Imagination Awakening

Confession time:  It's been almost 5 years since I've read a fiction novel.  Sad, right?

I think at first I wasn't even aware I wasn't reading fiction.  I like to read and I was still reading...

• Psychology reference books...
• Biographies...lots of biographies...
• Religious books...
• How-To books...
• Cookbooks...

But no fiction.

Several times I'd pick up fiction books my children were interested in reading, books that previously would have grabbed my attention, only to put them down within a few pages of picking them up.  Once I thought it was because I needed something really interesting...even popular, so I started reading a copy of Twilight (gasp!).

Nothing.  Not even a stirring of my imagination.

I missed my imagination.  We actually used to be good friends.  For as long as I've been alive I've made up stories in my mind, and imagined characters, and story lines...

But on my imagination slept.

After a few years I figured it out.  The last fiction book I read was Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  I finished reading it around the first part of August in 2007.  (I remember because we were on vacation and I couldn't put it down.)

It seemed that my imagination and love of fiction was yet another casualty of the grief and subsequent adjustments we experienced when Joie's family died.  It seemed that the harsh reality of our lives during those difficult years required staying in touch with reality in a way that was threatened by fiction.  I had no time or place for my old friend, Imagination.

As I entered 2012, I decided this would be the year to just jump in.  (See here.)

So when Megan came to me a few months ago, asking me to read Hunger Games so she could watch the movie with me, I decided to renew my friendship with my long lost friend, the fiction genre.

I started reading...

Not even a chapter into the book I was restless...

Too busy...

Too distracted by reality...

But I went back to it, and kept reading...

And when I thought I didn't have a time or place in my very real life adventure for fiction, I told the Type A part of me to take a break, and went back to reading.

...Several months later I'm happy to report I finished Hunger Games, not before the movie (although that was certainly motivation to finish), but I did finish.  Megan and Jeran ended up taking a friend instead when the movie opened because they wanted me to finish the book before I saw the movie, but I think I could twist their arms to go with me again...just maybe.

To be quite honest, I didn't love the book, but that's not the point, and this isn't a book review...it's a commentary on life, and the funny things we find ourselves doing to cope...

And how all these years later I can find myself still locked in a relationship with grief...

And how as we continue to reclaim parts of ourselves that were lost temporarily to tragedy, we realize how sweet life really is.

Now I'm reading another fiction book recommended to me by a friend.  All I can say is:

Dear Imagination:  It's sooooooo good to have you back.  Just typing your name, I-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-o-n, feels liberating.  Promise me if you ever sleep again, you'll always return...forever and ever and ever, as long as I live.  A few years ago I thought my life had outgrown you, but in the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Imagination...is the health of every person."  Thank you for sleeping patiently while you waited for me to return.
Your forever friend,
Mary

Home

This water bottle:

 These keys:

 And this luggage:

All in one place at one time = Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

If absence makes the heart grow fonder then this year has made us all very, very fond of Tim.  It's good to have him home! 

It's the Little Things That Matter

I've been following a blog lately that really touches me each time I read it.  The blog is called The Kings.  It belongs to a family in Australia who lost a son last fall, and just a few months ago lost their father.  As the now single mother chronicles her family's grief, it takes me back to remembering the feelings (that are often still so real), and remembering details about our own journey through grief that I thought I had forgotten.

Recently, the mother shared a story about one of her little boy's favorite celebrities from the TV show The Wiggles connecting with her little boy in his time of grief (see here).  A blog reader actually initiated the contact, and with such a small action, this little boy's heart was quieted, and there was a smile on his face again.  (You have to read the story...really.  It's amazing.)  It took took me back to all the little things people did for us and for Joie after her family died.  I was amazed at people's small gestures, and always so comforted by their willingness to reach out and connect with us.

And as it turns out, it's the little things that mean a lot to me today also.

On what could have been an exhausting day, I'm finding myself at the end of the day overwhelmed with gratitude.

(First of all, Tim comes home tomorrow, which his actually a big thing, so anything I might say after that might seem insignificant, but maybe it just emphasizes the importance of the little things.)

Tonight I had to run some errands, pick up kids from play practice, take Megan to soccer practice, help my kids find dinner, coordinate rides for girls I teach to a church activity (and be at the activity).  Also there was another church women's activity tonight I couldn't be at because of all the above, and Nate's soccer game I'd miss because of all the above, and getting my oldest two girls to the church to help babysit for the women's activity so other moms could go.

Another mom and dad helped get my girls to the church (little thing #1) while I was picking up girls in my church class to take to the church for our activity.  As soon as the activity started I got a call from the mom who was at Nate's game who was supposed to bring Nate home saying her son was hurt and it was cold so they were leaving early.  I was able to explain to one of the other leaders I needed to go pick up Nate (a 20 minute drive from the church), and figured the game would be over in time for me to return to the church to drive girls home. Of course the game didn't start on time and didn't get over on time, and Nate was still playing when I needed to leave, so a random mom who I've never met before volunteered to bring him home (little thing #2).

And even though it would seem frustrating that I had to be in my car 40 extra minutes today to and from a game I didn't have time to be at, it meant I got to see love in action on a soccer field today, and it touched my heart (little thing #3, that is actually a really, really big thing).

See...Nate has never played soccer before, except maybe once when he was 4 or 5.  He hated it back then.

But he goes to a small high school, and has the opportunity to play this year, and after years of health problems, it's good to see him out there going after life again and trying new things.  He gives me courage, because honestly, after all his health problems, I'd probably give up.  I'm a wimp when it comes to those kind of things.

As he's played sports this year the reactions from coaches have been incredibly supportive and encouraging.  Tonight as he was playing, I could hear his coach encouraging him to "Hustle, Jarman!"  And he did.  I could hear team mates encouraging him, and I saw him respond with an increased effort.  It brought tears to my eyes as I stood there in the cold wind watching him play, and getting into the game in a way I haven't seen him do before.

I had to leave the game before Nate scored a goal...  (DID YOU READ THAT?  NATE SCORED A GOAL!!!)  That one goal is worth 100 of Megan or Gabby's goals in soccer, because the odds haven't been in Nate's favor.

Later when Nate told me about it, he said, "Coach and my team planned it before the game.  They said they'd keep feeding me the ball until I scored...  And I did!"  

It really is the little things that matter, like a coach who cares, and a team of teenage boys who care, and moms who help me get my kids where they need to be when they need to be there, and texts that pick me up and keep me going (little thing #4 & #5).  It's love in action...proof that life matters.

And just a sidenote:  I still don't know the mom's name that gave Nate a ride home tonight, so when I asked him whose mom it was so I could thank her later, he told me (with a completely straight face) that it was the mom of a kid he didn't know from the other team.  I totally fell for it.  Grrrrrrrrrrrr.......

Confessions of a Single Mom

I am not a single parent.  I do not pretend to even begin to understand the challenges of being a single parent.  My heart goes out to those who do it unselfishly day and night.  My own little peek into the life of a single parent is just that--a peek.  Tim has been out of town for 2-3 weeks (mostly on the 3 side) out of every month since last fall...every other month before that.  After a short trip in April he's finished.  Nothing could make our family happier.

I remember being on my mission in the Marshall Islands (almost 20 years ago, but who's counting) and getting to the point where the culture that had once been difficult to understand became second nature to me.  I remember questioning the luxuries of my western world upbringing, and embracing the idea that people mattered more than things.  At the same time, there was a part of me that knew, no matter how much I immersed myself in the culture and language, I would never really know what it was like to be an islander.  I knew that I was free to love all the amazing things about this island culture but would never really know the hardship of life there--what it was like to go hungry when there wasn't money for food; or what it was like to have a father or brother rage in a drunken fit of anger; or to be without hope for a future because there was no opportunity for education.  Even when I was terribly sick, I knew if it got worse, I'd be on a plane home, safe in the care of advanced medicine.

I think similarly now about my little stint in the world of single parenthood.  In some small form, this experience (one of my most difficult parenting experiences to date) has given me a glimpse into some of the realities of single parenthood which I hope to never experience more than I already have.

I can't begin to name all the things I've done out of desperation just to survive a day, here are a few:

• Food:  I'm typically a nutrition nut...whole foods all the way.  There are very few exceptions.  Over the past year, I've turned into a  creature of convenience when it comes to food and meals when Tim is gone.  On the menu this past few weeks have been frozen burritos, pizza rolls, and even cold cereal (also now on the menu for breakfast) and Tim orders pizza for us (from Atlanta) at least once a week.
• Bedtime:  Bedtimes are now strictly optional.  I'm sort of kidding, but sort of not.  I can see what a slippery slope this could be.  On days I'm completely exhausted, I push them in the general direction of bed later than usual (and day light savings time didn't help).  Waking up is also taking on a life of it's own.  I won't go as far as saying it's optional, but certainly I agree with the idea that there should be exceptions to getting kids to school on time if you're a single parent.
• And you know way back when my children were younger and I used to go to the store at night after my kiddos were in bed?  Back then they were safely tucked in bed with dad at home to make sure they stayed there or to answer any calls for help.  Back then I used to look at parents who would drag their children to the store that late and wonder who in the world would keep their children up that late...  Now I know.  It's single moms who have to go to the store and don't want to leave a child home alone.  In my case, I have teens, and most of them don't care about being alone for a while, but when mom time is limited, they often want to tag along.  And because mom time is limited, I let them.
• Homework:  Not optional, but sometimes late, and this past week Megan worked on an assignment way past when it was due.  It's hard to keep up with all the assignments as a single mom.  Also, Gabby's teacher told me in parent-teacher conference that she'd be sending home some vocabulary with Gabby.  I haven't checked Gabby's folder in over a week, and just remembered on Friday that I was supposed to be reviewing vocabulary with Gabby.  
• Jobs/Chores:  Of course a schedule and routine is preferable.  I know that.  But have you ever tried to enforce a schedule and routine when you're not home?  I'm a taxi mom these days.  I try not to over schedule my kids, but even with one activity each (or two...sometimes I let them choose one music and one sport activity), that's 5 different activities (or more), with sometimes nightly practices, games, lessons, etc.  Add to that church activities, and my own church callings...  It's a formula for exhaustion, so don't even talk to me about the chores and routine.  Every night is a fend night (a.k.a. FFY; a.k.a. Fend For Yourself).
• Electronics:  If you have read anything I've written about electronics, you know how I feel about limiting electronics.  But isn't it funny how even strong values start to slip under the constraints of limited physical and emotional energy?  The other day Jeran was home from school sick.  What do you do when you're sick but watch TV, right?  But for whatever reason, when I came home he ran to his room and pretended to be sleeping in his bed.  I knew he hadn't been there the whole time sleeping.  Later he admitted they've all been leaving the blinds open downstairs so they can see me pull into the driveway and turn off the TV.  I told them how we used to do the same thing as kids.  (You already know this, right mom?)  We'd take turns sitting on the kitchen countertop by the sink looking out the front window (watching TV at the same time) so we could see my mom coming and turn off the TV and pretend to be busy.   I'm sure she knew, just like I know, but the honest truth is I don't even care.  How sad is that?  I think if I'm not here, at least they're not in trouble.  Again, it's that slippery slope, and it has crossed my mind that if I was really a single mom, I'd have to choose to fight (or not fight) that battle in favor of just saving the physical and emotional energy for the battles that really matter.

I say all of this knowing that I haven't really let it all go.  I find ways to fit in nutrition, limit electronics, and keep the schedule going, because I know at the end of three weeks I'll get support and get a break.  I also know I can call Tim and get his support...it's like calling in reinforcements.  Chores and homework do get done...not perfectly, but that support is there.  Ultimately, at the end of the day, if my kids are loved and fed, it's a good day.  If they're loved, fed, getting chores and homework done, and getting to school on time, that's a bonus.

My heart does go out in a new way to moms who do this every day.  I do have support from a distance.   That ordering pizza thing he does from Atlanta is extremely convenient.  I love it when pizza just shows up at our door already paid for.  I posted that on facebook and there were some volunteers to get on the pizza delivery list.  I get that most single parents don't get that kind of support.  And did I also say he orders flowers?  I get new flowers every month.  Also the other day he even broke up a fight between Joie and Gabby (over a picture on a shoebox..of all the crazy things to fight about).  ...On the flip side, there was that one day I told him to call and remind Gabby to do the dishes, and she expertly told him the dishes were already done so she could get another (easier) job.  Smart girl!  

There is no perfect way to do this.  I guess that's life.  Certainly we didn't set out to have Tim's involvement in his current work last this long.  It's been a mixed bag of blessings for sure.  The reality is that he doesn't want to be gone any more than we want him to be gone.  A few months ago we worked it out so he could be back home again, and guess what???  We're finally there!  The single mom/absent dad era is ending.  (Huge sigh.)

Now for 3 days of crazy before he gets here...  Soccer practice, soccer meeting, Family Home Evening, play practice, singing lessons, soccer practice again (x 3), stake Activity Days, carpools, end of term projects due...and I'm sure there are other things I've forgotten.  Counting the days!

Singing From the Heart...Even If It Makes You Uncomfortable

I think some people are born with music inside them.  Life experience shapes the expression of that music.  It can be an expression of joy, pain, nonsense, connection...limitless possibilities for sure.

Right now I'm struggling with what to say (if anything) to Joie's music teacher about Joie's expression of the gift that is inside her.  She has just started lessons and is getting songs ready for the spring recital.  She is loving it, and loves the teacher.  I'm glad we found her, but Joie experienced something today that has me questioning how personal expression should be in performances, and how much of it is just performance...doing a good job of what is in front of you.

Explanation:  Joie's real life experience includes more grief than most people will ever know or bear in their lifetimes.  She has always expressed that through song.  When her parents first died, she'd write lyrics to music that were some of the saddest words I've ever read.  Over the time she's been with us, she finds sad music on youtube and sings along.  She and another friend whose mom died have spent hours reading lyrics and singing sad songs.  Other friends have even joined in.

My own personal feeling is that all of this expression is a form of healing--that she uses this God-given gift to express the things inside her that could never the spoken.  It gets all of that hurting out in the open, and as emotional as that can sometimes be, some of her most expressive singing happens when she sings songs that she connects with.  It's like the combination of notes and lyrics transform all that pain into an organized form of expression, and she heals.

One thing we know for sure after having experienced such profound grief in our family is that not everyone is comfortable with grief.  In fact, most people aren't.  Most people are quite uncomfortable with it, and often try to make it all ok...or make it better.

On the way home from singing lessons this evening, Joie told me that she told her singing teacher she wanted to sing Carrie Underwood's song, "Just A Dream."  (Watch the video to the song here.)  In the song, Carrie Underwood sings about a young bride who becomes a military widow, and as she walks through the funeral, is feeling like it is all just a dream.  I've heard that song numerous times, and even though I'm not a military widow, I know the feeling of being in the church and walking through the motions of a funeral that seems like just a dream.  And so does Joie.  She knows it too well.

But today, her teacher told her that she just couldn't see a cute, happy 12 year old girl singing that song.  Joie was telling me this and said, "I think my teacher wants to see me as a cute, happy 12 year old."

Profound.  Without more than a passing comment about a choice of songs, Joie knew that this wasn't about her own expression--that at least for the spring recital she needed to put on a smile and be the cute, happy 12 year old that her teacher needed her to be.  Her expression of what was inside her--what she connected with would have to be in another time and another place that didn't make people uncomfortable.

The truth is, this is her singing teacher's spring recital.  This is very much a reflection of her, and her years of experience are probably spot on when it comes to what is and isn't appropriate for a performance.  It might be confusing to people in an audience to see a 12 year old girl singing about a young bride's grief.

At the same time, I was there with this 12 year old when she was 8, standing next to not one, but three caskets on the day she said her final earthly farewell to the only family she had ever known.  She can't make that not a part of her, and it's one thing that makes her musical expression what it is.  She doesn't only sing about grief, but certainly in her most expressive, from-the-heart moments, she is connecting with something deep inside her that only music can touch.  There must be a place deep down where pain and art meet so the pain can find it's way out of her.

And so it is that I find myself in this internal struggle between other people's comfort and Joie's expression of grief.  More than anything, I think I just want everyone in her world to be able to acknowledge her reality when she expresses it.  Not that she has to express it all the time to everyone...  In fact, as time goes on and she makes friends with people who don't know about her loss, she expresses relief at just being herself and not the girl whose family died.  At the same time, it takes a lot of courage for her to venture those expressions of herself, and in my ideal, perfect world, people in her world would be comfortable enough with her reality to just sit with her in those feelings and be ok with it, and not have to fix it.

Temporarily we've solved the problem by finding a song that became meaningful to us in a different way after her family died.  I'm not sure why, but it's important right now for Joie to sing about things close to her heart and the teen crush songs that a cute, happy 12 year old would be singing aren't quite cutting it with her.  (Give her a year or two...I'm sure young love will soon be at the top of her list of vocal expressions.)

Meanwhile, I vent.  Come spring recital time, it will be interesting to see what emerges.  There is a time and a place for everything, and a spring recital may not be the time or the place...  But neither was August 18, 2007.  There is nothing convenient about grief.

Just Keep Swimming...

I read this quote this week:

"Missing someone isn't about how long it has been since you've seen them or the amount of time since you've talked.  It's about that very moment when you find yourself doing something and wishing they were right there by your side."  

That about says it all.  We miss Tim.  Every moment of every day.

I miss him because he's the other adult in my life...the other parent...the friend I talk to...the Type B to balance my Type A...the extra set of hands during our busy, busy evenings.

The kids miss him because he's dad...the fun...the energy...the Type B to balance mom's Type A...the extra set of hands that makes mom less stressed.

Two parents means possibilities.  It means support.  It means always having someone there.  Over the years, Tim and I have perfected tag-teaming.  We got really, really good at it when we had two infants and a two year old (and to think that I thought it would be easier when they got older).  As life marches forward, no matter what happens, if one of us is busy, the other one steps up.  If one of us is tired, the other one steps up.  If one of us is sad, overwhelmed, or just plain losing it, the other one steps up.  

When half of the tag team is gone, parenting is exhausting.  Nothing seems the same when one piece of the puzzle is missing.  

The kids feel it too.  Gabby occasionally gets physically ill if something is amiss in her life.  It seems like most of the time we can do what it takes to affirm that she's ok, and she starts doing better.  This week that didn't happen.  It was a beyond brutal week as far as afternoon/evening schedules, one in which tag-teaming instead of tagging would have made a huge difference.  The end result was Gabby feeling alone and neglected.  To make matters worse, one of her best friends recently moved, and another one of her best friends was out of town for the week.  On top of that, she gets stressed about birthdays, and birthday plans, surprises, etc.  Knowing what to expect is huge, and mom having a birthday that was celebrated with my family in Idaho, then celebrated before dad went out of town, then celebrated again on my birthday was all kinds of unpredictable.  (Albeit fun for me!  Anytime I get a birthday week I'll take it.)  

Gabby is actually getting good at recognizing when stress is making her sick, and told me it was coming.  Days ahead of time she had body aches, head aches, and stomach aches.  I did what I could between juggling acts to reassure her and give her the connection she needed to feel, but it wasn't enough.  There's only so much one busy parent can do...and my best wasn't enough (huge load of mom guilt...and a few tears).

Thursday when she called me from school and was feeling sick, I knew the nerves had won.  Sure enough, as soon as she got in the car she opened the door, leaned out, and threw up in the parking lot (minimal amount on the car).  

Friday morning I cancelled appointments and stayed home with her (she didn't have school that day anyway).  We hung out in our pajamas, cuddled, watched her favorite TV show, and talked.  She told me she knew her sickness was a stress sickness, but she couldn't stop it.  Through tears she said, "It seems like whenever dad is gone and you're not here.  It's like I don't have parents."  

Ouch.  

But worse than feeling the mom guilt was feeling helpless about being able to do anything about it.  I was doing all I could, but I was only one person, and it wasn't enough.

My solution?  Say no to everything that isn't absolutely necessary...easier said than done.  Megan and Jeran wanted to hang out with friends that night, and I felt bad for Gabby and Joie so we were shopping for project ideas at the craft store.  Jeran called after his activity to see if he could go to his friend's house for a late night.  After saying I wouldn't live in the car that evening, I was still living in my car, and knew I had to say no at some point.  I knew it, and I said it.  

"I'm sorry.  I just can't do it," I said.  I heard the disappointment in his voice, but knew we were only a few minutes away from where he needed to be picked up so we left the store to go meet him.  The look on his face and the tone of voice said it all.  He was disappointed, and in spite of my best efforts to explain my human limitations (like needing sleep and food), he remained disappointed.  

I couldn't win.  Once again, alone I wasn't enough.  As we drove home in a quiet car, I started to cry.  

I really, really wanted to go to Idaho this weekend to be with my parents and family again when my parents were talking in church about their mission, but as the day progressed nothing on the "to do" list was getting done, but somehow we were busy all day.  The soonest we could leave was 6:00 p.m.  It was either that or 6:00 a.m. Sunday morning.  

"Say no to everything that isn't absolutely necessary," came into my mind, but I ignored it.  For some reason in my crazed mind, 6 hours in a car with five children, two dogs, and no adult company when I was already very, very tired of driving everywhere sounded necessary.  My motivation was wanting to be with family.  If only I could click my magic heels...

As Saturday progressed, it looked more likely that we'd leave Sunday morning.  By this time I was praying, and asking God to help guide this crazed mind through the day and through the decision making process...

That evening Jeran and Megan were getting sore throats and colds.  In the wee hours of the morning, Jeran woke up wheezing with an asthma attack to accompany his cold.

Not going to Idaho.

Homesick.

Missing Tim.

Missing "normal."

Wishing my mommy super powers would just kick in and make it all better.

Then in the middle of a discussion with Joie tonight she told me she told her class today in church that her relationship with her mom "could be better" because her mom isn't home much.  (More mom guilt...more tears...)

Somehow I start again tomorrow morning at 6:00 a.m. (which will feel like 5:00 a.m. because of daylight savings time).

Nine more days until my other half is home.

All day I keep thinking of what Dory said to Marlin in Finding Nemo:  

"Do you know whatcha gotta do, when life gets you down?  Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.”

So I'm swimming, swimming, swimming...

(And maybe buying a few boxes of Girl Scout cookies...those looked really good the other day.)

Third Time's The Charm

Look who's driving!

Yesterday Nate walked out of the DMV with his very own learner's permit.  (Gulp!)

As it turns out, my driver's license was expiring on my birthday this year, and what better birthday present than a mother-son date to the DMV? 

As per the unwritten DMV rules of the universe, getting a driver's license has to be a difficult, and this year was no exception.  New legislation in Utah requires all renewal and new applicants to provide a birth certificate, social security card, and proof of address/residence.  I thought the new rules only applied to new applicants, so Nate and I showed up at the DMV on Wednesday afternoon with all his necessary documents in hand.  He was good to proceed...  Obviously, I'd get to return later.

Learner's permit applicants take a test of basic driving rules.  They are allowed to take the test no more than two times a day, as many times as they need to pass the test.  

Nate took the test once the first day...

Then twice...

He'd have to go back again later.

Bonus!  Two mother-son dates to the DMV.

Yesterday we returned to the DMV with my necessary documents in hand.  I stood in the renewal line.  Nate took the test again.

I had all the necessary documents, but my birth certificate was a copy.  Fail!  I was getting a bad case of DMV reject-a-phobia.

Nate on the other hand, finished his test.  The worker at the desk gave him a huge congratulatory smile and said, "Third times the charm!  Do you believe that?"

Nate said, "I do now!"  

Then I drove him to near his school...and he drove me the rest of the way there.  (Gulp!)

I grew up in Idaho and got a license at age 14.  After putting my own son behind the wheel I posted on facebook:   I feel the sudden urge to thank everyone who ever taught me to drive...  I grew up driving on the farm, but to whoever handed me the keys and a license at 14, I can now say I understand that look on your face.

But back to my license dilemma...  I needed an original copy of my birth certificate, which I was lucky enough to find, so I went back to the DMV.  As I returned to the DMV I was sure that the third time would be the charm for me also...

Until my phone rang.

Gabby was sick and had thrown up at school.

I left the DMV to go pick up Gabby.

Later that day I returned to the DMV...Third time that day; fourth time in two days.

Third time's the charm...sort of.

As they handed me my renewed license, I thought to myself, "I will not return to the DMV for four more years..."

Then I realized that in the next four years Nate will get his license; Megan and Jeran will get their permits and licenses; and Joie will have her permit and possibly her license.  

The DMV and I are about to get to know each other very well.  (Gulp!)

Splash!

I don't like being the center of attention.  I don't like everyone looking at me.  My family knows if we go to a restaurant on my birthday they don't tell the server it's my birthday.  (And it isn't my birthday yet...at least for a few more days, but Tim is leaving town again so we celebrated early.)

But back to the rules of birthday restaurant behavior if you're hanging out with me...

Rule #1:  Don't tell the server it's my birthday.  Rule #2:  Don't tell the server it's my birthday.  Rule #3:  If you break Rule #1 or Rule #2 you won't be with me at my next restaurant birthday celebration.

In a nutshell:  strangers singing to me and strangers looking at me while my face turns 5 shades of purple and red = extreme discomfort.

Anyone else with me?

But tonight wasn't my night to sit in comfort.  I've been saying I want to get out of my comfort zone more, and tonight as our server approached the table, my 13 year old looked at me and rattled off some kind of diving board analogy, and all I really heard was, "...and sometimes you get pushed off the high dive."  


Five minutes later a small group of servers was at our table with my birthday dessert bravery treat and in a few short seconds, the song was over and everyone in the restaurant went back to eating...

Push!  


(Huge splash!)

And I shared my bravery treat with everyone.

How's that for risk taking?

(I know...I'm a baby stepper.)

Sibling Fest

Seven out of 12 siblings in one place at one time.  Becky posted on facebook, "rare occasion."  Indeed!

I think there were 8 of us together in one place at one time last summer at a family reunion.  Maybe front porch pictures need to become a tradition every time we're together.

Parents being home and a nephew's baptism drew us all together.  

The bonus was an early birthday surprise.  When we walked in the house (after a lot of drama getting there and being an hour later than planned), everyone was there and started singing to me...they were kind enough to make candles optional!

I love my family and miss the ones who weren't there.  There are a lot of advantages to being in a large family.  As adults, one of the drawbacks is rarely being able to gather that many people in one place at one time.

Anything over 50% is automatically a sibling fest!