I work as a school nurse, but my real joy and satisfaction comes from being my husband's wife and my kids' mom. This blog shares bits and pieces about my life.
Now that number might represent how many years old I feel when I wake up in the morning. Seriously. I can't believe how stiff my muscles are and how bad my back hurts when I get out of bed in the morning. And the longer I stay in bed, the worse it gets. So, no staying in bed past about 7:30 a.m. for me. My back just gets stiffer and more uncomfortable the longer I lay there.
The number 108 might also represent Carson's weight class for this year. Well, the weight class is actually 106 but for most tournaments and post-season there is a 2-pound weight allowance, effectively making the weight class 108. I am so glad for that extra 2 pounds...108 is doable but 106? Yikes!
But those two previous possibilities are not really what 108 represents today. 108 is the number of blog posts I wrote for this year, beating last year's total by one whole blog post. I thought about doing a "year in review in pictures" for this last post of the year, but I decided to finish with pictures from Christmas Eve Day and Christmas.
The crew went ice skating.
Some were a little happier just watching
Then before we knew it, it was Christmas morning. And there was a huge pile of presents to be passed out, but fortunately there were a lot of cute little elves ready to help.
And some traditions continued...
A "Precious Mommy" ornament. This one was from Carson. Katelyn gave me one, too.
Family picture in front of the Christmas tree. Next year, Katelyn will be in Tempe.
And there were little ones to provide overall entertainment and cuteness to fill the day
2013 was a wonderful year with many memories created with family and friends. I am looking forward to 2014.
The other night as Carson and I were driving in the car I asked him what his favorite part of Christmas was. He thought for a moment and then said he wasn't sure. I shared that when I was younger my favorite part was thinking about all of the presents I might receive, but now I am grateful for time I can spend with family. With family time in mind, I invited my parents, my brothers and their families over to our house last night for some Christmas cookie making and decorating. I think it is safe to say that our house has not heard that level of noise in quite awhile. But the kids had a great time, grandpa got to direct the process, Carson and Dave entertained and the rest of us grown-ups just sat around and watched the chaos. It was awesome.
Josie enjoying the fire, not having the first clue about what will be happening at our house in just a few short hours
Grandpa helping each child get a turn cutting out cookies
There were some who were more interested in the trains than the cookies
One kiddo was just too tiny to participate
Sometimes we left the kids on their own to decorate with Josie to supervise
Uncle Dave got in on the decorating action at the very end
Some of the finished products
I have an awesome life...just wish I could eat the cookies. I heard they were delicious.
Back in December 2008 I blogged about this month's character trait, Caring. I posted almost daily small observations of the caring that I saw throughout the day. It was so nice to re-read those posts. Now, I'm not a Grinch in any way, but reading of all the caring that I had seen caused my heart to grow almost 2 sizes yesterday.
While I am not "elf on the shelf" and my report of caring might not affect behavior or presents received, I have spent some time being intentional in my observations of people and seeking out examples of caring. Recognizing that caring is happening all around us should be inspiring, and hopefully infectious.
I have seen caring in...
a high school boy who took several minutes to sit with an upset student, waiting patiently with that student until he was feeling better
a sweet daughter who interrupted her breakfast to help her mom get the Christmas cards and letters put into envelopes
a loving father who received a phone call at 11:40 p.m. from his daughter. She was stuck at the bottom of a snowy hill. He drove 30 minutes on slippery roads to go help her.
a caring son who makes sure all of the advent calendars have been moved to the correct day, helping build the anticipation of this wonderful time of year.
an educational assistant who delivered a small present to the school nurse, saying "I think sometimes you are just forgotten."
a ward choir director who has given much of his time to prepare a special Christmas program this year, thinking outside of the box and incorporating the Primary children in the sacrament program.
this video message about three young men who take the time to notice others in need and then take just the extra few seconds that is needed to offer assistance
So what examples of caring have you seen? Have you taken the time to notice? Does seeing caring inspire you to be more caring? This time of year it is so easy to get caught up in the stress of shopping, the stress of having just the right present or the right treat plate, the stress of outdoing the Facebook post of what your friend's elf has been doing, the stress of just trying to keep it all together. When the stress gets to be too much, stop, take a deep breath, and just notice. Notice and appreciate the small, simple things. Notice and nurture the relationships that matter. Notice the caring and allow it to be contagious.
Yesterday I was the person who saved a pew that remained empty. The people that I had saved the pew for never came. I'm not sure of the reason for their absence; maybe they were distracted by work, or watching football or maybe they just didn't want to come. I do know that as I sat on the stand and watched eagerly for them to arrive I was saddened when I came to the realization that they weren't coming. I was sad that they missed out on the opportunity to be spiritually fed. Yesterday's sermon was a completely Christ-centered sermon and was very uplifting. I was sad that wordly things, important as they may have seemed, took precedence over spiritual things. I was sad because I truly missed them not being at church with me.
During the winter our house becomes a lesson in static electricity. Some of us have multiple opportunities a day to learn about static charges and shocking. When the kids were little Dave used to put on fleece socks and scuff his feet along the ground. He would then chase the kids around the house with them squealing "Not the shocker socks" and giggling the whole way. They are too old now to appreciate that game. Sad that they have to grow up.
Unfortunately I seem to be the one who carries the biggest charge. Go figure, the smallest one in the house is the one who can create the biggest spark. I can even generate static while walking through the grocery store and shock myself anytime I try to open one of the freezer doors. Sometimes the static is so bad that I shock myself just pushing the cart. And it doesn't matter how cold it is while I am gassing up my car, I will not get back in the car to wait while the car fills. I would be one of those people who blows up the gas station with a single spark (The MythBusters said that this could actually happen).
At home it is so bad that I have to ground myself before I touch the light switch plate or the volume control on the sound bar (I've shorted it out a couple of times, but turning it off and letting it rest resets it). Before giving Dave a kiss I have to touch his arm or cheek because trying to kiss him without grounding is very painful. We give literal meaning to setting off sparks with a kiss. We look pretty funny as we slowly, carefully move in for a kiss but have to touch a cheek or hand before lips actually touch. We've tried adding humidity to the house, but to no avail. I'm still the shocker lady.
Thinking about dry winter air and static electricity makes me wonder if I'll still have this problem when I move to South Carolina. More points for Charleston if it means no shocking each other through the winter season.
The other night Dave had to take Carson to the urgent care. Carson had a spider bite or perhaps beginning of a skin infection on his forearm, whatever it was it needed to be looked at since the redness and swelling was getting worse. After Dave's episode at Carson's MRI, I usually don't ask him to take the kids to the doctor, but I had something else going on so Dave was up.
When the boys got home they walked in the door chuckling and shared how the visit went. It went something like this...
The doctor was trying to make small talk during the examination so he asked Carson what he his future career plans were. Carson said he wanted to be an architect. The doctor then asked if Carson was smart. Carson said "Yeah, I'm pretty smart." Then the doctor asked what Carson's GPA was and Carson said "Not that smart." The doctor then said "Well what is it?" Carson then shared his less-than-smart GPA to which the doctor said "Yeah, you're dumb."
So here's the kicker...the boys were totally laughing during the re-telling. I laughed because they were laughing but on further reflection of the conversation I became a little irritated. First, I couldn't believe that an urgent care doctor was so nosy about Carson's GPA. Why not make small talk about something else? Furthermore, where does the doctor get off telling Carson he is dumb? He has no connection to Carson, doesn't know his situation or that he really is smart kid. Totally unprofessional in my opinion.
But since Carson came home laughing about it and still laughs about it now (as well as agreeing with the doctor that his GPA is dumb), I guess I will let it go. I won't drop the doctor a little note letting him know that Carson's grandpa is the one who signs his paychecks. There must have been something lost in the re-telling.
We are currently in the middle of an Artic blast. It feels like I picture it must feel like in the Yukon during "early" winter (early winter is a term my niece Charlotte coined to describe fall in Minnesota). I think early winter in the Yukon is probably even colder than early winter in Minnesota. Anyway, the lows are in the single digits and the high for today is supposed to be 12. As if the temperatures weren't cold enough, we now have strong winds blowing that drive the wind chill temperatures down to the negative double digits. That is dang cold. Too dang cold to be outside for running so that means I have to run on the treadmill. Blech.
About the only time I am warm all day is an hour before bedtime and when I am sleeping. During those times my body turns into a super-charged furnace. Seriously it feels like I am on fire. Dave and the kids (well really just Carson) want to sit with me on the cuddle couch so they can get warmed, but it just gets too hot and somebody has to move. I usually flinch first and move. Bedtime is the worst because I want to turn the heat down to 61 or 62 so I can sleep comfortably, but apparently that is too cold for the kids. Dave doesn't really notice because, well, he sleeps with his own personal super-charged furnace, but the kids have informed me that I am trying to freeze them. Matter of fact, Katelyn said the other night she slept in running tights, wool socks, a shirt, footie pajamas, had her fuzzy blanket and quilt pulled up around her ears and she was still cold. That's no good. We are trying to find a happy compromise between the 61-62 I would like the thermostat set at and the 71 the kids would prefer. The problem is that they are stinky little buggers and will get up and turn up the thermostat after I have gone to bed.
The good news is that this round of Artic air is supposed to be replaced by a little warmer air by the middle of the week next week. The bad news is that it will still be cold enough for the moisture that rolls in with the warmer air will roll in as snow. But at least I can run outside in the snow. That makes me happy.
I said before that parenting young adults and older teen-agers is a whole new ball game, right? I mean, you can't really send a 20-year old to time out or put a 17-year old in his room when we all need a break. They would just laugh and scoff at those attempts. And besides that, they have lived with you long enough to know exactly what you care about, how to push your buttons and what words to say to push you right to the edge. And when you are hanging over the cliff, clinging desperately to the edge, instead of apologizing for their role in putting you there they'll see your struggle and then stomp on your fingers trying to finish off what they started. They want to see you fall into that pit of anger and frustration because seeing you there is much easier than dealing with the real issues. And quite honestly, even though you are the adult and know exactly what they are doing, it is really dang hard not to go directly to that pit. It is hard to remain loving, kind, patient and understanding when you know that their actions and words are intentional, maybe immature, but intentional nonetheless. I suppose the hurtful words and actions are inevitable and part of the process of separating from parents. But I'm not going to lie, it pretty much sucks when we are going through the process.
Right now it is Carson who has decided to push. First it was about church. He hates. Everyone is stupid. He wants to go somewhere else. Now it wrestling. He doesn't want us to come to his matches. He says he doesn't like us there. He says he feels to much pressure to please. He says he can't focus on his performance when he knows we are in the stands watching. He does want to wrestle, he just doesn't want us there to see him wrestle. The boy really does know how to pick some of the most sensitive, important issues and attack them. I mean, church and wrestling have been a big part of his entire life, heck a big part of our family life.
So what to do? Well, honestly, I am not sure and I don't think there are any right answers here. First, with church, I told him that as long as he is in high school he must attend church with us. Once he graduates, he can look for something different. I told him I would even attend other churches with him as he is searching. The only request that I had was that he conduct his search prayerfully so that he would know God's will for him. For wrestling, we are going to honor his request and not attend his matches. We'll wait for an invitation to come back. I hope his season goes as he has planned.
I wish we had a crystal ball to see if what we have decided to do is the right decision. Seriously, this is hard and I wish that I knew 100% that we are doing it right and that all will turn out well.
This post has been in my "drafts" for over a year. I'm not sure why I left it there but I'm publishing it today.
"Nothing is impossible. The word itself says: I'm possible"
I read that phrase as I was leaving a 2nd grade classroom. It reminded me of the quote that was on the bottom of a district newsletter. The quote was about courage and I'm going to have to paraphrase.
Courage is being afraid to get on the horse, but saddling up and getting on anyway--John Wayne
Both of these quotes got me to thinking about being a mother. Being a mother takes courage, and even though in my Mother's Day blog I wondered if I had made an impact in my children's life (maybe some of you mothers of teen-agers can empathize with me here and will understand what I mean), I know that I have. Sometimes the impact was good, and then other times the impact will give my children an opportunity to make a notation in their own "What Not To Do" parenting book.
In my work and calling at church I see courageous mothers all around me.
There is the mother who advocates for her special needs child and researches all available programs to make sure her son isn't left behind.
There is the mother who takes on the "establishment" of public education and refuses to let them tell her what is best for her child.
There is the mother who cares for her son with cancer all while trying to work, keep up the house, and care for her other children.
There is the mother who continues her education so she can provide a better life for her children.
There is the mother who is a college graduate who made the decision to stay at home with her children. She doesn't listen to those who ask "Why do you want to waste all of that time and education by staying at home?"
There is the mother of teen-agers who is brave enough to let her children exercise their agency, even when she can see where the choices might lead.
There is the mother of two small boys who keeps things going on the homefront while her husband is deployed to Libya.
There is the mother who refuses to let the abuses she suffered as a child define how she will parent her children. She tries every day to learn how to be loving and nurturing even though those things do not come naturally to her.
There is the mother who is not afraid to apologize to her child when she realizes that she jumped to conclusions, disciplined without hearing the whole story and really messed up.
Those are just a few examples of courageous mothers. I know there are so many more courageous mothers out there. But there is a difference between being courageous and being a superhero. A courageos mother recognizes that she is not going to get it right every time. She is willing to try even though she knows it is going to be extraordinarily hard. A courageous mother recognizes that she doesn't parent in a vacuum and is glad for the help, Godly help and humanly help. A superhero gets it right every time and doesn't think anything is hard or scary. A superhero doesn't ask for help because s/he believes s/he can do it all on her/his own.
A superhero is a fictional character. Mothers are very real.
