Cold & flu season

I think the cold and flu season is here.

Yuck. Ick. Boo.

My head is stuffy and my nose sniffly. And more than once tonight, Jeff has had to repeat something to me because my foggy brain just can't comprehend what the heck he was trying to say to me. Or ask me. I keep sneezing, my eyes are itchy, and my neck has been sore and achy for weeks.

Jeff has absolutely no voice. Oh wait, that's from the Aggies slaughter over Wyoming on Saturday. It was a good weekend to be an Aggie fan.

But I'll gladly take the cold and flu if it means my kids stay healthy. Nothing is worse than snot-nosed, whiny, and miserable kids.

Motherhood

It seems like everywhere I turn there are references to motherhood. Or the lack thereof.

I wanted to write a long, well-thought out post for a few weeks now on my take on the family. But I haven't gotten around to it, obviously. I've felt a bit "off" the past few days... dizzy, nearly fainting, and super tired. Like falling asleep on the couch every night at 9:30 p.m. tired - way not me! I AM NOT PREGNANT... puking would be the first thing listed on those symptoms if I was. And I can assure you I am not pregnant.

Glad we got that cleared up.

Now back to what I was originally thinking about. It sort of started with this blog I've recently started to peek at. They did almost an entire month celebration of the Proclamation to the Family. And then some things I've learned about with a cousin and my grandma that made me really sad. It got me thinking about all the things that I do - and mostly, the things that I don't do - to buoy up my own family in this world. I guess I've just never really thought about the Proclamation before, taking bits of it apart and really trying to understand and apply it in my own life. That's where my original intention of writing a well-thought out blog post comes in.

But it's not going to happen tonight.

Let's just say, it can be horribly discouraging to think about all the wicked things out there that want to tear my family apart. Tear my marriage apart. Tear my children down. Tear me down. Families are being torn apart and pulled in every direction. The world is one crazy, stressed-out, spiritually neglected place at times. But this celebration on the family was a light in the darkness. And articles like this one, which have made me stop and think that I need to not only show my gratitude more for my messy, busy, healthy, and adorable children and husband but that I need to talk about it, write about it, and live it. I'm not always good at that. I get easily discouraged. Distracted. Frustrated.

But I am so grateful for my family. I love them more than they will ever know. It sounds corny, but we are getting family pictures this weekend and I am so excited. I am so excited to have pictures of my family to plaster all over our home. To show off to everyone I know. Hopefully everyone will cooperate and look and smile at the camera (at the same time) so my joy can be felt by others!

As a mother, I can't describe the feelings of love I have for my children. And for my husband. They are everything to me. I know I don't always show it, I yell too much, I'm far too impatient with them, and I expect way too much sometimes but I do love them. My patriarchal blessing says my greatest joy will be to be a mother in Zion. And it is. I just need to remember to stop and truly live it before my greatest joys grow up. I find myself exuding way too much energy on things that don't matter in the eternities. Jeff reminded me of this just the other day when I was fretting about going into work for a meeting on my day off. He simply asked if it was how I wanted to spend my day with my kids and when that wasn't good enough for me, asked if it was so important that we'd cancel a vacation for it. That's when I knew. I spend too much energy on stuff that doesn't matter. I need to stop and remember that my kids need me right now. They need a mom who lives what she wants them to live their lives like. They need a mom who can say at the end of her life that she gave everything she had to them, that she has no regrets, no "I wish that I would have....", that she taught them the things they needed to be happy, selfless, and spiritually safe.

I know I am far from that Mom today. But I promise them, I will try to become what they need and deserve. One day at a time....

Nerd prodigy

Pearl is doing amazingly well at school. In just three weeks, she's passed off two sets of flash cards. Each set of flash cards has eight letters. She has to be able to name the letter, say what sound it makes, and name a word that begins with that letter. Jeff is really great with helping her practice her letters. He's much more patient than I am and makes it more fun too. Like tonight during bath time... Jeff and Pearl talked about patterns and set up all the letters in the correct order on the bathroom wall. Jeff said Pearl did most of the work by herself. She'd sing the ABC song and stop at the next letter in the pattern to figure out what came next. They were both quite proud to show me their new way of practicing flash cards. And she has yet to lose a single star. Each kid starts the day out with three stars next to their name. If they break the class rules (Play with things the correct way and Be nice to everyone), they lose a star. If they keep all their stars, they get a single Swedish Fish at the end of the day. A single fish... that is the sole reason for Pearl's perfect behavior. She'd do just about anything for a piece of candy.

We are so proud of Pearl. She is such a smart little girl, full of curiosity and spunk. She is so excited to learn how to read words and then read books all by herself. Hopefully her love of school and learning will always continue, so we never have any homework battles.

She definitely takes after her mother when it comes to brains... Jeff says I was a bit of a nerd. To which I argue, just because you get straight A's (in high school people... not college... there was way too many distractions then to keep a 4.0 GPA... namely Jeff) doesn't make you a complete nerd! Or does it?

Where were you?

I know it's a week past the 9/11 anniversary but I had to post my memory of where I was ten years ago. Someday when I'm super old and forgetful this post will come in handy when my kids have to do a history assignment on that fateful day.

Everyone remembers where they were that day.

I was a student at Utah State University. I'd just finished an early morning class and walked into my Dad's office in the Engineering building. I must have said "hi Dad!" because I remember telling me to be quiet and listen. He had the radio on.

Then the radio hosts started screaming.

I didn't know what was going on. But I won't ever forget the shock in the radio announcer's voices. The time is a blur but I think they were screaming about the second tower collapsing. That would fit the time of when I was probably out of class and back at my Dad's office. I feel this sense of loss at not being able to remember what I heard as it was happening in New York City. I still feel bad that I had no clue what the World Trade Centers even were. I kept asking my Dad what was going on and what it meant. He just said two planes hit two buildings in New York City. He didn't know what it meant, probably war. It was surreal. I walked home and turned on the T.V. Everyone seemed to sense that classes wouldn't be held and time would sort of stop. The entire country sat glued to their T.V.s. My roommate, Kristy, Jeff, and I sat and watched the scenes over and over again all day.

I remember seeing the unbelievable footage of the planes hitting, the explosions, the collapses. I remember hearing the reporters and radio hosts screaming, "OMG! There's a second plane! A second plane has hit the tower!" And then later, " The tower is collapsing!" It was unfathomable and shocking. No one knew what it meant. Later learning about a plane crashing into the Pentagon and a field somewhere in Pennsylvania.

But after a few days of talk and news coverage, things started to move on for those of us not directly affected by the horrible day's events.

Every year our country pauses to remember 9-11. But this year, I paused. I had this weird sense of longing to be more connected to 9-11 than my meager experience and memory. I don't know if it's because since then I'd gone to NYC and been to Ground Zero in 2006. Or maybe it's because I have my own family and have "grown up" from a young, carefree college kid. All I knew was that I had to take time to pause and remember. I heard about Utah's Healing Field Memorial on the news and knew we had to go. I had to go. IT was the nation's first memorial of its kind after the attacks. We went twice. First on the 9-11 anniversary... it was late and I knew we were pushing our luck to get there in time. It started to pour rain just minutes after we arrived. We did go and visit my Aunt and Uncle nearby so all wasn't lost.

But I had to go back. I just felt it was something important we needed to do. I knew I would have regretted not going back down to see the field of flags. One flag for every person killed in the 9-11 attacks. The kids and I picked up Jeff from work and we headed back down to the memorial. The sea of flags was breathtaking. I wish my pictures could capture the feeling of seeing nearly 3,000 of them waving in the wind as symbols of tragedy, sacrifice, and hope. Pearl kept asking us why we were there... she didn't really want to spend our entire F.H.E. doing nothing by reverently walking up and down isle after isle of flags. I stopped randomly along the way to read the cards attached to each flag, detailing the name, age, and life of a victim. You just sort of imagine all these people to be adults or to just be victims of some horrific event that you can't even imagine. It's like you see pictures of people but they don't have faces because you didn't know any of them personally. But then....A three-year-old on one of the planes. A child. My child. It never occurred to me that these were normal people doing normal, everyday things. Entire families gone. Fathers and mothers with children my own children's ages. People my own age.... all of them early in their careers... seeing their ages 34, 32, 30, 29, 43 over and over again made it real. Brothers, sisters, grandparents, children, parents, friends, coworkers all gone. Dads who went to work and never came home. Jeff and I both commented that we couldn't believe the heroic efforts that the passengers on American Airlines flight 93... that the passengers knew something was happening, that they assessed the situation, made a plan, voted on that plan, and executed it. So many of the cards mentioned getting calls from loved ones aboard the plane before it crashed... telling them their last goodbyes and I love yous in this eerie calm. Saving who knows how many lives in the process. I could have stayed and read every single card.The "Hope Rising: To Lift a Nation" bronze statute was powerful. Jeff pointed out the concrete it was on... it wasn't smooth... it was rough, broken. Seeing the FDNY on the backs of the statues literally made my hair stand on end.It was just crazy to see this piece of steel from one of the towers. It was twisted, you could imagine the weight bearing down on it, the heat melting it in this uneven shape. To run your fingers on it and feel its rough exterior was humbling. I came home and couldn't stop myself from reading everything I could find on the day's events... watching the scenes play out over and over again, listening to YouTube videos of calls made by passengers on the planes, inside the towers screaming for help then silence. I had to finally stop myself because I couldn't take it anymore. It was real.

I'm so grateful we went. I know my kids didn't find it exciting or memorable. In fact, they complained and whined for most of the time we were there. But someday they will understand. For a moment I felt a great sense of awe, and strangely calm and hope. Hope in knowing there is a God who loves each of us, His children. And yet a sadness that we His children, could do this to each other. He has given us a great gift of freedom, one that comes with a heavy price sometimes. May we never forget 9-11.

Labor Day Weekend: Ride of death

Jeff will tell you I'm exaggerating a bit here... the ride of death. But I assure you, there was more than one time that I a) nearly crapped my pants, b) said a some unmentionable, colorful words, and c) thought I was going to roll over and die or at minimum break my leg.

And while I was looking forward to finding some good mud puddles to race through, I was not anticipating traversing down a trail with a running river, trenches as wide as our 4-wheelers, and logs and debris washed down from all the runoff.

We took the Turkey Trail from the Peter Sinks road, which we went on the last time we were at Bear Lake so I knew I could handle it. The forest service had put up some new gates which I barely squeezed my 4-wheeler through... 50" wide opening, yeah right. We found a few of these bent over trees. I wonder how they got this way? If it's because of the snow, then yikes! That is a lot of snow!I also found a few hints of fall. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I love fall colors but that also means winter is on its way. I told Jeff I'd like to go for a ride again when all leaves are in full fall bloom. When we got back down to the Peter Sinks road, Jeff sweetly asked me if I wanted to go back over the mountain through Hodge's Canyon instead of the way we normally go. I was feeling pretty good with my riding skills and knew he wanted a new adventure, so I agreed. He did ask me a few times if I was really sure about it, but how could I say no? Let's just say it was a dang good thing I didn't see the "extremely difficult" sign pointing to Hodges Canyon BEFORE we started up the trail. No, that came at the end, after I'd survived the miles of trenches, water, debris, and visions of my life passing before my eyes and my children being orphaned.

My first inkling that this might not have been such a good idea was when we came upon this mud puddle. It was huge. Seeing three grown men, which I assumed were just as wild and crazy on ATVs as my husband, getting off their machines to help each other navigate getting up and out of this mud hole should have been my second clue that I was going to regret my decision. Here's Jeff getting ready to help me navigate my way out of the puddle. Sometimes my strategy of just gunning it isn't the best idea. But I wasn't about to be a sissy girl. I figured if anything this would help me get more comfortable with the limits of our 4-wheelers and help me improve my riding skills. I'm kind of a whimp when my machine starts to tip at an angle, even when it's not that big of deal and logically I know the machine is capable of it. I just prefer to have all four wheels on the ground.

The near miss with a broken leg twice and having to let Jeff steer my ATV through several terrifying spots for me were just minor setbacks. I will have you all know, however, that the three men in front of us eventually stopped, let us pass, and turned around. I can proudly say at least I didn't quit like the three mamby-pamby-sissy-boys.

At one point, I just stopped and sat there on the trail. After turning corner after corner only to see more water, more two feet wide and two feet deep trenches, getting high-centered on a rock, and seeing Jeff kneeling on the back of his ATV and leaning as far back as he could to maneuver his way over a monster trench, I'd had about as much as I could take. Jeff looked back to check on me and I simply shook my head "no" at him. Then I hollered at him to take my picture. I wanted proof that I wasn't a sissy, the trail was in fact very difficult, there was a lot of water rushing down the trail, and that I was having fun. Yes, I was having a blast. In a sort of once you are done, you are so glad you did it because it was more fun than you could imagine but at the same time you never want to do that again way. It was a one thumbs up, one thumbs down kind of ride.By the time we got down the trail, I had decided that it was a good thing we tried a new way back to the property. It was more fun that I gave Jeff credit for, even with my sheer terror and mental anguish at times. Plus, I didn't wuss out like some folks on the trail and I think my riding skills drastically improved, even if I was only going 5 mph max speed the entire way down. When we got back home, I took off my helmet and gave a huge sigh of relief. I knew my face would be covered in dust and my hair was probably a bit crazy, but when Jeff started laughing and said, "Wait! Let me take your picture!" I knew my face must being saying exactly how I felt... "let's do it again!"