Moving...

One day I was looking for something on our blog, and found myself reading through some of the old stories on here, and being glad I'd blogged about those things way back when, or they might have been forgotten.

But I've been so lazy about blogging...

And so unmotivated...

Our lives have moved into a new phase, one filled with teenagers and funny, random moments every day...  And make-us-crazy moments as well, because of course there are both.

"So why not start a new blog?" I thought.

And because teenagers make for great family folklore, I've done just that.

If you want to keep following us, click here.

The Day My Almost 17 Year Old Waved At Me

Let today forever be known as the day my almost 17 year old son waved at me.

In public.

But kind of in the privacy of the car.

I'm into sentimentality lately (just in case you didn't already notice).  I think the idea of knowing I have a limited amount of time with my kids all under one roof has me seeing through a different lens.

Which is why I'm blogging about my almost 17 year old waving at me.

I had finished work.  Tim had already left for work, and Nate (who needed the car earlier to get to and from his job) had dropped me off for a few evening appointments and was now picking me up.  (I love being chauffeured and not doing the chauffeuring.)  Then it happened.  As I walked out the front door of the building and toward the car, I saw this super happy smiling teenager sitting behind the steering wheel waving to me like he was 3 years old again.  (But back then he also would have come running at me...  Not complaining though.  I'll take a happy wave.)

Never mind that 20 seconds later, the beautiful moment was interrupted by siblings complaining about each other.

And never mind that by 10:00 tonight Nate's constant happy mood was driving me a bit nuts...  (Makes me want to ask who he's taking to Prom.)

And never mind that he taught his sister an acronym that includes a swear word and she's highly offended that neither of us will tell her what it means...

And never mind that he drove to the store and bought a Dr. Pepper at 9:00 p.m. when it would have been nice to have him sleeping by 10:00 or so...

Ahhhhhhh.....  Sentimentality.

Mom, Why Aren't You Blogging Anymore?

For some reason, the subject of our family blog has been a topic of conversation around our house lately...

And then the question:  Mom, why aren't you blogging anymore?  

To which I reply...  (sound of crickets chirping)

At one point, it was just because my health was horrible and I just didn't have it in me, but I honestly don't have a good reason anymore.  Illness has passed...  Health is returning...  The catch up game is calming down...  

So here I go again.  For real.  

When our children were younger, I kept a family journal.  When I figured out blogging, this became our family journal.  When our children were younger, they liked reading out of our family journal.  Mostly, it made us laugh.  It was also fun to see the growth and changes.  I know they all check our blog, even now that they're older, but I didn't know they missed it.   

So for the updates: 

Nate:  Knee injury, which I think I may have already mentioned...  Healing...  Not healing...  Surgery...  No Surgery...  And then finally, surgery today.  I promised I wouldn't post the requisite hospital gown pics, even though he was just sitting in bed waiting to go into surgery when I snapped the photo.  Actually, he did say I could include the picture, but I think he also said I'd have to pay him $50.00 or something like that.  He told Tim $10.00.  Sheesh!  Does he think he's a movie star?  The picture posted was actually one I took of him right after his injury--back in December. As far as I know, there are no royalties imposed for that picture.

But about the surgery:  It was torn cartilage...and a piece of cartilage floating around in his knee.  The pain around his ACL was actually a ganglion cyst on the bone near his ACL, which they don't do much about unless it is specifically causing pain.  There was also some other inflammation and signs of a pretty traumatic knee injury that was trying to heal.  They'll start physical therapy again in a few weeks.

Meanwhile, he hopes every day we find a car for him to drive...  We're looking.  We may have found something.  I hope so.  (But he can't drive for a few weeks anyway, so the pressure is off for now.)

He's also got a job now.  He works at Arctic Circle.  In his own words, "I'm Sponge Bob,"  (which really means he's a fry cook).  The newness of the job wore off enough for him to brave just one more interview at an auto mechanic shop, which is perfect for Nate.  It sounds like he got the job, so he may be moving up from Sponge Bob to...not sure which character I should insert here, but picture someone helping out around a mechanic shop...cleaning up, running errands, changing oil, etc.  That's his new gig.

Megan:  In a word, "sports."  And singing.  And friends.  But mostly sports.  Basketball season is over, but she wanted to make it longer, and wishes there was enough time to have eternal soccer and basketball seasons.  Soccer has started with the first two games being cancelled, third being played in the rain, followed by a week of coughing and sore throat, and another game scheduled to play in the rain/snow tomorrow.   She loves her comp team, but has outgrown them, which means a lot of team try-outs in the near future.  She's awesome.

And friends...  She'd probably also do that 24/7 if she could.  I love that this girl doesn't ever get sucked into the drama of teen life.  

And singing...  I think we're the only carpool where the ukelele is preferred to the radio.  (Some days it's both, but usually that makes the driver (moi) a bit nuts so we try to limit ourselves to one music source at a time.)  Megan and her BFF who carpools with us both love to sing, and now they both have ukeleles.  It's a sing-along carpool.  Mostly everyone else is ok with that.  

At home she sings too.  All the time.  Most parents threaten to take away iPods or phones if kids don't do homework or chores, but with Megan I have to take away the ukelele.  (Although she did go through some minor withdrawal symptoms when she left her iPod on the game bus one day and couldn't find it until the next week.)

And she loves photography (see above self-portriat).  She is saving for an expensive camera.  She's almost there.  Go Megan!

And she said something really amazing today, and made my day.  She said all her friends say their parents don't listen to them, and she told them she can talk to her parents.  (Huge smile.)  She also said, "Yeah,  my mom's a therapist."  Apparently you need a degree to talk to kids.  (Tim is just awesome enough to do it without a degree.) 

Jeran:  Just to explain the picture...  Jeran has had some asthma problems this winter.  We thought asthma was behind him, but over the last year and a half it's back.  Usually he's ok, but he got a cold that kept him from going camping over spring break with the scouts...  Apparently breathing is that important.  Later that day we ended up in the doctor's office getting a nebulizer treatment, which he hasn't had since he was about 2 years old, and didn't remember at all.  When the nurse gave him the tube that was spewing funky nebulizer mist, he looked at me and said, "Mom, this doesn't feel legal."  Yes, he's that funny all the time.

He actually left earlier today for a speech festival.  They're staying in Cedar City overnight.  He's in a play next week...The Importance of Being Earnest.  He's the butler.  And he needs a tuxedo shirt and bow tie.  I found a bow tie on Amazon, but I don't want to pay for a tuxedo shirt.  Anyone have one we can borrow?

This kid is constantly a whirlwind of activity.  If it's  not something with school, it's friends.  And he has awesome friends.  One day earlier this year, I was going into the high school with my arms full.  Instantly, three students rushed the doors and held them open for me.  They were Jeran's friends.

He's also into all things geek.  But he's not a geek.  (Really, he's not.)  But he can't wait for next weeks release of Iron Man 3.  I think he has tickets for the midnight showing when it's released.

He's taller than me and stronger than me and smarter than me and he knows it.  And he's great at getting things done so he has time for friends and fun...  And I'm sure he thinks Nate is a better chauffeur than Tim or I because Nate will stop anywhere.  I know there are stories upon stories I don't even know about their time together...just between brothers I guess.  I hope one day they'll tell me (someday when removing privileges is no longer an option).  Meanwhile, I just tell myself that they're just kidding and that really there is nothing that happens on their outings that they wouldn't share with me, because it makes me feel better when I tell myself that.  And "in my world everyone's a pony and they all eat rainbows and poop butterflies."  (credit:  Dr. Seuss)

Joie:  Once upon a time there was a mom who was happy with three beautiful children.  Then unexpectedly one day, a little girl who knew hurt and loneliness beyond belief came into that mom's life, and showed her the joy of living (joie de vivre).  That girl is Joie.  (The picture is her with her cousin, Kedric, who is named after Joie's dad.)

She was also in a play at school.  She was a patient in an insane asylum who thought she was in an army.  She got to dress in camouflage and carry a fake weapon.  (Yes, even in school...  Don't tell anyone.)

And here's a really funny story.  Joie is fearless.  That's F-e-a-r-l-e-s-s with a capital F.  And flirty.  Also with a capital F.  On second thought, I won't tell the story.  (But if you ask, I'll tell you.)  But the other funny part of the story was this...  A few days after she was gutsy and fearless and asked a guy to be her Valentine, Tim was driving the kids to school and stopped at the store for donuts (because he's cool and awesome like that...insert picture of upset mom).  Joie's valentine was also at the store.  Tim rolled down the window and called his name.  Yes, really.  Because he's gutsy and fearless like Joie, but it turns out when dad is being gutsy and fearless, children are usually embarrassed and humiliated.  Ok, maybe not humiliated, but embarrassed.  And possibly he lost a few cool and awesome points also.

Other amazing things this girls does:  She's a brainiac.  The straight A kind of brainiac.  And she recently started Tae Kwon Do.  Her older cousin, Adrienne, was here for the week over spring break.  She knew of a gym through a friend here in Utah where she could attend training/workouts for a week. They let Joie and Gabby join with Adrienne, and they got hooked.  She broke boards last week.  Don't mess with her. And another funny story...  Son of the TKD master goes to Joie's school and had just been hitting on Joie and her friend.  He walked into the gym one day toward the end of a workout, and was probably super surprised to see her there.  (And I thought of all kinds of things I wanted to say to him, but didn't.)

And she's a good person.  She recently had a friend tell her she was too happy.  Life isn't without challenges, for sure.  There are still moments of missing the people who loved her before this little girl came into our life, but she knows genuine happiness also.  She is strong, and a good friend who listens and understands.  I told her tonight when we were talking about girl drama, "You don't sweat the small stuff because you know there are bigger problems in the world."  And it's true (unless the small stuff is with siblings.  She still knows how to push those buttons.)

Gabby:  This picture is for Grandma Campbell.  She is wrapped in a baby blanket made by grandma.  My mom made blankets for all our kids when they were babies.  Recently she realized she didn't get to do this for Gabby, or for two other grand children who were adopted from foster care by my sister.  She asked them about colors and styles, and a few weeks later, the blankets came in the mail.  Apparently Grandma blankets bring joy at all ages.  I tried to get her to save them somewhere special for her kids, but for now, they're her reading blankets in her room.

And she's caught up almost completely in school.  She pushes herself every day.  She never misses homework, and I don't have to remind her.  She wants to be a doctor when she grows up, or play professional soccer.  She and a friend recently made their life plan:  Live together when they go to college, and play soccer in college, then be professional soccer players, then doctors.  And never get married.

And she rocks at soccer, and being a friend.  Gabby got sucked into some friend drama at school this year, and it's been tuff, but she's a smart girl, and doesn't let it happen anymore.  (Can I just say I'm so glad the being a friend trait seems to run through my girls...huge sigh of relief.)  Her teacher and other adults identify her as a leader in groups.  Charisma defines this girl.

She's been busy lately, but keeps up.  We usually say only one activity at a time for the kids, but Tae Kwon Do came knocking right after she signed up for soccer, and she does it all.  And she still goes to ESL (English Second Language) tutoring four hours a week.  One day this week she went from soccer to TKD with less than 20 minutes in between, and did chores and homework too.  We decided next soccer season we'll suspend TKD for a few months. She might be able to keep up, but it wears me out!

Since school started last fall, Gabby has been remembering a lot of details about her life in India that I've never heard before.  I can see her get stirred up once in a while, and know there is something in her mind ready to break free from where ever she's kept it stored before now... Details of her mom's death.  Details of how she handled that loss, and how her brother handled that loss.  Details of what her mom taught her before she died.  Details of how she got here...and so much more.  That's a lot of remembering, which isn't easy.  A few months ago I started reading "The Whole Brain Child," by Daniel Siegel (great book, by the way), and just this week attended a conference where he presented.  The key of "integration" is the main concept of his book (both within the brain, and in relationships and life).  Gabby is integration, because when she isn't, she pushes herself to make meaning out of her many, many stories of hurt and loss.  She inspires me to be a better person.

In fact, all of them do.  I keep waiting for the proverbial "other foot" to drop in our teen world, but so far it hasn't.  I seriously love this time in their lives.  There is so much teen energy in this house that some days I think I could bottle it and sell it.  (Who wouldn't pay cash to feel the energy of teenagers?)  But for now I'll just breathe it in and soak it up, because it's the kind of energy that can't be bottled.  I know it will be gone in a blink, and as crazybusy as it gets most days, I'm glad I'm up to my eyeballs in it.  Wouldn't trade it for anything.

A Little Bit of Bliss

This has not been a good health year for me...  Mono that goes away but keeps lingering, and makes it so my eternal to-do list only grows and grows and grows.  Now I've started off 2013 with a full blown case of the flu...  Achy, feverish, sore throat.  I need a new immune system

But the bliss...

Nate got his driver's license on December 31st, 2012.

The last few days while I've been sick, he's been the taxi driver.

Bliss!

I posted on facebook that if nothing else happens in 2013, my life will be complete.

...Ignoring the story of old man who didn't do a head check and almost merged into Nate.

...Ignoring that in a few weeks he'll be incapacitated because of knee surgery.

...Just enjoying it right here, right now.

The Case of the Missing Chocolate Covered Cinnamon Bears

Have you ever had these things?  They're addictive!  Seriously...  

Try to eat just one.

We are no strangers to sports and school fundraisers this year.  In the past 6 months we have had 2 fundraisers for a local frozen yogurt place (buy one get one free cards), a fundraiser selling potatoes (huge Idaho Russets...just in time for Thanksgiving), a coupon book fundraiser, cookie dough, and a few others I'm sure I don't even remember.  We also had two fundraisers of selling all kinds of sweets...fun stuff that is overpriced, but very yummy so people will buy it.

Which brings us to chocolate covered cinnamon bears.  One of our neighbors bought some from Megan.  Megan delivered all the goodies except theirs, because they were out of town.  (Those would be the chocolate covered cinnamon bears.)  

And she naively left the tub of bears in the kitchen.  Right where everything is fair game.  Of course everyone wanted some.  I asked a few times whose they were.  No one answered.  One of the kids even said they were a Christmas present from dad.  And the boys said they were ours, that dad bought them from Megan in the fundraiser.  (Note to self:  Never believe hungry teens when it comes to claiming food.)  No one admits to opening them, but several of us might admit to enjoying them...

Needless to say, by the time the neighbors were home and Megan realized what had happened, it was too late.  We're hoping they accept a cute note and a treat...

(And no worries.  We're going with the you-eat-it, you-buy-it policy so they'll get their money back also.)

Seriously, with all those fundraisers, if this was our only delivery mishap, that's not so bad...

Unless you're our neighbors.

Sidenote:  Gabby graduated from NOVA today.  

Sidenote #2:  Nate went to an orthopedic specialist today and we found out it's his ACL that is torn.  When the swelling goes down in a few weeks, he'll have surgery.  Meanwhile he gets to wear his brace for a few more weeks, and is out of wrestling for the season...and probably spring sports as well.  His goal:  To take his driver's ed test and get his license before he has surgery.

Things That Would Make My Life Easier

In no particular order...

• A slow cooker that never over or undercooks things, because my slow cooker is my best friend, and nothing is worse than slow cooker recipes that tell you 5-6 hours when really the food is done in 3-4 hours...or less.  
• A grocery delivery service, because there's always that one thing I forgot...  Today it was Diet Coke, Mentos, and Play Doh so Gabby can make a rocket in school tomorrow.  I did remember the Christmas card for the foreign exchange student, and the cookies for the boys that came to help with Jeran's Eagle Scout Project, but I forgot the Diet Coke, Mentos, and Play Doh.  Don't you think it would be awesome if stores rewarded frequent shopper moms like me by gifting us one free delivery a week?  Wouldn't that be awesome?
• A chauffeur...definitely a chauffer, but only when I really, really can't handle getting in the car one more time that day.  Quite honestly, I do enjoy the conversations with my kids in car, and overhearing all their conversations with their friends, and overhearing two totally off-key teenager boys sing along with the radio at the top of their lungs (laughed so hard I almost crashed the car...kidding, Mom!  But I did laugh hard, and will never, never forget it as long as I live).  But it's that One.  Last.  Trip.  Of.  The.  Day.  By then I'm out of both words and brain cells, which are, coincidentally, required to make a conversation work.  I've also been known to tune out my own children during such periods of time when brain cells are in short supply.  For times like those times it would be a huge gift to have a chauffeur.
• And while I'm at it, self cleaning dishes, laundry, and kitchen and bathrooms would be nice.  Or a maid.  By the way, my kids claim they're my maids...  Sheesh!  (Said in my best teenage protest voice.)
• And a bank account that replenishes itself would be nice also.
• And a magic wand or access to a really awesome genie without a lot of rules about wishes.

Back to reality.  Now I'm closing my eyes and pretending I don't see the dishes in the sink, or the message light blinking on the answering machine, or the slow cooker waiting for me to decide what goes in it tomorrow...

And I did not just see my oldest son walk through the door on crutches.

I need a new genie.

16.5

On November 16th, this kiddo turned 16.5.  With each passing day, I'm more and more aware that he has limited time left at home.  And I gotta admit, the idea of him not being my kiddo anymore tugs a little at my heart strings.  People, trust me...  It goes so fast.  Don't blink.

He's almost half way through his junior year.  Next year he'll be a senior.  He gets his driver's license any day now...  I made a new rule for driving the kids to school this year:  Nate gets the front seat every day he rides with us because he doesn't have very many of those days left.  (Really, it was my selfish way of keeping his close to me.  As much as I hate being a taxi mom, I love talking to my kids in the car, and the older I get, the more fun those conversations are...  And I know I have a lot fewer of those left with Nate than with any of the others.)

Friday Nate had his wisdom teeth out.  He was semi-ok Friday and Saturday.  We put a remote in his hand and gave him the really good drugs once in a while, and he was fine.  They said the worst day for pain is the third day.  Sunday was not a great day for him, and he was sure there was a piece of food stuck in the back of his mouth, and he was determined to pull it out (against the advice of his doctor, who said let it work it's way out).  When there's something bugging him, he just can't leave it alone.

In all of his obsessing about whatever was in his mouth, I said, "What if it's just your stitches?"  

Then the rest of us left Nate home alone and went downtown Salt Lake City for the LDS church's Christmas Devotional.  Nate was here alone...just him and the remote...  And a waterpik.  He was determined to get that food out.

He's in a lot of pain today.  I called the doctor and they said he may have given himself a dry socket by using the waterpik...  We'll know tomorrow.

Seriously...  One day they'll all just figure out that Mom's right and we'll avoid half of the things that fall into the "oops" category of life.  Meanwhile, good thing we have a sense of humor.  (When they were babies, someone told me I wouldn't get mad when I saw all the messes they got into if I grabbed a camera and took a picture instead of yelling.  I guess it worked.)

Today, Nate came to me and said, "Mom, what if that thing that I thought was a piece of food is stitches?"   

I have to say in his defense, that I was 16.5 once too.  I think there were also things I had to figure out for myself...like gravity.  My young and in love self decided to descend the face of a giant rock without gear because in the euphoria of being in love, we both thought it sounded like a good idea...  I fell.  Thankfully, a quick thinking ranger caught me and stopped my fall (and all I remember about him now is that he had red hair and an Aussie accent...the ranger that is, not the guy I was with). 

Then later that evening, we thought it would be fun to drive in reverse down the dirt road that lead out of the canyon.  

And my mom remembers that when I told her the story, I prefaced it with, "Before I tell you what happened, I want to tell you that I didn't even break a fingernail."  (I clearly remember holding my hands up as proof, at which time she saw the scrapes down the sides of my arms.)

And 2 days after I had my wisdom teeth out I went skiing because adrenaline took over and the thought of a ski date with someone older who I had a crush on sounded too good to pass up.  (It was my last and only date with him...wonder why?)

So I've done my share of sixteen and stupid, and Nate's obsession with his stitches and possibly creating a dry socket doesn't come close.  I forgive him.

Funny though...  Everyone in the family is now telling and re-telling the story of when Nate pulled his own stitches out when he was four.  He'd had ear tubes a few years earlier, and the hole in his eardrum hadn't closed.  Surgery was recommended to repair the hole, which involved taking a tiny bit of tissue from the back of his earlobe to graft onto his eardrum as a patch, hence the stitches in his earlobe.

I remember we brought him home from the hospital, and I did the same thing back then I did this time--put him in front of the TV.  He'd been sleepy, and fell asleep as soon as I laid him on the couch, so I went upstairs to start cleaning the kitchen.  Not even 5 minutes later he was standing there in the kitchen with blood dripping off his ear and down his shoulder, and as calmly as a kid could ask for anything he said, "Mom, can you help me get these stitches out?"  Apparently they were bugging him back then also.  I also still remember the look on the face of the nurses when I walked back into the surgical center with a bleeding child not even an hour after walking out.  And by then Nate was tired and very, very aware of the stitches in his earlobe...not our favorite day at the doctor.

Nate gets that humor softens things for me.  Today in an attempt to stop the "I-told-you-so" that he sensed might follow his stitches ah-ha moment, Nate said, "It's my own special trait.  Removing stitches."  

Nate, we love you.  And all your special traits.  Maybe you'll be a surgeon someday.  

And no, you can't wrestle on Saturday if you have a dry socket.  And I won't feel bad and give in.  (But dad might, and I might go along with it.)  

(And all this while we had carpet layers in our house from 8:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.  Of course that only added to the fun, but new carpet!  It makes me forget everything else.)

Jarman Heartbreak Hall of Fame

freedigitalphotos.net

In a house full of teens it was bound to happen at some point...the sting of first love's heartbreak.

I'm not saying who, but in a family the size of ours with children as close in age as our children, there aren't a lot of secrets.

We've seen the symptoms for the past few days... (Images of the longing, sad faces of the characters in Seven Brides For Seven Brothers during that long, cold winter come to mind.)

There have even been tears, and the lament of, "Mom, you just don't understand how it feels!"  (Dear child:  There is a reason none of us want to ever re-live our teen years.  Yours truly, Your Loving, Kind Mother Who Doesn't Understand.)

And there has been anger, and plotting revenge...hoping said heartbreaker would move to California or somewhere far away.  (Or that the heartbreaker's head was a balloon that would pop or deflate.)  As the mom in the story, I'd be ok with said heartbreaker moving to California...  Or a remote island in the Pacific with no Wi-Fi or texting capabilities.

The true tragedy is the heartbreak goes both ways...  (Sigh.)

And her friend said that his friend said that he said that she said that her friend said that his friend said...

Enough already!

Only in teen life (and Desperate Housewives, which by the way, I've never seen) could it be so complicated.

So at the point in the story when it was ok for the tears to turn to levity, we started a new tradition:  It's the Jarman Heartbreak Hall of Fame.  It's currently on a dry erase board, so if you come looking, we'll destroy the evidence.  We all put names on the list.  It was a good family bonding moment.

In the process, I learned the name of Tim's 6th grade girlfriend...

And things about my children that I didn't know before, but were suddenly ok to reveal in a tell-all heartbreak impromptu family meeting.

And for the moment, all is well and said broken heart is healing, until tomorrow when one broken heart has to see the other broken heart at school and the friends start talking and texting and it starts all over again.

I have a feeling this isn't the last time we'll be turning to the Heartbreak Hall of Fame.  Welcome to life in a house full to teens!

If You Want A Happy Ending, Take 2

Yesterday I posted this quote:  If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.  --Orson Welles

It had been one of those not-quite-perfect, but content days...a good enough place to push pause and say, "And they all lived happily ever after."

Something in me just knew that with 5 teens, 2 dogs, 2 jobs, and a mortgage, content was just as good as happily ever after.

I was right.

Take two.

I love my teens, really I do, which is why I didn't go bat-freaking-crazy when I could have.  (Patting myself on the back...)

But not coming unglued is far from happily ever after.

Take two.

Take three.

Take four.

Take twenty...

However many takes it takes...

And keep repeating, "My job is to keep you safe, and healthy, and to love you.  That was not safe, or healthy, but I still love you."  

Who Are You And What Did You Do With My Son?

Tim drove to Juniper yesterday to bring Nate home.  Did you hear that?  Nate is home!  I love that he loves the farm, but I also love that I get to see his face!

But something strange has happened in his absence.  He's done the dishes two times today...without being asked.  He's been pretty quiet about it.

It goes something like this:

Nate enters the kitchen and opens the dishwasher and starts loading it.

Mom: Oh, are you looking for something?


Nate:  Nope.


Mom:  Are you doing the dishes?


Nate:  Yup.


Mom:  Oh.  (pause)  Thank you.  


(Another longer pause)

Mom:  Do you want something?  (...Kicked myself for asking, but seriously, what 16 year old just walks in the kitchen and starts loading the dishwasher?)

Nate:  Nope.


Dang farm work ethic...  It's messing with my brain!

Then later in the day I heard clanking of dishes in the kitchen and walked in to see Nate unloading and loading the dishwasher.  (Yes, we really do go through that many dishes around here.)

Me:  You're doing dishes again?


Nate:  Yup.

Me:  Wow.  I'm impressed.

Nate smiles while trying not to smile...something he's pretty good at.

...Signing off now (still a little suspicious but happy with the empty sink in the kitchen).

Sunday Sharing

Sometimes I start thinking of God in His majesty and forget He's the same God who says, "But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered."  (Luke 12: 7)  I love that He loves us that much.

Today we drove to Juniper to see Nate.  (By "we" I mean me, Megan, and Gabby...  Just for the record, Nate, you know who loves you!)  Nate has been on the farm since the beginning of July, and I have missed my boy!

Today before we left to visit him I asked, "Do you miss us?"  

He said, "Yeah."  (Awwwwww......)

I said, "Are you homesick?"

He said, "No."

He loves it there.

I asked him how long he would stay if he could.

He said, "Until school starts."

I love that he loves it there, but I really, really wanted to see him, and in case you all missed it, there is a hint of him also missing us in the above conversation, enough that I knew I wanted to make the drive.

So we drove 2.5 hours north and 2.5 hours back home on a Sunday afternoon to spend 2 hours with Nate.  He drove us around Juniper, and told me stories of the things he's doing there.  He was also proud to show me his log book.  I took a few pictures, but this is my favorite entry:

He told me last week how one of the cats had died under Grandma's bush.  Grandma asked him to move it, so he did.  He's talked about it several times.  I loved that he noted those 5 minutes in his log.  

For some reason, when I drive to Juniper, my brain thinks in metaphors.  For the past several weeks I've been calling Nate, and checking in.  I talk to him.  I ask him if he needs anything.  I even sent him something he needed.  

Then when he was missing us just a little bit, and I was missing him, the mom in me couldn't not go.  Over the past several days as I've talked to him, he's asked about us coming.  Partly, he just wanted us to see him there and to show us what he's doing.  He wanted us close to see things we couldn't see in phone conversations.  He showed me a hill he drove down and told me the story of how quickly he had to discover how the brake and clutch work together to stop a heavy truck, and a few other unknowns of the farm.  When we left, Nate drove us from my parents house to the freeway, then jogged back to their house.  As he left to jog home, he let me hug him--not the stiff hug I got when he left a few weeks ago.  (Nate is my kiddo who is not a hugger...thank goodness a few others are!)  

Metaphor:  God from a distance is majesty.  He's love.  He's our anchor.  I talk to Him, and I travel through my days seeing Him only from a distance.  He asks if I need anything and sometimes He sends things I need.  But I love that amazing feeling that comes when He recognizes that I miss Him just a little more some days than I do others, and for just that little bit of time, He moves into my heart and lets me show Him around.  He shares with me in all the things I've been doing, and lets me show Him not just my joys, but my fears and hurt.  Then somehow by the time he leaves, I'm left with only warmth from His short stay.  I love that He loves and knows me and I know He longs to be close to me, as a parent does with a child.

And in another week we're bringing Nate home so we can have some family vacation time!

He Plowed a Field!

Three days ago, Tim drove Nate to Juniper to work with my dad and brothers on the farm.  I posted this on facebook:  "Nate left this morning to go work on the farm and won't be back until the end of July. It felt a lot like the first day of first grade. Isn't it supposed to get easier as they get older?"


I'm not sure why I felt that little twinge of wanting to hold on, and stop time (anyone who's sent a child to first grade knows what I mean), but I did, and still do.  I didn't feel it when he went to other camps earlier this summer--just when he went to the farm.  I think it was the idea of him growing up so fast...wanting to stop time...wanting to hold on to the little boy with blonde curls and a huge smile.  Instead he's working--growing up and taking on adult responsibilities, and it tugged at my heart a little (still does when I think about it).

A comedy of errors has made it so we haven't talked to him since he got there until tonight.  Even tonight he was difficult to get in touch with, so I finally called my brother, Steve.  One of the first things I heard him say was that Nate had finished plowing a field...

Actually the tractor he was driving looked more like this:

My dad believes they don't make them like they used to...  And he's probably right.  So Nate's first field plowing experience was on the old Caterpillar D6.  Have you ever see how much dust gets stirred up when you're plowing a field?  I remember as a kid being amazed that the only white on my dad when he'd come in off the tractor was his teeth and the whites of his eyes.  I'm trying to picture Nate that dirty.  (Maybe I need my mom to take a picture for me.)  My point is that this tractor doesn't have a cab.  No cab + dust = super dusty day!

Tonight I also got to talk to Nate, and he called Tim also.  We're both proud of him, and the work he's doing.  I asked Nate if it was all a little overwhelming or if he was enjoying it.  Of course he's enjoying it.  I knew he would.  The farm gene that skipped a generation (me) has always been in his blood.  From the time he was little, he's been asking to work on the farm.

And I'm not kidding when I say the farm gene skipped a generation.  Ask anyone in my family.  See the above older Caterpillar D6 model?  I got that stuck while plowing a field...that's how much help I was.  (Yes, apparently a tractor with tracks can get stuck.)

It was good to hear from Nate tonight, and even though we miss his wit and presence at home, we know he's in great hands and having an incredible experience.

...But I might have to sneak in a trip to Idaho just to go visit sometime soon.  I miss my boy!  (And am still a bit amused that the boy who doesn't clean his room plowed a field.)

  

Hi, It's Me Again

Funny thing about writing...  I need to do it.

Funny thing about writing about stress... It tends to go away.

To stop writing about all of this right when I was finally putting it in words was almost impossible for me.  (So chalk another one up to crazy grief...which I'll say more about later.)  Not writing was like trying to plug a fountain with a finger.

The other day a colleague said to me, "We are harder on ourselves than anyone else ever would be."  He had just made a difficult decision, and was worrying about how his decision would affect other people.

So why do we think so much about what other people think?  I want to be one of those people who doesn't care--not in a cynical, insensitive way, but in a way that is just 100% comfortable in my own skin. And somehow throwing all this out there, and exploring all this with Tim, and letting it float around in my own brain blog is helping.

So as I wrap my brain around the idea that trauma and grief can still affect us this much all these years later, you all can tune in (or not).  Either way, at the end of the day it's me and the people under my own roof that matter most.

And do you know what's really amazing?  They all think I'm amazing.  Right here at home, where it matters most, we're working together to get it right every day just like every other family.

I can get irritated at teen sluggishness, and trails of shoes and clothes all over the house, and 10 minutes later we can all be ok with each other again.

Case in point (because I can't resist a good story)...

Yesterday Nate was in trouble.  And I told him so...  And I told him he had to "dig his way out of this hole."  About five minutes later I was loading the dishwasher (I do that once in a while) and I looked up to see him standing at the back door with a shovel in his hand.  I got it, but I was trying really, really hard not to laugh...because he was in trouble and I'm the mom and I'm not supposed to laugh if they're in trouble, right?  (By the way, I stink at not laughing when something is funny.)  I tried to ignore him, but he just stood there, and when I looked up again, all I could see was dimples...  Then he said, "I was wondering how you dig yourself out of a hole.  Technically, if you're digging, aren't you going in deeper?"

Laughter!

It was one of the best mea culpas I've ever seen.  I hope his wife appreciates that humor some day.

It's moments like that that make me amazed that these six other human beings who I love so much love me back.  At the end of the day all I have to give them is support, time (that's a hard one) and love.  And balance all that with work, home, friends, church...  (Psshht...  No sweat.)

And the best part is this new freedom to fail (which we always knew was a part of life, but just couldn't say it).  And there is relief in that, and even humor because we can say it out loud now and hear how crazy it sounds.  The other day Tim threw out the idea that if we can now fail, can we also fail and failing and therefore succeed?  Obviously, Nate is his son, because I laughed at that one also.

Either way, in the four days since I've said I'm not blogging, all this has been floating around in my brain and needed to be said.  And getting it down on paper helps me make sense it all...sort of.  I know I've said many times since this all happened that you can't make sense of senseless.

And even though I might think I'm the only one who feels this way, I'm sure I'm not.

Funny how just the opposite of what I thought I needed is what I need.

(And some good news...  Tim has day shifts for most of the rest of the summer...and 3 day weekends.  How amazing is that?  Right when we needed the gift of time, we got it.  Blessings.  I love them.)

Sixteen

Reality check:  I have a 16 year old.

What a ride!  Way back in the day when it was just me tagging around with him I was pretty sure nothing could have prepared me for the strange mix of awesomeness and stress that I came to know as parenting.  I was just learning about my mom instincts then, and dismissed the feeling I was having that his life would be challenging.  It was difficult to look at those blonde curls and bright blue eyes and imagine anything but bliss.

And thankfully there has been bliss along his challenging road of life...but those challenges I knew instinctively would follow him did.

A few years ago what seemed like just a year of really poor health turned into an autoimmune nightmare, and lead eventually to the diagnosis of PANDAS.  (See here for more information on PANDAS.)  Ours was a relatively short (6 month) road to diagnosis and treatment, and I remember reading everything I could about this condition, including phrases like "debilitating," and "encephalitic-like symptoms."  I remember the curled up withdrawn child who seldom left the couch, and the hours and hours spent in the school counselor's office trying to explain to them that what we were seeing wasn't my son...  And I remember the poor-social-work-mom-who-can't-admit-her-son-has-a-problem look on their faces as we tried without success to get accommodations in place that would help him.  I also remember feeling incredibly thankful for simple things like antibiotics, and doctors who would pursue treatment of a condition which (at the time) was still a little of a gray area.  I remember what it felt like to see my son come back after being lost in the catatonic fog he'd been in for months, and the subsequent years of challenges climbing back from neurological darkness.

Fast forward to 2012...  A few mornings ago I went downstairs to wake him up.  As I walked into his room it hit me that the constantly growing mound of human being that was buried under blankets in my house would only be there for a few more years.  I just stood there for a minute before waking him up (don't tell him), and committed that moment to memory...  The tilt of his head, the mashed hair, the toes sticking out the end of the blanket...even the stinky teen boy room smell.  

Seriously, I can't believe he's mine.  I texted Tim (who left for work this morning before I woke up) and said, "I can't believe we have a 16 year old!"  

He texted back, "Yes, and he is a great kid."  

And he is.  

And we are blessed parents who are celebrating a little more this year than other years because in Nate's life there is a lot to celebrate this year...  Like pushing himself to do this...

Cross Country

...Which was brutal for him because he started out with leg problems, but persisted, and now Megan can't even keep up with him on their runs.

Then there was dragging mom into his brutal world of wrestling (see here and here).  

Then soccer...  (See here.)  And as it turns out, after the extra help in the beginning of the season, Nate went on to score a total of 6 goals for the year.

And scouts, and church, and even youth leadership training (Silver Moccasin)...

And driving and hanging out...

And happy tears (mine) through all the above.

...Not because of anything exceptional, but because this can-do kid, who seemed a few years ago to have lost it all, never gave up.  

Have you ever thought how amazing it is to see the human body in motion?  Or to see a mind engaged and excited about learning and activities?  And I'm more than a little impressed when he walks down the hall and grabs the chin-up bar and pulls himself up...over and over and over.  Trust me.  The human machine is a miracle, and a healed human machine is even more miraculous.

So, so, so much to celebrate...

Lovin' My Family

Tonight I was looking at pictures on our family computer.  Hilarious!  It looks like the kiddos in our abode may have been bored one day.  What I used to do in front of they mirror they do with LifeCam...

Nate

The girls figured out how to clone themselves.

Gabby

Megan

Jeran having a flash of brilliance

Megan trying on puppy dog eyes

Happy girls!

What Nate would look like if he ever had to go on Biggest Loser...

Headless Jeran

Fish Face

And I love them all!  I feel blessed every day to be their mom.

I'm also adding a link that has been circulating around social media sites lately about being a mom...written by a mom who was able to put into words what we all feel.  (See here.)  There is nothing better!

And moms, you are enough.

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!)

Speaking Up

There is a story and accompanying video that has been posted on facebook so many times today I can't count.  A lot of parents are praising this video.  Many parents are also saddened by this father's actions and lack of connection between him and his teen daughter.  (For the story and video see here.)  I'm among the crowd who is not only saddened about their lack of relationship, but saddened that this has been put out there as model parenting, just one more counterfeit for the real effort and energy it takes to build and maintain healthy, lasting, and respectful relationships with children.

For those who haven't seen it (and don't want to watch all 8+ minutes of this adult throwing a fit), here's the story in a nutshell:  A teen girl posted an angry, disrespectful tirade against her parents on facebook.  It was a teen rant at it's finest, filled with hate, crude language, and contempt directed at her parents.  Certainly it wasn't appropriate for any setting, least of all a social networking site, and most assuredly this teen was on the entitlement train a long time before this singular event.

Her father (acting out of about as much foresight as his daughter) decided to teach her a lesson (and a lot more lessons I'm sure he didn't intend to teach her), and made a video to post on the internet reading her tirade to the world, followed by explaining the expectations he has of his daughter.  Then he pulled out his .45 handgun and blasted 9 rounds into her laptop, destroying it.

Yes, parenting at it's finest.

Dear Parents:  Please don't let your own sense of exacting justice drive your parenting decisions.  Parenting is too great a responsibility to be left to chance!  Parenting needs to be intentional.  It requires foresight and planning and effort...years and years of effort.  It requires love, forgiveness and understanding.  It requires teaching, guiding, and instructing.  It requires presence.  It requires hesitance.  Yes, hesitance.

Reactivity is born of emotion...anger, disappointment, and even embarrassment.  Reactive parenting responses are not effective.  Sure, you'll teach them a lesson.  They'll certainly follow your lead in making relationship impacting decisions out of anger.  And they'll learn for sure never to do whatever it was they just did...unless they think a parent won't know...in which case, they didn't learn; they just learned to hide from what is supposed to be the one unconditional source of love on this planet.  Doesn't real learning involve a teaching process?  "Lead me; guide me; walk beside me; help me find the way..." (lyrics from I Am A Child of God)  


Parenting isn't an easy job.  I know.  I do it every day.  Am I a perfect parent?  No.  Am I an intentional parent?  Yes.

I love, love, love my teens.  They're amazing people.  Are they impulsive?  Sometimes.  Are they disrespectful and selfish?  Occasionally.  Do we laugh and love and have fun together?  Every day.  Do we get upset at each other?  Every day.  Do we value our relationships more than we value anything else?  I hope so...at least that's our aim.  Are we building relationships that last forever?  Absolutely.  Forever and ever and ever and ever...without end.

Granted, we don't see the end of the parent/child story in the above mentioned video.  I pray that they made up and hugged it out and that their relationship truly isn't a series of reactions, and that one of them has the maturity to step back and engage in a real relationship.  I hope beyond hope that is the case.

And I hope that the take home from all of this isn't to pat a dad on the back for using his primal brain to parent.  I hope not, but sadly he's a sensation for doing what he did.  For all those parents out there who don't agree, and who exercise restraint and love in parenting, keep doing what you're doing.  It will pay off...probably not with a bazillion hits on the internet, but certainly with all the rewards of a relationship with the one-of-a kind kids God loaned to you for a few years so you could learn really, really, really what it means to be a parent.

And now a few quotes:

"Often we assume that the people around us must know how much we love them. But we should never assume; we should let them know... We will never regret the kind words spoken or the affection shown. Rather, our regrets will come if such things are omitted from our relationships with those who mean the most to us."  President Thomas S. Monson


"Take care of your little ones. Welcome them into your homes and nurture and love them with all of your hearts. They may do, in the years that come, some things you would not want them to do, but be patient, be patient. You have not failed as long as you have tried."  President Gordon B. Hinckley