Family

Together we are better.

I just got done watching this great news coverage
on the silver medal win for Noelle Pikus-Pace.

I loved Noelle’s quote:

“Together we are better. Together we are stronger.
Together miracles can happen and dreams come true.”

Together we are better as families.
Together we are better as a country.
Together we are better in our marriages.
Together we are better as parents.
Together we are better as citizens of earth.
Together we are better as Christians.
Together: It really is the best place to be.

Our family rocks!!

We decided to make the most of our Saturday after a really high-stress week. We took a short road trip in the rental van. We’re still in negotiations with the insurance company.

We went up to Antelope Island and out to dinner at the close-by Cracker Barrel. We haven’t been to a Cracker Barrel since it was right down the street in TN. It was so fun to see the girls get all sentimental in the shop. (photos to come)

After a short stop at IKEA (2 hours is short) we cranked up the toons for the remaining hour long drive.

I busted out the camera because I wanted to capture the moment. My joy was full. (Glad I didn’t crash trying to multi-task – save your lectures)

Our family rocks just like they do on one of our favorite movies: Bandslam. If you haven’t seen it, you can’t possibly be complete.

Lessons from the trail: family bikeride

Man, I can’t wait for spring.

The following pictures have a funny story
that you would never guess just by looking at them.

One summer day, the year before last, a mother got really greedy
and decided that her family could ride their bikes
farther then ever before.

She wanted to make it from home to the nearby waterfalls.
It was only 16.5 miles round-trip.

Every family member, but her, complained the whole way.
The mom didn’t understand, she was having the time of her life.
Even the oldest daughter who was used to running all the time seemed to hate every minute.

At mile 6.5, (1.7 shy of their destiny) the mom cut her losses
and finally told everyone they could turn back.
The mother was so disappointed. The father was almost dead.
The kids vowed to never ride again.
But, to this day, all but the mom
are still all heard to brag of that long family ride
a few summers back.
(The mom is still waiting for the family conquer expedition.)

They still ride together as a family often
but never ever more then ten miles at a time.
The mom now sticks to the long distances by herself.

The moral of the story:
Sixteen miles for one person might be a piece of cake,
but just because you are that person
it doesn’t mean that you can automatically
expect your family to be as capable.

The other thing that we learned:
Together time is the best time to make memories,
even if everyone is in physical pain.

A Pause in Parenting {A Poem}

My four beautiful girls were all huddled around the computer desk a few days ago and were pointing, giggling, and talking as I cooked dinner. They were all so happy that I broke away from food preparation to investigate. (I’m always looking for new ways to make them happy – especially for when they spend time together) Upon inspection of the screen of my laptop, I was surprised to see them looking through my old blog. As they looked through all the old posts with stories and photos, they shared memories and debated names of former stuffed animals.

I was sucked in as easily as they had been. I knew in my heart Abigail was just making a really good attempt at procrastinating her homework, but I let it slide. We all ooo’ed and awe’d at how cute everyone’s younger and littler selves were and shared our opinions on silly things. “Sophia, you always look better with shorter hair.” “That was so fun when we dressed as Rapunzel.” “I wish Caroline could have kept her curls.”

Bella remembered out loud, “That time Caroline threw up in my mouth was so gross.” Abigail found the photo of her first crush in 5th grade and we discussed her continued respect for boys with brains. Sophia questioned me as to why I let her hair grow so long and scraggly. There were so many happy memories. Even the bad experiences have become happy over time.

It was a beautiful moment that I won’t forget. I felt so close with my girls. I felt so lucky to be their mom. I was so grateful for so many wonderful memories. I was so astounded that they have grown up so quickly. I wanted time to freeze.

I was so glad that I blogged. My mom pride swelled as I realized that my little hobby had preserved so much for us to share. The girls lamented, “Mom, you used to have the best blog, and now you are so boring. You just blog about your problems.” Out of the mouths of babes. I chuckled as I reminded them that they used to often be mad at me for blogging about them and sharing all their secrets, but was privately happy that they were not just giving me permission to blog about them, but were practically begging for it.

I look forward to sharing more kid stories although I think it is more difficult to find such entertaining material as they age. It will be a fun challenge.

This morning however as I searched my heart and photo folder on my hard-drive for a more recent story or two, I just couldn’t help but feel heavy-hearted with the fact that my little girls are so grown-up.

A Pause in Parenting

They will grow so fast, they would say:
Try to enjoy every day.
I skeptically disagreed.
The dirty diapers will never stop
and neither will the million scraped knees.

I dragged along trying my best
not to totally screw up their joy.
I felt like a failure most of the time
and lamented my previous care-free me.

Ran around like a chicken I did.
Please don’t cut off my head.
Dragged them to and from every magical place
While I often wished for just a moment of peace.

It was in the car and school and church
and yard and kitchen and parks
that each little memory was made.
I didn’t believe I would ever miss it:
the toil and sweat was pain.

I stole a smile here and a smirk from them there
and a billion laughs and songs and sighs,
I often just cursed all the work it required
and didn’t stop to see the end
that would come quicker than a wink of an eye.

Now, I can’t make them stop.
They grow every day.
A millimeter at a time.
I would debate their inevitable progress still
if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

I can’t stop time.
I can’t keep them for mine.
Someday they will fly this coop.
I didn’t enjoy every minute like I was told
but I tried as hard as I could.

They, however, enjoyed a lot more
then I ever had time to see
and I guess that is the way
that God always intended parenting to be.

I Feel Like I’m Rich

This morning after getting Caroline dressed for preschool, like usual, I looked her over and told her how cute she looked. She is cute every day, even when I don’t brush her hair. (Yeah, I admit that there are days I don’t brush her hair – I usually at least just pull it back in a ponytail. Judge only after you have four children.)

Today Caroline was feeling really special as yesterday we got her haircut at the local hair-school for $3.50 and we bought her a new shirt from the Walmart clearance rack for $4. Also, the other day LG had insisted that I buy her a new pair of tennis shoes that were easier for her to put on and take off. We’ve been making do with a pair from the thrift store that weren’t working so well. After brushing her shorter hair and putting it in a headband and sporting her new digs when I told her she looked cute she really believed it. She looked at me with wide eyes and a huge smile and said, “Mom, I feel like I am rich or something.”

Her declaration took me by surprise. We are obviously emphasizing our financial status a little too much around here. I chuckled and thought to myself, “Um yeah kid, you are soooo rich. We spent a whole whopping $17.50 on you all year.” I then thought how much happier I would be if shopping from the clearance rack at Walmart would make me feel as rich as it did for Caroline.

Then as I posed her for a picture the real lesson came in the form of a still small voice. “You are rich Alice. You are so very rich.” Like always the voice was right. Look at this beautiful girl. She’s all mine. She makes me the richest woman in the world.

As I looked around our small apartment at our comfortable couches, artwork on the walls, books on the shelves, and felt the warmth of my very humble American home I felt ashamed for my worldliness. Compared to most of the world, we are rich. We are very rich. We are rich in worldly terms and too often I am too prideful to see it. If worldly stuff mattered I should be grateful for so much abundance, but truly this little girl is way more of a reason for my heart to be full of thanksgiving because she is one of my few eternal treasures that I will be grateful for beyond the confines of this earth.

Relationships

I got up at 7 am and tried all day to blog and between three non-working keys on the laptop (that have fixed themselves miraculously) and the million other interruptions/to-do items, I never even typed in the blog url to get started until ten o’clock tonight. How I’ve needed to write. It’s silly, this love affair I have with writing. It’s as if the blank page is my sanctuary. I fill it up and become the sanctuary for myself.

Firefly Lane is my latest read. My 4-star review can be found over on GoodReads. The book is about two best friends over a thirty year period of time. It was heart wrenching and touching in every single decade. It made me wish for a friendship like that of fictional Kate and Tully. I have great friends but none who know me as well as these two knew one another and none who have been around and close for 30 years. Well, maybe my sisters count. I’ve known them a long time and they are pretty intimate with my insanity.

2012-11-27 11.36.24

As I set down this book upon completion I was overcome with the idea that relationships are all that matter. The only thing I am taking with me when I die is my relationship with God, my relationship with myself, my relationship with my family, and my relationship with my fellow human beings. That’s it.

I can hope that I can take my relationship with paper and a pen but it ain’t gonna happen. Anything I write is stuck in mortality. Hmm. Maybe that’s not actually true. Maybe this explains my love with language. Like Kristin Hannah, I can write something that could inspire someone to have better relationships. If I do, they will take that inspiration with them….take my words with them. Even though that is a total tangent, it’s cool.

It lifted my spirits today to know that material stuff is petty. It’s not necessary for a happy fulfilled life. Sometimes its a hindrance.

So, life has been pretty crappy around here lately. Our landlord decided to sell the house we have been renting for the past two and a half years. We have a home here and love our neighborhood, but now we have been forced to move on. It’s been hard and emotional.

Not only is it hard to leave our beloved home, it’s also hard because LG and I made the decision to be financially responsible and make a significant downgrade. The downgrade is depressing yet necessary so that we can save money to not just get into our own home again but to be financially secure once we get there. We could have borrowed money to buy the house we are in and saved ourselves the hassle of moving, but if and when the furnace went out, we’d be in trouble. We have learned the hard way that we really don’t want to borrow money and we also don’t want to put ourselves in a position to need to be rescued.

So in the next few weeks we will be leaving our four bedroom 2,600 square foot home with a beautiful yard and a heaven-like neighborhood to reside in a 1,400 square foot 3 bedroom basement apartment with ONE bathroom!! It just sucks. There is no other way around it. There is nothing worse than knowing I am a parent who is failing my kids. They aren’t getting the stability we want them to have. They don’t get a lot of what we want them to have. What feels really crappy is knowing if we hadn’t taken our vacation last year to Disneyland, we may have had a different outcome now. If I would have known at the time that I was choosing future stability over one nice vacation for my kids before they fly from the nest, I don’t know what I would have done.

I do know one thing: I’m not taking my place of residence with me when I go, but we will all hopefully take with us the memories that were made. We will even take with us the memories we are going to make while fighting over the one toilet for the next few years. Somehow that makes this broken mom feel o.k. with it all. It also makes me feel better to know that the relationships I’ve forged in our current home are not just gone because I am moving, they will continue with me forever.

A song comes to mind.

The Baby Syndrome {vlogs by Caroline}

I don’t know if I will ever stop calling Caroline “baby” even though she has been telling me for over a year that she isn’t a baby anymore. I always remind her that she’s “my baby.” And she is.

I am a middle child and so I know little about babyhood. In fact, I am pretty sure I came out of the womb totally grown and responsible as I had a sister one year older than me and a brother one year older than her. My next sister was born by the time I turned four and another brother shortly after her. I have always had this inner dialogue that if I wanted anything I would have to get it myself. I don’t know what it would be like to be showered with attention even though I have this super annoying inner instinct to fight for it.

Watching Caroline I am actually stunned by the reality of babyhood. She oscillates between being showered with attention, fighting for attention, and not getting any at all. It must be challenging to be the baby. She’s spoiled rotten yet kind of ignored. I can imagine that may confuse a person. I need to read up on it so I can help her be healthy in her baby syndrome. I don’t want her to grow up all confused and needy.

Today Caroline started her second year of pre-school. I love the mornings that I can go and do whatever I want alone for a few hours. Unlike other parents that talk about missing their kids while they are at school, I look forward to Caroline’s kindergarten and beyond so that I will have a little more time to pursue my own goals without kids at feet. Call me selfish. I think you can just call me honest.

I took a video of Caroline this morning asking her about preschool.

Caroline in her babyhood has taken a real liking to the video camera lately. Here are some other vlogs that she has created. I make a true to life cameo in the first soccer video with my mean adamant mom-voice “NO.” It think I have perfected it if I do say so myself.

I am sure you noticed that I have taught my daughter to chomp on her gum just like me. Just a few weeks ago while driving alone in the car along a country road with no radio reception, I rolled down the windows and chomped away, just because LG wasn’t there to tell me the habit was annoying. It is amazing how chomping helps one to have something on which to focus when bored.

Other side-note: I so loved the Latin man on the sideline at the game. He just seemed to make the soccer game that much more authentic. It was fun to be close to him for one half of the game, but the second half we moved to the other side as his incessant cheering became a little cumbersome even with his fun futbol-inspired accent.

Live each day like it’s your last.

My grandma died of Alzheimer’s. My mom has memory issues. I won’t be surprised if she’s got it too. When I give myself time to think about it (which I try not to make too often) I am totally convinced that this too will be my lot in life. I am 39 years old and have struggled with my memory for at least a decade already. It’s scary when I sit down to the computer and can’t remember the name of a website that I frequent every day or when I have to turn around in the car 5 times in the same trip because I keep turning in the wrong direction. I can’t remember people’s names, movies I just watched, and conversations that have taken place. It’s terrifying.

Last weekend my parents were in town. For some reason (I can only figure it was her attempt to connect with me) my mom pointed out my grey hair. I hadn’t had time to color the roots and at 39 years old it’s a source of embarrassment for me. I have told my mom many many times that I don’t like her pointing it out, yet every time I see her she does. I immediately got defensive. It’s part of growing up with a critical mother. I was immediately irritated and forcefully said, “Mom, why do you do this every time I see you? You always point out my grey hair when I’ve told you I don’t like it.” She stammered through her response, “I think it’s great. You are going to have the beautiful white hair like your Grandma and Aunt Shirley.” I do hope for their beautiful hair but not for at least 20 more years. My mom walked off obviously shaken. I felt awful. I went over to her, gave her a hug, and said, “Mom, I’m sorry, I know you just forget.” With tears in her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry Alice, I do forget.”

Yesterday I had a thought. It was short-lived but was extremely powerful. What if God wants me to spend more time at home because my memory will be completely gone in the next ten years? I know that is being paranoid but I had just read about a son who lost his mother to early onset in her 50’s and sometimes I am an hypochondriac. Although I pushed the thought out of my mind as quickly as it came its affect lingered. What if I only had today as my last day with my kids? What if this was my last week? My last year? What would I change? A lot. Too much changing needs to take place, but I was able to view this little faith experiment called being “in love at home” with a new perspective as a gift to me and my family. Instead of being bitter, I got down on my knees and said thanks to my God and asked Him to make the changes faster. I pleaded, “Help me make the most of my time, and connect with my family.” It’s still a challenge. It’s not like it just gets simple when we are dealing with every day life, but my heart had a tiny change and I am grateful for it.

I learned last year that it’s a lot easier to be kind to the ones around us after a family member has died, but I am more determined to be kind and loving when it’s not as easy like when someone hurts my feelings for the 15th time.

He’s flying.

One year ago on this first Thursday morning in May, I was sitting in a conference room adjacent to Primary Children’s Hospital ICU in SLC. Many of my family members and I had kept an all night vigil just waiting for my nephew Braxton to come back to us. He was unconscious from an accident the day before and we feared the worst.

At about 6 a.m. I was feeling suffocated. I needed to escape and I thought if I could just go outside and see the sun rise then I could glean some energy to face whatever may come. I paced the street in front of the hospital. It was pitch dark. I kept looking over the city wondering where the sun was. I admired the beauty of the downtown lights, especially the SL temple. The temple brought me some peace. But more than anything I was wondering how would life ever move on for our family, but especially my brother’s little family if we lost Braxton?

I heard a little voice. It said, “Turn around Aunt Ali. Look and see.”

And there it was. The sun rises in the East, silly me. I was staring at the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. I felt Braxton riding in the rays. I can’t explain in, but I knew that this sunrise belonged to Braxton. He was going to be alright. “The view here is amazing,” he communicated with me through the sun.

I went back inside feeling a greater sense of peace. I felt an urge to play the song on my phone that we had listened to the night before about flying. My spirit was somehow connected to his spirit and I just knew one thing: Braxton was flying. He was o.k. He was aware of us and wanted us to know he was o.k. Moments later they called the red code. He was going. He wouldn’t be allowed to stay. His time was up with the sunset. He loved us. He didn’t want us to be sad because his new adventure was beautiful. Even the best sunrise on earth could not compare to what laid ahead for him.

I found these photos in my computer the other day. Moments like these are tender mercies. I heard Braxton say, “Make sure you show these to my dad. Let him know I am still flying.” What a special special boy. Love you Brax.

Finding Gratitude

So, if you read the about page, you have figured out what this new blog is all about. Basically I plan to chronicle my journey of learning to love being at home. After 14 years of parenting, I still haven’t figured it out. Yes, I’ve figured out some of it, but my goal is to figure out all of it. Ha! Let’s see how long it takes. {forever} I hope you plan on sticking around.

My hubby and I felt strongly that I needed to be home more. I quit my job to do so, which means that we will have to live much more frugally. We can make it on my husband’s income but to do so successfully it will take a lot of sacrifice.

I don’t like sacrifice. Well, at least I don’t like sacrifice until I realize that it was actually good for me, which is always the case.

To be happy, I realize that I am going to have to look for the good. Find the gratitude. If I can’t find it, I know that I will just be forever stuck wallowing in my sacrificial pity party.

Here is what I found on Week 1 of my new focus on family:

FORCED GRATITUDE (I had to force focus to find it)

By quitting my job, I automatically didn’t feel as rushed. Last Thursday I was able to happily take Abigail her forgotten lunch and spend 10 extra minutes (even though it made her late to preschool) helping Caroline paint her X. Video here.

On Friday night, after a grocery challenged week (because we are trying to stay under budget) Abigail and I made cookies for her to take to her movie night instead of buying something at the store. I noticed myself taking pride in my capability and I really enjoyed the time with Abigail. She is pretty good in the kitchen. Yeah mom!

Also on Friday night, instead of being bitter that I couldn’t afford to take the girls to the movie while LG was out of town, I tried to embrace a different form of entertainment. We went for a walk around the neighborhood and I fell in love with this view of the girls through the blooms. I also introduced the girls to one of my favorite chick flicks and we collectively admired the strength of female relationships.

On Sunday, I was feeling especially insignificant. My husband got a new calling in church (he is working with the youth) and was focusing on his new assignment. Instead of trying to draw him away as a comfort to my own insecurities, I was able to look and see how blessed I am that he has this new opportunity to focus on his own spirituality. I love him so. This took some serious humility, but it was empowering.

UNFORCED GRATITUDE (happened naturally)

Last Tuesday, after reading of my faith experiment on facebook, a friend brought me 6 pounds of ground sausage and said she wished she could quit her job and she wanted to support me in doing so. Yeah, I cried. It made me feel not so alone.