:00.000-07:00

My husband says I move at a million miles per hour. I do? Maybe that's why I'm so tired. I think this last week he may have been right, but I have found that nothing beats depression and moody funks like being busy, having a project, getting things done. It's how I cope. Well, when I'm lucky it's how I cope. Other times I cope with ice cream, sad movies, and crying. Then again, maybe that's not coping?

Anyway.

Last week was hard. Sunday was my last Sunday with Dylan. Monday was my last Monday with Dylan. Tuesday was my last Tuesday with Dylan and my last night with Dylan living here. (See the pattern here?) Wednesday was torture. Thursday, my handcart pioneer stock kicked in and I got back on the trail. Pushing and pulling. And painting.

I decided to purge and repaint the boys' room to help encourage a fresh start, and to also help Aiden with his grief with a celebration of now being The Big Brother. He helped me completely empty that bedroom and walk-in closet. Huge task. He worked like a dog from early morning till 11pm, never once complaining or asking for a break. He was amazing! And he was such a joy to work with, because he sees what needs to be done--sometimes even before I do, which is a trick, let me tell you--and he just does it! He hauled furniture, tubs of toys, books, more furniture. He took pictures off the walls. He filled nail holes with putty. He sanded the filled holes. He masked the walls and trim. He painted, and painted, and painted with me (and the missionaries who came to help for 2 hours). And then, near exhaustion, he worked with me for another 2 hours putting everything back. Which included dumping every bucket and bin of toys and sorting them back into their proper homes. And can I just say, I don't know how anyone else has any Legos at all, because it seems like they're all in my house. He was such a joy, and an enormous help. I told him I couldn't have done it without him. And I wasn't just being nice. He said, "Well, some people are good at organizing, but they hate it. I'm good at it and I love it!" (You want to clone him, don't you?)

I know, I know, you want a picture. I actually have some, but I can't put them up yet. I will very soon. It looks amazing, though. We found (well, Aiden found) great new bedding for all three beds, which is what we matched the paint to. Everything is fresh and clean. And organized. Whew!

Tomorrow? Lyndsay's birthday. Lyndsay comes home from Mexico for a brief stay before leaving again on Thursday. My sister Abby and her family (squee!) come to visit on the first stop of their cross-country road trip as they get transferred from Hawaii to upstate New York.

I better get busy!

Book Review: Safe Money Millionaire

2011-07-10T21:21:00.000-07:00

I like money books. I have a section of a shelf with money books. This may seem strange, since I don't (yet) actually have any money, but I believe in visualizing my way to success, and someday I will have money and will need to know what to do with it. At least I hope so. And up until recently, I thought I knew the best things to do with money, should I ever come into some. But I just read a book that counters the advice in most of those other books, and most of the advice I've ever heard from financial gurus, like Dave Ramsey and Suze Orman, and I must say, I'm intrigued.

Safe Money Millionaire is a quick, easy to understand, engaging book. You don't have to be a math or finance or accounting whiz to get it. Basically, the premise is this: all the advice and "wisdom" we are programmed with about investing our money on Wall Street or in 401(k) plans is designed to turn a profit, but not necessarily for the one who is actually doing the investing. It happens time and time again, where well-intentioned, hard-working, responsible people max out their 401(k) plans, thinking they are doing the smartest thing, only to be actually losing wealth and valuable time in the volatile market. The authors, Brett Kitchen and Ethan Kap explain what a rate of return is and why a higher rate of return doesn't actually mean that you are getting wealthier. They also debunk the myth about tax savings and 401(k) plans with a great analogy about paying tax on seeds or on crops.

The book does read a little like an infomercial, spending the first half explaining why conventional financial advice is really not wise at all, and then the second half explaining what they believe to be the best and safest way to grow your wealth, which is with cash value life insurance policies that are carefully and strategically set up with a Safe Money Millionaire Advisor. You can grow your money with the "ups" in the market, while protecting it against the "downs". You can borrow against your policy, paying yourself back with interest to grow your wealth, instead of paying banks and finance companies, and earning interest on your balance as if you never borrowed against it. And, in the event of death, benefits are paid to your loved ones.

I liked the chapter about real people who have grown wealth through life insurance policies. People like J.C. Penney, Doris Christopher (founder of Pampered Chef), Walt Disney, and Ray Kroc (McDonald's). I also liked the examples of regular, not-famous individuals who have chosen to grow their money through Safe Money Millionaire principles and how it worked for them. Yes, you do have to go to their website, and yes, you do have to work with one of their advisors, but chances are, if you're serious about your money, you're doing that anyway, and that advisor is offering you options that may not be the best after all.

I am intrigued. I really enjoyed the chance to preview this book, and I actually do plan to go to the website and do more research. Because, you know, I plan to have money one day, and I'd like it to be safe! And growing! And in my pocket, instead of someone else's!

Safe Money Millionaire can be purchased from Amazon. And you can visit the website here.

Fly Away Home

2011-07-06T22:09:00.000-07:00

In the fall of 1995, I sat in a movie theater, great with child. We were watching the movie, Fly Away Home, the story of the young girl who goes to live with her father after her mother dies in a car accident. Her father has not been a part of her life, living on a different continent, and the transition is rocky, but then the girl, while protesting the deforestation about to happen near their property, finds and rescues about a dozen goose eggs. She tucks them into a drawer with heat lamps and watches them carefully, until one day, they begin to hatch! Geese imprint on the first living thing they see, so suddenly, she is the mother to all these baby goslings. They give her life meaning and happiness, and she spends all her free time with them. But she also knows that geese fly to warmer climates in the winter, and it's the mother goose who teaches them how, so she must find a way. With the help of her inventor father, she builds a little plane glider that has wings painted like a geese's, and she trains her geese to make the long-distance flight. Elaborate plans are made to carry this out while avoiding the authorities, and bring her babies south, and finally, after much training, the time comes when they must make the journey. At the end of the trip, of course, the news media has caught wind and are there waiting for them to arrive. Once she has done her part to ensure the safety of her geese, she must turn around and head home. She knows the geese are supposed to return to their spring and summer home, but she has no guarantee that her unconventionally raised geese will know that part.

I can remember my feelings in that movie theater so clearly. I was balling my eyes out, rubbing my round belly. Little Dylan-boy was just finishing up his growing on the inside of me, and I was crying because I knew the day would come when he would have to leave me, and of course little toddler Lyndsay would grow up and leave home too. Even before he was born, I was crying about him leaving!

I suppose I was doomed from the beginning then.

Today was the day that I took Dylan to the airport so he could fly away home. His new home, where he'll get to make new friends, attend a new ward and school, join a new Scout troop, have a new life, and all without me getting to watch it every day as I have for the last 15 years. It was torture sitting there waiting for that plane to pull up to the gate, and when it did, I lost it. Letting him go was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But, I'm not crying for Dylan, I'm crying for me. He left with a piece of my heart---a piece I need! But I will learn to live without it because he needs it more. I know this is the right move for him. I know it's what he needs. But I just miss him so much, already.

Before we left for the airport, I called him to my bedroom, where we knelt together. I held his hands in mine and prayed with all my heart for him during this time, to be safe, to be happy, to have great growth, and to always remember how much he is loved. I prayed for him to remember who he is and to discover the abundance of gifts and talents he has been given so that he can use them to bless others. I prayed that he would live up to who he was sent here to be, and that he would be strong and protected.

I certainly expected to have more time with him in my home. There were things I'd hoped we'd still get to do together, but I have peace that I've done the most important things. And I am still his mother, forever.

As the credits roll at the end of the movie, the pond still frozen over from winter's chill, the honking of geese can be heard, and one at a time geese fly in for a slippery landing on the ice outside the bedroom window of the one who raised them. They all came back! They didn't forget their mother!

I don't know if Dylan will ever come back to live here again, but I do believe that he will always know that he has another home. And I hope he comes to learn that it was out of love that I let him fly away.

Don't Go!

2011-07-05T06:49:00.000-07:00

Them. You. (I realized that I haven't blogged in over a week. Please don't stop coming!)

Yeah. So, see that picture up there? What a luxury that is, to have all 4 of my children sitting on one couch in my house. I won't have that again until Thanksgiving. That's why I haven't been blogging much. I've been crying. Well, that and keeping myself busy with things like massive yardwork so I won't sit around crying. These are tough times.

Dylan and Aiden spent last week at Scout Camp. Dylan earned his last merit badge for Eagle, plus one more, and was sick for part of camp. Now, all his dad has to do is help him with the Eagle Project. Motivated young scouter Aiden earned eight merit badges. And came home with the flu.

While the boys were gone, I got Lyndsay ready for her big adventure to Mexico. She left on Friday with my Maria and her family, and from what I hear, she's having a great time. Random people are taking pictures of her, and she's feeling very white, but she's having a great time.

Yesterday the boys and I began the job of cleaning out their room. We're going to rearrange bedrooms once Dylan moves, advancing Aiden to the top bunk and moving Conor from Lyndsay's room into the bottom bunk. We've got Dylan all packed up (*sniff!*) and most everything from the boys' room crammed into the hallway so we can paint later in the week. We all need a fresh start.

Jam On It! Blueberry Edition

2011-06-24T14:46:00.001-07:00

I've been waiting for Friday all week. That's because on Friday Von's was marking down 2lb. packages of blueberries to $5. That may not be the best deal around, but it's the best deal I know of around here. I bought 3 packages. With one and about three quarters of another, I decided to try my hand at some blueberry jam. I also froze a quart for muffins and pancakes, and left about a pound fresh in the fridge for eating now. Loaded with antioxidants, blueberries are a Super Food, and I like to get as many of them in us as I can.

I used this link to guide me along. I started with 10 cups of fresh berries, and rinsed them and picked them over for random stems or squishy ones.

Then, Lyndsay ran them through our food mill.

The very smooth puree came out through the screen and the peels came out the other end.

Since there is so much nutrition in those dark blue skins, and since they're really not waste like some other skins, I decided to put them in the blender and add them to our puree. I suppose I could have saved time by just putting all the berries into the blender to begin with, but I was just winging it. The directions I was following said you could just mash the berries up in the pan, but I prefer very smooth jam, so that's why I went this route.

Mixed all together, it was the most beautiful color. We added the pectin, lemon juice, and water, and brought it to a boil, and then added the rest of the sugar. After another boil, I tested it on a spoon to make sure it would gel once cooled. It did, so we ladled it into the sterilized jars, and put them in the water bath for 5 minutes or so.

Now I have 5 1/2 more pints of jam to add to my pantry! I can't wait to taste it on homemade bread!

Cool Beans!

2011-06-21T18:19:00.000-07:00

I thought I would share with you my beautiful, and very prolific Dragon Tongue Beans! They are growing abundantly, and it has been so much fun to try growing and eating something new. Aren't they beautiful?

They're more of a yellow background, than green, with the purple stripes, which fade away when they're cooked. (Kinda sad.) They're broader and longer than my green beans. You're supposed to pick them when they're about the length of a hand! And, if you want, you can leave them on the plant to become dried beans. But fresh like this, they're like sweet green beans, and are delicious even eaten raw.

One kind of funny thing: The regular green beans, which are growing in the bed behind the Dragon Tongue Beans, have light purple streaks on many of them. I guess some of the pollen blew back to color them up real pretty.

Here is the flourishing Dragon Tongue Bean bed. Only about 3 plants didn't germinate, out of about 64, and they're doing really well! Now, if only my kids would come home to help me eat them all! (Hey Abby--guess what we're having with dinner when you're here?)

Three Gifts of the Day

2011-06-18T15:08:00.000-07:00

1. Another semester is behind me! I went in to write the final essay and I think I did pretty well. I was so, so happy to walk out that door!

2. When I got to my car, I turned my phone back on. It had been off since last night's class. I had a text, and I hardly ever get texts. Even stranger, it was from Dylan. He'd sent it late, late last night, his last night at EFY. "I love you Mom," it said. "You're so awesome." I just stared at it in disbelief. This is my boy who hasn't even returned my frequent "I love yous" with a "me too" in a very long time. And here he was, late at night, after a week of EFY, feeling enough love for me that he thought to text me and tell me. They were the sweetest words I'd heard in a long time, and my heart swelled with love for him and gratitude for my Heavenly Father, who is surely watching over my son in ways I cannot yet even appreciate. I smiled and cried the whole drive home. I had a feeling come over me that EFY had been the right thing to do, the right place for him to be. He had had fun, and was happy. He had felt something. I am so grateful. And I sure love that kid.

3. I went out to do my hour of weeding this afternoon after I got home from class. It was hot, and my back hurt from all the bending. I kept my mind busy in prayer and sweet thoughts about my children and the experiences they are having in life, and committed to just keep weeding, just keep weeding, until my hour was up. Then the coolest thing happened. A Western Scrub Jay landed on the fence and looked at me. It had been a long time since I'd seen this beautiful blue bird around the neighborhood, and they are so brilliantly arrayed it always takes my breath away to see them. I started to talk to him. You know, the usual friendly bird chit-chat: "Hey fella! What are you doing here? You came to watch me? Do you know how beautiful you are?" He hopped down off the fence and started hopping toward me. I didn't move, a little shocked by how comfortable he seemed to be. He got about two feet from me, picked up a giant grub in his beak, and sat there for a minute before flying up into the tree across the street. But then he came back! As I was pulling these deep weeds, I was also unearthing tasty fat grubs from the soil. He liked our partnership, and he hung out with me for about 20 minutes, quite at ease with my presence as I digged and he scooped up the treasure. It was such a privilege to have him near me, cocking his head from side to side, eyeing me, hopping from spot to spot as I pulled weeds. It really made the last of my work much more enjoyable seeing as my efforts were feeding this little creature.

Working in the Yard

2011-06-17T13:37:00.000-07:00

Lyndsay and Dylan are both in Flagstaff at EFY this week. Then, they spend some time with their dad before coming home. I had most of this week with just Aiden and Conor, and I realized, "This is what life is going to be like in a year." It's kind of weird. I feel so un-busy with the mom-type stuff I'm usually busy with when all of my kids are home. Then, yesterday, Aiden left on an overnight field trip with his 5th grade class, and when he gets back from that, he leaves again on a fishing trip for scouts, so it's just Conor and me. Even weirder. I hardly feel like a mom, and I need to figure out a way to refigure my motherhood life when I have fewer children in my nest. Cleaning is different. Cooking is way different. The house is so quiet. I have a lot of mental rearranging to do, as I transition into this new phase. At least it's happening gradually. One less kid this year, another the next. I'm hoping Aiden is content to stay with me for a good long while.

I've found that one of the best things to keep my mood up is to do work. The kind of work I'm always keeping a mental list of, but never get to. Like cleaning projects and yard work. Sometimes I get depressed because there are so many things I want to do around the house, the yard, and the garden, but everything seems to cost money. Even if it's just $10 or $20, it means I have to wait, and it's hard for me to wait. But, I've gleaned so much from The Prudent Homemaker, who has tried to create beauty wherever she can and with whatever she can, so I decided to just get up and do something, whatever it is. Work makes me happy, even if only after it's done, and progress makes me really happy.

This week, I finally decided to just go out and clean the back patio. I don't know what it is about the positioning of our house, but everything---trash, dirt, weed seed, dead leaves--everything blows into our yards. I moved everything off the patio, swept it, hosed it down, and then finally got to rinsing out and filling the four new water drums I'd purchased months ago. It took so long because after I got them, I needed to get the wood to set them on, and the aerobic stabilized oxygen to treat the water with, both of which required small sums of money. But I had all the pieces now, and figured that I better get it done. It took a long time, but it feels so good! Adam also ratcheted the water barrels together, an idea that came to him in a dream, to keep them from tipping over and rolling in the event of an earthquake.

I really like things clean and tidy around our home, but most of those jobs fall to me and my time is so short. The kids help, but they're so busy too, and yardwork isn't really Adam's thing. Fortunately and unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, he doesn't really care how things look. When I'm outside, I usually spend time in my garden, but I hate that what people see when they come to our home is a weed infested yard. I decided to just spend an hour each morning weeding, and eventually it will be done. So far, I've filled our yard waste trash can half full and I don't think anyone will even notice I've done a thing! But I keep telling myself, "By small and simple things are great things brought to pass," and I'll just keep on weeding. I was able to get this really nifty weeding tool that makes the job easier, and I need the exercise and fresh air anyway. Conor works by my side and we talk about how it pleases Heavenly Father when we take good care of whatever He's given us.

Today, after my hour of weeding, I got the lawn mower out and acted the part of the incompetent, weak woman as I struggled to get it started. But I did it! And I mowed the back yard, which makes me so happy every time I look out the back windows. It's the little things that make me happy, keep me busy and distracted, and make me feel like all is right in my little world. And all the while, I'm making bigger plans in my mind to beautify and make my yard more useful. I'm thinking this fall to put in some blackberries on the south side of my yard that I recently paid Aiden to clear for me. Maybe some grape vines on the fence in the spring? Another raised garden bed? More flowers?

Definitely more flowers. That's what Conor says for sure.

The Trout and the Elephant

2011-06-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

Last week I had a very vivid dream. It ended with my alarm going off and when I came downstairs to make breakfast for the kids, the emotions were hard to shake, so I told them about my dream.

I had a rainbow trout. I don't know how he came to be mine, but I carried him with me everywhere, wrapped in a towel, with just his head sticking out. Every now and then, to care for him, I had to run him under cold water, and when I did, his eyes would get this brilliant blue rim around them. The time came when I knew I couldn't keep the trout any longer. I knew I would never kill it to eat it, so the only other option was to release him into a lake. I had such a heavy heart saying goodbye to this fish, but I knew it was what the fish needed. There was a dock at the lake, and I walked to the end of the dock and let the trout swim away into the cold waters.

(This is where things get weird.)

I would go to the lake to visit my trout often. I would walk to the end of the dock, and get down on my knees and wait, only what came to me was an elephant, not a trout. I felt the same way about this elephant that I had the trout, so I somehow the trout and the elephant were the same. At first the elephant was young and small. It would come to the dock to greet me, recognizing only me among the crowds at the lake. I would put my face against his face and just relish the love that passed between us. As time passed, the elephant grew, and so did I, but still I would go and kneel and wait, and the massive creature would come through the water, gently embracing me with his trunk and I would put my face against his and stroke the top of his bony head, feeling the random wiry hairs, and the thick, soft wrinkles of his skin. Years of our visits went on and the love between us was so real and tender. He was my friend, and he, this giant creature, trusted me and was gentle with me.

One day, I went to the lake, and he didn't come. I waited, and I called, but the lake was calm and serene, and he was just gone. I heard word from someone that he had died, and the feeling I had in my heart overwhelmed me with grief. (At this point of my story, I started to cry, like I am now, retelling it, and Lyndsay and Dylan slowly turned their heads to look at each other, like, 'What is wrong with Mom? First she's crying over a caterpillar, and now a trout-turned-elephant in her dreams.') I could still feel the elephant's skin, his bony skull, the breeze of his ears flapping softly by my face, and I realized I would never again be able to actually touch him. I would have to rely on our memories together, and I missed him so, so, so much.

That's when my alarm went off.

Sometimes we're too close to a situation to be able to see it clearly. I'm sure many of you reading are thinking the same thing that I'm about to tell you Lyndsay said to me a few days later---and something that strangely, hadn't even occurred to me.

"You remember your dream, Mom? The one about the trout and the elephant? Don't you think that's about Dylan?" she said to me while folding clothes.

"I hadn't thought about it like that. How do you mean?"

"Well, you cared for the trout as long as you could, and then you knew you had to release it into the lake. And the trout had blue eyes. And then the trout became this big, powerful animal because you let it go, but still it came back to you and loved you and recognized you."

"Yeah, but then one day it didn't come anymore."

"Well, that's just your fear. I don't know, when you told us the dream, that's just what it seemed like to me. That it was about Dylan."

Which made me cry again. First, because she possesses such clarity and wisdom, and she was gentle enough to give me a few days to share it with me. Secondly, because seeing the dream in that light, I no longer focused on the elephant not coming any more, but on the fact that he became an elephant in the first place. A big, powerful, gentle animal. Who still loved me.

All because I let him go.

Butterfly Mother

2011-06-09T07:59:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm down to days now that I have all my children here with me. Let me tell you how it's turning me into a nutjob. You're going to love this.

Conor's preschool is doing the whole Painted Lady butterfly thing. Two weeks ago, he brought home the teeniest, tiniest baby caterpillar in a little plastic cup filled with nutrients. He was to keep it at home and watch it grow and bring it back in once it had formed its chrysalis.

I've done this experiment many times with my children. Years ago, when I was homeschooling little Lyndsay and Dylan, we bought ourselves a butterfly house and mailed in the coupon for our Painted Lady butterfly caterpillars. So marvelous and magical was the experience, that we ordered more. And more. And, when we'd find caterpillars in our garden, we'd bring them in too, and go to the library to hypothesize what we'd found.

I remember how when the butterflies first emerge and get their wings outstretched and unwrinkled, they are very calm, not much into flying. The kids could extend their little fingers and the butterflies would sit right on their fingers. The kids could get a really good look. I also remember how the butterflies loved Lyndsay. Actually, all creatures seemed to love Lyndsay, but there was this one Painted Lady, I remember, who, when Lyndsay brought her outside to fly away, just kept coming back and landing on Lyns. I took pictures of it. She could hold out her finger, and the butterfly would come and rest on her finger. Once it landed on the top of her hair, once on her nose. It was so sweet. The next day, when we were out in the yard, that butterfly (at least we assume it was the same one) came and landed on her head again.

Everyone knows that the reward of the caterpillar is in the butterfly. Everyone knows that when you get a caterpillar, it's the butterfly you really want. It's the butterfly that takes your breath away and makes you marvel.

So, it will shed a little light on my state of mind to know that the day that Conor's now fattened, plumped-up caterpillar crawled to the top of the cup and attached itself to the lid, hanging upside down within, I cried. I knew what was coming. By morning, he would be a chrysalis. I looked at him real good, turning the cup around in my hand to see each angle of his furry body that would never again be. He was about to go through that magical metamorphosis, and never again would he be a caterpillar. I went to my room that night, thinking of him, and cried into my pillow. (I'm teary eyed even writing this, reliving those feelings. I think I may be going crazy. I'm crying over a caterpillar.)

But so it is a mother's curse, to feel everything about her children so intensely it verges on crippling. In all of eternity, we only get to be children for one brief period of time. What a privilege it is to witness a childhood, a time unique in all of our infinite existence. I realize that some of my children are almost finished with that time in their lives, and I mourn the ending of their childhoods. I will have my Lyndsay for all of eternity, but never again will she be a little girl. And while I know that the most beautiful, most marvelous stage of her life is still to come, when she will spread her wings and show the world her brilliant colors, I sometimes long for just one more day as a furry, plump little caterpillar. I mean, darling little girl.

See what I mean? Crazy, I am.

I suppose I am in the process of learning how to go from being a caterpillar mother into a butterfly mother.

On Being Accepted

2011-05-27T06:12:00.000-07:00

A little over three months ago, I turned in my application to the RN program at Pasadena City College. Remember that?

On Wednesday, I received notification that I'd been accepted.

I've come this far.

I feel very, very blessed. Even though I did work hard in my classes and I earned straight As, there were lots of other people who worked even harder than I did. (Of course, those people have more time than I do.) Most, but not all, of the people I go to school with have only school as their main focus in life right now. I, of course, have to juggle a whole lot of other things. I have limited time to actually leave my house and attend classes. I have limited time as to when I can study. But I have to say, that like the loaves and fishes talked about in the New Testament, when we give all we have to give to the Lord, He makes it more than enough.

Going to college in California right now is not easy. There's a lot of unrest in the college system because of budget concerns. Hundreds and hundreds of classes have been cancelled, more each semester, and now most community colleges are dropping their summer and winter intersessions. Pasadena has been flooded with students from other schools trying to get into needed classes, and there's not enough room. Registration for classes is on a priority basis, and based on the number of credits I have, I haven't been at the top of that list.

And yet.

And yet, I was able to get in to every class not only that I needed, but when I needed it with my schedule. Other students tell me how impossible that is, how they'd been trying for several semesters to get into a Physiology class or a Microbiology class. Micro, in fact, was my closest call. By the time I was able to register, the class was full and I was wait listed. I showed up to the first day of class and there were about twenty of us on the wait list, wanting to add. The professor told us she would call roll at the end of class and however many enrolled students didn't show up, that's how many new names she would add in their place. I sat through that class, in the front row, praying and sweating it out. At the end, there were two available spots. Two! By school rules, she had to draw names for those two spots. My name was the second one drawn.

When it came time to submit applications to nursing programs, I only applied to PCC. Other people thought that was risky. Most people submit to four or five different programs, but I just felt like PCC was where I was supposed to be. Even though the odds were stacked against me. There were between 600-700 applications for 60 available openings.

I suppose my testimony in this whole thing is that when we follow the promptings of the Lord, a way will be provided for us. It doesn't so much matter how difficult the science classes are when you never thought of yourself as a science person. It doesn't matter how full the classes are, or how unlikely the odds are. That day, two and a half years ago, when I had the impression that I should enroll in college again and pursue a nursing degree, it was one of the clearest, most precise impressions I've ever had. And the only real thing I take credit for was the fact that I followed it. From that point on, I've never been doing this on my own. And I am very humbled that with His help, I have done what I thought I could not do. Now we move on to the next step.

The Nursing Program!

Perspective

2011-05-23T07:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was not a good day. I cried a lot; I felt despair come surging my way.

In the evening, Lyndsay had a meeting at the Stake Center, so I drove her down, and being all puffy-eyed, I sat in the car for the hour and a half and did my menu plan and grocery list for the week. I moved to the backseat of the van so nobody would see me in there. I just wanted some time alone.

Every now and then, I looked up from my list making to watch people arriving in their cars and walking through the parking lot towards the church. Some I recognized, others I did not. At one point, my attention was drawn to a woman, head bent down, walking ever so slowly. She was older than I am, but I didn't think she was old enough to be walking with such trouble. I felt sorry for her as I watched her. She was in the parking lot aisle over from me, so I could see all of her, just her waist up, but she looked like she'd been pretty in her youth, and continued to take good care of herself. I wondered if her hips hurt, or her back, or what it was that compromised her mobility, and I thought how frustrating it must be for her to get anything done during the day at such a snail's pace. I went back to my menu.

About an hour later, that same woman came walking back through the parking lot, this time in the same row I was parked in. She was still walking with care, head bent down, one slow step at a time. But this time, I could see all of her.

Attached to her hand was another hand, a little tiny one, maybe that of an 18 month old, or two year old child. She was walking with a little child, slowing her steps to allow the toddler to take her own. Her head was bent down to watch over the child as she took each careful beginning step. I think she was a grandma.

And seeing the whole picture changed my entire perspective. Likewise, there must be so much to my picture that I just can't see, and I must trust that someone is holding my hand.

Recital

2011-05-17T08:03:00.000-07:00

9 of my 11 piano students

I get to hear piano music pretty much all day every day in my home in various stages of accomplishment. Sometimes I forget how lucky that makes me.

Despite the fact that I've been teaching for over four years now, on Sunday I held my first piano recital. I selected music for each of my students over Christmas break and then we got to work in January. Several of the students were assigned pieces that were quite above their skill level, but I can state with authority that when you really believe in a child's abilities, and you pour that belief into them, they will rise to the challenge. And then the gifts--of confidence, self esteem, discipline, diligence, endurance--are all theirs.

Lyndsay warming up for the recital

Take Bryce, for example. Such a cutie. At barely 10 years old, he's a great student and a hard worker, and has progressed steadily. When he left my house the week before Christmas, I handed him Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer", which I love, love, love. It was way over Bryce's head, but I thought the chords were written in a way that Bryce could tackle with a lot of hard work. When he opened the sheet music and saw all those notes his freckled face turned bright red and his eyes bugged out of his head. He laughed nervously.

"You can do this, Bryce," I told him enthusiastically. "You're going to love it."

When I sent him away that day, I admit that I carefully examined my motivation. I wanted him to reach, but I certainly didn't want to set him up for failure. That piece was pretty hard. But when he showed up the next week, we started tackling it line by line, really taking our time. His little hands were getting quite the workout, stretching for all those chords, and it was painfully slow. But no matter, I knew he could do it. I could picture him playing that song and every week I told him so.

One week he came to lesson and all the inside pages of his sheet music had been obviously crumpled up and smoothed back out. I started laughing. "Had a bad week, Bryce?" I asked him. His face turned red again and he admitted that maybe there had been a time during the week when "The Entertainer" had gotten the best of him. "Well, it looks like you showed it who's boss," I said, "and not because you crumpled it up and threw it across the room, but because you went and got it and smoothed it back out. Good for you." That made me love Bryce even more.

Well, he did it. Let me tell you, the first time Bryce played "The Entertainer" all the way through for me, I had tears in my eyes. It took him five months, but he could work that song, and he had it memorized. At the recital, he blew them away, and I was so proud of him. "Do you see what you can do?" I asked him afterwards. His face turned red again, and he handed me a card, with a handwritten note inside that read,

"Thanks for being such a great piano teacher.

When you gave me "The Entertainer" I thought I could

NEVER play it. I probably never could have without you."

Every student felt so proud that night. Little Nico in his black bow tie was a crowd pleaser as he worked over the main title from Star Wars and Beethoven's "Ode to Joy." What a little performer! He loved the applause, and didn't seem at all affected by nerves. He had all of his pieces memorized too.

Alex and Steven, the darling little Thai brothers, that I worried and worried over. I even switched one of Alex's pieces the week before the recital, but they practiced so hard and really came through. Didn't even want me to sit next to them on the bench as they'd been asking me to do in the weeks leading up to the recital.

My darling Rebecca played her Schumann and Grieg pieces flawlessly, and curtsied with perfect grace. Even the students who made mistakes handled them with courage and confidence. What a pleasure it is to have gotten to know and come to love each of these little people and to have had something to do with helping them learn to play the piano. I hope they fill their own homes with music for the rest of their lives.

Try, Try Again: A Garden Post

2011-05-10T06:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon, I brought in a sugar snap pea for each of the kids to try, fresh off the vine. Conor loved his so much that he promptly took a bowl outside to gather every one he could reach. And then recruited Aiden for the ones he couldn't.

The garden has been slower going this year than last, but not because I haven't tried. I've been battling the wild. Well, squirrels and crows. They dug up most of my seeds and seedlings, and I've had to replant a few times. Once the green really gets going, they leave the garden alone, but all that tempting dirt means bugs and grubs, and they just can't resist. Anyway, I thought I'd show you what's starting to grow in my treasured garden.

You saw the Sugar Snap Peas above. These are garden peas here, and this will be one of my projects today, to harvest and shell them. There are a ton of plants here, around 90, all along this back bed. I planted 8 seeds to a square and there are 12 squares. These peas have been very productive.

Here's some surviving spinach, with some newer spinach seedlings tucked in around it. You also see some cilantro in the back there, and a tomato plant that will be caged.

Here's more cilantro. I have a goal to make my own salsa/pico this year, so I planted lots of cilantro. I planted lots of parsley too, seedlings that I grew inside the house, but within a few hours of transplanting, they were all gone. Stupid squirrels like parsley, I guess. Cilantro, not so much.

Here's some of the Swiss Chard. This is Fordhook Giant Chard, but I also have rainbow chard seedlings growing in there too. Can't wait for that shot of color to the garden.

Some lettuce.

The glorious beans! I have two beds with beans in them. This bed has 12 squares, 4 plants to a square (some didn't come up, but most did) of regular green beans.

I counted 102 plants that came up, of the 116 I planted.

This second bed of beans, which actually comes first, has 16 squares of beans, 4 to a square. These are called Dragon Tongue beans, which are green beans with purple stripes on them. Can't wait to see these. They're new to my garden this year.

Next to the Dragon Tongue beans are two volunteer Cherry Tomato plants. This is where the Cherries were last year and about 200 new plants have come up since then. Every day I pull new ones out, but I left these two and will cage them very soon. They have blossoms already. I don't want more than two Cherry Tomatoes, because to me, they're really the most worthless of tomatoes. Way too juicy for sauce, can't slice them. They become snacking/salad tomatoes and they produce so abundantly that I figured two plants was enough.

I'm giving peppers a try again this year. Last year I had zero luck with peppers. Something kept eating the leaves off. I have jalapenos (for my salsa) and red bells growing, and so far, so good.

Here are two squares of leeks, something else that didn't work last year. I started the seedlings inside this time, and they seem to be okay so far. I've found that I really love Potato Leek Soup with Bacon, so I wanted to grow my own leeks.

This is the second bed, with the green beans, Swiss Chard, red bell peppers, lettuce, and yellow pear tomatoes.

This is the first bed, with the Cherry tomatoes, the purple beans, the jalapenos, and leeks.

This is the third bed, with the Sugar Snap peas, spinach, cilantro, and then the Roma tomatoes, a Striped tomato, and a red slicing tomato.

This is another look at the third bed. These are the Roma tomato plants.

Oh, look! Some blueberries!

It's a lot of brown still right now, but by next month the green will really be taking off!

Me, Only Older

2011-05-07T18:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my 38th birthday. Kind of surreal, but then again, not really so different from 37, or even 36 for that matter. I think, I hope, I'm getting better with age--that makes the whole aging thing worth it.

I actually like my birthdays. I think it's fun to celebrate being me, having been born into this world (I thanked my mom for that), living another year, getting all the fun, sweet attention. I wasn't expecting much in the way of celebrating this year, though, because my birthday fell on a busy school day. I have class on Friday nights and leave the house at 4:30pm, not to come home again until 10:30pm, and then have to be back at school by 8am Saturday morning until 1pm. Not really conducive to our traditional family party.

I was up the night before trying to watch BBC's Titus Andronicus and follow along in my copy of the play. Being so exhausted from allergy medicine, I went to bed fairly early. Lyndsay came in to kiss me goodnight around 9:30pm--she had been studying for her AP US History exam in the morning--and I don't think I made it even another 10 minutes with Titus before falling asleep.

In the morning, when I came downstairs to take the kids to Seminary, I saw this on the table:

Sweet Adam. He snuck out late at night after I'd fallen asleep so that I would be surprised. The best part was his heartfelt letter. Always my favorite. It made me cry, both because of the sentiments and because he thought to make it a surprise.

But then, walking into the kitchen, I saw dishes in the sink that I'd left clean before going to bed. Weird dishes, like bowls and beaters, and I said out loud, "What the heck?" I looked around and didn't see anything, so I opened the fridge. And there I saw:

This little tiny cake. Lyndsay had kissed me goodnight and then come back downstairs, the night before her big exam, and secretly baked me a chocolate cake, so that I wouldn't have a cake-less birthday. Her gesture melted my heart. I love that the frosting on the sides is melted off because it was so late at night that she couldn't stay up long enough to let the cake cool all the way. I love my Lyndsay.

That was a good enough birthday right there. But then I got some money in the mail from my mom and decided to quick go and treat myself to a pedicure before I bought gas with it, or milk. And then a friend called and said she was coming to pick me up for lunch in ten minutes.

When I got home there was a gift waiting for me from my friend---a new canning set! Think of my mad jam making skills now! And then a beautiful bouquet of Gerbera daisies arrived from Amber! I'm the luckiest girl I know, I think. So, with a heart full of birthday happiness, I went off to school to spend the rest of the evening, and miracle of miracles, guess what? She let us out an hour early! And Adam was waiting up for me. . .

My Four Scouts

2011-05-04T06:07:00.000-07:00

Scouting takes up a significant portion of my mental energy. In scouting, each time a boy earns a new rank, whether it be Wolf or Bear in Cub Scouting, or Star or Life in Boy Scouting, he presents his mother with a rank advancement pin in front of everyone at a Court of Honor. This is not just because the Boy Scouts of America is fond of mothers, but because most of these boys would never earn an advancement without the blood, sweat, and tears of their mothers and we deserve that pin as much as they deserve the patch. Or, at least almost as much.

I do think the Scouting program is a good one for boys. Boys would rather do anything but work hard, it seems, but get them going and get them focused, and even they become surprised and impressed with what they're made of. Hard work pays off in the form of not just merit badges, but confidence and new life skills. I think it is something commendable to begin something like Cub Scouts at the age of 8 and see it all the way through to Eagle, and I want each of my boys to do that.

Problem is, I'm pretty much towing that line alone.

Adam isn't so much a supporter of Scouts. Too much work for him, but he supports me in supporting Scouts, so I can work with that--and a nudge to not utter a single negative sentiment to the boys. They can't know they have an ally. My stepson's mom isn't too big on scouting either. I know she wants Sean to achieve in scouting, but the way to that goal falls largely on us, and no small amount of force is required, let me tell ya.

Like most moms, probably, I keep up on merit badge requirements for the boys, Scout meetings, Scout camps, Courts of Honor, and monthly merit badge manias. I also do all the purchasing of all the scout paraphernalia and all the bloody attachment of those hard-earned patches and badges. Man, do I hate it when a boy grows out of a shirt.

Maybe you noticed that there's an extra boy in the photo above?

That's Brad. He's Dylan's best friend. He doesn't have a mom around, and his dad isn't very active in his life, so Brad spends a lot of time here with us. He eats dinner with us many nights each week. We pick him up for Church, YM activities, Seminary, and Scouts. He spends movie nights with us and weekends. Sometimes the kids balk at another Dylan around the house, but mostly, we treat Brad as if he was one of the family. And when it's time for a Court of Honor, I have to get Brad ready too. I took him to his house to get his uniform, which he brought out in a balled up mess. So, I ironed it, got him all ship-shape. Then I fed him, with all the others, and when he thanked me, I told him it was no problem, and I couldn't wait to see what he got me for Mother's Day.

Those four boys will earn their Eagle Scout awards! (And Conor will too, but right now I'm enjoying my hiatus from Cub Scouts.) Dylan is almost done (one more badge and his project!), Brad about halfway, Sean just behind that, and Aiden is tearing up Scouting with his youthful enthusiasm and a list of all the badges he wants to earn. We had our Scout Camp meeting last night, and all four of these boys are off for a week at the end of June to earn more merit badges! Yes!

And when they do start earning Eagle, I think instead of a pin, I'd like a cruise.

Big Giant Coconut Cream Easter Eggs

2011-04-28T08:37:00.001-07:00

A really lousy picture of a completely divine confection

I love coconut. I seriously do. Everything is better with coconut. Except coconut shrimp, but only because the shrimp ruins it. But coconut in brownies, lemon bars, chocolate, cream pie, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm.

My grandmother had a candy business when I was a child, and she hand dipped all her own chocolates. She's still doing it, all these years later, and even though the store is long gone. She gave this recipe to my mom, who made it for us kids every year, and now I continue the tradition.

Here is the beloved Coconut Cream Easter Egg recipe. Thanks for asking.

2 cups powdered sugar

1 cup Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk

1/2 lb. butter (no substitutions, not even margarine, don't even think about it.)

Blend all of this together. I use my Kitchen Aid (wheeeee!)

When it has come together, add in 1/2 cup coconut. I will freely admit I use more. Maybe even double. Check the consistency, and add a little more powdered sugar, if needed. If the cream filling is holding its shape well, you can form it into eggs at this point, but if not, stick the bowl in the fridge for a bit and once it has chilled you can shape it into eggs. My mom wrote on my recipe card in parentheses, "Larger ones taste better." I couldn't agree more.

Place the shaped eggs on a wax paper lined cookie sheet and put the whole thing into the refrigerator to get them nice and firm.

Melt 1 lb. milk chocolate and 1/2 lb. dark chocolate in the top of a double boiler.

Also, melt 3/4 cup paraffin wax in a glass measuring cup over boiling water. (You can buy paraffin wax in the baking aisle, and though it seems weird to eat it, it makes the chocolate shiny and not melty in your hands. I also don't measure it too well, I just use one of the rectangle slabs that comes in the box and melt that. I don't know how if it's a full 3/4 cup.)

Once both are melted, stir the paraffin into the chocolate. At first it seems as though they will never come together, but they will. Just keep stirring and be patient. Trust me. And once they do, it's a beautiful sight. Now, let the chocolate cool just a bit, or it will be too runny.

Now to dip. I'm not very graceful at this part. Use a meat fork to stab each egg and dip into the chocolate. Lift and let the chocolate run off and then let the eggs set on waxed paper. I usually dip them all and then give them each a double dip.

Then you can decorate as desired with colored icing. I left this part off this year, but I usually decorate with piped flowers and stripes and write each child's name on the eggs.

We keep ours in the fridge because I like them cold, and then we slice them, but feel free to act like a Barbarian and just start shoving that giant egg into your mouth.

Since I Last Posted

2011-04-25T08:01:00.000-07:00

Thursday: Before our zoo membership ran out, I figured we should get one more trip out of it. I took Lyndsay and Conor, since they were the only two at home. Conor walked the whole zoo this time, since we got rid of our strollers in the last year, and I realized that this may have been the first time ever in my life that I've been to a zoo without a stroller in the company. He was good and tuckered out (read "complaining") by the time we were done. And by the way, the new Elephants of Asia exhibit is really beautiful.

Thursday evening, we dyed the Easter eggs. I was going to skip this tradition this year, but my genes don't let me skip traditions, so even though we only had two of the kids home, I figured the younger of the two (Conor) was the one who really looked forward to it. Lyndsay had her best friend over, and we had ourselves a little egg-dying party.

As predicted, Conor really loved the whole process, and after the eggs were dry, he stickered 'em up real good. Nice and tacky-like.

Friday: Prom day! This was the LDS Prom with a Night at the Museum theme. About ten stakes do this huge prom every year for all the kids (about 700 kids go). This year they rented out the Museum of Natural History in Los Angeles, and it was an amazing production. They also chartered buses to get the kids there so teens didn't have to drive (or have their parents drive out there). They had it catered and DJ'ed, and they got to dance and eat around the dinosaur bones.

Getting ready for prom is a whole day affair, did ya know? First thing in the morning was an eyebrow appointment. I got some grocery shopping done and then took Lyndsay for a manicure. My Maria came over in the afternoon with her daughter, who was going to get ready with Lyndsay. Maria and I chatted it up downstairs, and then went to pick up the boutonnieres for the guys at the flower shop. The girls got busy on their hair.

Lyndsay asked me to do her makeup, which I love to do.

After primping for what seemed like forever, and making executive decisions, like which of my earrings to wear, she was ready. And she took my breath away.

We borrowed this amazingly gorgeous dress from my beloved Amber, who has an easier time of finding modest prom dresses in Utah.

I dropped Lyns off at the church building where she met up with her date, who was just a friend from another ward. I looked around at all the other girls, but I seriously think Lyndsay was the most beautiful. It was so fun to see her and all the other kids all dressed up and excited, and feel safe knowing that this prom would not be like my proms, where kids show up drunk and leave for hotel rooms. There was even a modesty check before the kids could enter, and if needed, adjustments were made right there.

Saturday: This day began in an exhausted way. Lyndsay had gotten home from the prom around midnight and she came in to give me a kiss goodnight. I had fallen asleep (though I'd tried to stay up!) and I woke up immediately and wanted to hear all about it. So, she sat on my bed, in her big, beautiful dress, shoes off (feet killing her), and hair straight again from dancing the night away. She told me all about it, and how much fun it was. We talked for an hour, and then Adam got home--he had been the videographer at the prom, and they swapped stories too. It was just so exciting that I got a dreaded second wind and couldn't fall asleep until about 4am. But I had to get up early to get started on the cake.

Caitlin's 15th birthday was last weekend, but we decided to celebrate this weekend when the boys would be home from Arizona. She requested a German Chocolate Cake, which I decided to make substituting toffee bits for the pecans, due to Conor's allergy. (turned out great!) I needed to get the cakes baked though, so they could cool.

While they cooled, I made the Giant Coconut Cream Easter Eggs that my mom always made for us, and that I always make for my kids. No piping decoration this year though.

Then came the frosting, and cooling it completely so I could add the toffee bits and have them not melt.

Then came the lasagna dinner that Caitie requested, in which I decided to forego the ricotta and give the béchamel sauce a chance. (That's a gamble I would recommend) Frost the cake, make the chocolate glaze, make the salad, set the table, get the garlic bread ready, stick the lasagna in the oven, leave directions for Adam to take the lasagna out and put the bread in, run to the airport to pick up the boys, come home, eat an amazing dinner, eat a delicious cake, clean it all up, put Conor to bed, and wait for teenagers to fall asleep so that Mr. Bunny can make his appearance. Fill, and hide the baskets.

Sunday: Easter. Wake up early and take pictures of the kids finding and loving their baskets. Start making the turkey dinner. We don't usually have turkey for Easter, but I had an extra one from Thanksgiving time taking up too much room in my freezer, so I opted to just use it. We have church from 11am-2pm, and Caitlin and Sean had to be back home by 4pm, so that meant that most of dinner had to be ready or cooking before we left for Church. I got the turkey ready, made the Lion House roll dough, and with that rising, I cooked breakfast burritos to offset the impending sugar highs. Cleaned up breakfast, had Lyndsay shape the rolls, and I made the fruit salad and peeled potatoes and cut up broccoli. Got the table set. Did a load of dishes, baked the rolls, and then stuck the turkey in the oven. Thank goodness Adam did all the ironing. He does that every Sunday, and I love it. With the rolls hot out of the oven and buttered and the turkey cooking, out the door we went to Church!

Amazing! When we got home, the turkey was 30 minutes from being done, so I cooked the potatoes, steamed the broccoli, and then once the turkey was out, I made the gravy. . .

. . .and called the kids to eat! Boy, were they grateful! The food was delicious, and everyone was happy. After it was all cleaned up, Caitlin and Sean went home, and we relaxed the rest of the evening.

Monday: That's today. Back to reality, Spring Break done! Seminary, school, piano lessons, and class for me tonight. And good news! Adam booked a commercial! For Sonic. He's got wardrobe today, and then is shooting it on Wednesday or Thursday. So, so, so grateful!

Accentuate the Positive. (After whining about the negative.)

2011-04-20T17:28:00.000-07:00

Today was a mostly horrible day. The horrible parts included a trip to the DMV (which in and of itself can make a day horrible) to renew my license, a suspension to my license that I didn't know existed, a $100 fee that popped up in the system related to my accident 20 years ago and that prompted the unknown suspension, leaving the DMV without a renewed license and a dead cell phone battery, two more hours on the phone with the NJ DMV (most of that on hold, and being called a liar, literally, as the rude woman slammed me on hold for another 20 minutes), and then getting a call from my car insurance telling me that as of today and for the next 3 years, my car insurance is now double since because of the suspension I didn't know I had, I no longer qualify for the Good Driver Discount. And that's before we add Lyndsay to the insurance once she gets her license.

I wanted to cry.

Wait, I did.

And not just because of the aggravation, inconvenience, red tape, and bureaucracy, not to mention the increased insurance costs that we can't really afford, but also because being dragged back emotionally---again---to the most horrible time in my life, and having it still haunt me, is really draining. And the whole thing feels so unfair to me.

But the day wasn't all horrible. Today I made strawberry jam for the first time. Strawberries were on sale for $1/lb, so I bought lots of them. An older woman in my ward had given me boxes of canning jars, and I wanted to conquer my fear of canning and just do it.

It worked out great! Here are my pretty quilted canning jars filled with homemade strawberry jam, setting on the counter. That was really fun. And I'm pretty sure I could live on homemade whole wheat bread and jam for a long time, happily.

But wait! I won't have to!

Because you see those mounds? That's right, BEANS! My beans are coming up! I planted over a hundred plants, and today they began their upward push!

Beans burst forth with such confidence, I love it.

And there are peas growing! The peas survived the scavenging squirrels, thank goodness, and pretty soon, I'll be up to my eyeballs in peas! Glorious!

See how God compensates for all my misery with His glorious bounty? I am grateful.

Book Review: The Crazy Daze of Motherhood

2011-04-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

You all know by now that from time to time my writer friends will contact me and ask if I'd be willing to do a book review. They offer a free copy of the book, which is often sufficient bait for me. These days, however, I've had to turn down many offers, just because my reading time is limited with school. When offered The Crazy Daze of Motherhood, by Jane Isfeld Still, I made the time, because I always love a fun (and funny) retreat from life in the form of a motherhood memoir.

I carried this sweet little book around in my purse. It's just a tiny thing, at under 90 pages, and each chapter is a funny story of life as a mother, and the adventures of having a large family. Jane Isfeld Still has a terrific ability to find humor amidst craziness. When I had a few moments, I'd pull the book out of my purse and read a bit. While waiting for kids after piano lessons, while waiting for my night class to start, waiting here, waiting there. . .this book was perfect to pass the time with and get a good laugh.

I loved the story of her "culinary illiterate" daughter, who decided one day to bake a cake. From a mix. She asked for help from her mom, but her mom encouraged her with "there are directions with pictures on the back of the box," and let her loose. A bit later she called her mom needing help with how exactly to beat the batter.

"Use the eggbeaters."

"Mom, I need you. How do I get the eggbeaters in there?"

"You put them in the holes on the bottom of the egg beater."

She looked at the beaters and at the box. "I know that. How do you fit them into the box?"

Jane goes on:

"That effectively shut me up until I had time to compute the fact that she had added all the ingredients into the box. . .She had dumped the oil, eggs, and some of the water into the box. "You are supposed to dump the cake mix into a bowl and then add the ingredients."

"You told me to follow the directions. Nowhere on this box does it say to dump the cake mix into a bowl."

I loved that story.

This is a fun collection of anecdotes of motherhood that we all can relate to, even if we all wouldn't be honest enough to share them. Jane does a great job.

You can win a fun prize from Jane to help celebrate the release of her book. Just go to her blog at http://www.janeisfeldstill.blogspot.com and become a follower, and then leave her a comment and tell her that you're a new follower. You could win:

1. Mother's Daze basket, soap, chocolate, lotion, decorative candles, and recipe cards

2. Box of blank cards with a smattering of Canadian chocolate

3. Chocolate

Do it! And if you need a fun gift for a mother in your life who could use a laugh, consider this little book!

Waste Not

2011-04-14T08:17:00.000-07:00

I really hate waste. Especially wasted food. I have had plenty of years of my life where food has not always been plentiful, and I know how many people in the world are literally starving, so to me, food is like gold. And because people often comment to me that I seem to be able to stretch a little bit of money a long way, I thought I'd give you some of my tips, when it comes to feeding a family. Which you probably already know, but maybe never thought of.

1. I almost always shop with a purpose. Meaning, I don't just go to the grocery store and buy what looks good. I check the grocery store ads to see where the deals are, and I plan meals around those items. If chicken is on sale, then I plan to cook chicken. If roast is on sale, then that's what we're having. (Or, at least that's what I'm buying to freeze.) After checking the ads, I make a menu, usually for two weeks, detailing plans for breakfasts and dinners. I make my grocery list based on what I need for those meals. Everything I buy, I buy for a reason, and I use coupons wherever I can.

2. I cook from scratch most of the time. That means, I buy basics like flour (which I don't buy a whole lot of, since I grind my own wheat), sugar, eggs, butter, buttermilk, etc. You can bake a whole lot more with the basics than if you spent the same amount on prepackaged items. That means that if I want to make biscuits and gravy for breakfast, I (usually) make my own biscuits. I say 'usually', because there have been a few times that I had a coupon for Pillsbury refrigerated biscuits that was such an amazing deal, I chose to use that and count it as a time saver. But, usually, nutrition is way more important to me than time, so I opt in that direction.

3. I grind wheat and bake most of our bread. I also make powdered milk and will keep it in the fridge to use in baking, saving the fresh milk for drinking. We go through about a gallon a day--and that's with me saying, "Get out of the milk!", so it adds up. Using wheat and powdered milk also helps me feel confident using our food storage.

4. When I plan our menus, I schedule non-meat days. I usually try to schedule one bean day, one soup day, one vegetarian day, and one salad day. That keeps our meat consumption down, and it diversifies our nutrition. For bean day we might have chili, or black bean and chicken enchiladas. For soup day we might have lentil vegetable soup, or chicken tortilla soup, or black bean soup (we love black beans), or cheddar broccoli soup. For vegetarian day we might have a quiche, or a vegetable lasagna, or baked potato bar. For salad night we have some kind of huge dinner salad, like BBQ chicken salad, or taco salad, or just a huge salad bar night with a gazillion choices to make your own. Now obviously, many of these meals can be served in different categories (taco salad, if made with beans only and not meat can be our vegetarian night, for example), but the point is, it gets us out of the meat and side dish routine, and forces us to use a whole lot more veggies and grains. My kids eat a LOT of fruits and veggies. I pile their plates with vegetables or salad, and they eat it all, because they have to. I do not feel bad requiring them to eat large amounts of vegetables, so there. They can choose not to once they're out of my house, but these are the years that their bodies are growing and that growth is my responsibility. Also, I think they've developed good habits and a taste for vegetables, which will carry over into their adult years.

5. I pride myself in finding uses for everything so I don't have to throw things out. For example, we buy a lot of produce. In fact, I buy most of my produce at a separate produce market that is very cheap. We're talking an entire shopping cart just filled with fruits, veggies, and raw nuts. I know lots of people buy produce with good intentions and end up throwing it away. I hate doing that. My kids are flying to Arizona this evening for spring break with their dad, and I realized I still had quite a bit of veggies in the fridge that I couldn't eat alone. So, for breakfast I made our green drink and juiced them all. A bunch of kale, a bunch of parsley, 3 lbs. of spinach, several stalks of celery, a bag of carrots, a cucumber, and 5 or 6 apples. Took care of that! Also, I go through my fridge, freezer, and cupboards routinely and look for things that got left over. Like half a package of cream cheese, or a cup of whipping cream, or a can of garbanzo beans, or shredded chicken, or corn tortillas approaching their expiration. A few sweet potatoes in the cupboard means we're having baked sweet potato fries with dinner. Whatever I find, I search for a recipe to use it up, and many meals come together just for that reason--to avoid wasting something that's sitting in the fridge. You know how you buy something for a meal and then end up not needing it all. Finding a use for it always makes me feel so frugal and clever. Sometimes I see friend's fridges packed full of miscellaneous ingredients and I think, "Don't go shopping till you use all this stuff up!"

6. For lunches: I pack some of the kids' lunches every day (some like to buy, and we get free lunch). At the beginning of the week I make a batch of chicken salad. It's delicious. I use a big can of chunk chicken, some mayo, and I cut up one apple (with the peel) into little dices, and a stalk or two of celery into little dices and throw that in there. Sometimes, if they're in season, some halved red grapes. A bit of salt and pepper, and it's good to go. I buy those Orowheat Sandwich Thins, Whole Wheat. I toast one up and put the chicken salad on that. It's the perfect size, and I got sick of kids not eating their whole sandwich. (Waste!) Then I cover that chicken salad up, stick it in the fridge, and use it the whole week. Also in lunches goes a fruit bag (I cut up an apple, and throw in some grapes, or strawberries, or a mandarin orange), a vegetable bag (I cut up half a red pepper, throw in some baby carrots, and sugar snap peas), and then a nut bag (5 or 6 cashews and the same number of almonds). If I've done baking, I'll add a couple of mini pumpkin muffins or zucchini muffins. That's lunch. The kids take water. At the end of the day, they leave their brown lunch bags and zip-locs on the counter and I reuse them for the whole week. On Friday, I toss them, and on Monday they get new ones. I do own reusable insulated lunch bags, but my kids won't use them. Too embarrassing, they say. But they're fine eating a fruit bag and a vegetable bag, and no Twinkies, even in high school, so I'm good with that.

For me, at home, I will often make a ginormous pot of vegetable soup with lentils in it that I'll eat from the whole week (and make Conor eat) with a slice of homemade wheat bread. I'll use chicken stock and add red pepper, green pepper, celery, onion, garlic, carrot, cabbage, and a can of diced tomatoes, and throw in the lentils at the end. Also, we eat leftovers from dinner for lunch. If leftovers pile up from two or three days, guess what everyone is having for dinner? That's right! And I dish them up--no choices. I want it all eaten! Two people get this, three others get that. No point in making something new with perfectly delicious food in the fridge.

7. For snacks? You guessed it. Fruit or vegetables or nuts. I rarely buy prepackaged anything. This is the famous line around here: "Mom, what can I eat?" "Have an apple!" I also bake a lot, so they can have muffins or bread. Of course, I make treats too, but always homemade. Cookies, brookies, brownies, etc. Now, my teenagers sometimes do buy their own junk food, like chips or candy, and that's fine with me, because most of the time they're eating well, and it was their money.

So, want a challenge? Go look in your fridge and find something that needs to get used up, and find a way to use it for dinner tonight! One ingredient can inspire a whole meal and will make you feel like a clever homemaker and a wise steward. Good luck!

Babies Forever

2011-04-13T06:11:00.001-07:00

Loving sweet baby Conor

I've been thinking a lot lately about the fact that I'm never going to have another baby. I'm trying to make peace with it, since mostly the realization makes my heart very, very sad. When you're young, it's so easy to think you have forever in the "mommy" stage, being pregnant, having babies. I loved it so much. I loved being pregnant, I loved giving birth, (though I'll admit, I hate the first day after giving birth--afterbirth pains are the worst), I loved nursing my babies, sleeping with my babies, staring at my babies, kissing my babies, squishing my babies, and watching them grow. Well, that part is kind of bittersweet. Then you blink, and your kids are grown up! I realized a few weeks ago that I am not a young mommy anymore. Not that I'm old, but I look around at the young mothers in the ward, and it dawns on me, "I used to be in that category." Now, I'm not. I don't have a little flock of young ones under my feet anymore, I have big, giant kids. Thank goodness for Conor, my second round!

If life had worked out the way I had planned, I would have had more children. The jewels in my crown. But life took a different direction. Interrupted my childbearing years with a divorce. Then the grace to give it one more chance. I wish Adam and I could have had more babies, but we had such strains between us. And now, Conor is getting ready for kindergarten and I will (hopefully) start nursing school. I can't even see how that would work. Starting all over again with a baby, when I fantasize about it, would definitely have its drags. Life is uncomplicated right now, with the youngest being almost 5. But as my older ones prepare to leave the nest, part of me wants to fill it up again, just keep doing what I love. Being a mother. It's one of the grandest purposes of this life anyway.

Last night, after taking Aiden out to Baskin Robbins for a surprise ice cream treat (after his piano practice), I spent some time writing in the journal I keep for him, about the whole wake up to practice thing. I flipped back in his journal to the pregnancy entries, when he was growing inside me and I didn't know if he would even be a girl or a boy, but how deeply in love with him I already was. Then, as he grew, he tumbled around in my belly like the boy I discovered him to be, and I can still feel little Lyndsay and Dylan's sweet hands on my swollen abdomen, pushing the protrusions of little baby feet back in and laughing at the game of it all. I remember the reverence of the night of his birth, and the miracle of looking into the eyes of a child fresh from God, entrusted to my care. I remember sleeping with him suckling next to me, or just curled up against my body through the night time. Thinking that those experiences are over for me is so hard. Time goes by, and one stage ends as another begins.

I wish I could have prolonged the time.

I prayed last night, thanking Heavenly Father for the gift of being a mother, since I realize so many would give anything for that gift and are denied. I thanked Him for the gift of being able to carry my children in my womb, since I know how many come to motherhood in other ways. Four times I had that sacred privilege, and I am so grateful. I don't mean to be greedy, but now that I'm staring "done" in the face, it kinda tears me up. And then I wonder, if I had ten children, would being "done" still bring a sadness with it?

I hope I can still have babies in the eternities. I prayed for that too.

Wake Up Call

2011-04-12T07:34:00.000-07:00

The rule is, Aiden practices 30 minutes a day, Lyndsay practices 60.

Do they love it? Not so much.

I have taught both of them piano, but last summer I made the decision to farm them out to a friend of mine who also teaches. With my 12 (paying) students, and being a mom, and taking care of the house, and school, it became too easy for me to put off teaching my own kids, even when they would beg me for a lesson. "I'm tired, let's do it tomorrow." They both do well on piano and continued to show interest, so I felt like it was worth it to pay someone else to move them along.

But with children, interest wanes. I see it with my students, I see it with my own children. Music practice is hard. It's relentless. Just when you master one piece, you start all over on another from the ground up. Music practice also builds confidence, though. When you attempt to do something hard, and find that after time you can do it, there is nothing that beats the thrill. And, kids look forward to and enjoy their lessons much more if they feel prepared for them.

So, the rule is, Aiden practices 30 minutes a day, Lyndsay, 60.

Yesterday, Aiden came home from school and had a little bit of time before my lessons began and before he was getting picked up to go to a friend's house. I asked him if he wanted to do his practice then, or wait until he got home. He chose after he got home. (duh) I reminded him that I had school and would not be home, so he would have to be sure to get it done. He promised me.

I got home from school at 10pm. First question I asked Lyndsay (who was still up with Dylan watching 24 on Netflix) was whether they had both done their practice. She had, Aiden had not, despite the fact that she and Adam both reminded him. Now he was sleeping.

Oh, dear. I hated what I felt like I had to do.

I went into his room, and woke him up. "Aiden, get up, you need to go do your practice."

He didn't stir at first, and then with a repeated nudge, he sleepily sat up and said, "What? Mom, you're crazy."

"Get up. You gave me your word, Aiden, and you are a boy who keeps his word, so go downstairs and practice your piano."

Not happy.

He protested, telling me he would do extra tomorrow, how tired he was. "Aiden, I gave you the choice, and you promised me. How can you sleep knowing you didn't keep your promise? I'm helping you have a clear conscience so you can sleep better." My voice was getting louder. He got up and sat himself down on the bench. I set the timer.

He played "I Feel My Savior's Love," with a little more anger than I think was intended. So, I sang from the kitchen as I loaded the dishwasher, hoping to lighten the mood, "I feel my mother's love, when she wakes me up to practice!"

He told me to stop.

He got through his 30 minutes and went back up to bed. I went in to check on him, and he had some tears in his eyes. I told him how much I loved him, how much I appreciated him practicing, and how sorry I was that I had to wake him up. Gave him some kisses, and wished him a good night. My heart ached. Sometimes it's so hard to be tough as a mom.

I wondered what I'd meet with Aiden this morning. He came down, and I said, "Good morning, Aiden. I love you." He replied with the same, and after a few minutes, he added, "I'm sorry about last night, Mom."

Oh, I love that boy! He's such a treasure.

When he gets home, it's 30 minutes on the piano. But then, I may take him for an ice cream cone. I can't be too tough.

Sweet Peace

2011-04-11T06:20:00.000-07:00

My friend, Ale, and me with Hilary Weeks

Me with Kris Belcher and her sweet guide dog, Nadine

with the beautifully radiant, Mariama Kallon

Time Out for Women was so satisfying, like the best spiritual meal, at a table surrounded by my best friends. Each speaker gave me something I needed. Each song tugged at my heart. I laughed hard. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I successfully avoided the sobbing cry (like when Hilary Weeks sang the song about wishing she could make time stand still while her children were still young. That was a killer, in a good way. You know, where you just want to play a song over and over again and keep on crying?)

We got to hear from Michael McLean, John Bytheway, and Kris Belcher (my new favorite person--she was born with a cancer in her eyes and as a result of the radiation she received to save her sight and her life as a baby, she ended up with tumors that cost her her sight and one of her eyes thirty years later. She has learned to trust in God and even find humor in her new life. And man, is she hilarious!) on Friday night, and on Saturday, we heard from Hilary Weeks and Mariama Kallon (survivor from war-torn Sierra Leone, saved by minutes from having her arms and legs chopped off by a machete, though her sister was not so lucky, and who joined the Church years after carrying one of the humanitarian hygiene kits around for years given her by the Church. She came and did a fireside for our Stake some time ago, and I've never forgotten her.) We also heard from DeAnne Flynn (who wrote that great Mother's Mite book), Laurel Christensen (her talks on CD are so fabulous for YW--she was fantastic), Mary Ellen Edmunds (always a classic), and Wendy Ulrich.

Several times during the talks, mention was made about "that burden on your heart" or "that heavy trial you're carrying", or something in similar vein. For most of my life, I've always known what that is. Oh yeah, front and center. But this time, I actually had to stop and think to myself, "Hey, what is my heavy burden?" And I realized, I don't feel weighed down.

I mean, sure, things aren't perfect. If I think about it for a minute or two, tears will flow that Dylan is moving out, or that Lyndsay has one year left before she follows. (but to be honest, I've been crying about my kids moving out since they were born!) I still struggle with the fact that I'll never carry another baby within my womb, or give birth, or nurse a little one at my breast. Killer! My marriage isn't perfect, and I'm still crossing fingers that I get accepted into the nursing program. Financial security sure would be helpful. And I miss my parents and siblings.

But, stillness. Peace. I realized I had already commended all of my trials into the hands of Savior, and I trust Him to use them for my good. My heart doesn't feel heavy! I am okay, and even strong, despite sadness over some things and struggles with others. Life will never be free of trial, and peace is possible in the midst of it.

I am so, so grateful.

When Ya Gotta Go, Ya Gotta Go

2011-04-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

I'm headed out of town again today. This time all for ME. I'm going with a friend up to Fresno to attend Time Out for Women, and it will be extra fabulous because we will be the guests of Hilary Weeks, which means we get to sit right up front with her and the other presenters and have lunch with all of them in between sessions. We were hoping that NieNie would be one of the speakers, but she's not on the circuit yet, I guess. Maybe next time.

Still, Time Out for Women, which is an all day event for women put on by Deseret Book, featuring well-loved speakers, writers, and performers, is always an amazing experience. Such a battery-charger. I could really use that.

Like mothers everywhere, I spend the majority of my time, and mental and emotional energy on others--mostly my children. Taking care of me is always in my radar, because I know how important it is for my vessel to be full, but even knowing that doesn't mean it happens like it should. And, to be honest, even when I make the effort, I am often interrupted or distracted.

So, to get ready to head out of town for two days, I've been busy at home making sure I won't really be missed. Preparing a schedule for everyone to follow so people know where they have to be (Lyndsay and Dylan are working at a wedding open house tonight, and Lyns takes the ACT in the morning), a meal plan (so the family doesn't just eat Doritos and gummy worms all weekend)--including doing some baking (chocolate zucchini bread from OurBestBites.com), and making a chore chart (so that things get done around here and I don't come home to a disaster). Everything will be fine. All my lists and schedules are posted to the fridge. Adam does a terrific job, willingly taking over so that I can have this treat.

I'll get all the kids fed and off to school, and then, it's MY time!

On the Road with Dylan

2011-04-04T06:13:00.000-07:00

Last week I took Dylan on a road trip, just the two of us. There were several reasons for the trip, but mostly it was because I wanted some time with my biggest boy, the one who has gone and grown up, and the one who will be moving to his dad's this summer. I get all torn up and weepy inside realizing I have only about 100 days left with my Dylan in my nest, and no certainty that he will ever return for more than a visit. How the years fly by!

The last few years have been difficult ones, with butting heads and budding independence. I wanted some time with him outside of our home to build some sweet memories and so that he could feel my attention, my devotion, and my love, just for him.

We filled the days together, and I treated him to things we hardly ever get to do. We ate at his favorite restaurants (The Outback and Golden Corral). We saw a movie (Red Riding Hood). We went mini-golfing. We did some shopping.

On Friday we drove out to Zion National Park for a hike. We decided to hike to the three Emerald Pools. The Lower Pool was an easy hike, the Middle Pool not much harder. The Upper Pool was a bit tougher, and I had to stop a few times to catch my breath. Dylan hiked behind me so that he could catch me if I fell, which I didn't, but I thought it was sweet of him. When there were big rocks to climb up to, or jump over, he would go ahead of me and offer me his hand. We made it to the top, and reveled in our accomplishment. I thought about how our relationship has evolved from a little boy who needs everything from his mom, to an almost-man, who now gives to me and helps me as much as I help him. Our strengths balance each other. Not just on the hike, but on our walk through life, Dylan has stretched my heart and opened my eyes to so many things that have helped me to grow. Raising him has been a privilege, and I'm so glad we had this chance, one-on-one to create happy memories together.

This is Only a Test

2011-03-28T06:09:00.000-07:00

Last summer I finally purchased two 55-gallon water drums for the beginnings of our emergency water storage. Problem was, I never filled them. That would have been a real kicker, had something happened and we actually needed water. But for several months (no, make that years) I've felt the urging to make preparedness a priority, and the events in Japan only added to my feeling that we need to be ready, come what may.

So, first, I went to the lumber store to get two boards. Water barrels should be stored up on slats of wood, and never directly on a concrete surface.

Then we filled the barrels and added some of this aerobic stabilized oxygen, which makes the water safely storable for up to five years. This bottle treated both 55 gallon barrels.

I know it was a small thing, but having those water barrels filled is a thrill to me now, when I look out my back door and see them. I hope to get several more, but this is a good start.

A few hours after we got the barrels filled, the power went out, for no apparent reason. It affected at least several blocks around us, as people wandered out of their houses, wondering what was going on. It was lightly raining, but not stormy, as it has been for the last week. Adam was already planning on taking the boys to an internet cafe for some networked video games, so when he left, I decided to take Lyndsay and Conor in the other direction to the produce store. We loaded up on fruits and veggies and nuts, and hoped that when we returned home, the power would be back up.

Not to be. And it was dark by that time.

We unloaded the groceries from the car, but only put a few perishable things quickly into the fridge, leaving the veggies to wait on the floor, to preserve the cold temperature in the fridge. As Conor surveyed the situation, he clapped his hands together in an authoritative way and said, "Okay, here's what we need to do: we need to get the emergency candles and the emergency flashlights!" And with another clap of his hands, he was off, returning with an armload of handcrank flashlights. I lit some candles, and enjoyed the pioneer-like coziness of our now limited activity.

Soon the boys were home, and they got right into our "emergency" too. One got the handcrank radio going, and another lit more candles. Lyndsay, realizing that most of her life requires electricity, surrendered into her new, though temporary state of being, and sat on the couch to read in the dim light. Aiden rallied a group together to play a family game. He, Adam, and Dylan began a game of cards. Conor, like a sheepdog, wandered from room to room cranking his flashlight, checking on everyone's well-being.

The flash on the camera ruins the mood of this picture, but obviously, it was taken in pitch darkness, except for the light from the four candles burning there on the table, and the little camping lantern.

Only a few minutes into the card game, the power came back on.

The card game, once finished, was abandoned. Lyndsay got right onto the internet. The candles were blown out, flashlights turned off, and everyone scattered to different rooms. A movie went on in the family room, and iPods were once again connected wirelessly. I think it was only 2 minutes before I heard someone call someone else a "jerk", and somebody else be mean in another room.

"Goodness!" I called out. "What happened to everyone? Maybe I should just turn the power back off!"

Interesting how a temporary crisis brought everyone together in such a lovely way. Now to work on unity even with the lights on.

Laugh it Up

2011-03-24T06:09:00.000-07:00

I'm laughing a lot these days. Like a weight has been lifted from my heart, and there's no string holding it to earth, it just keeps floating away with laughter. I'm not even sure what's so funny, but I love it. Laughing has to be up there in my top 3 favorite things (my children being lumped into one thing, of course.)

I hope to be able to have a decently nice camera one day soon. But fortunately, a friend that Adam works with loaned him his camera while he is away in Europe, so we've been having fun getting some pictures of the kids and the family. I got my hair cut last week, and Adam was all up in it with the camera. But he wouldn't stop making me laugh. Actually, he wasn't trying to make me laugh, but he is just so funny. He just strikes me as hilarious, probably because he is so subtle.

My favorite shot is the one above when I lost it again during the family picture and all of the kids start reacting to my laughing. I love how contagious laughter is.

But, finally, we---I---pulled it together, and we snapped a few family pictures, and even got a few of me (and the other kids.) It's kind of strange looking at close-up pictures of yourself as you get older. It's weird to see the morphing change taking over your face (and body), when inside you feel like you just walked out of the high school doors.

But overall, I like those changes. Especially the laugh lines.

Lucky

2011-03-17T07:59:00.000-07:00

I turned the kids' scones green this morning for St. Patrick's Day. It's tradition to have a green breakfast on March 17th, around here, like most other homes, I suppose, but I wanted something other than green pancakes, or green eggs this year.

The unlucky news is that none of us owns any green clothing. Weird? Yesterday was Green Day at Conor's preschool, and I had a terrible time finding anything that he owned that had green in it. Why is that? And why can't they have Orange Day, because I have plenty of orange!

So, the kids headed out for school, ripe for the pinching. I wish them luck, on this Irish day.

I'm lucky:

I am in a good place with Adam. (Although that hasn't so much been because of luck, but rather a whole lot of hard work.)

I have a stack of books waiting to be read.

I almost have a year's supply of grains stored, and that makes me feel so lucky!

Conor gets to go to preschool.

I get to go to Time Out for Women in Fresno in a few weeks. (Thanks, Hilary!)

I have really bright children, who teach me, humble me, and make me proud.

I have the best friends ever. Really. You all should be so lucky.

Tiger Momma

2011-03-16T08:20:00.000-07:00

I just read the best book. Seriously. I loved this book.

Amy Chua is the daughter of Chinese immigrant parents, raised according to the "Chinese parenting model," and she writes this book, initially, to prove why the Chinese parenting model is better than the "Western parenting model."

You know how it is, stereotyped, ethnically or politically correct or incorrect as it may be, Chinese children seem to be top performers in anything they try. Musical prodigies, straight-A students, etc. Amy says there's a perfect explanation for this. Chinese parents expect more from their children and they make them work hard to achieve it. Western parents are too soft and we coddle our children, always wrapped up in their "feelings" and "self-esteem."

In the family Amy was born into, her parents expected excellence. She and her sister both attended Harvard, (Amy is now a professor of law at Yale, and her sister a medical doctor), and even their Down Syndrome sister, Cindy, holds two gold medals from the Special Olympics. Their mother was tirelessly and endlessly devoted to their development, as a good Chinese mother is.

Amy married a Jewish guy from New York, also a professor of law at Yale, and you get to read about the culture clashes and the compromises they made in their family. Basically, she gets to parent according to the Chinese model, but the girls will be raised Jewish.

Amy is one tough momma. The girls began their musical training at age 3, and included hours every day (even on vacation, even on lesson days) of practice, which she supervised. Western parents, she says, enforce 30 minutes or an hour a day of practice. To a Chinese kid, the first hour is the easy hour. The Chinese "prodigy" isn't so much a result of supernatural genius ability, but of relentless practice and hard work. And the Chinese mother is in the trenches with her children.

Did it pay off for Amy? Well, yes. Both of her children are incredibly accomplished musicians, performing in Carnegie Hall and auditioning for Juilliard even before high school. But there were also really tough times--screaming matches, iron will pitted against iron will, and what Western parents might even call verbal abuse. But the Chinese view things differently, according to Amy:

"Chinese parents have two things over their Western counterparts: 1)higher dreams for their children, and 2)higher regard for their children in the sense of knowing how much they can take."

Some of what you'll read is hysterically funny. Some of it is shockingly appalling (at least to a Western mind---she plainly admits that Chinese parenting is done in the closet). But all of it is so real, and I love that Amy is both confident and humble enough to put it all out on the table.

Her dedication to her children cannot be denied. She clearly loves them and is completely devoted to them. She believes that the best gifts she can give her children are skills and an appreciation for excellence. These children clearly work harder than the rest of us, and they sacrifice a lot to work so hard. On the back book jacket, here are what Amy's children were never allowed to do:

attend a sleepover

have a playdate

be in a school play

complain about not being in a school play

watch TV or play computer games

choose their own extracurricular activities

get any grade less than an A (including an A-)

not be the #1 student in every subject except gym and drama

play any instrument other than the piano or violin

not play the piano or violin

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the book:

"Never complain or make excuses. If something seems unfair at school, just prove yourself by working twice as hard and being twice as good."

"What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you are good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work."

"Life is basically forcing yourself to do things you don't want to do. The sooner kids learn this harsh reality, the better."

"Western parents are concerned about their children's psyches. Chinese parents aren't. They assume strength, not fragility, and as a result, they behave very differently."

Most of what Chua says I found myself agreeing with, though I don't practice it all in principle (I can't believe she has the energy! You will be exhausted reading about how much driving to lessons, hours of practice, drilling, etc. she does with her children---all the while she's a professor at Yale!) There is something to be said for hard work and excellence at a skill, and far too few of us have pushed ourselves (or been forced to push ourselves) to the level where we break through the boundaries and discover what we are really capable of. It's inspiring, really, in a certain way. But Chua has also taken a lot of flack for this book that is swimming in controversy. (and of course, I'm late to the game.) It's not a parenting book. It's a memoir, and a self-deprecating one at that. She's not saying she did things the right way, she's just saying how she did things, and what happened. And even the front cover hints at the shift that takes place, when it says she was humbled by her thirteen-year-old.

I will say, however, that my children are not amused that I read this book. As I was reading it, I happened to look up in the living room I was sitting in, to see Aiden sprawled over the arm chair. Doing nothing. "Why don't you go do something?" I said. "Go develop yourself in some way. Let's not waste time." Then I saw Dylan walk aimlessly into the room. "What about you?" I asked. "What are you doing? Find something difficult and productive to do." And piano practice has stepped up to 100%, no excuses. At one point during her hour practice, Lyndsay stopped and called into the kitchen to me, "Oh my gosh. I see it! You've gone all Chinese on us!"

(Sometimes it's a good idea to keep what you're reading a secret from your children.)

Some people will say that the Chinese parenting model makes children grow up to resent their mothers and rebel, but Amy points out that she can't help but notice that while Western parents spoil and coddle their children and their feelings, Western children more often grow up and resent their parents, move far away, and sometimes even sever ties with them, while Chinese children grow up to revere and respect their parents, and stay close to them throughout their lives, dedicated to them, and grateful for their strict upbringing. Food for thought.

I could go on and on. A piano student's parent loaned me this book, and I loved it so much I want my own copy. So readable. So fascinating. A few, "well, at least I never said that to my children!" moments, and overall, to me, inspiring. Not that I'm going to "get all Chinese", but I agree with having high expectations and pushing children towards excellence.

I won't give away the twists, so go read it!

Laughing with Lyndsay

2011-03-15T06:13:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night, there was a Stake dance. Maria's two daughters got dropped off here at my house for a ride up to it, but you know, the girls can't show up on time. That's lame. Nobody's there yet. "Fashionably late" is still going strong.

To make use of the time, I reminded Lyndsay that she was finally eligible for a phone upgrade from Verizon, so I sat down on the floor next to her with my laptop and we scrolled through the options. We narrowed it down to two, but she definitely preferred the teeny-tiny phone. She likes teeny-tiny things, only reinforced since she got the new iPod Nano for Christmas, which, if you haven't seen it, is teeny-tiny. With a touch screen, which cracks me up. I like to take my finger in the air and pretend I'm scrolling through the playlist at breakneck speed on that teeny-tiny screen.

To be responsible consumers, Lyndsay thought we should read the reviews for the phone she liked. The tiny one. There were about two hundred of them, overall very positive. But the negative ones? For some reason, they cracked us up. People have a lot of fire in them when they sit down to write out essay-length hate reviews on cell phones.

A lot of them had to do with the phone's tininess. People complaining about the "itty-bitty keys", and we were laughing, picturing a huge, stocky man with tree stump fingers trying to send a text with any semblance of precision.

Some people who didn't care for the phone didn't mince words:

"I hate it. It's the worst phone ever made. It just won Worst Gadget of the Year. Pros: None. Cons: Everything."

Why is that funny? I'm not even sure. You had to be there. But we were laughing so hard, with the girls on the couch undoubtedly feeling terribly left out, though we tried to reel them in. We had tears streaming down our faces. Mascara was everywhere. And we couldn't stop. Every review had us howling even more.

At one point, I read one and went crazy laughing, and then Lyndsay joined in. She looked up at the girls and said through her laughter, "I don't even know what's so funny this time. It's just that she laughs, and then I laugh!"

It was finally late enough to arrive at the dance and not be lame. I drove them out there, and before Lyndsay got out of the car, I thanked her. "That was awesome," I said. "Really, really fun. I needed that. It felt so good!" We threw a few tag lines from the reviews at each other for reminder chuckles, and off she went. I drove back home with a smile on my face.

I decided to remember that night for the rest of my life. Sitting on the living room floor with my almost grown-up Lyndsay, a year before she leaves the nest, totally in sync with each other comically. Laughing and laughing and laughing about bad cell phone reviews. Wiping smeared mascara off on our shirt sleeves, falling all over each other with hilarity that just serendipitously hit us both at the same moment. So that we could enjoy that moment for the rest of forever in our memories.

There will come a day, I know with a heavy heart, that I won't be able to see Lyndsay every day like I enjoy now. I will miss her and my heart will ache for her. She'll be busy with a new life, but I'll squeeze in a phone call anyway and catch her on her way to this or that.

"Hey Love," I'll say. "Worst. Phone. Ever. Itty-bitty keys." And in that moment, we'll be transported back in time and space to the floor of the livingroom, feeding each other the best medicine ever. Laughter.

Pure bliss.

Our Best Bites, and a Picnic

2011-03-14T06:24:00.000-07:00

I'm probably the last to know about Our Best Bites, the blog. I found it recently through a series of other blogs, and bookmarked it to keep coming back to. Practically every recipe they featured looked so delicious I couldn't stand it, so imagine my delight in finding out they had a cookbook! I ordered it right away. The cookbook is so beautiful. Large, glossy, pictures throughout, spiral binding--an absolute party for the eyes, even before the mouth gets involved. I've been trying out several of the recipes, with great success around the homefront.

picture from Our Best Bites

For Friday's Family Movie Night, I made Creamy Chicken Taquitos and Black Beans. So. Totally. Delicious. And then the Cookie Sundae Cups made our movie (Clash of the Titans) that much better. Holy yumminess. Boy, was I glad that last year I'd picked up six after-sale Valentine ramekins at Michael's.

Over the weekend, because Lyndsay had to go to the park anyway to do her running, I decided to turn it into a family picnic. Of course, I had all these great recipes in my mind, and I couldn't leave well enough alone and pack some sandwiches, no. I had to make everyone wait while I prepared A Picnic.

We started with the dough from the Breadsticks recipe, which we knew worked well, since we'd used it earlier in the week. Got that rising, and then we picked some lemons off of the neighbor's tree (with permission) and made some lemonade. Aiden did that part.

While the dough was rising, I made the Apple Streusel Bars and popped them into the oven. With the dough ready, I rolled it out and filled it with olive oil, Italian herbs, shredded chicken, spinach, parmesan, mozzarella, and tomatoes, for the Spinach-Chicken Stromboli. That went into the oven as the Apple Streusel Bars came out. But first, I should admit to losing it in the kitchen. I didn't adequately flour the counter when I rolled the dough out, and as I began to roll up the huge bundle, the dough stuck and began to rip. I growled and said, "I'm going to scream!" And I did. And Adam had the kids run for it. But then Lyndsay came and offered me her two hands to help in rolling the thing up (which I'd made way too big), and all was fine after that.

While the Stromboli baked, I prepared the glaze for the Apple Streusel Bars and put it in a baggie to squeeze out once it had cooled completely. I washed and cored a bowl of fresh strawberries, and packed up plates, napkins, and cups, and a quilt.

Lyndsay began her run and the rest of us set up the picnic and began eating and playing.

One of the toys the boys brought was an air rocket. It wasn't long before a missile was stuck up in a tree, and Dylan was up there trying to shake it down. Which didn't work. So, Aiden and Adam on the ground started throwing a golf club up to try to knock it loose, but then the golf club got stuck too. The sight of the three of them trying to free the missile and golf club (by throwing up the football) was so funny. Lyndsay and I laughed ourselves silly on the quilt, and wondered what the world would be like if men had to solve every problem in the world. To give them credit, they were ultimately successful. And very tired.

There was a football catch between Adam and Aiden.

Aiden's football improvisation.

Dylan did some chipping practice.

And Conor gathered golf balls.

A good time by all. And the food? So worth the effort.

Hear Me Roar

2011-03-11T10:15:00.000-08:00

I'm taking an art history class on Monday nights. I've been very excited about it for several reasons:

1. My mother studied art history in college, and I like feeling connected to her.

2. I love art, but would love to understand it better, as I'm really quite ignorant.

3. It isn't a grueling, stressful science class.

4. It doesn't bear any weight on my acceptance to the RN program.

The professor is artsy, as one would expect. In her sixties, crazy frizzy hair piled up on top of her head, green-rimmed glasses, and clothes that nobody but an art professor would put together. You know what I mean. But she's also engaging, dynamic, funny, and able to bring art down to a level that a student can begin to interpret. Or, maybe she's bringing the students up to the level of the art. I'm not sure. Either way, each week has been enlightening, intriguing, and so much fun.

This week, however, she took a detour, becoming increasingly familiar to me in the college/academic world, and started teaching her own philosophies as truth.

We were talking about bipolar opposition, where pairs of concepts are historically linked together and considered black and white, with no gray in the middle. One is valued over the other, and they are seen as being in conflict with each other. Examples would be:

Mind/Body

Active/Passive

Culture/Nature

Male/Female

We were looking for these themes in art, specifically the Male/Female bipolar opposition. Historically, the male is considered the valued of the two, and is shown in art as being bigger, stronger, more angular, enjoying more of the light of the painting, while the woman is traditionally softer, rounder, smaller, weaker, emotional, and in the shadows.

The professor put up on the huge screen images of toys and ad campaigns that continue, even today, to reinforce these traditional gender roles. Go into a Toys R Us and you walk through the computer games and boy toys first. (Boys are more "valued".) The colors are bolder and brighter, and the toys encourage strength, competition, strategy, and outdoor play. When you finally work your way over to the girls' toys, the colors become soft and pastel. The toys are for indoor, domestic play, and for vanity and appearance.

She showed a side-by-side of G.I. Joe and Barbie. You can all picture this. G.I. Joe is angular, muscular, and dominant. Barbie is unrealistically skinny, beautiful, and well-dressed. Not much good for anything but looking amazing. Picture their hands. G.I. Joe's hands are huge! Barbie's hands are impossibly small. Again, not much good for anything but powdering her nose.

Now, I'm getting all of this. For the record, I think Barbie is stupid. I was not allowed to have Barbie as a girl, and my daughter never had a Barbie either. Barbie spends way too much money on tight clothes and high heels and fancy cars, and vacations. But go back to the gender roles programmed into toys in general. The boys should be tough, girls should be soft and domestic thing. From here, my professor took a meandering path.

She started ridiculing traditional gender roles, calling them archaic and destructive. She said that back in the day, women had to be at home, pregnant all the time, because the mortality rate was such that survival of the species was in jeopardy. Men and women's lives revolved around survival, but now, now? There are too many people, she said! Women should stop having babies and staying at home. People live a long time. The way of the old gender roles should be abolished, shunned, and in fact, women should throw off the chains that have bound them throughout history. What everyone should be doing instead, she advised to a group of impressionable, young students, is forget about gender roles and just go to school as long as one possibly can and then start thinking! Thinking and finally solving the world's problems! That's the solution, she believes. That's the way to fix this mess we're in.

I sat there with my head down, the Spirit long since gone from the lecture hall. This woman is a mother. I thought of all kinds of contradictory statements, but instead held my tongue, knowing that nothing I would say would alter this woman's point of view. But when I got home, I let it all out to my husband, who was waiting up for me.

"Throw off the chains?" I said. "That right there is archaic! Thinking that motherhood or traditional womanhood has a woman bound in chains! Motherhood is the single most powerful position to hold in this world! Nobody affects the community, society, nations, the world, as much as mothers do! How can she say that? Sure women can do anything that a man can do (except maybe some heavy lifting), but that doesn't mean that they should! Look what has happened since women left the home! This is progress? So her suggestion is to create a bigger problem and then have everyone sit around thinking about how to solve it, while ignoring the fact that they caused it?! If mothers would be in the home, a lot of the problems we now have would be gone! Women act as if motherhood is some part time gig they can swing in their downtime, after they do their "real" job! They're missing the point! And how can there continue to be positive personal growth without the callings of womanhood and motherhood? Huh? Huh? We should all just be the same? That's ridiculous! Why does everything have to be the same? Why are we so concerned about fair? We have our own stewardships and divine possibilities. We have our own roles! As soon as we start equalizing everything and switching it all up, bad things happen! A society can only be as strong as its mothers! Mothers are stronger and more influential than Presidents, than Kings! What was she talking about? And all those kids in the room, hanging on her every word, forming their opinions about the rest of their lives! She has no right to mix that in there with Michelangelo and Coatlique!"

Adam was unprepared for all of that. He was silent on the bed. Finally he ventured, "I can see how you would be totally and personally offended by that," he said.

"Oh, but I'm not personally offended," I countered. "I do not feel a need to defend my decision to be a mother. I know who I am and how important I am in that role. I'm offended that she would teach this worldly and asinine opinion as truth! It was wrong! It was just wrong! Who does she think she is?"

He got it. Thank goodness, he understands. And he let me vent and rant and rave all over the bedroom. And then I got into bed, and into his arms. Safe and protected and validated. His roles.

I'll take emotional, and soft, and even round any day as part of my own role. But never weak. No sir. The power and value of woman is one of the least understood and misunderstood truths out there today. Women have never really been in the shadows.

After all, who's raising all those strong, courageous, capable men?

Weird Kitty

2011-03-09T06:24:00.000-08:00

Our cat is odd. He likes to sit on anything but the floor. Sometimes he chooses the furniture, like he's some sort of king, but if there's anything on the floor, that's his favorite spot. Like, one piece of paper. He's on it. A board game left unattended. Under the cat. An open book. Swallowed up in kitty lard.

I have to say, though, that when I let the boys dump out all these Legos (and it's hard to appreciate how huge this pile is in a picture), that I never anticipated finding the cat tip-toeing painfully up the mountain to nest on top of it.

And there he stayed.

How can that be comfortable?

I Hope They Call Her on a Mission

2011-03-08T09:57:00.000-08:00

Lyndsay participated in Missionary Weekend. (That's her, second in from the left. Incidentally, next to her is Maria's daughter, the one that invited her to go with them to Mexico this summer.)

At first, she wasn't thrilled. Not about the missionary part, but about the pouring rain part and her hair, and how those two things would mix. Also the part about giving up an entire weekend to pouring rain and bad hair, when these days her time is very, very stretched.

I was so excited for her to get to participate, as I've heard the youth praising this experience for years--how great it is, how much they learn, how much love they feel. I baked cookies for Lyndsay and her "companion", tucked them into a brown paper bag, with a letter, telling her how proud I am of her, and how I hoped that she would feel the Savior's love as she spent time in His service.

Pretty much everyone equates the Mormon Church with missionaries. Missionary Weekend is the weekend when all of the youth aged 16 and up get to "try out" a mission. There was a Missionary Training Center set up at one of the church buildings, where the youth gathered after school the first day. They were, from that moment on, to follow mission rules. (No cell phones, iPods, etc.) After talks and training on missionary work, they went to sleep at someone's house (a YW leader, in our case) and in the morning, they were paired up with Sister missionaries, or Elders, as the case may be. They spent the day with the missionaries, following their schedule, keeping their appointments, talking to strangers, and bearing testimony of Jesus Christ.

She got home late Saturday night, exhausted and, more importantly, all aglow. Her mission ended up to be in Santa Monica, starting at the Temple there, and working in the surrounding neighborhoods. She told me of each person they visited, how adept the Sisters were at working with the Spirit and being genuinely interested in each person they talked with. She told me how she even found herself bearing her testimony of prayer, of the scriptures, and of the reality of her relationship with Heavenly Father. She watched the expressions on people's faces change, soften, with the message. She felt love.

Oh, my heart sings! She felt the love. That's what it's all about.

And as it happened, even the sun came out.

If You're into Voting...

2011-03-07T12:45:00.000-08:00

. . .Go vote for ME!

The voting is now open for Best LDS Female Solo Blogger of 2010. I totally forgot to tell you the voting had started, and everyone else is campaigning harder than me. Oh well. But if you're so inclined, click on over and help me not be too embarrassed!

Thanks!

A Preschool for Conor

2011-03-07T06:00:00.000-08:00

Last Monday, I went to get my brake light replaced and ended up at preschool.

I have no idea how that exactly happened, but there we were, talking to the director, who told us that they don't usually take new students so late in the year. She said we were welcome to stay, though, and see how we liked things.

Conor got right to work on the toys. And when it was Group Time, he found a seat on the bench, incidentally, next to the other little boy named Conner. When questions were asked, he raised his hand. If he had something to add, he raised his hand. For example, the teacher read the story of the creation of the world to the children. When Adam and Eve came along, they were noticeably undressed. Conor raised his hand.

"Um, why doesn't God just make them some clothes? I mean, he made the whole earth!"

A very valid point.

About halfway through the day, during a toy time, I told Conor we really needed to leave. I had not anticipated this preschool thing in our plans for the day. "But what about Snack Time?" he asked. "They're having salad," I told him. (This week was Letter S week.) "Oh, okay," he said, and with that he put away his toys.

The director had given me a stack of papers. She seemed open to the idea of Conor joining the group, even this late in the year.

Conor and I both were elated. There had been such a sweet feeling in that preschool, and I wanted it for my little guy. He'd had such a good time with all those new people and new experiences. I've never had one of my children in preschool before, but for some reason, this felt right. I talked with Adam that night, and even though it definitely stretches our budget, he loves to please me, and he trusts me when it comes to the children.

The rest of the week we set about filling out paperwork, getting immunizations, seeing the dentist (not required for the preschool, but the appointment was already set), and finding a doctor for a physical. Conor had three fillings, four immunizations, a TB test, a urine test, and a prick in his finger for a hemoglobin test. The kid went through it.

On Friday, we went back to preschool, but I had to stay with him the whole day since his doctor's physical paper hadn't been received yet. The Director shared with me her concerns about Conor joining the group so late (like, March is a month full of field trips, and maybe the lack of routine will be hard for him? Will he be able to adjust to the routine after that?) I don't see those things being difficult for Conor. He loves new adventures, structured or not. She agreed to take Conor, since he had been doing so well with the group, and allowed for a two-week trial period during which time she would hold my tuition check and either she or I could break the contract.

Conor feels so big to have a school to go to like all the other children in the family. He needed the activities and engagement with other kids his age. He needed the "warm-up" for kindergarten, sitting and listening, following directions, being aware of other children. The lesson plans are sweet and thoughtful, with fun little activities, outdoor play, story time, and only about ten minutes of worksheets. He comes home with stories to tell of new friends and what's coming up next time.

I now have the doctor's signed physical form, so today, I guess, Conor can stay at preschool without me having to stay with him. He's fine with that. It feels a bit weird to have all of the kids gone at school, and strange that my little guy will not be my trusty sidekick three days a week from 9am to noon. It's just one of those things, though. Parents must constantly reassess the situation, consider each child's needs, and readjust accordingly. I have loved the companionship of little Conor. I adore his company, but I know how much he will grow from having this experience added to his life.

Besides, today is Police Officer day at preschool, and I can't really compete with that.

Of Little Boys and Mexico: A Maria Story

2011-03-01T07:46:00.000-08:00

A few people asked me last month when I was going to be visiting Maria again. It delighted me. It meant that already you are beginning to love Maria, as I do. This month's visit took place at my house, oddly, because my brakes were bad in my van and I couldn't drive it, but I'd scheduled my visit with Maria prior to that. Remember how she has to drive all the way down a dirt road, through the canyon, stopping several times to open gates and close gates? Well, I got up the gumption to ask her if she wouldn't mind just coming to my house instead this month, and she was gracious enough to oblige.

Maria has invited my Lyndsay to travel to Mexico with their family this summer for two weeks. Her large family of eleven siblings, with their families, is gathering at the family ranch to spend time with their aging mother. Since Lyndsay has become close friends with Maria's oldest daughters, they wanted Lyns to come along on the trip. I was delighted for Lyndsay to have the opportunity to visit another country, especially with a family. Now she can finally put all her Spanish to the test! And, she can witness the blessings of her life, that so many of us take for granted.

Maria and I always talk motherhood. Her struggles, my struggles. The difference between mothering young children and mothering teens. The difference between mothering boys and girls. And inevitably, Maria takes me back in time, to her little town in Mexico, when she was growing up as a child in another world.

Maria is the eleventh of twelve children. She has a brother, number ten, who is three years older than she. He had, what some might call, "wanderlust", or "an independent spirit". Parents would call it a nightmare, but it makes for a pretty good story, which she gave me permission to share. I don't know her brother's name, so I'll call him Ten, for the story.

When Ten was six years old--six!--he ran away from home. Not your typical pack a backpack and go to your friend's house until dinner and his mom sends you home sort of running away, no. Ten left without a bag packed, told no one, and hitchhiked to Guadalajara, the major city about an hour away from their small town. Now, you think to yourself, who picks up a six year old? (And Maria tells me that he was a teeny tiny six year old at that.) Well, I guess a kind Mexican man who believes what he hears when a teeny tiny six year old tells him from the side of the road that his parents have died and he has no family and he needs to go to the city to work. So, Ten gets a ride to Guadalajara, and as they arrive in the city, Ten asks the driver to let him off there, at a roadside taco truck.

Ten gives the owner of the taco truck the same sad story. He has no parents, no family, and he's willing to work. He doesn't ask for money, just a job and a place to sleep. So, the (fortunately!) kind man, sets up a big tub of water and soap on the sidewalk outside of his stand and puts the little boy to work washing dishes all day long. At night, he locks Ten inside the taco truck to sleep and "take care of the business," in case customers come. Ten is happy as a clam.

Meanwhile, back at home, Maria's mother calls the family for dinner. Ten doesn't show up. She figures he's probably out playing in the sugarcane plantations near their home, but hours go by and he doesn't come home. Maria's mother gets worried. Now, Maria was not even four years old at this time, but she said this memory is permanently engraved in her mind because the emotions surrounding it were so intense. Her mother was scared to death. In the dark of night she loaded the other children with flashlights and they all went into the sugar plantations, searching high and low for Ten. She remembers carrying the big flashlight and looking for her brother. She remembers how serious it was because her saintly Catholic mother was already dressed in her black mourning clothes as they searched. The older kids were just mad that they were out in the dark hunting for the little rascal. He was nowhere to be seen.

The police were alerted. The mother, deep in worry and mourning, went to the radio station. Everyone around was on the lookout for little Ten. Maria remembers worrying that if Ten didn't come home, her mother would die from the ache in her heart, and if she died, then the rest of them would die without her. A three-year-old's anxieties!

Days went by. In Guadalajara, Ten was living it up. As he scrubbed dishes during the day, strangers would walk by and marvel at the little scrawny boy working so hard. Ten would tell them his story, orphan that he was, just trying to get by. In pity, they would give him money.

A week with no Ten. (Can you mothers even imagine?)

Well, one day, the oldest brother, who happened to be in Guadalajara for college, was riding in a bus through the city. As fortune would have it, he was sitting in the window seat, and as the bus drove down a street, this brother did a double take at the little boy bent over a tub of water busily scrubbing dishes next to a taco truck. "Hey! That's my brother!" He jumped out of his seat and begged the bus driver to stop. Running off the bus and back toward the taco truck, he called out to his little mischievous brother. Of course, he had heard of the missing boy, but never expected to see him here in the city.

As he approached the boy, calling out to him, Ten looked up, thrilled to death to see his big brother. "Hi!" he greeted. "You have got to try these tacos! They are sooooo good!" Those were his first words to his brother! He hadn't a clue that he was in trouble, or that people were looking for him, or that his family was distraught with grief. Just, "try these tacos!" The brother told him, "You are in so much trouble, little one." And the owner of the taco truck came out to see what was going on.

"You know this kid?" he asked.

"Yes, it's my brother!"

"Your brother? He told me he had no family and he needed a job. I'm sorry I didn't know."

And so big brother dragged little brother, I imagine by the ear, back home to the family ranch in their little town, Mother still dressed in her black mourning clothes.

Well, everyone was so happy to see him! He was safe! He was alive! Ten was home! And it felt like such a party to him, that he never realized that what he had done was wrong. Plus, his pockets were full of cash, which he gave to his mother. "Look at all the money I got, Ma!"

Well, Ten would pull that stunt over and over again throughout his childhood. Just pick up and leave without anyone knowing. He got kicked out of school after first grade because he kept telling the other children about his runaway adventures and how lucrative they were and the directors of the school feared he would influence the other children to follow in his example. It was the only school in the town, and his mother worried about what to do with her boy if he couldn't get an education. Ten's response? "Don't worry, Ma! I can already read! I don't need school, I can work!" So at six years old, that's pretty much what Ten did, never going back to school. Of course, life has been hard for him, now a father with several children, and without real education. He still works hard, job to job, carving out a meager living for his family.

Maria and I had laughed and laughed at the craziness of this story. It seems more movie-like than real life, and yet we were talking about her brother! Ten loves Maria. She's always been his favorite because she was his little sister, and he looked out for her. Well, when he was home, I suppose.

The great thing about that story is that now I feel so much better about that time when Conor got out of the house when he was two and toddled down to the end of our street alone, while I was in the bathroom. The garbage lady (female sanitation worker?) spotted him, blocked the street with her garbage truck, picked him up and carried him back to the door that he said was his house. Imagine my horror and embarrassment to open the door and see the garbage lady (female sanitation worker?) standing on my porch with my toddler in her arms. Mother of the Year, right? Well, at least he hasn't hitchhiked to Los Angeles. Yet.

She Did It!

2011-02-28T11:32:00.000-08:00

I have had so much positive feedback from Amber's "Journey of a Thousand Miles" featured last week. She's so easy to love! I know she is an inspiration. Over the weekend, she and her husband, Kevin, ran their first half-marathon! I am so proud of her! To think that just two years ago she couldn't hike with her daughter's 5th grade class, and now she is running in races! It is a testament to me of the resiliency of our incredible human bodies, for one thing, the miracle that they are, but also of the power of a dedicated mind. One thing about Amber is that whenever she sets her mind to do something, there is no stopping her. She is one powerful woman!

For those of you who read the installments of Amber's story and have questions of your own, I asked Amber if she'd be willing to answer personal questions here on my blog, and she agreed happily. If there is something specific you'd like to know, or advice, or anything, you can either leave the question in a comment on the blog, or you can email it to me. If you'd prefer to remain anonymous, that would be fine too, just let me know.

The thing that I remember the most about Amber's decision to change her life was when she realized that a year was going to go by anyway. She could let the year go by and remain the same, overweight and unhappy with herself, or she could use the year to do something about it! That was the same advice someone gave to me when I considered going back to school even though I would be 40 when I finished. I was going to be 40 anyway. Might as well be 40 and a nurse! If a year is a long time to focus on, turn it to a week. A week is going to go by anyway--wanna be 1 or 2 pounds lighter and a little healthier when that happens?

Thank you, Amber and Kevin!

Guest Post: A Journey of a Thousand Miles, Part 4

2011-02-26T07:18:00.000-08:00

Step 6 – Rewards. I love rewards. I truly believe that as we set out to accomplish something, small rewards along the way give us the stimulus to keep going, as opposed to one big reward at the end. While the end result was its own reward, losing 100 pounds, I chose to do things for myself along the way. It made the journey that much more palatable!

As I began to exercise, I found my body was sore, and the more I pushed it, the longer it took to recover. I decided after the first few months that I would treat myself to a monthly massage. I signed up for a monthly membership at Massage Envy. And, to pay for it, I traded getting my nails done each month. The massages were more important!

As I mentioned, one of the fun things I did was to buy new clothes as I lost weight. I didn’t go crazy, but it is a wonderful feeling to buy a new shirt, or a new pair of pants, and was even exciting when I went into my closet, and tried on clothes I had recently bought and were already too big!

I also rewarded myself each Friday by eating out at a restaurant with Kevin. This was our date night, and our reward for our hard work along the way. After my first 75 lbs, Kevin decided to join me in losing weight. Each Friday was our reward – we gave ourselves permission to eat whatever we wanted. However, we had one caveat. We split our entrée. If we were still hungry, we could always order more. Interestingly enough, we never have.

Finally, I have to be completely honest. After losing 100 pounds, my body was not the same. Even though I lost the weight slowly to give my body time to adjust, my skin didn’t. After four kids and 100 lbs gone, I had hanging skin. Some I could tone and tighten with working out, and some would tighten with time, but I hadn’t mentally prepared as well for this as I should have. I was glad the weight was gone, but hated the hanging skin around my stomach. Kevin and I had talked about this possibility, and he had assured me that were I to get to that point, we would take care of any residual problems. When I reached my goal weight, I scheduled a tummy tuck. I know not everyone can do this, and even if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t change anything, but I am so grateful for the transformation and self confidence that has come with being able to look at myself in the mirror and be pleased with the end results of a journey that ended up taking over one year. Some may think this is vain, or unnecessary. Each is entitled to their own opinion. For me, it has given me a boost in confidence that I lacked for many years. And let me be clear, this came AFTER the hard work, not instead of it!

Step 7 – Selfishness vs. Self Help. This really wasn’t a step, but more of an actualization after the fact. During the last two years, I have spent an awful lot of time working on myself. I decided early on that I could feel guilty about this, and use that guilt as an excuse, and stay the way I was, miserable, depressed, void of self-confidence, or I could focus some of my time and energy on me, and feel better about myself. I knew the latter would have a residual affect on my friends and more importantly my family, who have been incredibly supportive throughout this whole process. In fact, some of those life skills I have learned along the way have rubbed of on my family, including inspiring my husband to lose weight himself. As a family, we have become more health conscious, and understand the role that healthy eating and exercise play in our lives.

I spent a couple hours a day, early on, working on myself. I walked, ran, worked out, read articles on fitness, researched skin elasticity, and focused on getting me well. You may think you don’t have the time, or you may even think that spending that much time on yourself is selfish. I beg to differ. Guilt is an excuse. Ask my children if they like being around me better now or when I was heavy. There has truly been a change in my outlook and disposition that only this concentrated time spent on myself could have brought about. Doctrine according to Amber: Self improvement brings about self esteem, and when we have self-esteem and self-confidence, we tend to be happier. When we are happier, we treat those around us better. That occurred in my case, anyway.

Step 8 - Maintenance. One of the biggest mistakes I made when I first lost weight a couple years ago was that when I got to my goal weight, I didn’t have a plan. What I have realized since is that there really is no finish line like there is in a race. Before I treated it more like a race, with a finish line, but now I have mentally prepared for a journey that is going to last the rest of my life. As I mentioned before, I am not on a diet. I have changed my lifestyle. Portion control and exercise are a part of my life now. I have also set goals past weight loss. My husband and I recently watched a few friends cross the finish line of the St. George Marathon. Kevin and I walked away from that event committed to running a marathon. To be honest with you, I hated running. Now I like it. Will I continue running after the marathon? I don’t know. Remember the best exercise is the one you’ll do.

Epilogue

Every accomplishment in life starts with a decision to try. Nearly two years ago, I made the decision to lose 100 lbs. It hasn’t been an easy journey. Thomas Carlyle wrote: “Endurance is patience concentrated.” I knew that I would need a great deal of concentrated patience to endure the path that this journey has taken me on. I am also a realist. Like Churchill uttered years ago: “Success is not final. Failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” I’ve lost the 100+ lbs and have accomplished the goal that I set out to do. I consider that a success, but not a permanent one. I failed multiple times along the way. I have also realized in writing this story that I have accomplished something else that two years ago I never thought I would have accomplished.

By my estimation, since I began this journey, I literally have walked and run over a thousand miles. Confucius was right. Two years ago I never thought I could do it – a journey of a thousand miles. But here I am. I am so grateful to my family and friends for their support, love, and encouragement along the way.

And I am grateful to Jenna for encouraging me to share this story. I hope that the thoughts that I have shared here may help or inspire someone else to begin their journey, or at least encourage you to lend support and love to someone you know is.

A Note From Kevin

I’d like to add my own perspective to Amber’s story. It truly has been a remarkable journey. I am proud to be the husband of a woman who has accomplished such an incredible feat. Amber knows that I love her and have always loved her regardless of anything. I am truly grateful for the inspiration that Amber has been to me and to countless others through her example. She has inspired me to start on my own journey, and has given support, advice, and encouragement to me along the way. She is my running partner, my inspiration, and the love of my life. We are partners in everything, and her journey has indeed been long, but I could ask for no better company.