Good Bye 2016; here's to a Joyful 2017

2016 is almost over. This is the time of year people start talking about their New Year Resolutions, starting fresh, or moving on.

I'm not much for resolutions, and I really don't believe in "fresh starts," but I have been intrigued by the idea of picking a word or theme by which to live the next year - My One Word . While this is a faith based campaign, my personal reason for doing this is really to just be more purposeful in my daily living in 2017. So, what's my one word for 2017?

Joy

I want to do things that bring me joy, purchase only things that bring me joy, get rid of things (and people) that don't bring me joy, and share my joy with others. I want to be joyful in all aspects of my life.

Now, I think some of this is going to be a real challenge for me. I'm generally a happy person, but am I joyful? I'm not sure. I'm certainly going to make a conscious effort in 2017 to be joyful. I'm going to start by getting rid of many things that don't bring me joy. I have a lot of stuff - clothes, kitchen things, stuff people have given me that I don't really love but have felt guilty about letting go. I have to let go of things that don't bring me joy.

I'm also not really sure what activities truly bring me joy. Earlier this week, a friend asked me what I like to do when I'm not at work or with my kids. I had a difficult time answering him. I realize that over the last 25 years, I stopped doing many things that had brought me joy in the past. Why? Well, because the thing I liked most was being with Jeff, and he didn't like some of the other things I liked to do. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining about the compromises I made. This is what adults do when they want to have a relationship, and honestly, being with Jeff brought me so much joy. It didn't matter if we were sitting in bed looking at our phones together, watching Supernatural, or talking about our days. I loved being with him when we took the kids to movies or out to eat. He brought me so much joy.

But he's not here any more, at least not physically. And I have to figure out again what brings me joy.

The Move (Originally posted 10/22/16 on Facebook)

I originally posted this on Facebook, but I wanted to make sure I captured it on my blog as well.

So, I did something. I did something big. And I did it alone.

I bought a house this week. I went to sign papers at closing all by myself. The co-owner line was left blank on every page. I think this is the first time that I have been hit smack in the face with this new identity of mine. I’m single. I’m alone. (I know I have the support of all of you - but that’s not what I’m talking about here.)

Now, anyone who has known me for any length of time may remember that Jeff and I moved a lot. I mean A LOT. We moved 18 times in 25 years of marriage. 16 of those times were in the first 17 years of our relationship. We moved three times in 12 months around year ten. Moving was something Jeff and I did together. And we did it well.

We had a system. We could pack up a house, move, and unpack in 48 hours if we needed to. We had so many tips and tricks for moving, people suggested we write a book. We knew the best places to get boxes, the best way to pack a truck or a trailer, and the best places to get rid of old unwanted furniture. Moving was something Jeff and I did together.

Except this time. This time Jeff isn’t here to get boxes in the middle of the night from Walmart. He isn’t here to meticulously pack up his James Michener book collection. He isn’t here to color code the labels and stack the boxes in the garage. He isn’t here to drive the U-haul or pull a trailer. He isn’t here to help me manage my anxiety about moving and getting everything done. He isn’t here. I am alone and our system doesn’t work with just one person.

Some people have said to me things like, “The move will be good for you. A fresh start for you and the kids.” They may be right. But maybe part of me doesn’t want a “fresh start.” Maybe I want to be where I can still see him standing in the kitchen eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich over the sink. Maybe I want to be where I can still picture him on the couch, leaning forward, watching the U game, and complaining about the refs and announcers. Maybe I want to be where I can still imagine him yelling at all of us to quit turning the heat up (to 64 degrees - smh). Maybe I am scared to do this all by myself and I don’t want to move because I’m afraid I will feel more of my memories of him slipping away.

And maybe I know there really is no such thing as a “fresh start.” There is no starting over. There is a lot of carrying on, pushing through, and doing the best I can. But a fresh start? What does that even mean? I’ll be in a new place, a new neighborhood, but I take all of my literal and figurative baggage with me. In so many ways, this is NOT a fresh start. This move is just a small part of a much bigger change, just like so many other things this year. It’s part of my new normal.

I’m sure this is the first of many big things I’ll have to do alone over the next few years. I’m ok with that.

So, I have a new system for packing and moving. It’s not nearly as sophisticated as the system Jeff and I had together, but it works for my new normal. I’m hiring people to come do it for me. :)

25th Anniversary

Today is my 25th wedding anniversary. My heart is breaking a little today.

I was in a grief support group last night and I said something that shocked me a little. I said, "I wanted this anniversary so badly." I wanted to be able to say, "My husband and I have been married for 25 years. " It was a milestone I craved.  Almost like a right of passage, or maybe a badge of honor for managing Jeff's crap for so long. ;)

I was frustrated and upset when people in the group said things to me that I've heard for 25 years. They said things like, "At least you found true love." "You had something special that many people never have." "You are so lucky you were married for so long to your soul mate."

When Jeff was alive, I would agree. I would say, "You're right, I am lucky." or "Absolutely we have something special." People often told us they looked to our relationship as an example of what a good marriage was. We were the power couple others wanted to be. But since Jeff passed, comments like that have felt like an attempt to minimize my pain. I wanted 25 more years with him. I wanted forever with him. I didn't want the special something we had to ever end.

I've had some time (and a little reality check from a dear friend) to think about all of this a bit more and I now understand that it wouldn't matter if Jeff and I had only 5 years together or 50, it would still have been amazing and magical. I can't let his death take away from how special our relationship was.

I don't want to romanticize our relationship though. It wasn't always easy. There were times when I had to make a conscious decision each morning to choose in to the relationship, to actively work at loving him, to force myself to remember all of his good qualities. But no matter what we went through, we loved each other. Jeff adored me. I mean ADORED me. And he made me feel loved and special and strong in a way no one else ever had. For that, I will be forever grateful to him and for our magical relationship.

Thank you Jeff for the awesome time we had together. Thank you for helping me grow into the strong, confident person I am today. Thank you for loving me unconditionally and making me your queen. Thank you for giving me 5 beautiful and amazing children. Thank you for believing in me when I didn't. Thank you for reminding me every day how much you loved me. Thank you. I will love you forever and always cherish the time we had together.

Grandma Pat's Garden (delayed post)

I wrote this over a year ago. 

My mom is an amazing gardener. When I was a child, her garden was HUGE. What I remember most about the garden of my childhood is the raspberries. The raspberry bushes seemed to go on forever and both my older brother and I have similar memories of having to pick them, wearing long sleeve flannel shirts so our arms wouldn't get too scratched up.

Oh, and the homemade raspberry icecream! My mouth is watering just thinking about it! I loved hearing the electric mixer churning the cream and raspberries. I loved helping my parents add the rock salt and ice to the wooden icecream maker. But most of all, I loved the taste of the smooth cream and tart raspberries. YUM!

My mom still gardens. Her garden now isn't as big as the one I remember from my childhood, but she still knows how to put the rest of the neighbors to shame!

Now, I appreciate my mom's garden for different reasons. I am the beneficiary of the literal fruits of her efforts. I get a nice bag (or two, or three) full of tomatoes, beans, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, butternut squash, spaghetti squash, green beans, peas, corn, beets, and radishes nearly every week. My kids love eating veggies from Grandma Pat's garden!

I also appreciate that my mom takes the time to let my kids help her in the garden. This year, Grayson got to help plant! He has had a lot of fun watching "his" vegetables grow!

Every year, my mom also plants pumpkins for the kids. Today, Grayson got to pick his pumpkin.

Thanks Mom, for planting a garden! It's nice that I get fresh vegetables, but it's even better that my kids get to "help" you and spend time with you doing such a cool thing.

Voice over final product

Grayson's voice over will be aired soon on KUER!  (I had to make it into a QuickTime video to make it work on Blogger.)

He has three lines...

The first kid voice saying, "Mom, you listen to KUER every morning. All I ever hear is Steve Inskeep this and Dan Bammes that."

In the middle, "Have you given to KUER?"

And the last, "Please oh please oh please!"

He handled himself so well during the recording - like a true professional.

So, if you're inclined to follow his prompting and donate to KUER, you can do so from the website: www.kuer.org

Casting Call for Voice Over

Today, Grayson got a taste of radio life. KUER asked for volunteers to voice a radio commercial for their big fundraising efforts that will take place in the next little bit.

Maddie was disappointed they didn't need a teenage girl, Ryan wasn't interested, and Grayson... well, let's just say that Grayson was THRILLED at the chance to be in a commercial.

He did great, but was a little sad that it was a radio commercial and that he wasn't going to be on TV.

Who knows, this may be the beginning of something big...

Back to school

The kids have each been in school for almost two weeks now. It's been a bit of an adjustment because I have one in each level of school now - high school, jr. high, and elementary. That's a lot of start/end times, early out/late start days, lunch money, and no student days to remember (oh how I LOVE Google Calendar!).

So far, so good. The kids haven't complained too much and we're settling into a routine of getting homework done and dinner finished before 9:00 pm.

It's been a while!

I was sending a couple of friends an email update and thought "Holy cow! I can use this for my blog! Woohoo!  Kill two birds with one stone!" So here it is...I've added a bit more to the original email.

Life is good.

Maddie is registered to go to Hillcrest (10th grade!)  and will be taking the test to get her driving permit this Friday.  She didn't pass last week, so keep your fingers crossed that she passes the test tomorrow.  She is getting super involved with Red Cross Youth Council. She's on the RCYC Executive Committee and will soon be a Twitter and Facebook Ninja because she was just appointed as the Youth Council Communications Director (or some title like that).  I'm not sure how this will effect my data plan since she already sends/receives about 14,000 text messages a month. Yes, you read that right, fourteen thousand!

Ryan is registered to go to Indian Hills (7th grade). He's having fun being in Scouts and YM.  He still only sends about 15 texts a month, but I suspect as he starts to collect girls' phone numbers this school year that number may increase by a few.

Grayson is registered to go to Sprucewood (3rd grade).  He's working on his own invention right now - web shooters to go with his Spiderman costume.  This will be the third time he's been Spiderman for Halloween.  I don't have the heart to tell him that you can't just go catch a spider and put it in a little pouch on your wrist and make it shoot out webs that will hold you.  I hope he figures it out when he tests everything jumping off the retaining wall in the back yard before he tries jumping off the roof.  

(Total side note here... I love this picture of Jeff and me.  Mostly, I love it because Grayson totally photo bombed us.  Can you see his little face?)

I think a lot has changed for me since the last time I blogged... I just re-read all of my other posts and realize how much has changed!

I now work for the Utah Education Network as a Technology Integration Instructor. I have the coolest job in the world. I get to teach other teachers how to use awesome technology

Jeff has too many jobs to name.  He is still a Crisis Counselor in the ER for IHC, and he has a small private practice going.  We also started a consulting company and are working on some drop-out prevention curriculum for the Utah State Office of Education.

We're busy.

Sammy, the dog, is doing very well.  She has stopped peeing on people when they come to the house. She just rolls over at their feet now.



Like I said, life is good.

Open letter to my baby brother...

Dear Bill,

Today would be your 38th birthday.  You've been gone for just over 4 years now.  I miss you a lot.  My kids miss you too.  Ryan has your Mountain Man drawing in his room and often talks about how talented you were.  Maddie fondly remembers you playing soccer/frisbee/whatever with all the kids in Mom's backyard and every time we are all together she tells me how much she misses you. 

You've been on my mind a lot lately so I wanted to share some of my favorite memories of you.

I still laugh at myself for calling you my "baby brother" until you were over 6' tall and we were in our teens.

I remember sitting on the yellow couch in the living room tickling each others feet for hours.

I remember the zip line Rick strung up in the back yard and we would take turns climbing the big maple tree to zip down to the swing set.  I can't remember how many time we fell.  Were you the one on it when the PVC pipe/handle broke?

I remember playing night games with the Crumps or swimming in their pool all summer long.

I remember eating watermelon with you and all the Maloufs on the 4th of July and on the 24th when we were so young.

I remember sleeping outside on the trampoline in the summer time and often having to grab our stuff and run inside because the sprinklers would come on.  Why didn't we ever figure out to check to make sure they were turned off?

I remember you trying to sing the country western songs on the radio while we rode in the back part of the old station wagon while sticking our feet out the back to "wave" at the people in the other cars.  You didn't know the words, but boy did you fake it!

I remember how you would trap, catch, and keep just about every wild animal you could.  We had ducks in the bathtub, a cougar in the basement, and who knows how many snakes, ferrets and other creatures!

I remember coming to visit you one day when you were in Jr. High and I was in High School.  I tried to give you a hug in the hall and you pushed me away.  You were so embarrassed!

I remember you being so mad that Jeff and I eloped!  Then you threatened to kill Jeff if he ever broke my heart. 

I remember how you laughed so hard when I accidentally sprayed "coyote scent" on my hair right before Jr.'s wedding.  Jeff still laughs about that, too.  And for the record... I'm really not an idiot... you had the scent in a hairspray bottle for heaven's sake!

I remember you coming the hospital when each of my kids were born and insisting on wearing a mask so that you wouldn't get any of them sick... even if you weren't sick at the time!

I remember the way you held each of my kids and fell in love with them. They fell in love right back.

I remember you playing ping pong with Maddie and Ryan.

I remember that you are one of only two people on the planet who called me "Min"

I remember wishing we were closer and saw each other more often.

I remember worrying about you.

I miss you, Bill, my baby brother.  I know you're in a better place now and I know we will see each other again, but I miss you.

Peace,
Your "Big" Sister
Min

Stick Boy, Justin Poo, Danger Girl, Monk, and Velcro

Do nicknames say more about the person who has the nickname or about the person who gives the nickname?

When CJ lived with us many years ago, we called him Stick Boy.  He was so skinny and was on the track team.  He literally looked like a stick figure running around the track and on the cross country courses.  We still call him that every once in a while, but it doesn't seem to fit as well now that he's about 6'2" and 200 lbs of muscle.

Justin has always had a nickname.  Justin's real name is Justin Paul, but he has often been called Justin Poo.  A cute little nickname, that like CJ's, doesn't really fit him now.  I remember one day we were teasing him a bit with his name calling him things like, Justin Case, Justin Time, etc.  CJ had a very clever moment and called him "Justin Poo-Paul Over." I admit that I'm giggling to myself right now. What can I say? I think it's funny. Justin didn't think it was.  Yes, we still call him Justin Poo and I think he tolerates it.

Maddie has had several nicknames.  Her Aunt Annie gave her the nickname Maddie Mo when she was about 18 months old and it sure has stuck.  A lot of people call her Maddie Mo.  When she was about three, we realized that she had no sense of self-preservation and started calling her Danger Girl. Between running into the Pacific Ocean naked in December when she was four, and sticking her hand in a cow's mouth at Wheeler Farm when she was five, I think Danger Girl was a good call. This year, Jeff has bestowed Maddie with yet another nickname -- Junior.  He is the only one who is allowed to call her that though.

Ryan began life as Bug or RyBug.  It fit until he, too, was about three and we identified that he also carried the Danger Gene and lacked a sense of self-preservation like his sister.  He then became Distructo Boy.  He had stitches on his forehead when he was two and knocked out three of his front teeth when he was three. Yep, Distructo Boy.  That lasted a while until he became Monkey Monk which was then shortened to just Monk.  I still call him that sometimes and he still answers. 

Grayson had a nickname before he was even born.  Maddie started calling him G-Man as soon as we decided on the name Grayson.  After he arrived he quickly earned the nickname Velcro.  He has this amazing ability to "stick" to another person.  He wraps his little legs and arms around you and won't let go and can't be shaken free.  It's almost creepy. This last year we've also been calling him Muggin.  This nickname came about because he would try to call people "Cotton Headed Ninny Muggin" (after an insult used in the Will Farrell movie Elf), but he would get it all mixed up and say "Cotton Headed Niggy Mutton."

I have two nicknames: Mean Mindy Jean and Bud.  I'll have to tell you about those in another post.

What's your nickname?

Open Letter to my daughter...

Dear Maddie,

Last week you turned 14.  It's hard for me to believe you are that old already.  I can still remember so clearly bringing you home from the hospital to Grandma Pat's, sitting on our bed and with tears running down my face saying to your dad, "I don't think I can do this."

It is an awesome responsibility to be a mother.  I wasn't sure then if I would be a good mom, and honestly, I still wonder that some days.  I hope that I have done you right and as you transition from being a little girl to a young woman that you will know that I have always done what I think is best for you and I have never tried to do you wrong.

I love that you cry at commercials and t.v. shows like "Little House on the Prairie." I love that you are passionate about your family and friends. I love that you experience life with wonder and emotion. I love that you are my friend. I love that you laugh out loud at funny things and don't hold back when you are excited about something.  I love that you and your brothers are friends and get along quite often.

When I was describing you to someone, they said, "She lives life in superlatives." That describes you so well!  Everything is the "best" or the "worst."  Right now, for you, there are no inbetweens.  You love it or your hate it.

Being 14 can be a challenge sometimes.  I know because I remember that time in my own life.  It has sometimes been frustrating to watch you be a little girl one minute (crying about a baby bird) and such a grown up the next (taking care of your brothers while I'm at work).  Sometimes I'm not sure who I'm dealing with - Maddie the little girl, or Maddie the young woman.  I hope that I can help you navigate this exciting and difficult time so that you don't have to experience too much heart ache.  I know I can't protect you from everything, and I don't think I would really want to, but I hope the transition to adulthood isn't too painful for you.

I love you Maddie Mo.  You make me happy.  I am so honored to be your mother.

Happy Birthday!

Love,

Mom

My First Day in the "Couch to 5K" training and The Baby Bird

I have not done any formal exercising since... well... since ever, I guess.  Seriously, the last time I worked out with any consistency was in 2000 with some friends at Dixie Middle School in St. George, UT, but I'm not sure I experienced any measurable results and it only lasted a couple of months. However, this past weekend, I made the committment to run a 5k.  I told my friends.  I told my coworkers.  I'm now blogging about it.  I am serious!

I'm thinking of doing the Turkey Trot in November as the culminating event for this experiment, torture, exercise.  I downloaded a great Couch to 5K app on my iPhone to help me with my training. I push start on the app and a pleasant English woman tells me when to walk, when to run, and gives me small words of encouragement.  She is a nice running companion because she doesn't care that I look like a beached whale struggling to make it back in the water.  She doesn't care that my "running" is only slightly faster than my walking with just a lot more "up and down" motion going on.  I like her.  (Once I'm feeling better about my running skills though, I hope I can update to the "totally sexy Irish Man voice" to help motivate me.) I finished my mile walk/run and was only sucking wind for a few minutes.  Yes, I said a mile.  Only a mile.  Don't laugh.  Well, ok you can laugh. I am. The people who saw me walking/running/sucking wind yesterday are, too.  See you at the Turkey Trot in November!

When I got home from my walk/run, Grayson and I found a small, dying, baby quail just inside our back door. I'm pretty sure this was a victim of our dog, Sammy, attempting to play.  This little bird was so tiny!  It was about the size of a ping-pong ball.  It was struggling to move and it's little chirp was not very strong.  Grayson had to hold it, and then show it to Maddie, who then also had to hold it.  Being the callous and uncaring mother that my children always remind me that I am, I told Maddie to hold it, then go throw it in the garbage can outside. (I know, I know... BIG MISTAKE!)

Grayson was being obedient for once and followed my instructions to wash his hands.  I laid down on my bed to die recover from my walk/run.  About 10 minutes later, Grayson came in and, after making fun of me because of the sweat still running down my face, informed me that, "Maddie can't do it." 

I went outside to find Maddie standing in front of the garbage can sobbing.  Not crying, not sniffling, but SOBBING!  She looked at me with her mascara stained cheeks and red nose and cried, "I can't do it, mom. I can't do it."  I took the little bird from her and tried to open the garbage can to take care of things myself and she WAILED, "NOOO!  Please don't do it, mom."

Sheesh.  What was I supposed to do now?  I did what any exhausted and pain suffering (yes, my muscles were starting to hurt by this time) person would do... I tried to appease her.  "Should we take it inside and wait until it's dead before we put it in the garbage?" I asked.  She nodded - tears and snot flying - emphatically. She then asked if we could bury it instead of throwing it away.  "Of course we can, sweetheart." I told her.

So, I took the feathered ping-pong ball inside. Maddie got a small tupperwear container.  We put a nice bed of paper towels in the bottom on which I gently placed the bird.  We put the bird on the windowsill to wait for it to "pass on."  Grayson asked if he could go dig the "grave" for the bird.  I rolled my eyes.

Maddie went back to sweeping the floor, but was still crying.  Grayson watched her for a minute and then said to her, "Maddie, I'm not trying to be rude, but 'man up'."

Classic.

It took every bit of energy I had left to not go over and give him a high five.

About every 10 minutes after that, Grayson wanted to check on the bird to see if it was dead so he could go dig a grave.  Maddie would look at it and cry more.  I asked Ryan, who was playing the Wii this whole time, if he wanted to see the bird. He didn't.

I finally told Maddie and Grayson that I was going to put the bird back outside "so it's mommy can find it and take care of it."  Grayson followed me outside and helped me dump gently put the bird in the tall grass by the fence. He then wanted to dig a hole right then because the bird's mom might not show up in time. He informed that in the morning he was going to check on the bird "first thing" and if it was dead, he'd take care of it so I wouldn't have to. Isn't he a gentleman?

Maddie finally stopped crying.

This morning, the bird was gone.  It's mother must have found it and taken it back to the family nest to nurse it back to health... right?

Oh yeah, my legs are really, really sore!