A Happy Heart

Dear Elder I,

My heart is full today, overflowing actually. And there is no particular reason. Scenes from the weekend keep replaying like hazy old movies in my mind: Atrain asking me if I was married then telling me with sweet squinting eyes that he loves my pretty hair; Jdog working on his gorilla sitting pose, and kicking and squirming with excitement whenever the light up ball rolls past him on the floor; driving like a crazy woman through the city with Allerina trying to find a church playing the General Young Women’s broadcast; and going on a date with the husband, having him near me—so close, so kind, so considerate.

For the past week or two I’ve felt sort of stuck in a puddle of mud. I’m not sure if it’s the anxiety and stress hanging on from the ER weekend, but every brave attempt I made to pull myself out just sucked me deeper into the mire. But for some reason today I made progress. Nothing all that different happened, but I know that God was helping me see and feel all that is good in my life (rather than focusing on everything I need to worry about). I did remember to say a good prayer this morning. Maybe that made all the difference.

We went to church, and then went to our family’s homes as usual. Maybe it was watching dad play board games with Atrain for an hour, or hearing him say that Atrain is as close as you get to an angel. It might have been mom’s sweet smile and steady spirit that steadied me. Perhaps it was the impromptu violin recital at the in-laws that helped fill my heart with gratitude. Or maybe it was listening to Jdog copy Atrain’s crazy, excited squeals. I don’t know exactly what it was, but I feel refreshed, renewed and full of thanks. Life is good. It’s not easy, but it is good.

JD, you’re not going to recognize Dalliwag when you return. He’s already excited about trying to grow taller than you. He’s well on his way and he still has over a year to work on that goal. It will be fun to see you two side by side when you get home. Also, it sure will be fun for you to meet little Jdog. He is such a sweet baby—a somewhat serious little fellow who makes me work hard for his giggles—but so darn patient and precious. Just what our crazy house needs.

Anyhow my brother, sounds like little Atrain is up. He is complaining he is dizzy. Poor guy. The doctors didn’t have much to offer us in terms of treatment of childhood vertigo caused by LVA. Keep him in your prayers. I love you. Oh—and your lady in waiting told me this weekend that you are “one in a million.” She is sure a sweetheart, but you already know that.

Love, MJ

Hans, the Babysitter

Today was an exceptionally average day…until the husband came home. We cleaned the apartment with the help of a new motivational job chart that Atrain really took to heart. Of course there were a few sword-fighting sessions between chores, but I was pleasantly surprised by Atrain’s ability to stay on task. Jdog (aka baby Michael from Peter Pan) hung around my waist and screeched at his big pirate brother named Tiffany (still unsure about the origin of scurvy name). We had lunch with a few work friends at the cafeteria. It is always fun to see Atrain’s excitement over the food selection and soft serve ice-cream machine. “Mom, I can’t believe this,” was the phrase of the afternoon. We ran a few errands, got dinner ready, and played in the sand box. By all accounts, it was going to be an exceptionally average day.

And then the husband came home. He surprised us while we were making 4-wheeler tracks in the sand box. We chatted about our days as we watched Atrain play. Then, from somewhere within the deep, beautiful recesses of the husband’s marvelous mind, a light bulb turned on. “Tonight is my AOA banquet,” he said urgently. “What?” I asked, not because I didn’t hear him, but because it was a little hard to hear that tonight was the ceremony where he would finally get a little recognition for the thousands of hours he’s spent frying his brains on text books for the past three years. And we didn’t have a babysitter.

Panic mode. I couldn’t just throw in my chips and fold. I missed my own honors induction banquet and it’s my only MPA regret. Atrain was extremely tired, having missed his nap. I couldn’t take him. For a moment I considered loading him into trusty Bob stroller where he might fall asleep on the way to the banquet, but that was a stretch. Perhaps I could get him to go to bed soon enough that I could beg someone I was comfortable enough inconveniencing to come and stay with him while I jetted over to the awards ceremony. So, that’s what I did. But, my “comfortable inconveniencing” list isn’t very long, and after a few phone calls to other mothers, I had no luck. I started to consider accepting defeat as the husband walked out the door in his suit. It was simply too late of notice and too ridiculous to expect anyone to drop their lives to sit at my home while the big boy slept. As I put Atrain down for the night I sent out one last desperate text message to my buddy from work, a really nice, tough, dependable undergrad I’ll call Hans.

Jdog was asleep and I was lying down with Atrain, imagining the husband up on stage accepting his accolades with no one to take pictures of him, admire him, and to tell him to stop being embarrassed because he deserves all of the applause. As soon as Atrain fell into slow, deep breaths, I heard my phone beep. A text message. I wiggled myself free from our cuddle and untangled my hair from his fingers. I darted to my phone on the dresser and it was Hans. He could come, as long as his study group could come to. No problem. I even had a bunch of uneaten food on the stove they could eat while they studied. My heroes. I called to make sure that he was sure, and he was. As I threw on my nearest dressy outfit I wondered when the last time was that Hans had babysat.

The undergrad study group arrived just as I got Jdog loaded into the car seat. I thanked Hans, told him to eat anything in my fridge he wanted, and said to just call me if Atrain woke up. I can imagine how startled my big boy would be to find a few unfamiliar faces in his home without his mommy and it wouldn’t be pretty. But, I forgot about it, knowing that he would be safe. Hans is pretty strong. He could probably take anything Atrain had to dish out. Probably. I threw on my high heels and ran out the door, all the way to the medical school. There I found the handsome husband sitting at a table with an empty chair next to him, waiting for the keynote speaker to begin his speech. Jdog and I were a conspicuous addition to the formal, serious looking crowd. But I didn’t care. I swept my undone hair behind my ears, adjusted my skirt, cradled my baby in my arms and slipped in right beside the husband.

The husband squeezed my hand. A little smile grew across my lips. We made it. We still have another year to go, then another five years of residency after than, and (of course) a lot of decisions to make along the way. But, if we’ve managed to get this far. What’s another year? Sure there will be a few (or a lot) more forgetful evenings and desperate calls for babysitters, but it will be worth it. Just like it was worth it to hold his hand and watch him walk sheepishly to the front for his AOA top five in the class moment of recognition. I am sure proud of him.

I am also proud of Hans, who bravely answered a text from a desperate mother tonight, and drug his study group to our home to guard my sleeping boy. What a champ. All was well when we returned with left-over cheese cake in tow to offer our gratitude to the brave undergrads. Thank you, Hans. If you're brave enough to answer my call tonight, your mission call to Germany should be a piece of cake.

A Dizzy Day

This morning when Atrain awoke he wouldn’t lift his head off of his pillow. He had a tummy ache and was dizzy. LVAS vertigo was creeping up on him again. Poor kiddo. He was late for school, but I decided to go at his pace. I don’t know how often to expect dizzy mornings like this (and the specialists don’t know either), so I need to set a precedent for how to handle them. We can’t just default to the Disney Chanel.

I tried not to push him too hard, but also wanted him to know that we were still going to try to follow our schedule as planned, and to let me know if he started feeling better. We changed him into his underwear and clothes, ate breakfast on the blanket on in the living room and read scriptures all with his head glued to the floor. When he announced that he needed to go to the bathroom I carried in his port-a-potty, and held him steady while he did his business (even though he protested). I was trying to be brave. So was he. “I’m having a sick day,” he said. “You’re right,” I responded, “We’re just going to go slow.

Sooner or later he started to chipper up, occasionally holding his head up to adjust his cars or take a bite of toast. We read a few stories and then Atrain began to stand, pushing his dump truck down the hall. I exhaled. He was getting better. I asked if he would like to go to school, and told him how excited his friends would be to see him. “And Sammy will be so happy and say, ‘It’s Atrain,” he elaborated. “Yep, then Zoe will say, ‘We missed you,” I assured him. He smiled. I love that little smile.

We packed his lunch and headed to his school. As soon as we came in the classroom his friends and teachers did just as we predicted. “It’s Atrain!” They yelled, “He’s here, he’s better!” And after he heard his little friends’ welcome, he was as steady as steel. After telling his teachers, I headed to the indoor track to get a bit of exercise and linger close to Atrain, just in case the vertigo returned.

I walked around the track with Jdog in my arms and kept my eyes on the playground through the two way glass, waiting for Atrain’s class to appear. I let my guard down and shed a few frustrated, confused tears. Then Jdog looked up at me with his squishy sweet smiles and I pulled myself together again.

There are a lot of things I can’t control in life. As much as I would love to be able to create perfect circumstances to perfectly prepare my kids for everything they may encounter in life, I can’t. I shouldn’t want to anyway. It’s more important for my kids to understand that there will be disappointment, there are a lot of things we can’t understand, people aren’t perfect, organizations aren’t perfect, and (especially) I am not perfect. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do our best with what we’ve got, and always keep trying to get better. I won’t stop trying to be a better mother for them. They deserve the best.

If I Woulda Been an Attorney

Tonight on the way home from Spork the husband and I were imagining what our lives would have been like if I had gone to law school. I toyed around with the idea right before I finished my undergrad, but opted out because I was too intimidated. I can still be such a cowardly lion, searching desperately for a badge of courage. I would have loved law school, but I didn’t know it then, so I can’t be too hard on myself for not trying. Besides, I still have a lot of time, and I wouldn’t trade my experience with my master’s degree in public administration. Perhaps someday I will make a great city attorney.

Anyhow, as we drove home the husband was envisioning how his med school live would have been with his lawyer wife: no debt, a decent home, and me having to go by my maiden name so just incase I was in the business of medical malpractice (which I wouldn’t have, but the irony is just awesome). Then I reminded him that I may not have scored high enough on the LSAT to score a spot at a school in state—and then where would we have been? Wedded partners studying law and medicine in two different states. Yuck.

But he refuted my logic, “You would have scored enough easily…plus you’re a woman.” Great. I was really enjoying the boost of hypothetical self esteem until he reminded me that I’m still just a woman, struggling for air below a glass ceiling. But I’m not really mad at the husband. He’s just a poor, practical man, thoughtlessly sticking me in a smaller economic bracket because I’m a girl.

If he could have read my mind he would have been scared stupid by such poisonous phrases shaping themselves into blow darts. But instead, these words stumbled off my lips, “What? You’re saying that I would have made it into law school here because women are stupider?” Yep. And as soon as I spit out that last little ‘er’ we both started laughing. I didn’t even have the composure to pretend like I meant to say it.

To the women of the world: sorry I screwed that one up.

Aging

Yesterday Allerina came to spend the night at our home. I love that little girl. But she really isn’t so little any more. And, every time I get to have her over, I start feeling older.

She was wearing a jacket that said ’15 on the sleeve. It took me a moment to realize that those numbers stood for the year she is going to graduate. Then it took me a long time to admit that ’15 is 13 years after ’02.

She said she wanted to watch a scary movie because she’s “so into them lately.” So, I pulled out an old “What Lies Beneath” VHS I got from the DI. She had never even heard of the thriller that made the husband sleep in his parents’ room when he was a teenager. Thankfully she did know what a VHS tape was.

While here she watched me fumble in circular frustration after misplacing my phone, my key card and my keys. I’m glad it didn’t all happen at once, and that they were all soon recovered, but the recurrent episodes of forgetfulness are beginning to scare me. Plus, I sound so much like my mom whenever I get flustered (not that that means that I’m old).

Finally, I couldn’t get enough of her “teenage drama queen” mode. It’s rather easy to access. All you have to do is say something slightly inflammatory about boys, or friends or PMS and her beautiful brown eyes start rolling. If you want her to become especially peeved, tease her about being boring.

My diva of a little sister is anything but boring; however this seems to be her worst fear. I was giving her a hard time about how she and her friend threw the fish (I gave her for her birthday) off of the deck after taking turns with the poor little thing flopping around in their mouths. And this is what she said, “Ok, maybe that was sorta stupid, but at least I wasn’t sitting around alone playing board games.” Instant laughter jumped right out of my mouth, and I hugged her. “You’re such a good girl,” I said. “In your mind, the worst possible thing you could be doing is not drinking, or drugs, or even noncommittal make out sessions with stupid adolescent boys. It’s playing board games.”

…Which brings me back to confess that I am getting old, and probably quite boring, because I would love to just sit around some night with the husband playing board games. But at least my cool little teenage sister still wants to hang out with me. Maybe I’m not that old and boring after all.

An Anne Frank Moment

Tonight the husband and I went on a date. And neither of us broke a bone. It was a great night, made possible by super babysitters Gpatts and her sidekick Leaf. Kram and his wife Ashat sponsored our night at the Texas Roadhouse and then to the Pioneer Theater play, “The Diary of Anne Frank.” The food was ok. The play was amazing. The company was even better. I love Anne Frank. I love hearing her thoughts and listening to her feelings. Watching the dramatic reenactment of their time in hiding was profound. When the play was over it was difficult to applaud, even though the acting was superb. Anne makes me want to be a better person. She reminds me what I love so much about life, and why I enjoy writing about living. Her story also reminds me about all the things in life I don’t understand. That list is tragically long. Number 1229 on my “don’t understand” list is why I did not know who Anne Frank was until I was a senior in High School. Even though my 7th grade History Fair project on World War II won first prize, I had never read nor heard about Anne and her family’s time hiding in the annex. And, the moment that I realized that I was supposed to know all about her was rather humiliating. The husband (aka Wonderboy who stole my heart in high school) played the violin in an orchestra that toured Europe the summer before our senior year—quite sophisticated, I know. I’m still impressed that I convinced him to fall for me, the girl that spent her summers weighing trucks at her father’s feed mill. When he returned from Europe he brought me a ring and many stories. One such story was about visiting an annex in Holland where Anne Frank lived. I tried to pretend that I knew who Miss Frank was because we were with Wonderboy’s family, but inside I was really wondering who this Anne girl was, why he was exploring her attic and whether or not I should be jealous. Wonderboy’s mom read my confused expression and called my bluff, “You don’t know who Anne Frank is, do you?” I tried to mumble through an “I can’t quite remember…tell me who she is again” explanation, but I just looked even more stupid. His sweet mom just laughed, blamed my junior high years in the small town Laman, and shrugged it off as an “Anne Frank” moment. For years I worked hard to recover from that moment, but I’ll never live it down. To this day the phrase, “it was an ‘Anne Frank’ moment,” can still be used to define inexplicable lapses in my knowledge or memory. Heaven knows there are more to come.

A late Missionary Monday

Hello Brother,

I'm so proud of you. I hope you're doing well. I'm glad to hear that you enjoy being a training. I hope that means that your companion is enjoying it too. I'm sure he is. You are such a great person to spend time with, I hope he appreciates that...if he doesn't, I'm sure he will after he's transferred away. I'm also glad to hear that the language is coming along well. The husband was at the same point in his mission when he was made trainer and he remembers being stressed about the language, wishing that he knew more, etc. But the Lord always fills in the gaps. I sure have a lot of gaps to fill.

Yesterday was full of ups and downs for me. The greatest up was definitely being at the home with everyone for Sunday dinner. Allerina came across a video of you, Katiedid and Dalliwag doing a music video to Jack Black's "the Greatest Song," or something like that. I was laughing my face off at you guys. Each of you were dressed in one of Kaitiedid's old dance costumes--including Dalliwag, who was wearing a bathing suit like unitard. It was so funny. Thanks for that.

Another up was the Sunday school lesson that helped me get passed some of my downs. The downs are the usual worries--Atrain's balance issues, my various struggles with motherhood and all the demands therein. We were talking about Christ feeding the five thousand plus. It was right after John the Baptist had been killed. Christ had been seeking some "alone time," but there were throngs of people following them. He had compassion on them. He filled their spiritual and physical needs as he taught and fed them. Then after he had compassion on them, his time alone eventually came, and then he walked on water to meet his disciples on the boat.

I don't know if you ever struggle with wanting a moment to yourself--a moment in your schedule, a moment in the many needs or demands that you face, a moment to do something outside the demands of your call. But I do. I feel selfish that I do, but I do. As we were going through those scriptures, I thought of the compassion Christ had when he wanted to be alone to morn John's death. He had compassion--that was the key. And many miracles followed. I'm going to pray for more compassion this week so that God can make me equal to my callings in life, so that he can fill in my many gaps.

I sure love you and hope you're doing well. Keep up the good work my dear. Thank you for your example and friendship.

Love, MJ