Peace, be still

I was looking at a photo of Reed from a year ago, marveling at how much his face/whole self has changed. I realized, too, that we've been here in Grand Prairie for almost six months--and marveling over that, too. Then I was thinking about how I have grown and changed in the last year--or just the last six months--and my brain just about imploded.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still very much myself. I still struggle in the same ways, and I still triumph over the same successes. But one major difference is that I feel more peace these days. I think it has very little to do with where I am geographically--and everything to do with where I am personally.

When we first moved here, I had what I suppose was a crisis of faith. The change was drastic enough, drawn-out enough, and unexpected enough that I felt....angry. Angry, bitter, and confused as to why (I felt) my repeated prayers for relief and help weren't being answered. So one day I said it aloud--to Phill, while I was in the midst of a really dark moment--"I'm just so mad at Him." And right after I said it, I wished I hadn't. It was like being a child, and shouting something horribly hurtful to your mother or father. I felt deep and immediate shame, and found myself praying for forgiveness all day, until at the end of the day, I knew I could stop. I knew that Heavenly Father was well-aware of my pain, and wanted to help me. I knew, too, that I had been stubbornly refusing to do what I had been prompted to do--what would really help me.

I still feel lonely, out of place, and impatient from time to time. Sometimes I feel lonely or depressed for an extended period of time. And sometimes I feel, still, like I'm failing at everything important, or that my life is so chaotic that I can't catch my breath. At times I feel that I have made no progress.

But in general, I feel more capable and more believing than I have for a very long time. And really grateful and aware of so many blessings being poured out upon my family and me. I try to take a minute each day to just quickly write on my dry-erase board a few things I'm grateful for. I know it's something that has been shown time and again to make people happier. I believed that, I just felt really overwhelmed by the concept of a "gratitude journal". So I decided to be ultra-casual about it and go with the dry-erase calendar on my kitchen wall. Every time I look at my list, be it long or short, I feel happier noticing the ways that God blesses me every day. I feel like remembering how He's watching over me enables me to handle the setbacks and difficulties with greater grace and--here's that word again--peace.

I feel like although I have the same issues and heartaches, when I'm praying, reading my scriptures, and just writing down the blessings I find, the problems I do have become tiny enough that I could just put them in my pocket. Still present, but manageable. Not so devastating. A learning tool, instead of a traumatic injury to my soul.

 Sometimes we suffer hardships or struggle to overcome weaknesses for what feels an uncommonly long time. Sometimes it is an uncommonly long time before we finally see the full dividends of well-endured strife. But I know that in the meantime, we can have comfort, we can know that the Savior is there, ever-ready to extend His hand, and we can feel peace that surpasses understanding.

In sacrament meeting one Sunday, we sung a hymn that I think I've always liked, but maybe just didn't pay much attention to before. Now it has become something that I think of so often, and sometimes just crave to hear. It reminds me that we are never forgotten.

Master, the Tempest is Raging

1. Master, the tempest is raging!
The billows are tossing high!
The sky is o’ershadowed with blackness.
No shelter or help is nigh.
Carest thou not that we perish?
How canst thou lie asleep
When each moment so madly is threat’ning
A grave in the angry deep?

 The winds and the waves shall obey thy will:
Peace, be still.
Whether the wrath of the storm-tossed sea
Or demons or men or whatever it be,
No waters can swallow the ship where lies
The Master of ocean and earth and skies.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, be still; peace, be still.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, peace, be still.

2. Master, with anguish of spirit
I bow in my grief today.
The depths of my sad heart are troubled.
Oh, waken and save, I pray!
Torrents of sin and of anguish
Sweep o’er my sinking soul,
And I perish! I perish! dear Master.
Oh, hasten and take control!

 The winds and the waves shall obey thy will:
Peace, be still.
Whether the wrath of the storm-tossed sea
Or demons or men or whatever it be,
No waters can swallow the ship where lies
The Master of ocean and earth and skies.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, be still; peace, be still.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, peace, be still.

3. Master, the terror is over.
The elements sweetly rest.
Earth’s sun in the calm lake is mirrored,
And heaven’s within my breast.
Linger, O blessed Redeemer!
Leave me alone no more,
And with joy I shall make the blest harbor
And rest on the blissful shore.

 The winds and the waves shall obey thy will:
Peace, be still.
Whether the wrath of the storm-tossed sea
Or demons or men or whatever it be,
No waters can swallow the ship where lies
The Master of ocean and earth and skies.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, be still; peace, be still.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, peace, be still.

Thoughts from the road

Finally on the road to Texas--the historic Route 66, in fact. After feeling the anxiety of anticipation, there is a sort of relief in finally being on our way. Thus far, we've been on the road for 7 hours. Last night we traveled from Salt Lake City to St. George, stayed the night with dear friends, and then were on the road this morning.

The sky looks huge with only the open plains to compete, and I feel somewhat vulnerable without the mountains to hide me. But it's different and exciting and beautiful. I've driven cross-country before, but it was a long time ago. After 7 years in Utah, you'd better believe this mountainless landscape looks new!

The cats have been surprisingly quiet in their carriers all day, though they are definitely stressed. The kids have been angelic, and this trip is surpassing even the best I'd imagined for it. We feel blessed.

not Goodbye, just See-You-Later

After thoughtful consideration and prayer, and realizing I need my energy for other matters at this time, I decided not to run the marathon this year. I'm perfectly at peace with that decision. Jenn will continue to train and complete the marathon on her own, and I am so glad that she's going to! I've decided to change the marathon blog to private; Jenn and I were (obviously) not so good at keeping it updated and I'd like to lessen the pressure for both of us to keep it current for now.

And on to the other things on my mind:

Tomorrow the movers will come and pack us up. I've cried numerous times in the past several days, but on Saturday evening (after a non-functioning air-conditioning unit, a surprise flu-ish sickness that hit me like a ton of bricks, and not much rest in general with the excitement of family visiting) I had a bit of a breakdown. I asked Phill and my brother-in-law, Eric, to give me a priesthood blessing. They willingly did so and while I still feel sad, and still feel some of the physical effects that my nervous stomach tends to take on during times like this, I am overall hopeful. I know we can do this. I know we are and will be watched over. I'm anxious about much of the unknown. I still wish we didn't have to do this. But we must--and so we're trying to see the possibilities, the light, and just accept what comes.

I'm not sure how often I'll be able to blog in the next month. Our schedule is mostly decided, but still somewhat loose. I plan to write posts in a notebook, which I will transcribe when we have regular internet access--or if I get a quiet moment at a computer some time before then.

This is the (provided nothing goes awry or changes on the fly) plan:
Tuesday (tomorrow) the movers come and pack us up.
Wednesday they pack us up some more. (?)
Thursday we load up, and after the home has been inspected, we will go up to Salt Lake City and stay with my parents in their (brand-spanking-new) home.
August 1st--or earlier, depending on how our visiting goes in Northern Utah, and how sane we are (ha....haaa....), we leave for TX. I don't know if it will take us 2 days, 4 days, or 5. But when we arrive, we'll stay in Lawton, Oklahoma with my sister, Liz, her husband, Pat, and their four beautiful children. (And a cat named Hector! How darling is that?) We will travel the 3 hours to Grand Prairie to look for a place, and when we find one, we'll move in! Then....hopefully internet will be close to follow. And sanity, and serenity, and order, and normalcy. :)

I am grateful for our time here in St. George, and grateful for our time in Utah. I have been blessed with some choice friends, salt-of-the-earth, so to speak. My heart aches when I think of living so far from them, but I know, too, that they are loyal and will be good about keeping in touch! (You hear me, you loyal friends? Hear me? hahahha....) 


So. Forward with faith it is. Tally-ho and such.

To my dear friends in St. George--'til we meet again. 

(I forgot to mention!! I DO receive emails on my phone, and though it's a bit laborious to answer them from the phone, in this way I AM reachable....and of course through phone calls and text. If you don't have my number, shoot me an email and I'll send it to you.) 

full circle

On May 31st, we celebrated Savanna's fourth birthday. I'm not sure yet how to pin down what I feel. A mixture, definitely, of relief (we got this far!), surprise (how on earth did it go so fast?), and of course, aching (four years....four years).

The weirdest part of the day was realizing that we began our lives here with her first birthday, and we are leaving on the heels of her fourth birthday. A time sandwiched between two birthdays, and filled with many more. As I clicked away at my sweet daughter, blowing out her one candle (we only had one--woops!), I recalled how I had done this three times a year--one for each child--for the last three years. Nine birthdays at this dinner table. Suddenly I was able to look at our lives here in a broader perspective. As if I were sitting at the table, watching the seasons change around me, four different seasons, three times. Nostalgic mathematics, the only kind I like.

I'm now in the contemplative area of adjusting to the move. I am looking back and seeing all the good, all the growth, all the ways we have changed in the last little while. I'm seeing how much time has gone by, and how quickly. I'm not forgetting the times that dragged, but I view them a little more fondly.

Best of all, I realize that in August, we will again sit around the dinner table--this time in Texas--and celebrate Jaxon's birthday, opening our book in a new place. Whatever may come, we will gather three times a year--one for each child--and while we watch the seasons change around us, we will celebrate together.

Women of Recklessness and Kids of Iron

Back in January, I promised my dear friend Jenn that I would run the marathon this year if she would. At the time, I didn’t expect her to say yes—it was a rather reckless phrase that just tumbled out of my mouth with no preamble. It was strange. I didn’t even think it first, just—POP!—out it went, into the atmosphere, never to be retracted.

But as quickly as I said it, she replied even quicker, “YES-I’LL-DO-IT.” And then covered her mouth with a gasp, terrified at the words.

I checked the lottery results today, and it looks like I’ll need to follow through—we made it in!

This will be my second and Jenn’s first. I’m both comforted and terrified by the fact that I’ve done it before. Terrified because I know what to expect, and comforted because I know what to expect. :) Terrified because I will need to fly back to Utah to make good on my promise, and comforted because I will have a friend with me when I do it. Terrified to train during such a crazy-busy summer, then in low-elevation Texas, and run a marathon in high-elevation Utah. Comforted to have something to keep my mind healthy in the midst of the relocation.

On Saturday, St. George had the Ironman. It was (like last year) incredible to watch the bikers go past only about a quarter-mile from our house. The kids and I went to go watch, and just like last year, I was choked up and teary-eyed the whole time, alternately taking photos and saying things like, “Oh my goodness, oh, be still my heart” and so on. :) It is so moving to me to see firsthand the determination and persistence these people possess, and the abject exhaustion they experience. In my less-sane moments I think things like, “I want to do that one day” or “I should really learn to swim and bike better” or “what if I did that next year”…..anyway.

This year, the boys wanted to do the Ironman Kids Fun Run, which takes place the night before the actual Ironman. They were lucky to run with Jadyn and Kai, the older two kids of my Sarah. :) Reed did the 1-mile, and Jaxon did the 200m dash. I will openly admit to crying when they both finished. It was epic to me. I’m happy for them to glean joy from running, whether it’s something they’ll continue or not. I’m happy that they felt a sense of accomplishment and did something new and potentially frightening.
 
 

The Texas-Sized Summer: Part 2

Along with the huge change in location this summer, I have (so happily) implemented some change in my career course.

A habitual prayer of mine is that I will know what God wants me to do with the things He has given me--time, my family, my health, my knowledge, and my talents. I firmly believe that all good things are from God. I don't want to waste or discount what has been given. Even more, I want to discover the things that make me ME. In short, I am getting to know myself better with each one of those prayers. And the better I know myself, the better I serve the people I love.

After the (amazing, life-changing, course-correcting) Breathe Intensive, I felt that with my Mothers project, my increased leaning and beginning towards birth photography, and my renewed motivation, I was exactly where I needed to be.

But I felt like I was missing something. Some piece of the whole picture. Something more.

I prayed and listened. I wrote, I pondered, and I puzzled until my puzzler was sore. What is it? I asked. What am I looking for?

And the answer came after weeks of this process, quietly but with unmistakable impact. It came in the form of a funny, made-up word, doulographer, one for which I wish I had the copyright. (Let's assume I do, considering no one else has nabbed it yet. Hey, nabbers! Don't nab! It's mine!)

Doula + photographer = Doulographer

A doula. I needed to become a doula.

I took this answer and held onto it for a while. I prayed some more, and listened some more. I tried it on for size, visualizing myself attending the births of friends, and then people I don't yet know. I held a newborn or two (haha) and inspected their sweet faces, thinking about the lengths their mothers had gone to in order to bring them here. And then finally, I asked: Should I become a doula?

And it was like the YES was spoken to my soul. I knew it. I knew it and I cried with relief, feeling that at last I had found the missing part of the whole picture.

I will continue with my photography in full-force. This is not a replacement to my photography, but a supplement. And while I don't think I could do a good job at both at the same time, I am happy to do either.

I'm happy that as a photographer I will have this added credential. I recognize that to ask a mother to allow me to photograph her birth is enormous. For her to say yes is for her to trust me implicitly, to ask me to be present during one of the most sacred moments of her life. I want to have something concrete to my name when I ask for that privilege, something to accompany my photos.

I have ordered and received my application packet, and from April 18th, I have two years to complete all the steps necessary to certification. I am reading the first book on the reading list, and communicating enthusiastically with one of my doula-friends through email. I feel so decided with this. I don't really see the end-product of all of this, or where I'm ultimately going. I don't care. All I know is that this is where I am supposed to be. Here, now, doing what I'm doing, which is something immeasurably comforting.

It's like coming home, making this choice and moving in this direction. A couple of days ago on the phone, my mom told me that I have a few ancestors who were photographers, and (at least) one who was a midwife. It makes my heart soar to think that perhaps I'm just doing what is only natural to me....I always wanted to say, "It's what I do....it's in my blood." :D

I do have a long way to go. But I can't wait.

The Texas-Sized Summer: Part 1

I apologize for the long pause. I'm not in denial anymore, but I'm still, on occasion, kicking and screaming. Bear with me!

This morning dawns rainy, cool, and gray--much like the first night we arrived in St. George, May 24th, 2008. There was the sweet smell of desert rain, which Phill had tried to describe to me numerous times. It's so appropriate that things come full-circle like this, in this, the month we first arrived. In July, we will watch movers pack all our belongings, many of the signs of our comfortable existence here, and wave as they take them to Grand Prairie, Texas, our future home. For the second half of July, we will travel around Utah, saying our see-you-laters and trying our best to cram in as much family/friend time as possible.

I am resigned to this fact. I know there's nothing to be done, as we've tried every avenue we know. It is simply what is to be. And since I can do nothing to change it, I am trying--so hard--to embrace it.

This month, we'll have Phill's mom, her husband, Phill's sister and kids, and Phill's brother visiting. We will enjoy St. George, try to stay cool in the heat, make the most of our time together, and celebrate Savanna's 4th birthday.

In June, I will teach the Scouts the basics of photography, try and be on time to my dear friend's birth, and enjoy a girl's night out in Cedar City with a sweet friend I've had since Reed was two years old. 

We will make the best of our July, doing our traditional fireworks in the street on the Fourth (the burning of the toy truck is a must), spending time with friends, and then in the later half, enjoying our time with family up north, with my heart happy that I will get to see my sweet sister give birth to her second child. 

We bought a large, laminated map of the U.S. that we will bring with us when we drive (around August 1st) from Utah to Texas. Along the way, we'll make a few stops at historic places (suggestions welcome), noting where we are on the map for the kids' sake. We'd like them to see how much ground we're covering. We'll also be putting pins in the map (once we're in a home) and showing them where all our loved ones are in relation to us. I will also welcome suggestions regarding traveling in a van with two cats, as it's been a long time since I've done so.

But even with all these preparations, these plans, even with all the wonderful encouragement from friends--and one who even lives in Denton, not far from where we'll be!--too often I find myself steeped in the bitter side of bittersweet. Sundays are particularly hard. We are surrounded by good people, people who love us and give us the best that friendship has to offer. Every hug, every smile, every bit of laughter and good conversation, is as painful as it is precious. Because I come home each Sunday and wonder how long it will take us to make these kinds of friendships in Texas. I feel the fear of such a big change; I wonder how my children will cope (they will cope well, but how?), and I wonder if I'm doing all I can to make this as seamless as possible. I cry almost as often as I whisper prayers of gratitude for the good people in our lives.

And then, because the ugly alternative I see is to become a mute and angry recluse, I choose to pick myself up and keep going. Keep doing the things that will help. Keep reading those emails from Heidi in Denton. Keep researching, planning, and preparing. Keep praying. Keep hoping. Keep remembering that our lives are in God's hands, and He won't leave us stranded in our sorrow.

Much as I am afraid, I know we have everything to look forward to. This will be different, that much is sure. But I am certain that God gives us no more than we can handle, and even more, gives us the things we need most. The things that will bring us closer to Him, and in turn, bring us the most joy.

I know that I have the strength to not only make the best of this, but to feel joy and excitement about what is to come. I want to meet this Texas-sized change with Texas-sized bravery. And I'm hopeful that what will follow is some proportionally-large happiness.

sweet little nothings

I was happily babysitting this darling bundle, Toryn....

 

...and Savvy was right next to me, at baby Toryn's head, quietly looking at her and occasionally extending one finger to stroke her soft cheek or smooth her silky hair. Suddenly Savvy points at Toryn's eyes and says in a delighted, high, quiet voice, "Mom! Her flashes! Her teeny tiny flashes!" I was confused for a split-second and then got it--and Savvy continued in the same excited voice, "I have big flashes. And you have big flashes. You wear makeup on your flashes. But Toryn has tiny flashes! They are soooo cuuuute." And then she giggled and patted Toryn's head.

Yesterday I had Jaxon in the clinic because of a high fever that wouldn't go away. While we waited for a long time to get his strep-test results back (negative, "just" an upper respiratory infection), Jaxon remained on the exam table, too tired to bother sitting up in one of the chairs. His eyes, which were already droopy to begin with, began to close and I wondered if he would fall asleep on the table. Suddenly his eyes popped open and he said, "Mom, I'm just going to close my eyes for a little while. I might sleep because it feels good." Then he closed his eyes and lay still, while I admired his insanely long lashes and felt sad for him. After a little while, he moved from his side to his back and said, "I'm cold." I said, "Are you? I could hold you." And he said, "But I know how to make myself warm." And with a little smile, he pulled his arms into his shirt, pulled his knees up under it, and lay there on his back like a turtle in its shell, content and cute.

Reed is into extreme statements. For instance, when one aspect of his day doesn't go well, it is "the worst" day of his life. Understandably, I have experienced some exasperation in trying to teach him that a day can be mostly good, even if he has to do homework or clean a toilet or isn't allowed to get a candy bar at the store. But I actually like this habit when it's turned on its good side--like when he got to play at his best friend's house for a few hours: "Mom, this is the best day I have ever had!" or when I let him have a third cookie: "You are the best mom EVER" or when he's having fun with Savvy and Jax: "I love you more than anything in the whole wide world."

Savvy is into shrugging, as in the shrug and "uh-uh" that means, "I don't know." Her favorite thing is to ask me a question when she knows I'm distracted: "Mom, is my hair blue?" -"Uh-uh...(shrug)"....then she repeats my answer with the clarification: Shrug + "I don't know". She's also into narrative prayers, and I am loving it. "And please bless that we will have fun. And thank you for our food. And Jesus Christ is my friend, and he loves me, and he loves mama and daddy and Reed and Jax and me, and he will come to my house and hug me, and I will say I love you and he will say I love you and I will say bye and he will say see you later"....

Lately Jaxon is discovering the beauty in silence. He has always been, how should I say....good at relaxing? Kind of a chill homebody. But last Sunday something must have really spoke to his heart, because as the kids sat at the counter while I made waffles, he said, "Mom, can we whisper? I like when it's quiet." So we whispered for about ten minutes, and he sat there with the biggest smile on his face and the sweetest sparkle in his eyes. We had a brief discussion of what sort of environment we need to cultivate for the Spirit to be in our home, and it was just a time that was full of peace.

Reed has walked (by himself) home from school and to school from home a few times this last week. He is happy as can be. (You know, happier than he's ever been in his whole life, in the language of extremes) I'm happy that he's happy, and I'm learning to (very slowly, with clenched fists and jumpy-stomach) let go. It's exciting and unnerving and wonderful. 

Lastly, not leastly, we are house-hunting. I'm hesitant to say more until we have something solid, but rest assured that I will document the journey and keep all of you posted!

Sunday stream-of-consciousness

Phill had drill today. I didn't want to go to church. But the messages in class today were ones I needed, the kinds of lessons that prompt me to thank the Lord that I made that oft-repeated and often-difficult decision to wake up, get my children and myself cleaned, dressed, fed, and go to church. It was three hours rife with answers I had prayed for.

After church was over, we walked fast in the mild cold to our van, the children behind me like my little ducklings in a line. All of us sleepy and hungry, we got home and sort of came apart at the seams, strewing belongings and requests left and right. Jaxon: "Mom, will you plant my zucchini seeds?" and in the same breath, "Mom, can you unbutton my shirt?" Savvy chimed in, "Pea-butter-jelly. No, turkey. No, pea-butter-jelly-turkey. No, hearts. Mama, I want hearts." While telling Savvy that candy hearts would be part of her lunch, I changed into more comfortable clothes and hid in the bathroom for a second, composing my mind and still thinking of the lessons from church.

Lunch made and eaten, we settled into the couches to watch Swiss Family Robinson. While the kids watched with stars in their eyes, I remembered my younger reaction to it (starry-eyed, too), and then got very, very sleepy. I kept myself awake by wondering what, if any, part of this movie was true. (Hardly any of it, turns out)

From my blanketed warmth on the couch, looked at the messy living room, the lunch food on the table, the dirty tiles of the floor, and the hopeless paper explosion that is the desk, and remembered one of the lessons from today--a lesson on work. The value, necessity, and joy of hard work. Ironic and necessary, given my current state!

I have grand plans for tonight and this week, plans involving organizing and preparing and pulling myself out of this slump. Should I take Before & After pictures to chart my progress and add a little steam to my motivation? :)

What Do I Do All Day? You really wanted to know?!

I'm amazed by the fact that this post idea was most requested of the four! Kind of flattering (and intimidating) that you all want to hear about my usually-mundane days. No special presentation, just a rundown of my days. Well, here goes!

Note: This schedule does not include other weekly or monthly things, like: Phill's drill weekend (where he works straight through the weekend), den meeting, pack meeting, photo shoots, doctor appointments, unexpected sickness, traveling up north or elsewhere, etc....just a cross-section of my most normal of days.


Example 1:
Up at 8:20.
8:21 Dress in workout clothes with the best of intentions.
8:25 Dress Savvy and make sure Jaxon is dressed.
8:30 Notice the time and panic, making resolutions for earlier rising tomorrow.
8:30 Make Reed's lunch while the kids eat a fast breakfast at the table.
8:40 Run around like a chicken with its head cut off, looking for The Other Shoe or Two Matching Socks or That Indispensable Piece of Paper for School.
8:45 Out the door to school.
8:48 Drop Reed off and go home instead of to the gym.
9:00 Eat breakfast myself in front of the computer.
10:00 Realize I've been on the computer for waaaay too long.
10:10 Finally get up from the computer.
10:10 Realize that working out is not going to happen today; change into "real" clothes.
10:50 Put down the book I've become immersed in and tickle Jaxon's back, feed Savvy's babydoll, make a snack for them--whatever they need.
11:30 AGAIN, put down the book I've become immersed in and clean the kitchen enough that lunch won't give us a terrible disease
12:00 Lunch
12:45 Realize that I was done eating lunch fifteen minutes ago and this darn book isn't helping me get anything done.
12:50 Make a monumental effort to pull myself together, play around with the kids (usually involves impromptu chasing), do dishes, clear countertops, and clean up the living room floor. Think about dinner, draw a blank, and think about it some more. Read a story to the kids and scratch Jaxon's back again. (Can you guess his love language?)
2:30 Collapse on the couch, thoroughly spent and fresh out of motivation. Cuddle with the kids as my eyes get veeerrry drooopy.
3:15 Jerk awake to the sound of my phone alarm. Rush out the door with the kids to go pick up Reed. Sit in car, reading (yes, again) until he's done at 3:30.
3:35 Come home and make a snack for the kids. Help Reed with homework or let the kids play outside for a bit. Procrastinate making dinner, either by hanging out with Phill (since he's usually home around this time), standing around outside with the kids, allowing myself to be sucked into Facebook (happens waaaay more than it should) or photo-editing, or reading.
6:30 Realize how late it got and that I still don't have dinner on the table
6:45 Come back from Little Caesar's
7:15 Have prayer, get kids' teeth brushed
7:25 Kids in bed
7:25 Sing less songs, but still give kisses/hugs/back-scratches and at least SOME listening time, and read for 20 minutes.
7:45 Collapse into a puddle of mush on the couch, bemoaning the state of the house and counting my failures of the day, knowing full well I could have done much, much better.
8:00 Resolve to do better tomorrow.
11:30 Finally into bed.

Example 2: 
Up at 8:00
8:01 Dress in workout clothes.

8:05 Have Reed shower while I help Savvy and Jaxon dress
8:20 Having already made Reed's lunch the night before, prepare a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs, ham, and toast for the kids. Eat at a leisurely pace.
8:40 Out the door.
8:43 Drop off Reed and head to the gym.
10:15 Pick up the kids from the gym daycare, come home
10:20 Snack for the kids, breakfast for myself while I read my scriptures

10:30 Shower, dress, blow-dry my three pounds of hair
11:10 After making sure the kids have all they need, sit down at the computer to do writing exercises.
11:40 Finish writing exercises. Do some dishes (if necessary) and make lunch.
12:00 Lunch.
12:30 Read to the kids, then cuddle with them while I read (my own book)
1:00 Set timer and set about getting the house squared away--dishes, laundry, countertops, table, floors, etc...
2:00 Cuddle with the kids again on the couch, make them a snack or watch them draw
2:20 Edit photos
3:00 Put away some clean laundry or (again) cuddle on the couch.
3:15 Leave to get Reed from school, reading in the car while I wait
3:30 Get Reed, come home
3:35 - 4:30 Help Reed with homework OR go to den meeting OR stand outside with the kids while they play in the front for a bit OR cuddle with Phill on the couch when he gets home OR edit photos
4:30 Start dinner prep
5:00 Eat dinner
5:30 Do dinner dishes, play in the front with the kids again
6:00 Bring kids in, get them bathed and pajama'd
6:30 Watch some toons together OR dance in the living room to music (way better option)
6:50 Scriptures, prayer
6:55 Have kids brush their teeth
7:00 Kids in bed
7:00 - 7:30 or 7:45 Sing to Savvy and give her lots of hugs and kisses, sing to Jaxon and make him laugh and scratch his back, sing to Reed and listen to him talk about his day. Read our current chapter book (Right now it's The Great Brain....thanks, Abby!) to the kids while I sit on Reed's bed--Jax hardly lasts through a paragraph, and Savvy on an ideal night is out by four paragraphs. Reed, however, will listen as long as I read. :)
7:45-ish Cuddle with Phill on the couch and watch shows OR edit photos OR do some blogging OR do some Reader OR finish some cleaning OR read a good book OR go get a few things at the grocery store
10:35 Make Reed's lunch for the next day, make sure all the stuff we need for tomorrow is located.
10:45 Get ready for bed
11:00 IN bed, done for the day

It's kind of embarrassing to have laid out the goings-on of my day like this. Believe me....I'm well aware of the areas that could use improvement! I'm working on being able to say I have more Example 2 days than Example 1. It's funny to me, though, how differently my day goes when I choose to wake up on time, or work out, or read my scriptures. (Or all three!) Just like everyone else, I know the things that make my day go smoother, and yet I fall short. Often. And forget the essentials.

Another thing that's embarrassing to me is how much time I actually have. When I'm organized, that is. When I'm not buried in a book or gazing at Facebook or sleeping in. I'm not in any hurry to fill my day up with more--I know how quickly a day can become jam-packed, and I'm steeling myself for when our kids are involved in after-school activities--but I mope and moan about how hard it is to get everything done...and it is, when I'm not really on top of my game. But I'm sure it's not as hard as I make it out to be! I know so many others who are far busier and still manage to get so much done.

I suppose my point is--take comfort! Look how very human I am, and please see me through forgiveness-tinted glasses when you consider that I am certainly working on it. :)

(Again) a couple of things

Reed turned 8. He IS 8. I am the mother of an 8-year-old. Stick that in your pipe and...leave it there?

I am writing. As in book-writing. As in, tearing out my hair and yelling at the computer screen because my "book" is 3 pages long. Ah, well. I can't force this. In the meantime, I've done writing exercises from an excellent book--three days in a row! Laugh if you will, but sadly, that's more consistent than I've been for years.

Savvy is actually asking to go to the bathroom. Wanting to sit on the toilet. This should be ideal, but memories of the two previous potty-training drawn-out-disasters have me a little hesitant. Maybe some princess panties will get me motivated.

We spent Thanksgiving in California with my sister and her loves, and it was glorious. We saw the new Harry Potter movie--oh, how I loved it!--and ate at In-n-Out and went to Disneyland. (Not all in the same day.) Best visit so far.

My little Q comes to visit in a little over a week! I'm breathlessly excited, and we have a project we MIGHT start that MIGHT involve her fantastic art and story-making skills, and my writing.

So many of my friends are pregnant or just had babies, and I'm telling you, my arms ache to hold the latest additions--Cara's twin girls, Charlotte and June. Just a random factoid, this raging baby hunger. It's no secret. I think I've mentioned it to strangers in passing. "Oh hello you, with the darling baby in an airport restroom! May I hold your baby? What? No? What do you mean, that's creepy?"

Last: When it comes to deciding what to blog about, it appears I am as indecisive as Reed in a candy store, so I am going to let you do the deciding. (Way to avoid, eh?) Take the poll on the top right of the blog, if you please.

And as always....thank you for reading (what is really, this time, drivel).

Many things:

1. I am suffering from Perfectionist's Paralysis, hence the absence of closer-together posting. I know that's lame. I want to write more. I need to write more. Maybe I should set aside one or two days a week specifically for writing? At least a little something? Thoughts, my patient friends?

2. We are well out of the toddler stage with Savanna, at least age-wise (let's not talk about fit-throwing), and honestly, it is killing me. The fact that we have no more baby-babies in this house...*sigh*...it's going to take a while, I think, for this to be okay with me. For that small spot of aching to dissipate. In the meantime, I am trying to adjust my mind to the upcoming project of potty-training, and trying to get excited about this new stage of family life we're easing into.

3. I love Pandora. So, so much. It has been guiding me through editing the last five shoots I've done, four of which still need to be tied up in a nice neat package for delivery. Guess what? On one of those shoots, we were on the roof. And in the street. And making tires spew copious amounts of smoke. And there were hair models, and my cousins, and a scooter. Epic. What I have been referring to as a "breakthrough" shoot. [A shoot that overwhelmingly reaffirms why I do this and love this and want to keep DOING this]

4. Savvy has Croup, and it's sad. I had her at the doctor two days in, where she was given a dose of meds to head it off, so she's mostly over it. But at night, it's still bad, since all the crap [why don't they just call it Crap?] moves into her throat and she can't quite cough it up without lots of struggle. I'm praying Jax doesn't catch it, and grateful that Reed is pretty much above the age where it does him much harm.

5. Reed will be 8 in less than a month. I'm telling you, seeing it coming doesn't make it any less mind-boggling. [Why am I always so surprised that my children grow? No one told me they wouldn't. Quite the contrary, in fact.]

6. Have I mentioned this [on my blog here] yet? If not, click on over and please PLEASE feel free to sign up to be a part of it! This idea speeds up my heart rate and makes my cheeks go rosy; I am so happy to start. I feel like I've finally found at least a beginning direction for all this....creative angst?....that keeps threatening to come pushing out of my eye sockets if I don't channel it somehow!

7. I will write again soon. A little formulating, I think, and then a plan of attack. [Funny, this is a rather logical way of going about a creative endeavor, don't you think?]

Spokane, the U.F.O.

Over a year ago, on one particularly early morning training run in preparation for the marathon (2009), I was out running long before the sun. As usual when running in the dark, I felt jittery and a bit paranoid, but knew that most of my run would be in daylight, so I plodded along the street, which was lit only by street lamps, interspersed further apart than I would have liked.

About half a mile into my run, I began to loosen up and shed my nervousness. I got into a good groove and as usual, began to enjoy the run. Suddenly, I spotted something in the distance. Something hovering strangely in the middle of the street. I was confused for a moment, then seized with something much like panic as I watched this object moving on the road....I squinted into the darkness, trying to make sense of it. Many options went through my mind: A cat?....Some sort of mobile camera? [It was 4:45 in the morning....we all know my mind goes to anxious places at such hours of the day]...a small, ferocious animal? At times, parts of it would glint in the inky-dark morning, and I would be overcome with a fresh wave of fear, thinking that this strange animal (?!) was quietly observing me. It was maybe 40 feet away.

I had stopped running, then walking, and simply stood on the side of the road, shaking and completely confused for several minutes. Presently, a car went past, and the object moved lightly away from the car. Something in my brain--probably the gear that doesn't usually start working until 8:00a.m.--whirred to life. Something about this was familiar. Then another car passed, and this object, this glinting, light object, was lifted high above the ground by the resulting air current. And finally it clicked into place.

It was a balloon.

A cellophane helium balloon.

Probably from some kid's party.

Something thoughtlessly let into the sky, with no idea of the terror it would cause an already-nervous morning runner.

Something completely, utterly, and hilariously harmless.

I laughed out loud, then continued laughing, which evolved into relieved tears and then more laughter. That Unidentified Floating Object--that shiny balloon in the dark--had almost unthreaded me at the seams. And all because I didn't know what it was.

This last Monday, I had a bit of a meltdown. A combination of plain old exhaustion and a delayed reaction to the news of our upcoming move. Somehow, when I first received that news a couple weeks ago, I processed it in a miniature, very-convenient way. I skipped Part 1, Assimilation, the part where you digest and then mourn the future event. The part where it's ugly and you cry hard enough that your breath comes in shuddering gasps.

I admit I wanted to skip that part. So after a few tears--the kind where you simply swallow that lump in your throat, and let it sit in your stomach for weeks--I sat down at the computer, wanting to be ready to move on to Part 2. Part 2 is Research. I googled "Spokane, WA" and spent a couple of weeks just absorbing facts, without letting the real scope of things reach my brain.

But Monday came, and, well, the floodgates opened. It was as if someone grabbed my shoulders and shook me, saying, "Do you not realize what this means?" Maximum processing happened. My dear friends, the upcoming events [read: newborns] coming in those friends' lives, events that I would possibly miss or of which I would only get to see a shortened version. The change of housing, of schooling, of friendships, for my children. [Hardest part yet] The adjusting.

And worst of all, the What Ifs.

The U.F.O.'s.

What if no one there likes us?
What if my boys hate the school?
What if the boys hate me for having to move?
What if my photography isn't well-liked there?
What if Phill gets deployed right after I get there?
What if I feel lonely for months and months?
And the more complicated set:
What if I love it?
What if it's a dream come true?
What if my children never want to leave there?

All of these things rose up and I examined them at great length, standing in a puddle of water-drowned tears in the shower. I prayed. First desperately, then fervently, then resigned, and then....something else. Hopefully. Faithfully. And at last, beginning to see that this Spokane, this U.F.O., well, this could be nothing more than a harmless party balloon. Floating in the dark for now, but a (maybe even delightful) relief when viewed up-close. So for now, that is how I am choosing to view it.

A balloon.

Welp. It's that time again.

So for those of you that didn't read it on Facebook, I figured I ought to share the news:

Phill got orders a couple of days ago for us to move.

SPOKANE, WASHINGTON

in May 2011.

I'm full of conflicting feelings! Excited for a new spot and excited to live hours from where I was born (Tacoma), hours from my brother, and hours from family I haven't seen for a long time, but wishing (oh so fervently) that I could take all my friends and family with me. (That familiar ache.)

Ah, well. Such is the life of a soldier and his family! Bring it on, Change. I've got my hands balled up into great big fists and my right hook is just WAITING.

Hurts So Good

We had a relaxed, quiet Sunday--my favorite kind. Phill put a roast in the crock-pot early in the day, and by 3:00 the delicious fragrance was wafting through the house. We all lounged on the couches, alternately napping, cuddling, and watching movies.

When dinner rolled around, Phill set the food on the table and I followed with dishes. We sat down and immediately the kids began their familiar chorus: "This looks weird." "But I don't like beef." "What are those black spots?" "Can I eat just three bites?" I could feel the annoyance rising within me and fought to keep it under wraps. I remembered something my beautiful cousin posted a few days ago--something from another someone who was definitely inspired. I kept my voice level as I answered with the same calm answer, numerous times: "This is dinner. If you don't eat it, you'll be hungry." I decided to actually spoon-feed Jaxon to get him to try his food--"Oh! Actually I like beef." and convincing Reed to have a few more bites of potatoes before he had more mandarin oranges.

Gradually their protests died. They weren't wolfing down the food, but they were eating, and their voices weren't raised in a dissonant chorus anymore. I realized my extra effort to be patient with them had produced a new environment.

Though they were still loud, the sounds became happy. Then they tried to talk to me all at once, and I found myself surrounded by their joyful voices, all trying to get me to listen to them....and suddenly something that is so often hard for me to handle became music to my ears. I looked at their faces and laughed with them, relishing the fact that they want to talk to me, they want my attention, they love me....and then that love--which is always there but sometimes obscured by all the daily detritus--that love just bowled me over and I wasn't just laughing, but crying, too. How blessed am I? And who am I, to be so blessed? What on earth did I do to deserve such abject joy? It bowls me over at times, so much so that I can hardly stand it, and I understand the phrase, "I love you so much it hurts." Moments like these are the ones I file away for reference in those times when the feeling doesn't come so readily. Moments like these make the difficult times worthwhile.

Summer [In a poem]

My humble apologies I offer to you
not blogging for days--more than a few
my life has been busy, definitely true
but that is no excuse, and I commit anew.

Our summer was full of reunions and fun
visits from family and the flu--I was done.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my loved ones--
but sleep and rest? I didn't get tons.

Instead I got mono of the nucleosis kind,
didn't know I had it through the distracting daily grind
Luckily now, I have put the worst of it behind
and I continue to recover with a freshly-renewed mind

Reed has started second grade, free from boredom's hold
I'm keeping Jaxon home this year, a choice which might seem bold
But he's not yet five, my middle boy, and extra time is gold
I know this was our best choice--and I'll still know it when I'm old.

Savanna grows in leaps and bounds, already three feet tall
Vigor and vim, sweet and sass, she entertains us all
Compassionate and gentle, she's a good mother to her dolls
Though with one shove of her hands she can make her brothers fall....

Phill is active as ever, sports and church ball galore
The man just can't hold still--for him it's really a chore!
With busy-ness, he's happy, and that is what I hope for
I just want to see him smile, this man who I adore

As for myself, I continue to do what I can to progress
through therapy, renewed resolve, trying not to regress
I am definitely far from perfect, but mistakes don't negate success
I keep learning to be brave, and I won't let my fears oppress

growth

I was talking to my friend Cara today, telling her how I have this strange craving lately to do all these things that are requiring the utmost in responsibility from me and my family: The garden, the kitten, the puppy....

I puzzled over why I was so willing to do these things that have put me miles away from my comfort zone (particularly the puppy endeavor), because although there were many good reasons we embarked on these "adventures", I do second-guess my decisions at times and wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew.

So Cara, theorizing what could be behind these rather eventful things we've taken on, said, "I think sometimes we just want to grow. And we do these things that are hard, but worthwhile, so that we can grow."

Simple, but something I haven't been able to articulate! Cara is right. There are days with this darling new puppy of ours that I am only able to keep loving her because I know that I'm in this for more than the benefits of this present time. (Sorry. That wasn't a very cohesive sentence. Hope you got it.)

We decided to get these two pets of ours because we remember the great love a child can have for a pet, not to mention the love we as adults feel for them, and how they can enrich our lives.

We decided to have a garden because we like the purity of growing our own food, the basic beauty of nourish-and-grow, and we want our children to experience that. Our garden is growing beautifully. It's not perfect, and a couple of things seem to be on the outs--our strawberries and possibly one of my dahlia plants--but it's so green and so lovely, and it does my soul good to see it out the kitchen window every morning.

Our kitten Jude has blended seamlessly into our family. His personality is outrageous and we love him fiercely. He sleeps all over the place and can relax in the arms of any of our children (though for a very limited time in Savvy's....). He is playful and curious and smart.

We got Penny on Saturday, the same day Phill came home from San Antonio, and, well....I think having a new puppy is quite similar to having a potty-training child in your family. Messy. Maddening. And really strange, in that you find yourself celebrating over poop and pee....And somehow, I'm still falling in love with her.

I had this moment the first night we got her. I'm confessing it (I'm a little ashamed) because if anyone has had this feeling with regard to a brand-new puppy, well, don't feel guilty, and have hope because it will go away!--but moving on. I had this feeling that was quite similar to when I brought Reed home from the hospital. (Granted, I had postpartum depression and didn't realize it) This sense of having added to our lives something very permanent, something requiring much of our time, energy, resources, and love. And then a feeling of doom and dread, wondering if anything would feel normal again. (See, there's that obvious postpartum depression symptom--a symptom because it was a feeling that persisted for months and wasn't dictated by hormones) So that night (that we got Penny, not Reed), I cried and cried and two days later, I didn't need to cry anymore. (Hormones WERE involved in THIS instance....ahem....beloved PMS)

And today, five days later, I'm more comfortable already. It isn't easy yet, but it's....becoming our new norm. And I'm thinking I enjoy this new norm. Penny loves to sleep on our laps. She loves to go on short walks. She forces us to spend more time outside and also more time together as we all help her integrate. She is good for us, just as I hoped. It's a little uncomfortable at times, but we're doing it--we're growing!

Lettuce

Carrots

Sweet corn

An odd assortment--this is evidence of how haphazard this really was! Some seeds got mixed in with others and, voila, we have a little cornucopia in this tiny corner of our garden! Plus our cucumbers are wayward, not sticking to the "row" I created for them, save for one.
Reed's marigold, a little thirsty after having been transplanted too late
Penny Lane

Jude

Down to Earth

-OR- {Pardon the Wait While We Were Growing}

*I will include pictures in the post below this. Too many to include in this already-arduous post!
Recently our lives have been less predictable than usual. We have had a couple of interruptions, blips on the radar, so to speak, that have added some curves to our winding road.

There was my sinus surgery, which knocked me off my feet for two weeks, and then dampened my spirit for another month afterward. I felt the chaos of this interruption and tried to fight back, but didn't try very hard.

Just when I got my feet planted again, Phill needed surgery for his torn miniscus. Well, that makes it sound like it just popped out of nowhere....it didn't. We had a month's warning. But again, our "typical" lives were interrupted (just for a short time, this time), and I found myself feeling (again) like I was simply floating around in the debris.

Several times throughout the last few weeks, my resolve to bring more Balance to my life has caused me to cry hysterically or laugh. (Sometimes at the same time.) But slowly, this has blown over, and in its place, something new.

We have become more clear about what we want. More brave in going after it. More calm in the knowledge that no matter how much our lives seem to spin out of our controlling scope, it is always our Savior who keeps us rooted to the ground, safe and at peace.

Often, while our children sleep, Phill and I lay in bed and talk about our dreams. Usually, we dream simply. The things that make us glow with hope aren't usually extravagant.

We would love a big backyard, fenced in, where we can run and play and sit quietly as the summer sun sets and the crickets sing the day down.

We would love a large garden, full of flowers and food, where our children can dig and water and harvest the direct results of their hard work.

We would love a chicken coop, where a couple of chickens provide fresh eggs for our breakfast.

We would love a dog, one that follows the kids around adoringly; one that we can count on to protect me when Phill has to go out of town. The kind of dog you grow up with.

We would love a cat--the kind that has personality, the kind that sleeps on your bed at night, the kind that becomes a fixture of the house.

When we lay in bed at night, imagining these simple happy things, it is not so much them that we want. It's what they represent. Stability. Closeness. Tradition. Roots. The simplicity of plant-and-grow, nurture-and-reap.

For a long time, even these simple things have seemed faraway, and we have had to make do with doing our best to create peace in our home. But recently we experienced something intangible, something that has seemed to propel us in the direction of these things.

We looked at our tiny backyard, our sliver of land, and we saw the possibilities. We finally saw where a little bit of our dream could fit.

And we planted a garden.

6x11, I think, $25, and took us 4.5 hours on Conference Saturday. Small, but adequate. Small, but still the realizing of one part of our dream! A row each of cucumbers, lettuce, spinach, sweet corn, banana peppers, tomatoes, a strawberry plant and some dahlias. Inside the house in a little yellow pot grows mint; minuscule seedlings are sprouting all over. They look like tiny green hairs. And yesterday while Phill watered the garden, he shouted from outside to me, "Rae! We have lettuce!" I ran outside (yes, I ran--don't you know gardening is exciting?) and nearly cried when I saw the row of perfect little green clusters. So small you wouldn't spot them if you weren't looking.

But there.

Oddly enough, other aspects of our "Grand Dream" are falling into place, almost by accident. Reed's class hatched chicks, and we were able to enjoy two of them for a few days before we took them to a friend with a coop.

A friend's Boxer had puppies, and we have taken the plunge! We will get our sweet Boxer, Penny Lane, at the end of May. We held her a couple of weeks ago and she felt like ours, like home. Familiar and warm. While I have many fears about training/raising a puppy/dog, I feel deep within that we are on the right track. That this was the direction we meant to go all along.

A short time after we heard about Penny, we saw Jude. A friend emailed us and told us that he knew someone giving away kittens. We picked up our creamsicle-colored kitten yesterday. He played on the couch with me for a long time, and slept on Phill's pillow. He is curious, playful, and affectionate. He belongs.

I am aware that a garden, a puppy, and a kitten ALL require WORK. And that is precisely why I think we are finding some peace. We are back to the basics. The cause-and-effect, err-and-learn, change-and-grow up-and-down that is the best stuff of life.

When I was a very new mom and feeling unsure of how to live my new life in conjunction with everything I wanted to do outside the home, I wrote a plaintive email to my free-spirited and beautiful-spirited brother, Isaac. His gentle response was to say that when he feels unsatisfied or un-anchored, he returns to Mother Earth. (Literally and figuratively) Then he said something that has stayed with me, and propelled me through my spare stretches: "Rae, the grass isn't greener....it's blue."

It isn't better over there. It's just different. And it's all grass.
We choose our happiness. We make our peace. We decide whether to find a way to make it work.
I--we--can choose to grow, even in the smallest of spaces.

Did you think that your feet had been bound
By what gravity brings to the ground?
Did you feel you were tricked
By the future you picked?
Well, come on down

All those rules don’t apply
When you’re high in the sky
So, come on down
Come on down

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

Did you think you’d escaped from routine
By changing the script and the scene?
Despite all you made of it
You’re always afraid
Of the change

You’ve got a lot on your chest
Well, you can come as my guest
So come on down
Come on down

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

Like the fish in the ocean
We felt at home in the sea
We learned to live off the good land
Learned to climb up a tree
Then we got up on two legs
But we wanted to fly
When we messed up our homeland
We set sail for the sky

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

We’re coming down
Coming down to Earth
Like babies at birth
Coming down to Earth
We’re gonna find new priorities
These are extraordinary qualities

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

We’re coming down to the ground
There’s no better place to go
We’ve got snow up on the mountains
We’ve got rivers down below

We’re coming down to the ground
We hear the birds sing in the trees
And the land will be looked after
We send the seeds out in the breeze

We’re gonna find new priorities
These are extraordinary qualities

--Down to Earth, Peter Gabriel

HUGE woops.

Sometimes I assume everyone is on Facebook. Sorry. Stupid assumption.

In case you haven't heard, it's the most wonderful news EVER--

PHILL IS NOT GOING. They need him here more than they need him in Afghanistan because they're standing up a new unit here.

I found out two days into my sinus-thing recovery and sobbed with joy, which, well, really hurt my face. But I didn't care. Best news ever. :)

I love this quote. It made me hopeful before we had this amazing break in things, and it makes me hopeful now that I'll be able to handle all the other little things on my "list" of human woes.

"If you are helpless, he is not. If you are lost, he is not. If you don't know what to do next, he knows. It would take a miracle, you say? Well, if it takes a miracle, why not?" -President Boyd K. Packer, speaking of the Savior

A new smella

As lots of you know, I had my sinus surgery/septum surgery on Tuesday.

Phill reassured me by saying I'd feel hardly- to no-pain at all.

I have learned that the DOCTOR is the one to listen to in matters like these....not my beefcake of a husband who has a nose that can handle this sort of extreme plumbing.

I woke up from surgery feeling like my nose was on fire. I quietly writhed, trying not to make a scene (why? why did I care that badly?) while they gave me something a tad stronger than morphine. Then I talked to the sweet nurse (Steve, you were awesome) while I floated in and out of my face.

Long story short: My recovery has been going well, though I have learned that my stomach hates pain meds and antibiotics.

My dear friend Jenn came to stay for the weekend because Phill had drill (yes....I know), and I can't thank her enough for her selfless service. Phill has been my bedside angel, seeing to it that no need goes unmet. I am grateful for the obedience of my children through this last week, without which we would have no hair.

I am humbled by the help of so many friends--dinners, babysitting, rides, etc....I say it a lot, but only because it's true: I am so grateful for your help.

Lastly. I am not very sophisticated, I confess. Because after having stints and gauze and heaven knows what pulled from my face today, and finally being able to SMELL, and wondering how things would TASTE with my newly plumbed nose, all I wanted was Taco Bell.

And I bit into that soft chicken taco and spilled tears of joy when I said, "Oh hello, Sour Cream. I don't believe we've met!"

Here's to smelling/tasting anew! I'm still sore, but I already know it was worth it!