Mothers

I decided to re-post this in honor of all the wonderful mothers in my life. Thank you for your inspiration-- Hope you had a wonderful day!

Ahhh...Mother's Day!

Now, that Ahhh could be like a sigh--Ahhhh, it's Mother's Day, what a lovely holiday. OR that Ahhh could be a shrill, piercing scream--Ahhhh, it Mother's Day, hand me the cough syrup and wake me when it's over!

I'm not sure there's another day that's filled with so much mixed emotion for many moms. We're reminded of how blessed we are to have these wonderful children who are gifts from heaven, and what trust the Lord has put in us to fulfill this divine responsibility of loving and nurturing them. On the other hand, we also feel the guilt associated with our imperfect attempts at such a sacred calling.

I'm fortunate. I've already had one of those Mother's Days that serves as a gauge for me, meaning it was rock bottom and can only go up from there.

It all began with early morning Sunday meetings for my husband (really, can't someone just go ahead and add that to the Handbook that men should not have meetings on Mother's Day morning--they should be home serving breakfast in bed and wrapping homemade flower vases and crayon self-portaits with the kids, then getting them all ready for church while we--meaning I--lounge about eating bon bons?). Of course the kids were arguing over who used up all the hot water, and who took the last of the Captain Crunch. I'm sure at least one child ruined their Sunday clothes by spilling chocolate syrup down the front of them while trying to squeeze said chocolate into milk, and I'm pretty sure that same mostly-full milk bottle shattered all over the floor, along with the milk, in the attempt to grab it away before that got finished off, too. No one could find shoes or ties or the right snack. And had we owned a cat, I'm sure it would have clawed its way up the curtains after having been stepped on in a fight over whose turn it was to shoot the Nerf guns.

Needless to say, I was not having one of my stellar mothering mornings. Suddenly, after far too many blow-ups over each thing that was going to make us late for church, I thought, "What am I doing? What's more important right now--getting to church less late, or not stressing out at my kids?" So, we took our time.

Of course, when we finally pulled into the parking lot 45 minutes late, my husband was pulling out. "Where have you been? Your phone wasn't on, and I was just going to look for you." I gave him look #14, the one that says "Clearly things have not gone well, and nothing else should come out of your mouth right now unless it is about how, just to show me how wonderful I am, you are going to whip up some dinner and give me a 45 minute foot massage as I enjoy Pride and Prejudice while dinner cooks." We went inside.

It was a little difficult to appreciate all the talk at church about how sweet and wonderful mothers are, and how we are the angels walking the earth who give our children a glimpse of heaven, blah, blah, blah. But at least I was sitting down for a while.

I made it through church with my little potted petunia gift, then headed home, dreading the disaster left behind that would now greet me at the front door. Feeling pretty well spent and sufficiently guilty for my less-than-heavenly performance that day, I spotted my youngest son outside.

Curious as to what he was doing I went out. That was my next mistake. There he was sitting beside a big, dirty puddle. In his hand was a pair of underpants he had taken from the dirty laundry (or possibly just picked up off the floor somewhere, after the morning we'd had). As I watched, horrified, he proceeded to dip the underwear into the puddle, now brace yourself, then suck out the dirty water! AHHHHHH!

"I was thirsty," he said.

All I could do was laugh, maybe a bit hysterically, to keep myself from screaming and crying. It had been one of those Mother's Days. I understood.

I could have had a break down. I could have wallowed in guilt and frustration. I could have made a list as long as Long Island of all the things I could be doing better. But in the end, I just gave myself a pat on the back and thanked Heavenly Father for such ingenious children. Ahhhhh--Mother's Day!

Downtown Abbey Jumps the Shark

What a lovely ending for this season of the Downton Abbey…IF you got a phone call from the President during the last three minutes and missed the end!!!  I’m sorry, but the Downton Abbey team has jumped the shark. 

If you are unfamiliar with that term, think back to Happy Days when Arthur Fonzerello, AKA Fonzie, AKA “The Fonz”, for some inexplicable reason, donned a pair of water skis and jumped a shark.  Did he think he wasn’t popular enough any more? Too much. Trying too hard.  Complete loss of credibility, and dare I say, coolness, even for the Fonz.

Why??? Maybe Happy Days was losing viewers or ratings.  I don’t know.  But Downton Abbey? They were at their height of greatness!  Even my husband looked forward to it (and I don’t think anyone is reading this will mock him for that—right?). Did the Downton Abbey writers not feel there was already enough drama?  Let’s see:

·      Dramatic death that could have been avoided in childbirth

·      Gay encounter made up only by a good sound beating

·      Prison release after proof of suicide rather than murder

·      The Catholic chauffeur son-in-law helping save the entire estate with his farming skills

·      Love from a married man whose wife is in the looney bin

·      A prostitute for a cook who brings shame on all who enter but gets to leave to be close to her child

·      A wild teen-ager bound to bring shame upon the whole family if the writing sister doesn’t do it herself first?

Wow.  Looking at it on paper it is clear we have entered Soap Opera Realm here.  Hmmmm…That can only mean one thing—Matthew isn’t really dead!! He’s just staring intently at the lovely hummingbird fluttering near the broken steering wheel of his smashed up car! And that red stuff is just strawberry preserves spilled from the passing truck, which will turn out to be a secret family recipe and become famous, making certain Downton maintains their fortune ever more!  Hoorah! Ok.  I feel much better. Maybe I will watch next season afterall.

Pitch Perfect

There are a few perfect sounds in the world, including: the first cry of a newborn baby, the trickling of a mountain stream far away from civilization, and the crack of a young boy's bat hitting a baseball right at the perfect sweet spot.  

I went to my son's first scrimage on Saturday and was reminded of how much I secretly love baseball. Now, what I am about to say is not to make all of my family members choking to death in the bitter cold Utah inversion feel bad, but wow, what a beautiful day.  

I walked up to the park where people huddled togther seeking the cool, slender shadows of scattered trees, almost like campers grouped around the warmth of a fire at night. Finding a shady spot, I sat back and watched my son throw pitches from the mound.  Every time the ball left his fingers, my heart stalled until that little leather-covered ball sped across the plate, narrowly missing the smack of the bat. Yet whether it was a strike-out or a hit (see the comment of the perfect sound), I still felt a thrill.  

There's just something about the combination of sunshine, neighborhood crowds, dirt, chalk, and a baseball, that makes me fall in love with the game.  It's the highlight of my summer Saturdays. And the best part of basebal in San Diego, we can play all year round--we don't have to wait until Opening Day!

Einstein, eat your heart out (unless it has added salt)

I finally did it—I defied the laws of physics!

Well, one of them anyhow—the one that has plagued me for the last several years.  It’s that pesky law that says matter can neither be created nor destroyed.  Here’ how my body interprets that—when someone else, namely my husband, loses weight, namely because of his thyroid issues, then that matter, namely pounds, leaves his body, and rather than just disappearing (that law, remember—matter can’t just be destroyed?), it goes straight to me!

Well, not this time! Since his cancer came back, my husband has lost a few pounds, as I suspected he would.  And I figured they’d find their way to me. But thanks to my dutiful, supportiveness as his wife, they didn’t! Not for lack of trying, though. I actually joined him in his iodine-free diet for a few weeks (I knew I wouldn’t be able to figure out food for him if I weren’t doing it for myself, too). 

So, no seafood (easy for me, harder for him, especially as we just took a trip to Boston), no dairy products, no processed food, nothing with added salt.  Yeah, pretty much the fruits and nuts diet.  I think I’m growing a bushy tail and buck teeth—I feel like a squirrel.  But a healthy squirrel!

This was all in preparation for his radiation treatment he had this week.  But now that it is over, I just want to gnaw on a stick of butter!  Not really. But I could certainly go for some melted over a nice big bowl of salty popcorn, maybe with a side of hot chocolate and cheese dip.  Oh, yeah. I can feel the matter coming back to my thighs already!

I’m kind of thinking Nobel Prize for science, defying that physics law, and all.  I wonder which one I will attempt to beat next?  Maybe gravity.  There are definitely parts of my body that would be quite happy about that.  And I’m thinking that bowl of deep-fried chocolate-covered cheese isn’t going to help much.  But it will be SOOO worth it!

catching up with life

Is that even possible? Catching up with life? Well, at least I can give a brief update. First, one of my sister's pointed out I never mentioned what happened with my son's scary bump on the back of his neck.  So, I will.

He had to go in for an MRI.  And he was excited!  So excited.  Like Legoland excited.  I just didn't have the heart to say, "Are you kidding? This will be one of the most unnerving, uncomfortable, un-energetic-happy-boy-like thing you've ever done!" But I felt I had to at least warn him it really wouldn't be fun. It would be loud, banging as they slide you into this tube that seems like a claustrophobic space capsule. Ahhh--maybe that was my mistake.  This is my child who wants to be an astrophysicist one day, so maybe that sounded like an exciting space adventure rather than a modern day torture chamber.

Well, he was extremely brave, but still talks about how it was hands-down the worst experience of his life (lucky--he's young). I have to say it was one of my worst experiences too.  But when the results came back, everything looked fine.  I don't even remember what they said they thought caused the bump.  Must not have been too interesting. But if ever a person could will himself to be healthy, just to avoid ever having an MRI again, ever, it is my son.  Whew!

Now if only that worked for my husband. I mentioned his cancer returned. He went into surgery in August to remove the tumor, some lymph nodes, and the surrounding tissue.  The cancer had spread. So, now he will undergo radiation in two more weeks.  That's always fun.

But here's the crazy part. Because the thyroid cells will suck up iodine, he has to starve his body of iodine for the next 15 days, so when the radioactive iodine enters his system the cancer cells will absorb it and die.  Then any residual iodine can be detected on a scan, showing where the cancer may still be spread. I'm sure there is a much better explanation somewhere, but that's my simple take. Anyhow...

Do you know what an iodine-free diet is like? Picture the Word of Wisdom on a cleansing diet.  No dairy, no seafood, little meat/poultry, nothing processed with salt or with added salt--which is just about everything not grown out of our garden. He can pretty much eat fruits, vegetables, and unsalted nuts. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's called the hummingbird diet. Oh, and when I say "he" can eat it, I mean "we" because, yes, I am joining him on his diet adventure.  And I'm starving!  And do you see the glaring lack of chocolate?!!! I admit to cheating and eating some caramel popcorn I had made for a friend, who wasn't home, so I couldn't let it go to waste, right? Wow. I just admitted that out loud--not the cheating part, but eating my friend's popcorn.  See--lack of junk food makes me loose my sense of propriety.  Soon I'll be running around in a clown costume, talking to my imaginary pet llama, or worse--rooting for University of Utah!

All this talk about food, and the lack thereof is making me hungry--I think I'll go have a cucumber, or four.

Three Wishes

My husband's cancer is back.  It's a little scary, a little crazy. But if there is an upside to it all, it's that it makes us step back and refocus our priorities and what we really want.  It makes us appreciate more the little things, the important things.  I think this is part of what the Lord meant when He said we must become as little children to enter the kingdom of heaven. Children recognize those small miracles.  Their desires are pure and simple.  Let me give you an example:


A couple of weeks ago, one of my young sons asked me, "If you could have three wishes, what would they be?"


I said, "Hmmm...I don't know," (this was before we knew about the cancer).  "What would yours be?"


Here's what he said:


"I would wish:

• To have the best handwriting
• To have any Lego set anytime, all organized, and with a snap of my fingers they would all be put away
• And to have great eye sight."

Then my even younger daughter chimed in with her wishes:

"I would wish for:

• World peace
• That Mom would always be happy [yeah, I'm raising her right]
• And to be a warewolf [like I said, raising her right]."

Wow.  I'm just not even sure what to say about those wishes, or what they say about us! Wishes that don't include money, chocolate, super powers, world domination, or even more wishes.  Just the simple things like Legos and furry bodies with vicious sharp teeth.  See--it's all about priorities.  And I'm thinking ours are in pretty good order.

Women's Work

Alright all you lazy moms—I think it’s time for those of us who have “never worked a day in our lives” to start lining up for unemployment benefits. Maybe then we could show we care about the economy.

If a woman is not in the “work force” does it mean she cares less about economic issues? Does it mean she is less aware of the terrible economic problems facing our nation, more particularly her own family? Does it mean she is out of touch with how the economy impacts hers or her family’s life?

No!

If a woman is not the one bringing home a pay check, she still has to worry about that pay check.

Right now my husband’s company is going through a hostile take-over. It is not my job at stake. I am not the one dealing with the intricacies of such transactions. The share-holders do not even know I exist. But am I concerned? You better believe it.

My husband and I made the choice nearly 20 years ago that when children came to our family I would care for them full-time, even if it meant financial sacrifice and sacrifice of my own time and career, among other things. For the last 15 years, this is exactly what I have been doing. I know many people think that’s crazy. I know many people, including even some other mothers, put very little value on what I do and the choice we made.

Several years ago, when we tried to get life insurance for me, the first insurance company we went to refused to insure me because I “didn’t contribute” enough to our financial well-being. When we sat down and calculated my “contributions” we quickly discovered that were we to have to hire out the “work” I do (if I were to die or become incapacitated), we wouldn’t be able to afford it! This was just for the basic cooking, cleaning, laundry, yard work, music lessons, and child-care, not to mention tutoring and full-time teaching for our one home-schooled child. Needless to say, I was more than displeased with the insurance company’s ignorant response (obviously, we dropped them as our carrier for any insurance and went with another company).

When a woman leaves the “work force” to care for her family, it does not make her less concerned or less in touch with economic concerns. If anything, it makes us more concerned. We have to plan carefully, make adjustments and sacrifices, and be creative in budget development. We know that if our husband loses his job, we do not have a second income to fall back on. I fully recognize many women don’t have the choice to be at home full-time, and I feel extremely grateful that I can be with my kids. Although it is not without its challenges, being home with my kids is my favorite place to be and it is my very most favorite job. I wouldn’t change it for the world. And I hope I don’t have to.