Missionary Halloween Monday

My dear brother,

It is Halloween, and I hope that you are happy.  Do Elders do anything to celebrate?  It is a Christian holiday, you know.  Perhaps parading around to people's door to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ is a better way to celebrate than parading around in costume, asking for candy?  Nevertheless, I'm going to have a blast trick or treating with the kids tonight.  I just have to figure out a way to make the husband look like Obiwankanobe rather than a shepherd.  But, way to celebrate the true meaning of Halloween, by spreading the word of God.  I sure love you.

Well, I attached some pictures I thought you would enjoy.  I hope your email lets you see them...they may be kind of big, but I just couldn't resist, since it is Halloween and all.  And, speaking of people unexpectedly knocking on your door, yesterday while I was getting ready for dinner at Mom and Dad's house, Cardozie came by!!!  We had been talking about him for a while, wanting to get in touch, wondering what he is up to, and suddenly there he was, on our doorstep--with his fiance no less.  He seems very happy.  He and the husband had a great time talking about their Russian missions and the experiences they had.  He is a good guy, and his fiance is so sweet--a very kind young lady who served a mission in Russia as well.  She glows with the light of Christ-and she plays the guitar and speaks Russian.  Cool gal.  He said that you don't write him back....or at least that you two haven't kept in touch very well.  You should definitely drop him a line.  I think he's planning on sending you a letter soon, as well.  He has great goals--wants to be a professor in Anthropology--and I hope the best for him.

Speaking of awesome young ladies, it is Allerina's bday!  She is awesome--one of the toughest chicks I know.  She's definitely a lot more brave than I was when I was her age.  And, she's only a couple of inches shorter than me now.  Seriously!!!  And, Dalliwag might just pass you up by the time you come home.  That would be rather comical. :)  His voice is even changing into a good solid tenor.  He thinks it's weird when I draw attention to it.  Mom bought Allerina an ice cream cake with Cinderella on the top.  She is going to be a beautiful Cinderella in two weeks.  I will give you the full review.

My family is just pushing along with our routine.  The kids were both sick and puking last week.  Yuck.  Nothing worse than puking kids.  Poor things.  Atrain spent the night in the bathroom, and I slept in the hall.  He would wake up every couple of hours and hurl whatever was left in his stomach--which wasn't much, by the morning.  I'm glad we're past that.  It is hard to be a momma of sick kiddos.  Your heart just aches for them, and wishes you could trade them places.  Especially poor J.  He's such a cuddly little bug.  Some of the things he does remind me of you when you were a baby--you would lie your head down on my belly and go to sleep.  That seems extraordinary now that I think of it---I can't imagine many babies being  that calm and content to lie their head down and fall asleep on their sister's bellies.  It was so sweet.  I'll always remember my little brother JD.

But here you are, serving a mission.  Good work, buddy.  I hope all is going well.  I have been thinking about you a lot--a lot a lot.  I have no idea what is really happening with your gal back home, but I wish the best for you and for her.  All I know are perimeter details, and even then they're a little sketchy.  I don't need to know anything more, really.  You probably don't need any advice about missions and relationships, but all I know is that the best thing for the husband was to tell me he didn't want to know anything about anything that was happening between me and the boys I dated at home (and I dated a lot), he just knew that if it was right, it would work out when I got home.  And, it did.  I think I was a pretty good catch.  But, you know what is best for you.  And, more importantly, God knows what is best.  He won't instruct us on every detail, but He will empower us as we humbly appeal for his help.  Faith is the key to a strong relationship--Faith in God, faith in your love and faith in his/her love for you.  If that someone you love is someone who makes you want to be a better person, more diligent and devoted to the Gospel and our Heavenly Father, you can't go wrong.

Anyway, enough of that.  The best thought I have for the day comes from a talk given by Brother Wilcox, "His Grace is sufficient," of the Sunday School presidency: when we think of the atonement of Christ, and his grace, we should not focus on, "have you been saved by grace?" we need to continually ask ourselves, "have you been changed by grace?"  It's not, "what has God saved us from?" it's "what has God saved us for?"  Finally, we are not "trying to earn our way to heaven," as many evangelical Christians mock us for.  We are "learning our way to heaven."  We will never want to reside in Heaven if we have not learned to be heavenly.  No unclean thing can reside in the presence of God, and no unchanged thing will want to.

A lot of those lines are from His talk--just notes I took.  But, incredible reminders that we are not in this alone, brother.  God has paid our debts in full--and no matter what we can do, there is no way to "repay" him for all He has done.  He wants us to take it--to take his atonement and be changed by it--the same way a mother pays for a child's piano lessons *in full* even before the child begins practicing.  Why does she do that?  For the hope that the lessons will change that child, will help them to see how full and enriched and full life can become as we learn the instrument.  We are learning to be instruments in the hands of God, my dear JD.  Don't be too hard on yourself.  God does not expect us to play full concertos right now.  He just wants us to keep practicing, keep taking the lessons--keep going.  To keep taking the atonement into our lives, each day.  He loves us so much.  I know that He lives and that He took upon himself my sins, brother.  I know that he wants me to come back to Him, and to be changed by these lessons we are going through in this life. 

I love you.  Thanks for your example.  I pray for you, and thank you for your prayers for me and my family.  Heaven knows, I need them!!!

Love,
MJ

***********
For anyone who wants to listen to the talk, here is the link:

http://byutv.org/watch/49475abb-10d4-4f45-a757-7000b9945468

It was the best 30 minutes I've spent in a long time.

The Porcupine Grill

The Porcupine Grill doesn't sound like a friendly place to dine, but it's our absolute favorite.  Their amazing chicken nachos have brought joy to my tummy on many happy occasions in the past three and a half years.  Especially on days like today--when I'd rather eat my own toe jam than cook.  But, lucky for me, the husband had a few other options up his sleeve.  Take out chicken nachos at the Porcupine was at the top of his list.

Someday, not too far away, I will miss nights like tonight: squinting past the low sunset rays beaming into our car; watching the dust particles dance around in front of the air vent as we listen to the kids' giggle-tease-cry cycle repeat itself; and catching glances from the husband's smiling eyes as we drive along the mountain side.  Our days around here are numbered.   I'm lucky to have each and every one.

Recovery

Jdog peed on me tonight. I cried.  They were unexpected, confused tears, and I laughed at myself as I held my hand over his warm, everflowing stream of urine to block it from hitting my face.  Ew.  It was just another mess to add on top of the endless streak of mess our family has been producing lately.  I can still sense the scent of Atrain's upchuck on my fingers.  Maybe it's just my imagination.  With all of the scrubbing and soaking and sterilizing I have done, the smell must be a mere credit to my grand imagination.  At least it's being used for something.

My book writing dream has been a little buried by all the bile piles lately.  But that's ok.  The husband and I have had a great time catching up on all of the summer flicks while nursing the boys back to health.  "I love October," he said today.  "There are so many great summer movies to see!"  I laughed, and agreed.  Maybe someday we'll get to see them in the theater.  I do love my Shmub (aka the husband).  He sure can make a killer tomato sandwich.

Poop Face

Little J is feeling better.  But, look closely at this photo.  What do you see?  No--not the scrunched nose, or adorable, mischievous grin.  Not the bright, steel blue eyes of the little boy who is clearly feeling much better than he was yesterday (when he puked for the first time in his life).  I'm not even trying to draw attention to his funny hairdo that matches his funny personality.  Nope, I'm pointing at the brownish smudges dotting his face: one near his eyebrow, and another kitty corner to his eye.  It's poop--just another odd texture baby J couldn't help but bury his face in.  Gross, I know.  But, extremely funny.

This kid has a habit of going number two every time we put him down for a nap lately.  It's like he's planned it--plotted the perfect time to let his bowels fly free, just so he can escape his crib.  And, this time when he whined for an inordinate amount of time after I put him down, I knew that he must have done the deed yet again.  But, this time I found him in his crib, without pants, without a diaper, and with some very stinky smudges on his face.  It was one of those "get him to the tub as soon as possible" parenting moments.  Atrain had a lot of creative tactics, but he never resorted to this.

I laughed the rest of the night as I lovingly called him "little poop face" every time I picked him up.  I don't think he minded the nickname.  In face, he quite possibly enjoyed it.

On Poetry and Puke

I felt a little poetic today.  Whether or not my poetry is liked, or understood, exploring my poetry prowess good thing.  It means my mind has been unraveling--peeling off layers of self in preparation for something new to surface.

I read for a couple hours today--recreational reading--with my eyes, not my ears.  It was amazing. I know I'm "supposed to" be writing my book, but reading is like doing writing research, right?  And, I do need to do a lot more research.  After all, I don't know what the heck I'm doing.  But I have a lot of ideas.  Maybe that's why I was feeling poetic.

My poor baby was feeling pretty pathetic today.  He threw up multiple times--sometimes spewing stomach contents forth with impressive fountain-like force.  I'm so glad the husband was here to tag team. I am sure grateful for that man.  He is such a perfect compliment to my tightly-wound parenting approach.  He and the boys are having a blast.  I love watching them bond.  Even when we're all covered in throw up.

Guardians

If every moment felt like this,
would this one feel as free; 

Could his smile stencil in my mind
the image that attests me

Would I record their rapturous giggles
glowing in memory gold,

or work in worthy wonderment,
their Godly mysteries to unfold?

I sift for them through silt and sludge--
I pine, I pray, I plea

then treasure each and every shell
sharing her secret with me--

A pearl so precious and so peculiar,
it never will be worn

But kept and cradled and planted
in fields that will adorn

the Heavens with unbending joy:
we meet each other there

But here and now, our fortune we guard,
no other can compare. 

Happy Birthday to Me

Today is not my birthday, but it feels like it.  The husband gave me the best birthday gift this year--far better than anything he could have purchased (and that's not just because we don't really have any money to purchase anything).  Oh how I love him.

He gave me time--in chunks, even.     

This week is my first of four weeks to spend with pen in hand and laptop at my side.  I feel invigorated, refreshed and extremely excited.  All of the stories and characters that have been bouncing around in my mind might just find their place on a piece of paper in the next week.

Is it rude for me to relish this opportunity?

Maybe I'll read a bit too.  I will definitely enjoy coming home to my boys when my days' adventures are through.  What a happy birthday it will be.  All year long.

"That's so Sad"

Tonight I did the dishes while listening to a few pod casts.  My mind stuck every word I heard--so much so that I almost ignored how gross it was to wash out the moldy Tupperware containers that had been hiding in my fridge for who knows how long.  What topic was so captivating, you ask?  Empathy and parenting--a combination that seems so "no duh" natural, yet I frequently find myself frustrated as I try to bridge the gap between "I love you" and "Go to time out (again)!"

Love is hard.  It makes you care about every little detail of another person's life.  And when those people are little, and they have no idea what it means to grow up and why it's a good idea to learn to share and to communicate and to refrain from pooping in public places--it's even more difficult because it's my job to teach them.  But they won't really learn anything unless they know and trust how much I love them.

I want to discipline with more love, so, per the suggestion of my "love and logic" podcast, I'm adopting an "empathy phrase."  It's a set of words strung together and strewn about the house to remind me to stop reminding and start empathizing.  Giving reminders is exhausting, and it's just an invitation for Atrain to squash Jdog again.  If I give him a little empathy as I'm ushering him to time out, it should--as the theory says--decrease the stress of discipline as I give him ownership of the consequence, rather than just making him go to time out.  Not to mention, I'm letting him know that I feel sad for his bad consequence. 

Let me practice:  "Oh man!  That's so sad you don't get to play with your toy any more," I'll say as I take it from his hands and put it on top of the entertainment center.  And then he'll burst into irrational tears.  "That's so sad to have consequences for hitting your brother with your grab-nabber.  It's tough to have consequences for bad choices. That's so sad."

What about this one: "Shoot.  That's so sad when you don't get a treat because you yelled at your mom." I will say as we exit the grocery store empty handed.  "That's just so sad."

No apologies.  It's not my fault he must endure bad consequences--it's just what happens when bad choices are made.  And, I can't be sorry about it any more.  It's too stressful to blame myself all day long. It's his consequence, not mine.  And I want to lovingly help him own it.  So, I'll say, "That's so sad," instead of, "I'm sorry," as I close the door to his bedroom the first time he sneaks out of bed.  Because, it is sad, and I do feel his pain.  But I will not be the bad guy.  I'll just be the one who takes a deep breath, delivers the consequence, and then says, "What a bummer.  That's just so sad."

Heavy Inquiry

Lately Atrain has been asking awesome questions:

"Why is squash hard to cut and pears are much easier?"
"How does the farmer make pears?
"How does the grocery store man make grocery stores?"
"Why do girls talk so much?"

I love it.  Hearing his little mind at work is like hearing the stars appear in the sky.  It makes me happy.

That is, until he (loudly) asks a question like this:

"Why is that man the fat one?"

Yikes.  Wish I would have seen that one coming.

The Performance

The boys and I attended the cello recital of my incredible nephew, Shmibbers, tonight. If cello lessons were like fantasy football, he would be Mr. Vick. But Shmibbers is more amazing than Mr. Vick. He played twenty three different songs from memory, amidst paper crinkles, kiddo wiggles and sibling squabbles.  And then he bowed--twenty three times, per the request of his cello instructor.

It was amazing to witness.  And, had I not been in the audience trying tone down and tune out the distractions, I would have been altogether overwhelmed by how perfect it all seemed.  But, I know that helping your kid learn multiple mini songs must not be all about counting and tuning and training.  I'm sure there is a lot of distracting and whining and celebrating the small steps forward that goes along with it.  Famous and Pance Farmstrong are a dedicated pair who constantly, carefully survey the needs their kiddos and pair them with activities to enhance their abilities.  And then they let them shine.  I adore their family and feel so lucky to be a part of their lives. 

I would be lying, however, if I didn't admit that I have a difficult time resisting the urge to compare.  Even though I know it's stupid and selfish, it is tempting to feel like I need to "perform" as a mother.  I must push past the pernicious plea to participate in the parenting puppet show.  It's my job to know and love my children, build them up with a strong set of tools, and carefully cut their strings, letting their conscience be their guide.  It is so much easier said than done.  I hope to have the courage it takes to let my little ones become "real boys." 

The Word

Jdog will be one next month.  I've known this would happen for a while now.  It always does.  But, lately it's been easier to believe.  His mumblings have morphed into a few recognizable words.  His favorites are:

• "Dada," always, always dada.
• "teeth," said with the best consonants I've ever heard, while digging into the husband's gums.
• "ooooo," every time he examines his set of toy cows.
• "Diga diga," and no one's exactly sure what that means.  Tickle, perhaps?  Doggie, maybe?
• "was that?!" that's just so adorable, is what that is.
• "eeeeea," with his hand in my ear.
• "ssssthcka," your guess is as good as mine.
• "hannah," a term of endearment he deems upon his extended female relatives.
• and "mmmom" to me.  usually when he's hungry, or sad.  It is sweet to be the one he depends on in times of need.

How much his little words mean.  I just can't wait to hear more.

Missionary Monday

Dear Brother,

I sure love you.  You have been on my mind so much lately. I know that a lot is happening in your personal life, and my heart is breaking for you.  I don’t know the inns and outs of all that is happening, but I do know that God is aware of us.  He knows our emotional strength.  He fills our hearts when they feel empty.  And, when we feel like we only have a couple fishes and a loaf of bread to offer, He can feel thousands.  He makes more of us than we could ever make of ourselves, and my dear brother—you have so much to offer.  I am so proud of you for all of your hard work.  I am so thankful for your example.  Just the other day, Atrain and I were running in the stroller and he spotted a few men in suits ahead.  He piped up and said, “Is one of those missionaries JD?”  I cried.  But just a little.  It was so sweet.

So—I did something.  I gave one of my dear friends a copy of The Book of Mormon.  I have been over thinking this gesture for months.  I thought of every angle—analyzing how she might react, what she might think, hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way.  But I should have done it so much sooner.  I can’t believe how easy it was.  She and her husband smiled and thanked me, and said she really appreciate it.  I told her that it would be a shame if she lived in Utah and never received a copy of the Book of Mormon from a friend.  We laughed.  I told her that it was special to me, and that she is special to me, and that’s why I wanted to give it to her.  So, I did.  Inside of it, I included a note with my testimony.  And, I told her that if she was ever curious or wanted to come to church, that she was always welcome to come with me.  Who knows what will come of it.  At the very least, she knows how awesome I think she is, and how grateful I am for her friendship.  So, it was a great experience. 

Our little family has been up to a lot in the past few weeks.  The husband had to take a national medical exam in California, so we spent three days there last week.  We took Atrain to Disneyland while little Jdog stayed home with Grandpatty.  It was so much fun.  He was just tall enough to get him on some of the bigger rides—Star Tours and Splash Mountain.  He had no idea what was coming, but was so brave, and hasn’t stopped talking about it since.  His absolute favorite thing was meeting Mickey Mouse at his clubhouse…that, and knowing that he got to sleep right next to his mom and dad every night.  I’m sure that was at the top of his list.  Atrain and I also spent a day at the beach, playing in the sand, running along the shore, and chasing the waves.  It is so nice to spend unstructured time with my boys.  It’s so easy to remember what life’s all about while you’re building sandcastles.

I spent a lot of time studying the apostle Paul in The Acts this week.  I got to teach the husband’s lesson for him since he was in the hospital, making up for time missed while in California (how dumb—to have to make up missed time for an exam they require you to take…but that’s a complaint for another paragraph).  The lesson was about Paul’s testimony of the Savior, and his call to be a witness of Christ.  His response to every challenge was to act in faith, bare a strong witness of Jesus Christ (recounting his vision on the road to Damaskus), and share his testimony of the gospel.  I want to be like Paul with everything I face.  There is so much uncertainty in our lives right now…where we will be in one year for residency, what medical insurance will be like, cost of living…student loans…education for our kids, etc.  I need to act more boldly with faith in God, knowing he will continue to guide our little family. 

Continue in the faith, brother.  Thank you for being a bold example of the believers for me to follow.  I sure miss you.  I can’t believe how fast time is flying by.  Baby J will be one next month.  He is learning to walk.  He will love to meet you soon.

Love you,

MJ

Ps—funny story for the day:  Saturday I told Atrain to get his clothes on over his underwear so he could go play outside.  His response: “But I look awesome like this!”  I’m still laughing about it.     

Today the husband and I were snickering irreverently in the middle of church because of something Atrain said on the way to California.  Who knows what brought it up, but we will be laughing about it for years to come. 

Me: "Dada, what are you thinking about?" 

The husband: "Oh, just about what rides I'm going to go on at Disneyland."

Me: "Atrain, what are you thinking about?"

Atrain: "Just about how dada is probably going to eat all of the chips."

(outburst of laughter)

Me: "Do you want me to get them from him?"

Atrain: "Yes.  Dada always eats the last of everything.  I don't want him to eat the rest of the chips."

Me: "You got it, buddy.  Dada...hand over the chips."

Awesome

The best conversation of the day, by far:

Me: "Atrain, if you want to go play outside you will have to put clothes on over your underwear."

Atrain: "But, I look awesome like this!"

Me: (failing to suppress a laugh) "Yes, yes you do. I guess you'll just have to look awesome inside the house today."

Boo

It was a cackling, crooning, costuming, driving, dreaming, dancing, electric, eclectic, enchanted, friendly, funny, fanciful, wonderfully wicked witch's night out.

Make a U Turn

Today I found myself cry-praying on the floor of my bedroom, pleading for patience. It is hard to come back from the magic kingdom. Our home wasn't the happiest place on earth today. No, not even close. We have to share and work and clean and share and share and share.  How is it that Atrain and I were bounding along the beach yesterday, and today I feel like binding him to the chair in his bedroom.  Don't worry, I didn't.  But, I felt like it.  Sheesh.  On so many levels, today I wish I could just make a U turn.

Unstoppable

'Hey, wait a second!' said Atrain, in a moment of surprise and stupor. You see, he just realized the direction we are headed now does not take us back to California. Indeed, it takes us home--a moment he has been dreading the entire trip. 'I don't want to go home!' he wailed, and has been wailing ever since. Along with, 'Please turn around the car,' and 'I'm really sad I'm not going back!'

It is a sad, pathetic scene. But I'm also trying to hold back my giggles. I wonder how long this will go on. Determination/stubbornness has always been one of Atrain's strong suits. We're going on a 100 mile long fit now. I wish i had a big enough bag of mommy tricks to derail this train. 'I guess this is the sign of a good vacation,' said the husband. I would hate to see the sign of a bad one.

Happy Beach Day

Atrain and I spent our entire day on the California coast.  The day began at 5:30 when we drove the husband to his clinical skills exam.  (Technically, it began around 12:20 when we went to bed after our day at the magic kingdom, but I try to forget all that).  Thereafter, we lost all recollection of time.  It slipped through the sand that got stuck between our toes.

 We wandered around the deserted shoreline that was wrapped in a soft, salty mist.  My mind as foggy as the scenery.  Memories of the magic kingdom kept washing by between the waves.  We found shells.  We ran barefoot.  We played tag with the sea foam. 

And then, when the husband finished his exam, we made a sunset scene on Santa Monica Pier.  We didn't notice how many onlookers we had until we finished kissing.  Don't worry, it was "PG."  Atrain just stood by, throwing sand in our hair, figuring he had won the tackle battle.

It was a happy beach day for our family, and a super happy birthday for my sister and her growing family.  Katydid is having a baby.  I couldn't be more thrilled.  It's incredible to think about the journey she and her husband have begun.  It's a good one.

A Disney Day

Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me?

M-easuring Atrain in the "Star Tours" line at the beginning of our Disneyland day, and celebrating that he was, indeed, past the 40" height requirement. The husband and I exchanged mischievous glances, wondering which rides we could trick our tall three year old into boarding. A new frontier of family fun awaited.

I-ndulging in the "Tiki Room's" soft serve, pineapple float while happily humming "in the tiki tiki tiki tiki tiki room..." over and over in our heads. I knew the mechanical birds were going to put on a good show. I suspected the tropical flowers might have something to say. But, when the wall carvings began singing, I was completely blown away. Atrain, the husband and I were on the edge of our seats.

C-lassy(ish) line-cutting was my specialty. The husband held our spot/studied test questions and sports news while Atrain and I moseyed around, "getting a drink." In the mean time, we also managed to meet a few characters (or rather, admire them from a safe, skeptical distance), check out shops, and (once), we even snagged a quick carousel ride while waiting for our flying pirate ship to depart for Neverland. It was fabulous. And, we always returned with a full water bottle to strategically slip in at the least noticeable

K-eeping away from the "seat belt" rides. The husband and I made the mistake of taking Atrain on Star Tours first. Oops. I suppose that if I were three years old, and one of Darth Vader’s biggest fans, it would be a bit scary to feel like the dark side was about to crush your space ship. He was simultaneously fascinated and petrified. Even though he was proud of his own bravery once the ride was over, he was careful to distinguish fast “seat belt” rides from the slower bar belt variety from then on.

E-ating the PB&J sandwiches we brought in the park for lunch. Actually, we brought in a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly, and then shamelessly built our lunches on the spot. It saved us a good $30, and helped us justify the splurge on a nice Disney dinner. Mmmm.

Y-elling at the top of our lungs while hurtling down the Splash Mountain plunge. It was our last ride, and Atrain didn’t even see it coming…that is, until our log started climbing higher and higher while Braer Bear’s face dropped into a petrified scream. Atrain clamped onto my shoulders and buried his face into my chest when we reached the top, and then—scream and splash! He looked up, stunned that it was over and even flashed a slight, surprised smile as he said, “That was a fast hill!”

M-eeting the kind mother who sat next to us during dinner. I guess she had been observing our little crew for a while—Atrain in particular. I didn’t notice her gaze, though in crowded public places there are many curious glances and dumbfounded expressions staring Atrain’s way, begging for answers to questions they don’t have the courtesy to ask. I don’t care as much as I used to. But I didn’t even notice this woman’s gentle glances in our direction, until she said to me, “It is nice to meet others who belong to the same parent’s club I belong to…it’s not one you want to be in, but having children who have gone through difficult experiences does change you for the better, I believe.” I knew what she was talking about, even though I had no idea who she was or what her child has experienced. We exchanged smiles and she told me that he has a young daughter at home with a tracheostomy and stomach tube. Atrain really is lucky. We all are.

O-gling over the costumes, choreography and creativity of Disney while watching the Main Street Parade. I love the parade. I had to beg Atrain to leave the Buzz Lightyear line to come and watch it with me. The husband was determined to stay in line and hold our spots, but I think he regretted it--especially because we got caught up in the magic and weren’t able to make it back to the ride in time to meet the husband at the front of the line. Oops.

U-prooting the evil Emperor Zurg’s twisted plot to steel all of the toy’s batteries for the second time in one day. Atrain shot each target with such intensity, I was nervous to get in front of his laser gun. And, just to set the record strait, the husband won the first time around and I won the second. We’ll have to return soon to see who wins, 2 out of 3.

S-eeing Mickey Mouse up close and personal—at his own club house. It was the one thing Atrain went into Disney land wanting to do, and even though it was a 45 minute wait to get a picture with the main man (er, mouse), we happily meandered through his clubhouse maze, watched Steam Boat Willie, and finally entered Mickey’s dressing room to say “hello.” Mickey was awesome. I’m sure he sensed how nervous and excited Atrain was to greet him. He nodded and waved, and opened fat gloves up to our little man. “I watch you in your clubhouse show,” Atrain said, as we were leaving. Mickey nodded and blew kisses as we left out the back door. Atrain’s smile beamed brighter than the sun when we got outside.

E-mbracing the magic of the Disney kingdom. A decade ago the husband and I kissed during a cappella choir tour under the fireworks, near the Disneyland castle. We replayed that moment tonight, with a little less teenage nerves, a little more gusto, and a little light-saber slashing boy living it up next to us. Atrain fought the fireworks with the greatest enthusiasm, posing and swinging with every explosion. Considering the number of people gathered to watch the show, it was a miracle Atrain only hit a few of them. He was completely in the zone—choreographing fight scenes to the beat of the Star Wars theme music. And, as soon as the show ended, he nestled up in his stroller, fell fast asleep and continued to battle in his dreams.

Today, we were the happiest people on earth.

496 Miles to go

The husband, Atrain and I are somewhere between home and sunny California. A few days ago the husband snagged an opening to take his national clinical skills exam a month sooner than he was scheduled. The husband will be an MD in a few months, you know. Strange. This chapter in our lives is reaching its end--but i know there are many exciting plot twists awaiting. For example: the day we will be magically matched up with the city and state we will be living for the next five years while the husband learns to wield proton and photons in the war on cancer. Also, we are going to Disneyland tomorrow. Why not! Yes, I can hardly wait to tell the stories we will live in the next 36 hours.

Poor baby J won't even know what he's missing while at Milly's home. But we will miss him. That kid is the best little hugger in the world--despite the wad of hair he takes with him when he lets go. oh. i love that little boy. I'm sure he'll have a grand anventure with Milly and co. while we are apart. Only 496 miles to go until the magical kingdom.

Running Low

"I will put my underwear on, mom, I promise!" rants Atrain behind his closed bedroom door. And then--clunk--another heavy object (probably one of his cars) collides with the wooden barrier between he and I. "Why is it so hard to take that kid out of the bathtub," I wonder. Just moments before this he was giggling with defiance, running naked--and deaf--down our hall. I hate bath time. Nothing about motherhood makes me want to pull my hair out more than trying to force Atrain into clothing when he is silly, defiant, can't hear a thing that I say, and totally taking advantage of it.

It was the perfect ending to a perfectly frustrating day. Today was round two of Atrain's cochlear implant programming up north. It took me three hours to drop off baby J at Famous and Pance Farmstrong's home last night, and an early morning drive two hours north to the audiologist, five different attempts at cochlear programming games, three bribery pep talks and two walks around the building--just to sit there and watch Atrain implode while he exclaimed, "I don't want to!" Why, you ask? I believe the fact that baby J got to spend the night at the Farmstrong household was at the heart of it all. Atrain believed he should be there too, and there is no way to force a child to effectively participate in cochlear implant programming if they don't want to. The accuracy of a CI map can't hinge on the mood of a 3 year old--and yet, it must. So, we called it a loss, rescheduled, and drove another three hours to pick up baby J. When we finally arrived, Atrain was in heaven.

It's so hard to keep my head screwed tightly on my shoulders on days like today. Sometimes I feel like I have sticks of dynamite shoved down my throat, and my kids are having a ball lighting the wicks and watching momma attempt to keep the explosions contained within her. I remember seeing the look on my father's face whenever he was trying to disguise the chaos rumbling inside him--his eyes bulging with annoyed frustration, unable to look directly at our guilty little faces, using calm words, but occasionally pounding his fist against a wall, and always carrying lead feet as he walked away. Now I know why. I just wish I had a staircase to stomp up and down.

There were a couple of redeeming moments today that mended my muddled mind. On the way back from the appointment we stopped at "Old McDonalds" to get a happy meal, hoping to glean a little joy from its contents. It did not disappoint. The toy was a karate Power Ranger character that kept Atrain contently imagining battle scenes all the way to the Francypants household. The second, and most healing occurrence, was when we arrived to pick up Jdog. When he heard my voice from the other room he immediately started crying. I ran to him, scooped him out of his high chair where he was previously feasting on peaches, and held him against my chest as he pawed my hair and clasped onto my shoulders. He was so happy to see me.

That feeling filled my tank. Even now, as I listen to him whine (now clothed and in bed) about going to bed, I remember those chubby little arms squeezing my neck. Jdog sure loves me. It's all I have to call this day a success.

Migraine Mercies

Today I traveled two hours to go to the audiologist with both boys and a migraine to boot.  I do hate it when I wake up and the light makes me cringe.  My pulse was carving cracks into my skull. I felt like making the exact face Atrain is pulling in this picture.  It crossed my mind to cancel the appointment, but quality CI programming time is hard to come by, so I said a prayer and decided to push through.

I'm glad that I did.  The weight of the headache lifted as we started the cochlear listening rounds.  Atrain was on a roll--giving us great feedback with the "beep game" that helped his audiologist tweak his CI to Atrain's liking.  Jdog wasn't even as much of a distraction as I anticipated.  He crawled around, crinkled his nose and chewed a variety of tasty non-chew toys.  I never would have guessed that the appointment would have been such a success (so many of them are not...). 

When we loaded up the car to return home, both boys fell fast asleep.  I was reminded of just a few months ago when I lulled both boys to sleep in the car at least five times a week. My car once again because a sanctuary on four wheels.  Just seeing them sleeping side by side massaged my migraine away--that, a little caffeine and a lot of God's "tender mercies."

Once I was a Girl

Once next to a time, I was a girl.

She was sweet-and adoringly naive--

like the scent of spring lilacs

dangling in the dawning dew.

She lived free as flashing fireflies,

and captured them in canning jars:

for her finest, faithful friend.

They played and plotted and painted--

their eyes, bluer than the their broken hearts,

sticking together like globs of gum

on a window ledge, they wept and wished

of all they did not know, and hoped

in all that they did.  How wonderful it was,
when once I was a girl.

So do I

Today, Jdog took his first sets of steps: three to Milly (My Mother In Law), four to me, and three to the husband.  His eyes were wide with excitement and pride.  So were mine.

Atrain is quite the camper.  He scaled the side of "mountain" with pride multiple times, latching onto one particular trail where a large root protruded from the dirt.  He climbed it over and over and over again.  His clothes were soaked with smells of dirt, campfire and fresh autumn leaves. His smile was shaped with victory and sweet satisfaction.  So was mine.

It was sad to leave our camping adventure.  We loved everything about it: the weather, the campfire, the conference talks, the company, etc.  There is nothing like unstructured time with family.  The husband said again and again how much he loved camping with his boys.  So did I.

Conference Camp

Our little family has developed a wonderful tradition every year during October's LDS General Conference weekend. We go camping. There's nothing like listening to God's word while enjoying the raw beauty of mountainous wilderness. Even though my attention is somewhat divided (as usual), there's something about the setting that brings the Spirit and motivates me to go home and listen a little more closely.  But there were a few lines that stuck easily in my mind, without review. Neil L. Anderson said:

Having young children is not easy.  Many days are just difficult.  A young mother got on a bus with seven children.  The bus driver asked, "Are these all yours, lady?  Or is it a picnic?"

"They're all mine," she replied.  "And it's no picnic!"

As the world increasingly asks, "Are these all yours?" We thank you for creating within the Church a sanctuary for families, where we honor and help mothers with children.


I don't have seven children, but I have two--and not "only."  Elder Anderson discussed the "multiply and replenish" commandment, and I am grateful for his words.  I struggle to balance my limits with our desire to bring souls into the world.  It is hard to know when and how many.  I just love my kids more than anything, and I worry about absolutely everything when it comes to their lives.  I want to be the best mom I can be for each of them.  It is hard.  I'm thankful that God knows and understands my limits, even better than I do.  And, I'm grateful for the husband, who is endlessly patient and understanding. 

It is a great time for conference camp--more time to reflect and receive personal revelation from God.  Even though I know millions of people are hearing the messages I hear, it's amazing to feel so personally considered and loved.