On Saturday

I don't know about 'special', but Saturday is a busy day, for sure! And this weekend was my last weekend before I become a working mom, which means things will only get busier. I'm really praying for the stamina I will need! 

Before the football game, I took my meal plan and grocery list to the store to do the weekly shopping. 

I got home in time to find Aiden in a panic that I might be late, which would make him late, but hey, kid, I got it covered. Carry in the groceries and calm down.

Then we headed over to the park for practice first (I read more of Outliers on my Kindle and Conor played on the playground equipment while Aiden was with his team.)

Then they played an awesome game. They ended up losing (and Aiden may have broken his hand when it got stomped on by a teammate, we're not sure yet), but it was action-packed and Aiden plays his heart out! It is so thrilling to watch him. He had some glorious plays, and as always, had a lot of fun.

After the game, we picked up his friend Nick and headed up to the orchard where the boys work. They were so hot and tired (and injured), but bless their hearts, they got right to work.

I headed home, folded a load of towels, threw my bedding into the dryer, and took Conor out to the pumpkin lot/petting zoo. I love to go up to the big farm in October, but I just couldn't do it without Aiden. He would have wanted to be there. But I had seen a parking lot not far away that was fenced in and advertised pumpkins and a petting zoo, so that was a quick fix for Conor.

Just like my own kids when Mom's got a treat!

After the petting part, Conor got to choose one pumpkin. I like that they are the smaller pumpkins because those are good for cooking. I figured it could be an afternoon craft project for him now and pumpkin pie for us all later.

Back at home, I gave him some permanent markers and he set to work. Meanwhile I put the sheets back on my bed, and started baking.

I made some chocolate chip oatmeal cookies to stock up the freezer for snacks and sweet tooth attacks when Mom's not home yet from work, or too tired to bake.

Ground up flour for the week.

And made some whole grain blueberry muffins for breakfast on Monday, plus some for the freezer. It's going to take a bit of practice to get us back into this routine and to feed us all well. I do not want to slip into the "grab something quick" (takeout) mode. That's really important to me, but it definitely will require planning and follow-through.

Once Conor was in bed, I sat down at the sewing machine to finish up his Halloween costume. It wasn't difficult, just time consuming, especially the boots. I ran out of thread just before making the belt  buckle decoration, so I'll have to do that later in the week, but it's mostly complete and we're both happy with it.

I finished up around 10pm. I read a little of 'Salem's Lot, my feature scary story for this season, and talked to Aiden a bit (who got home from work around 9:30 because he went out to dinner with his friend's family after they picked the boys up) before going to bed around midnight.

I am very mindful that my life is about to change forever tomorrow morning when I start my new job. Even though I've always earned money in some capacity, it's been in my home and I've pretty much been my own boss with a few exceptions. Now I join the ranks of Working Mothers Who Work Outside the Home. It's certainly not my ideal, but at the same time I am so grateful to be able to have the opportunity to learn and work at something that I love and have such personal interest in. I'm so grateful that it's at a hospital I love and that it's close to home. I'm grateful that I've earned the education that allows me this opportunity, and I feel inside that even though things are about to change, most of those changes will be positive ones for me, for those I'm able to work with, and even for my family.

Persimmons

So, remember Aiden's summer job, working on a friend's ranch and in his persimmon orchard? Well, the persimmons are ripe and it's time to get down to serious business processing all that fruit. So, in between school, football, and the beginning stages of an Eagle project, Aiden is working every extra available hour up in the orchard. I don't know much about persimmons, so I hung around to talk and watch and take pictures last weekend.

The orchard came about as an investment project. The owner did a lot of research about fruit orchards and persimmons in particular stood out as having the highest potential for profit. He has over sixty acres on his property and he used some of that, on the hillside to plant 475 persimmon trees. He said they would normally sell for about $75 each, but that particular year, Home Depot cancelled their entire order of them, and through some inside information he found out about it and bought them all for about $7-$10 per tree.

Aiden spent the summer hiking up the mountain with buckets of water and horse manure. He sprayed the trees with deer repellent. Now they are heavy with fruit so he is helping with the harvesting and processing. It takes eight years for persimmon trees to begin fruiting and this is the first year of production. This will be a "trial run" and most of the fruit will be given away. Beginning next year, however, the fruit will be sold, and for a pretty penny too. Persimmons (these will be dried and boxed up) sell for between $35-$40 PER POUND. Yah. Pretty crazy, huh? My friend has corporate clients and overseas clients who are interested in them. I turn up my nose at grapes when they're $2.99/lb. Can you even imagine paying $40/pound for persimmons? Thus, the investment opportunity!

Aiden had just cleaned up for his lunch break when I got there, but I asked him to quickly show me what he did. So in these pics, he doesn't have his gloves on, but you'll see later on he wears them when he's working.

First, they peel the fruit using a rigged up drill and a hand peeler. I was impressed with the clever contraption and the speed at which it got the job done.

Pretty, huh?

Aiden recruited his friend Nick to work with him. They get to sit in this lovely yard and peel persimmons for hours.

(I love it when my kids work. I'm thrilled beyond belief that he has this experience. He really wants to buy a BMX bike and he's willing to work hard.)

Then the fruit gets hung up in this screened-in garden enclosure to dry. Don't they look like little Chinese lanterns? I think they're lovely.

The boys attach these special hooks to the stems first and then they have to be hung up, spaced so that they don't touch each other at all.

Pretty cool, huh? It takes a good bit of time for the drying process to complete, and then they will be boxed up in these lovely wooden boxes that he had made.

Aiden gets to earn a decent amount of money doing this, and because he's starting so young, he'll gain the experience he needs to be a competent employee for this man for many years to come. It's the beginnings of his college fund (he has to save half of his earnings after paying tithing) the way that nannying the triplets was for Lyndsay when she was in high school.

Yay for work opportunities for kids!

In Which I Become a Labor and Delivery Nurse!

Something marvelous has happened. It's been so overwhelming that I haven't even known how to adequately express the events here on my blog, but I've wanted to. It's important that I do. 

Here's the background information: 

I graduated from nursing school on April 30. 

I took the NCLEX (licensing board exams) on July 2. I found out I passed them on July 4, making me, officially, a Registered Nurse. (wahoo!)

I spent two weeks putting together my resume with a few expert friends. 

Then I began my job hunt. 

My first choice was a hospital nearby where I did my 4th semester clinical rotations. My first choice unit was Labor and Delivery. I realized that getting my first choice of anything as a new grad was a pipe dream, but I submitted my application for their New Grad Program anyway, on July 24. It was the first application I submitted. 

I submitted many, many more. My goal was one per day. And as the days wore on into weeks and months, I felt very discouraged. Nobody was calling. Nobody wants new grads. Everyone I talked to said it takes about a year to get the first job. And it will probably be in a nursing home. 

I knew people at several hospitals, even in L&D at the hospital I wanted to work in. It didn't seem to be helping. There wasn't a position open for a new grad. 

But then, something miraculous happened. 

The hospital I love called me for an interview! They told me I'd been very highly recommended and that though they are in the market for experienced nurses, they take recommendations very seriously. They asked me what my first choice unit was and when I told the recruiter Labor and Delivery, she set up an interview with the entire Maternity team for the next week for me. (Oh, there are so many details I'm leaving out, but you can imagine the magnitude of this blessing!)

When I hung up the phone I was in absolute shock. I went to my knees to offer a tearful prayer of the utmost gratitude and humility. 

I have come to believe that it wasn't so much my first choice as it was God placing that desire within me because it was right for me. It was where I was supposed to be. I had just come to sync up with His will for me. And He opened a position for a new grad to be considered.

I called Adam with the unbelievable news. He immediately offered to bring me a celebratory Chick-fil-A lunch. 

This would be my very first interview. And it was a huge one. I really wanted to be prepared. I read possible questions and reviewed my nursing notes from L&D and read my textbook, and prayed. Adam took Conor out one day and came home with the most glorious roses and a card that read,

"During these next few days before your interview, I hope that every time you look at these flowers you can remember how beautiful you are. Love, Everyone Around You."

I bought some nice resume paper and printed up packets with my clinical rotations, references, certifications, and whatever else any nursing website said I should be prepared with.

I contacted each of my professors and asked if they'd be a reference for me. They were all so over-the-top excited and supportive of me.

I bought a new suit and pair of shoes for the interview.

I dropped the kids off at school on Thursday morning and drove over to the hospital. One of my shoes kept slipping off my heel (darned pantyhose!) so I went into the bathroom and stuffed the toe with toilet paper. I met the woman who had called me in Human Resources, and she walked me over to the Maternity Unit of the hospital. I was in a state of wonder at my blessings and good fortune. I kept thinking, "Look at me! I am officially a big girl!" and "What on earth is happening to me right now? It feels huge!" I felt jitters of excitement, and yet also this surreal calm that whispered that this job was already mine. It was already done. I was just going through necessary motions.

I sat in the room with the four directors and head nurses. I answered their questions the best that I could. I asked my own. The interview lasted for an hour and ten minutes.

When I left, the nerves were gone. Whatever will be, will be, I thought. If this is my job, then it is mine. I was told I'd hear by the next day.

And so, when the phone rang around 11:30 the next morning, and I heard the Director tell me that it had been the consensus of the team that I join them, I felt this peace wash through me. I was being offered not just a job, but my dream job in my top-choice hospital, as a new grad with no experience. It was the first job I'd applied for and the only one I'd interviewed for, and it didn't take a year. (In fact, the recruiter apologized to me and told me that she'd been supposed to call me a month and a half ago, but had been very distracted with some personal business, but that the Director just kept coming in and asking about me.) It doesn't matter. The timing is perfect. It is how it was meant to be. I needed the experiences I went through during that time.

When I hung up, there was another sobbing prayer of gratitude. Maybe it's hard for anyone to understand the journey I've been on making this dream a reality. I started taking classes 21 years ago, not knowing they would count towards this goal. Then I put my education aside while I birthed four children and spent my days being their mother and teacher. I made the decision to become a nurse 5 years ago and it was the hardest thing I've ever accomplished. I kept my promises to the Lord and He's kept His to me.

He always does.

New grads are not getting jobs. It's just the reality of the economic climate we're in. Most of my classmates do not have jobs. The few that do are not working in hospitals. It is really desperate drudgery combing those job sites day after day. I'm so grateful that I was lifted from that.

Adam is so proud of me. My children are so proud of me. We all feel so very blessed and happy that a new phase is beginning. My Facebook page was filled with posts of congratulations, love, and support. I feel like the luckiest woman alive right now. Or, at least the luckiest new grad nurse!

Adam took me to Outback to celebrate. It was one of the best times we've had together in a long time.

Now, I am a Labor and Delivery Nurse! Good things come to those who work super hard, and put their faith in God. I will do my best to be worthy of such fortune.

(I will have 12 weeks of training, beginning on Oct. 21st. Stay tuned!)

The Down Side to Acceleration

Testosterone is everywhere, let me tell you.

He blames it on his "Staley temper", which is definitely a factor, but really, I think it's the testosterone. Hormones are a cruel trick.

There has been one project after another for Aiden. This month has been the Major American Author theme, with a project due every single week. Aiden chose his favorite author, Orson Scott Card. First there was a Timeline project, then an oral presentation (he did a game show), and now he's finishing up the book he chose by Card to write a report on it. (I write all of that like it was smooth sailing, oh no. Those were each mountains to climb.)

This is why today I am making Vanilla Pudding Cinnamon Rolls with Cream Cheese Frosting. Because I'm gonna need some help, and cinnamon rolls have never let me down.

Aiden wants so much to do a good job. He has very specific ideas in mind of how he wants to do things, and he has very little patience at this particular time in his life. This can mean flying glue guns and staplers, and possibly even some tears.

The hard part is that he has very little time. He leaves at 6:15am and doesn't get home until 4:30pm. He has football practice and games three times a week, and he doesn't do homework on Sundays. He has good intentions of staying on top of everything, but time really does fly by when you're busy.

Yesterday after school and a very large snack, he arranged himself on my bed with his Kindle and the cat and set to work reading. He dozed off a few times, but tried his best. Several hours later he was almost in tears. He was so tired and still had 50 pages left to read to stay on track to finish by Wednesday. Worse, he said he was just not understanding what was going on in the story. My heart went out to him. I offered to buy the audiobook for him. He protested because he didn't want me spending my money on him, but I solved it with an "It's my money and you can't tell me what to do," and sent him off for my wallet. Turns out that because we'd purchased the Kindle book, the audiobook was only $4, so it was an easy solution. He can now go back and listen to the parts he didn't understand, and make use of his hours on the bus.

By this time it was 9pm though, and he still had a science assignment to do. This always happens on the days when I am ultra-exhausted. I didn't want him up working by himself, so I told him to bring it into my room. But by this time, he was tired and frustrated, and about shot for the day.

He brought in a worksheet full of charts to graph and formulas for velocity and acceleration. Kill. Me. Now. I started explaining, because apparently this teacher gives assignments before teaching lessons and wants the kids to figure it out and then come in the next day to see if they are correct. But I was tired too, and things weren't going too well. I'm talking him rolling around on the floor saying that the teacher sucks and this is so pointless and school is so stupid not going too well. Meanwhile, I'm narrating word problems, ignoring him, and trying to redirect whatever words have to be spoken to filling in formulas.

Man, I hate velocity and acceleration. Can't we just SLOW DOWN ALREADY?

He would have moments of pulling his act together, only to melt a few problems later. I was drawing question marks next to some of them, and he was worrying about how he was going to lose points. And I'm threatening to WRITE A LETTER.

At one point, I said to him, "Listen, Aiden, is this what it's going to be like for four years in high school, because this is going to be rough."

And then I thought to myself, "Are you kidding me? Four more years? That's all I have after this one? Son, you roll around and keep me up late with whatever you want. I'm here. Right here. We'll learn it all together. I got you."

So, we did it together. We'll do it again tomorrow, I imagine, like I did it with his brother and sister who grew up too fast.

And this is how I know he's growing. The next morning I got a text message from him that said:

"Heyy mom i just wanted to apologize for my irrational actions. I love you and i don't want to hurt u in any way. I don't know why i get so mad i just do. I'm sorry. I will work on it. I hope you can have a great day. Love youu."

Here's to late nights studying with my boy! And cinnamon rolls!

Conor's Moby Dick

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Conor loves Moby Dick. Thanks to my homeschooling years, I have quite a collection of children's versions of classic literature, and one day when he was three or four, he brought me an illustrated story book of Moby Dick. I read it to him. He was totally into it. I can't even tell you how many times I've read that book to him. And he loves to recite the dramatic parts along with me, in his best seafaring voice: "Death! Death to Moby Dick!"

A few weeks ago, I decided to read him a more complex telling of the story, by Geraldine McCaughrean. He already knew the framework of the tale, but this added so much more detail and a few new characters. The vocabulary was rich, so from time to time I'd have to stop and explain, but he just wanted more and more. And when we finally got to the part, near the end, where Moby Dick makes his appearance, he could hardly stand the suspense, even knowing what would happen. 

The boy loves Moby Dick! 

A few days after we finished reading the book (which took us two weeks), I happened to find these simple directions for how to make a paper whale. Perfect! 

I called Conor over and we started folding. It was really fun, actually, and I'll admit that I made about eight of them! But they were white, and of course, Conor made one of his whales Moby Dick.

It was bound to happen.

See, there are all the harpoons still stuck in his side, and poor Ahab, who's about to be caught in the harpoon rope and dragged down into the ocean.

Conor wanted a whole family of whales.

And it was while he was playing with his pod, that he said something interesting. He said, "What if Moby Dick was actually the one seeking revenge?"

I asked him what he meant.

He continued, "Well, it's all about Ahab trying to get back at Moby Dick for taking his leg, but what if Moby Dick took his leg because Ahab and other whale hunters had killed his family and other whales? What if a whole bunch happened even before the story starts?"

I love this kid's mind, I tell you.

"What if Moby Dick is not really mean and evil? What if he's just trying to be a whale and is sick of being hunted and is just trying to defend himself?"

Yeah. What if?

"What if Moby Dick wasn't born mean, but he got that way because of being harpooned and chased and his family being killed?"

Well now, there's something to think about. What if Moby Dick wasn't born mean?

You can imagine the conversation that flowed from that opener. Bullies. Schoolyards. Tragedies the world over.

He listened to all of that and seemed to tuck it away somewhere precious. But his last question forced its way out:

"Someday you're going to read me the "real" Moby Dick, right?"

I'm gearing up. That whale's kind of growing on me, too.

On That Day

I think everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news about the September 11th attacks. I do, but I've never talked about it before (except with maybe a close friend or two at the time) because it feels so selfish. But I also want to tell my story, and in doing so, I do not mean to equate my sufferings with those who gave their lives that day, or lost someone who did. I do not mean to distract from the events that changed our nation. I only want to fit the story of my life into that page in history.

In 2001, I was also under attack, and I was crumbling. Some days I thought I might die. Others, I wished, and even prayed that I would.

2001 was the year that my husband of more than ten years took me into our sons' bedroom and he, sitting on our oldest son's bed, and me rocking our baby, told me that he was leaving. It was in January.

The glider rocked back and forth. So did my world.

It was later that he told me that he had begun another relationship and was choosing her over me. He felt sure that I'd known. I hadn't. But I forgave him and begged him to leave her and come back to our family. His heart was pretty decided.

On the morning of September 11, I was in the master bathroom, applying makeup after my shower. The television was on in the bedroom, just outside the bathroom door. The Today Show was on, and I saw the breaking story of the first tower being hit. I remember a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I remember feeling vulnerable in a different sort of way, and I remember the feeling to reach out and connect with someone, to huddle together, to find some sort of comfort, even if only telephonically. I called my estranged husband. He was the one I always wanted to call first, and those habits are hard to break.

Standing in the bedroom we'd shared, and with the news playing, I waited for him to answer, and he did. He hadn't heard yet, already out working I'm sure, and I started rattling off whatever sparse details I was learning from the news. And then the second plane hit. The fear got more intense. This was no accident, we were under attack.

He was just as surprised and in shock as I was, but his reaction was so much different. I will never forget his words to me, calm and collected:

"I hope you don't think that some national disaster is going to bring us back together."

I will never forget how his comment made me reel. Wait, what? As if the universe was manipulating events to emotionally reunite us and there was no way he was falling for it. As if life should just continue on as planned, and nothing should change. As if a terrorist attack in New York City and Washington D.C. and Pennsylvania had no effect on people who lived on the other side of the country.

As if that's why I'd called anyway.

So that day I watched the news all day long. I cried for the people who had died, and the people who were going to die. I cried for the fear and the pain and the why-why-why-whys? I cried for the little children who had lost their fathers and mothers, and the parents who had lost their children. I cried for the heroism of firefighters and rescue workers who walked into hell with a bravery I don't know that I possess. I cried because someone hated us enough to destroy us and call it honor.

And I cried because it hit me again, though I hadn't asked for a reconfirmation, that the twin towers of our little family were no more either. There would be gaping holes in the landscape of the lives of our children, and lives really would be forever scarred.

And just like that, life has never been the same.

It's Gonna Be a Great Day!

Every morning as I drive Conor to school, I sing this silly song I made up called, "It's Gonna Be a Great Day!" This morning he said, "What if it's the worst day ever?" I told him that even on days when bad things happen, there are still good things that happen also. He wanted an example.

So I used last Thursday.

Last Thursday started out to be a really great day. There was no school, and my friend gave me three tickets she had purchased and couldn't use to Knott's Berry Farm. Aiden had invited two friends (who bought their own tickets), and the night before I had the feeling I should invite Adam to come with us too, if he could get a ticket. The park opens at 10am, and we got on the road at 8:15am, hoping to beat the crowds lining up to get in.

But within minutes of getting on the freeway, my van started making very loud clunking noises. Noises that scared me, and stressed me out. Thank goodness Adam was driving. (I was instantly grateful for the prompting to have Adam join us.) I am just so tired of car problems, and since I drive a 2000 van, I have had my fair share of them. They always come when I have no money too. I had just had the transmission fixed, gaskets replaced, tires rotated, and new spark plugs put in. I had noticed that the van seemed to chug a bit when idling or in reverse, but I hadn't had time to deal with that yet, and I was so hesitant to take it back to the mechanic who had done the other work, for some reason. But these noises were frightening, and having no idea of their origination, I suggested we get off the freeway. Adam heartily agreed.

"I know a guy," I said. Just a week before, the father of two of my piano students had told me in conversation about buying Lyndsay's car, that he is a mechanic. I took his card immediately. Someone I trust! As we pulled off the freeway, I called him, and he told us to carefully drive on in.

Of course, I was worried big-time. I had a car full of boys who were so looking forward to a day at the theme park, and three of them had paid for tickets. I had no idea what would be wrong with my van, how long it would take to fix, and how much it would cost. I was scrambling for a Plan B, just in case we received a worst case scenario.

I tried to play it cool, but inside I was falling apart. I clasped Adam's hand, so grateful that I was not alone to deal with this. He's great under pressure. Calm and steady.

The boys got drinks and sat outside in the shade, waiting. They were good sports.

Miracle #1 was that I had a new mechanic come into my life whom I trusted. Miracle #2 was that he was at work early that day and was close by and could take us right away. Miracle #3 was that he figured out right away what the problem was, and it was an easy fix.

Apparently, when the other mechanics had replaced the spark plugs, they had slit the wire fitting over it leaving a big gaping crack in the rubber. The electrical current was arcing out of that and causing the sputtering and the loud noises. He replaced the wire. And bless his heart, Adam paid for it for me. We were back on the road in a little over an hour. I was saying prayers of gratitude.

We made it to the park an hour after opening.

And another wonderful surprise: The parking lot was nearly empty!! There was no one there! Which meant that even though we'd missed an hour of ride time, it was made up ten-fold by the fact that there were no lines on anything!

Here are Aiden and his best friends Zach and Nick. He's known these guys since Kinder and 3rd grade. They go to the same magnet school that he does, and they play football with him too.

We let the big boys go their own way and hit all the roller coasters. Adam and I took Conor around. Conor wants to ride everything he can ride, and I pretty much want to ride nothing, so I was again grateful that Adam was there. Besides, he needed a fun day with Conor.

This ride (they have one at almost every theme park) is one of Conor's favorites. That's Conor and Adam up there at the end of the ship. They are the only ones on the ride. They rode it a total of 5 times. Scared me to death.

Then crazy Conor wanted to ride this spinning, swirling atrocity. Adam rode it with him, but didn't fare as well afterwards. That one's a doozy!

Conor was all about maximizing his experience.

We had a really good time. I did ride on a few rides. The Bigfoot Rapids was probably my favorite, even though I got soaked. We rode that one twice. Other rides I just had no interest in riding, and one thing I appreciated so much was that Adam never made me feel like a wimp (even though I know I am one.) If I wanted to ride he was cool. If I didn't, he was cool with that too. For the last ride of the day, 15 minutes before the park closed (which was 6pm), he and Conor asked if I'd please do the log flume ride with them. I really didn't want to, but they were so excited to do it all together that I decided to be brave.

We had such a great day together. The boys rode every ride at least twice, some of them up to nine times. (CRAZY!) By closing time, they'd had their fill. There were so few people in the park, it felt like we'd all gotten to know each other as we kept seeing each other throughout the day. I got to talking with one man who was there with his grandchildren, who was from St. George, but had grown up in Snowflake, Arizona! I asked him if he knew about the temple there, and shared my involvement in that with him. We talked a bit about the Church. He knew some. His mother was a Mormon, and one of his sons is a Mormon, who married in the temple. Such a small world.

Four tired, but happy boys! A great day made possible by a dear friend (thank you, Jenn!). And even though there was a possibility of things turning south with the van problems, in the end that just turned out to be another bunch of blessings.

"So, see, Conor? There were bad things that happened and good things. But how do you remember the day?"

"Good!" he shouted. It was definitely a good day. No, a great day.