Painting, Halloween, and Bears, Oh My!

I just finished painting the dining room a creamy white or as the card says, ‘courtyard tan.’ I really wanted to paint it a dramatic dark, dark teal, but Dustin vetoed that idea quickly. So, cream. We’ll see. 

It felt good to finish something. I’ve really struggled lately with the nature of my position as a housewife. My work is just never, ever done. Painting a wall did a lot to remedy that.

Remember last October I posted this picture on this blog:

Well, here’s this October:

Can you believe that? So much more happens in the life of a child in one year than in adult lives, don’t you think? I mean, Blake was barely a bean, and now, look at him!

Also, Halloween and bears. So, on Halloween Dustin was out-of-town and the afternoon just dragged into eternity for my excited 5 and 3-year-old. I mean, percentage-wise, those 6 hours between school and trick-or-treating. Well, they are just so long. Finally, (finally!), we were putting on costumes – giraffe heads, and jaguar ears and whiskers and LOTS of lip gloss because, well, because we can, and fifteen more minutes of waiting seemed completely unbearable now that my little animals were all dressed up. I heard neighbors calling to each other out in the cul-de-sac, so I sent Claire and Avery out to wait with them (we were planning to go with them anyway). Out they went with breezes of excitement swirling all around their fresh little faces.

I mean, I’m sure the bears felt them coming from all that excitement.

Yes, bears! (Probably these very same bears who were in our trash the day before:)

I proceeded to gather last-minute items and dress Blake as a monkey. Then, I hear a shout, and I feel the breeze of excitement rush into the front door in an explosive burst of WINDY excited fear.

“Mom! There’s a bear!” Claire exclaimed.

I poke my head out and hear the neighbor shout:

“Sally! The mama bear and her cubs are going up Margaret’s driveway!”

I turn my head and in the dusky light see that big mama bear and her rowdy cubs lumbering up my next-door neighbor’s driveway. The very neighbor that I was meeting up with to trick-or-treat at that exact time. 6:30.

I shut the front door with force simultaneously realizing that I had literally just sent my children out to 

the bears.

Just breathe, right?

After some phone discussions and waiting and watching, we decided to venture out as planned in our very large trick-or-treating group. I waited at the front of Margaret’s (do you recognize her name? she just had BEARS in her driveway) front stairs with Blake in his stroller. The girls went inside.

The breezy excitement encompassed the adults as well. Only it was very tinted with a jumpy fear, so when another neighbor trudged up the drive to trick-or-treat, I sensed before I saw:

The MAMA bear is back. She is coming down the driveway of Margaret’s neighbor straight toward me and baby Blake!

What have I done?! My baby and I are right in her path! So, I grabbed Blake’s car seat and ditched the stroller and we went inside, too.

How was trick-or-treating for you?

P.S. We did go trick-or-treating after all, but when we left the group a little early because our kiddos are the youngest, well, that walk back to our house. .  . It was a little more spooky than a  normal Halloween if you know what I mean.

It Turns Out Flowers DO Grow in Colorado . . . .

Hello again. I’m back after a 4-month hiatus. It was unplanned except that I had a third baby (his name is Blake) and got lost in the depths of his squishiness. See:

In August, the girls and I picked sunflowers along the roadside.

Blake rested peacefully in his car seat while we gathered handfuls of the goldenrod-colored flowers. The afternoon sunlight glowed off the faces of my children. Claire and Avery were disappointed to find that those beady, black ants liked the flowers as much as they do. They have quite the insect aversion right now. Still, they both had fistfuls of daisy-sized sunflowers by the time we moved on.

All summer throughout the Springs, I noticed sunflowers along the roads, and I remembered my April declaration that there were still no flowers here in Colorado. I wasn’t sure if I would see any at all, and I was most definitely not sure if I would create any roots that would compare even to the non-existent flowers.

Then, I noticed some large purple bushes pretty much everywhere. It turns out that the deer don’t eat the yellow or purple flowers, so they survive. The deer gobble up everything even things they technically aren’t supposed to like at all, like tulips. So, even though I think having deer right outside my windows is pretty awesome, when the green leaves FINALLY started growing in June, I am not ashamed to say that when I saw a deer eating them, I went and threw rocks ‘near’ the deer just to let it know – “These are MY leaves. Go back to the mountains for you OWN leaves.” Then I remembered that I live in the mountains and the deer were here first. SO. 

 Flowers are here in Colorado after all. And, even though I spent the weekend in Seattle realizing even more strongly how I miss it, maybe, just maybe I will blossom here in Colorado as well.

What do you do when you're homesick?

Happy Mother's Day!

                                              Me 8 1/2 months pregnant on Mother's Day 2013

                        

Last weekend we visited my parents in Denver. The girls were thrilled that we spent the night, played at the park, and had Grandma and Grandpa all to ourselves. They were so happy to be there that when I announced our plans to leave the next morning, they were quite distraught.

Until I told them Grandma would send them off with a small bag of miniature marshmallows. Things were okay then.

Even so, as my mom waved good-bye to us from the front porch just as her parents used to wave to me as we pulled away from the haven that was their home, Claire was concerned for me. On this particular trip she had really internalized that Grandma and Grandpa were my own mom and dad. She then wanted to talk about Daddy’s mom and dad – Gangy and Pop Pop. It seemed to be on her mind throughout our little stay. So, as Grandma waved and Claire thoughtfully munched on her marshmallows, she said:

“Mom?”

“Yes, Claire?”

“I miss Grandma.”

“I know, Babe. We’ll be back to visit. We’ll see Grandma and Grandpa soon.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you miss Grandma and Grandpa? Don’t you miss your mom and dad?”

And, then it clicked in my mind. However shallowly or deeply, Claire had realized that I, like her, used to live with my mom and dad. Now, I don’t. Don’t I miss them, she wondered.

Her question to me stung because even if it was on a very basic level, I think she knew that someday she won’t live with us. She’s talked about it several times since that drive, and I know she’s processing this somewhat distressing piece of truth – children don’t live with their parents forever.

At least not in this life.

I have also been processing this truth – what it means for me as a mother myself now, what it meant for my own mom, and what it meant for my mother-in-law. What it means to any mother who has already or will one day say goodbye to living with her child.

In this week before mother’s day, I have read many essays and thoughts and posts on the topic of mother’s day. Many feel guilt that they are not now doing or have not done enough. Others are overcome with joy at being celebrated for work that often goes unnoticed. Some feel sadness or even deep despair that they are not yet a mother. Some say they’ve never felt that mother’s day was about them, that it is about their own mother. Whatever your thoughts on mother’s day, mine have never been complicated – even struggling with infertility, I don’t think I felt more or less valued on this day celebrating the mothering, nurturing women in my life. I do feel a very strong emotion now, though. On this particular mother’s day.

Gratitude.

My little girls still live with me. I get to see them every day and participate in and witness their lives simply because I’m their mother. That alone might be worth the infertility struggles, the pregnancy battles and scars, and the frustrating moments of parenthood.

I still have many years to live with these children. Side-by-side. And, to me, that’s something to celebrate.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the women who care for others in this sometimes confusing, frustrating, wonderful life. May you find something or someone to celebrate today.

A Little Report

Hi. So, I got a little ahead of myself for the post I promised you on Friday. It turns out that Claire had her first off-therapy check-up on Friday, and . . . I completely forgot about it.

After visiting doctors monthly and following a strict schedule of medicine for two years, I guess I just signed out. We did get to the appointment on time. Me, Claire, and Avery. The playroom was closed so the kids were pretty disappointed from the beginning. It went downhill from there since we had to wait for quite awhile and I wasn’t prepared with crayons and snacks. But, the cherry on top was the flu shots. All three of us had to get flu shots. I decided, wrongly, not to tell the girls it was coming.

“Can I hold them both on my lap?” I asked the nurse covertly.

“Yep. That’s fine,” she reassured me.

“And, can you do them at the same time?” Obviously, if the girls received the shots at the same time, they wouldn’t have to endure the anticipation of their turn.

The moment before the nurses were ready, little Aves with her sweet voice asked, “Mommy, am I getting a poke?”

She’s been watching Claire get ‘pokes’ for quite awhile now, so the girl knows the signs. Claire on the other hand was oblivious even though I had pulled down her pants for the obligatory shot in the leg. She was busy asking for snacks.

“Yes, Aves. You are going to get a poke,” I whispered hoping Claire didn’t hear. Even if I am sneaky, I don’t lie to my children. Yet.

The nurses counted, “1. 2. 3.”

Simultaneously, they went for it. Avery watched in fascination. She didn’t cry. She didn’t flinch. She just watched.

Claire, on the other hand, panicked and started sobbing while swatting the nurse’s hand. She now has scratches on her leg where the needle scraped her leg THREE times before I got a hold of her hand and the nurse got the needle into Claire’s leg. Claire continued sobbing and shaking until she got to watch me get a flu shot. Misery loves company.

Afterward, Avery was proud to wear her Elmo bandaid and wanted to show it to everyone. It was her badge of courage. She was just as brave as Claire and now she knew! Claire told me that she couldn’t walk to the car because her leg was hurt from the shot.

They both walked to the car just fine.

Once home, I didn’t want to give a poor report of Claire’s behavior, so I told Dustin that Claire was a little more ‘surprised’ by the shot. She continued to repeat this to me throughout the day, “I was just surprised by the shot, huh, Mom?” The girl who has had more than one hundred ‘pokes’ in her short life FREAKED out over a flu shot. I got one, too, remember. It wasn’t that bad. It hurt more an hour later than it did during the actual injection. I told the receptionist about the weirdness of it all – my two-year-old who has no memory of a shot was completely composed while my child who has just kicked cancer to the curb seemed to hit her breaking point over a flu shot. The receptionist laughed and said they have tons of stories of these little cancer kids revolting against unexpected treatments. One 7-year-old boy grabbed his mom’s cell phone, dove under the table, and started dialing 911. He was crying, “They’re trying to kill me!”

I’m not sure what to make of it. Claire also had a poke in her arm for a blood draw. She was pretty mad about that, too. Part of me wanted to defend her. “Can we just be done?! I think she’s had enough!” The other part of me wanted to shake Claire a little bit. “Claire! You’ve done so many things that were SO much harder than this! Why can’t you just . . . grow up?” I didn’t say either. I reminded Claire that she is brave and strong and that she can DO this. She did.

Claire has been chemo-free for 23 days. In those 23 days, we’ve packed up and moved our little family for the tenth time in as many years. I don’t think I’ve really had the chance to savor the lack of medicine yet.  I have had the chance to forget that we should visit the doctor once a month, though. I did that quite well.

An Exercise in Compassion: In Praise of Avery

Although a bit dramatic I always imagine that in the pre-mortal world Avery volunteered to come to our family a tad early. Born just five months before Claire was diagnosed with Leukemia, Avery was a difficult baby. She cried every evening for about three hours. Eating was challenging. The only way to lull her into a nap was to listen to Josh Groban’s You Are Loved loudly while swaying back and forth in our winter-lit living room. I cradled her small body further and further from my own, still swaying to keep the rhythm of my rocking arms the same as the cadence of the baby swing, until she rested in the swing. Then, careful not to jostle the newborn bundle, I held my breath while I released my grasp. Claire, not yet two, rocked and swayed with me. She knew we would read books when Avery was finally asleep.

We had no business getting pregnant with Avery. We had previously struggled with infertility for almost 5 years before getting pregnant with Claire, and we had every reason to believe it could take another five before our family would number four. We were understandably overjoyed with the surprise of her pregnancy. I remember the day well. It was a Saturday morning, and a sleepy Dustin was holding a sleepy 14-month-old Claire. They were in the kitchen making pancakes. This time, I didn’t tell him I was taking a test because, really, I didn’t think it possible that I could be pregnant. Barely able to talk after reading the results I lept out to the kitchen bar. Without preamble, I announced, “Dus, I’m pregnant!” I don’t think anyone could look more stunned than he did at that moment. The best surprise we’ve experienced by far.

Still, I don’t think Avery was ready to come. In January, she arrived to us, and she just wasn’t prepared for this world. She was still longing for Heaven and cried for it often. I envision that her compassionate spirit had discovered what was about to take place in her family, and I think she raised her hand quickly, “I will go now,” she most likely said. “I want to be there for Claire.” I think someone probably told her that it would not be easy to go early, but I’m sure she insisted that she would do her best to make things easier for Claire. “I want to help!” I’m sure she said this because she still says it often.

A couple of weeks ago, Dustin taught a lesson on prayer for Family Home Evening. The girls loved holding the footprints that were the ‘steps of prayer’ and walked along the bright paper prints as Dustin helped them say the words. Claire consistently started with “Thank you for this day” and asked blessings upon “Gangy and Pop Pop and Grandma and Grandpa.” Avery needed a little more prodding, but ultimately thanked Heavenly Father for her beautiful hair and asked blessings upon her umbrella.  As Dustin closed his lesson he told the girls he wanted to give them a present. Claire’s dark eyes lit up at the mention of a present. She loves gifts of any kind. She listened raptly as he then explained that he was going to give them each a father’s blessing. He compared the blessing to a special prayer. He blessed Claire first, and although the words were beautiful, I only remember that he voiced aloud the words, “I bless you that Leukemia will leave your body and that it won’t return.” A Father’s request. For Claire, that’s all I needed to hear. He then blessed Avery. I admit I peeked at her, folding her arms tightly across her chest as only a two-year-old can. The Spirit was strong and both girls were surprisingly reverent. In Avery’s blessing, Dustin began with “You are very special.” I know all children are special, but it struck me that Avery is exceptionally so. He then stated that, already kindhearted, Avery has progressed in compassion immensely in her two years in this mortal life. Tears came to my eyes at this moment as I felt the truth of the declaration and the power in Avery’s spirit.

I know from my own experience as Claire’s mother these past two years that my compassion has worn thin on many occasions. I have wavered in my love when things are most difficult. Avery never has. She has shared beyond her years. More than a younger sibling syndrome of wanting to please the older child, Avery serves Claire. She is concerned for Claire. She loves Claire even when Claire gives nothing in return. In many ways, Avery has grown more from this trial than Claire herself.

Maybe it’s because she volunteered for it.