Chocolate Chips and Miniature Marshmallows

The other day I watched Hitch. You know, with Eva Mendes and Will Smith. About 2/3 of the way through the movie, Eva Mendes’ character is alone in her apartment. She is feeling sorry for herself after she blew it with such an amazing guy, so what does she do? She curls up on a chair to watch a chick flick with her favorite treat.

Spray whipped cream.

That’s right. She isn’t binge drinking. She isn’t downing a panful of brownies. She is spraying whipped cream into her mouth between scenes of the movie looking utterly miserable. It caused me to wonder. Was that really her favorite treat? Or, was the miserable aspect of her evening forcing her to find whatever she had on hand which happened to be whipped cream?

These are the things I think about.

You’re welcome.

When I am finally alone, during school maybe. Or maybe when I can hide for a few minutes at one end of the house before the girls catch up with me, I sometimes sneak treats, too. This also goes for feeling miserable. I sneak treats then also. Only I don’t choose whipped cream. I usually choose miniature marshmallows and chocolate chips. Dustin still wonders why I don't just buy M&M's, but you know, I can buy chocolate chips under the guise of someday maybe making cookies. I even serve them to myself in a measuring cup to keep up the facade of baking. You get it, right?

What about you? What’s your secret treat? The one you don’t want to share. The one that you don’t offer to guests because it’s not meant to be a stand-alone snack?

Come on. You know you want to tell us.

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?

From the Front Lines: What to Write, What to Say

One way to be on the front lines with someone is to tell them.

Tell them you feel sorrow at their grief.

I learned that this is helpful because of how I felt when people left notes of encouragement and support on our Caring Bridge blog or when someone handed me a handwritten note or when someone said just the right words; however, when someone we know is struggling with a trial, it can be difficult to know what to say. Sometimes it feels so difficult that we say nothing at all for fear of saying something offensive or trite. After having struggled in a more public way with Claire’s illness and having many, many people write or say wonderful things, I’d like to share some ideas with you on what you can write or say to someone you love who is even now walking a difficult path. I offer my suggestion in bold, and then exact examples of words people wrote to our family.

Express your own faith in prayer, in God, in Christ:

1.       “My heart is aching for you right now, but I know that prayers are helping and that you are not alone in this battle. God does heal and He does make miracles happen.”

2.       “We love you and have so much faith in Christ and in Claire's recovery.”

3.       “I know that we learn from these challenges and gain strength we never knew we had, often after we pass through the most difficult part. I know the Lord will be there for you during the difficult days ahead.”

4.       “We fasted and prayed for your family today and I felt a peace in my heart for you.”

5.       “If this is what Heavenly Father wants you to be doing right now, then He will be sure to hold your hand through all of this.”

Express confidence in their faith and ability to overcome:

1.       “It is amazing to see such a strong spirit in Claire. I know I would not be that happy.”

2.       “My prayers are with you! Claire is one of those special little ones in this world. She's strong, happy and beautiful and we will all learn by watching the healing power of the priesthood and the hand of the Lord to heal her.”

3.       “It is so hard to know why our children have afflictions come upon them and it's heartbreaking to see them suffering. It's comforting to know that there is a reason and a purpose grander than we can understand to all of this. One day you will understand why but in the meantime you are doing all the right things. The Lord will not leave you in your time of need!”

4.       “Thanks for sharing your testimony and all the insights you are receiving. Your faith strengthens mine.” 

5.       “You can do this!”

Offer help:

1.       “We stand at the ready for anything you may need!  Babysitting?  It's what I do best :)”

2.       “Please know we are here for you in any way you may need.”

Offer a quote that comforts you:

1.       “Sometimes God calms the storm... Sometimes, He lets the storm rage and calms the child.” 

2.       “There are those among you who, although young, have already suffered a full measure of grief and sorrow. My heart is filled with compassion and love for you . . . Though it may seem that you are alone, angels attend you. Though you may feel that no one can understand the depth of your despair, our Savior, Jesus Christ, understands. He suffered more than we can possibly imagine, and He did it for us; He did it for you. You are not alone.” – President Uchtdorf

3.       “Today is ours to live, but His to control . . .”

Write to them the words you are using in your prayers for them:

1.       “We are also praying for your parents and other family members that they will have the health, strength and courage they need to help you get better.”

2.        “We will be thinking of you all through this difficult time and pray that you will feel peace and know that Heavenly Father is in control.”

3.       “May our Heavenly Father continue to hold your family in His arms and may you continue to feel the angels around your own little angel as she progresses with her treatment and all else that might be required of her.”

Express your own sadness that they are struggling:

1.       “We are stunned by your news but totally inspired by your response, your faith and your courage. You are in our prayers and thoughts.”

2.       “The news is quite heartbreaking, but I'm glad to hear that the prognosis is promising. She has loving, strong parents too!

3.       “This news made my heart hurt and I am so sorry for this to have happened to your sweet family!  Know that our prayers and thoughts will be with your family.  We love you guys.”  

Tell them you are praying for them:

1.       “We LOVE you guys.  Our kids are making Claire a permanent part of our daily prayers.  We'll be joining in the fast this weekend as well.”

2.       “We are thinking of you and praying for your comfort and strength.”

3.       “We are praying for you daily.  Every time we mention Claire, my little girl is sure to say "Claire is sick...pray".  I'm sure the faith of these little children, Claire included, will be the driving force to recovery.”

Tell them you are sharing in the challenge:

1.       “If I could possibly take this challenge away from you and endure it myself, I would.  But since that is not how it is supposed to be, we will all endure this together.”  

2.       “Look around and know you are adored and appreciated.  We are all with you.”

3.       “I wish I could hug you right now and give you a little break. I hope you know that we care enough to hear when things are not so great. Thanks for posting.”

Even now, months away from Claire’s complete recovery, these words mean something deep to me. I treasure them and am so glad that the people who wrote them had the courage to share them with me. I learned from these very supportive friends, family members, and in some cases, strangers.

Caring words written or said in love are medicine for the injured soul.

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.

Thank You!

Wow! That was fun! Thank you for humoring the crazy-eyed girl. I absolutely loved getting to know you over the past week. For some reason that Dustin finds very strange, I feel better knowing what you like to eat on road trips.

I didn’t always know Dustin found this stalkerish habit of mine strange. I found out maybe eight years ago. It was on a 2-hour ride in the cab of a tow truck with a stranger. I spent the entire ride getting to know our driver. I found that he was unhappily married with several children, but that he could see no way out. Dustin couldn’t understand why I would want to know anything about the tow-truck driver whom we would never see again. I could see his point after he logically explained the strangeness to me, so . . . .

Thank you again for humoring me.

If you didn’t join in the fun this time, there’s still time. ;) Or you can gear yourself up for next time because there will be a next time.

I Want to Know You

 These might have been the crazy eyes Celeste saw all those years ago, but to be fair, who wouldn't have crazy, excited eyes after a fourteen-hour day          walking the streets of New York AND then they found M&M World right at that moment? 

Once upon a time, I was a new girl in a new place. I watched the other women in my church congregation for signs of friendship, and I found lots of signs and lots of wonderful, warm friendships.

But, there was one girl who eluded me.

I think it was because she already had two small children of her own, so she wasn’t really making friends with people who had no children at all. Or, maybe it was just me. How could I approach her and what should I talk to her about? I didn’t know the first thing about her life. I was not a mother. When I saw her at church functions, she had her hands full with her young family.

So, one day, she and I ended up at the same baby shower. The shower was at one of those small, old houses with cramped living rooms. At last, she did not have her children with her; however, I was dressed up as a Greek Goddess for Halloween – I might have been the only one who listened to “costumes optional” for this October baby shower. Because of this, I watched her from a distance as she chatted with others, and then as we both crossed the small room at the same time, I impulsively stopped her with her plateful of party food. Probably she was even eating some of it.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello,” she answered good-naturedly.

I had not previously thought of something to say, so I just said the first thing that popped in my head:

“I want to know you.”

Thankfully, she laughed, rolled with it, and became one of my best friends. I spent many lovely afternoons in her kitchen getting to know her over the next year. I would ask her about her growing up years, her popularity in high school, her philosophy on life - all the things that made her who she is today. She would perform domestic tasks, and I would watch, occasionally helping with her children. Most often, I was there during her precious nap times, but she never once kicked me out.

I loved her then. I love her now.

I was thinking about this because I want to know you, too.

You who stop in to read this blog now and then.

I want to know you, but I don’t really know how to ask. I don’t know how to find out who you are. So, because it seemed to work out so well with my wonderful friend, Celeste, I will do the same with you.

Pretend we have bumped into each other at a crowded party. You were going to just slip past so you could eat your scrumptious cream puffs and artichoke and spinach dip, but there is a strange girl who won’t get out of your way, so you look up. She is wearing an interesting dress, and she has intense, crazy eyes that won’t look away. She says in stalker-like fashion:

“I want to know you.”

With the grace of my friend Celeste, you laugh and say:

“Okay, I’m game.”

And now, you will answer one or all of the following questions because that’s the kind of person you are:

What is your nickname? Who gave it to you?

What is your favorite thing to eat on a road trip?

Speaking of, if you could travel anywhere, with anyone . . . .?

How long have you been friends with your best friend?

You’re at Wendy’s. You order?

And, be prepared for more crazy questions coming your way sometime in the future because that’s the kind of person I am. Just ask Celeste. ;)

Cheers!

A Love Letter to a City

    Our backyard apple tree blooming last April in Seattle.

Yesterday it rained in Colorado Springs. Not the momentous release of a thunder storm, but more of a slow leak from the burdened sky, the rain drops inches between each other. Even so, it felt reminiscent of the Seattle drizzle I enjoyed or endured, depending on your take, for several years.

I loved it all along – the Northwest gray skies that made all the other colors of the world more pungent in their display. Last May or June, when we were just weeks away from saying goodbye to that wonderful city, I wrote Seattle a love letter. Today, when I’m missing it so much, I will share it here:

Dearest Seattle,

I’m in love with you.

I guess you already knew that since I’ve explored every inch of you and fawned over your unique beauty for five years now. I almost wish it wasn’t true because it has to end now. We’ve both known all along that this couldn’t get serious, although, it does seem highly inappropriate to say goodbye while the spring sun coaxes the blossoms from their budding cocoons.

It’s like I’m one of your many beautiful trees – my roots sink far beneath the very streets and paths that I’ve driven and walked and run these last five years. My roots twist and turn as they search for the right nourishment for this particular tree – around Greenlake, to THE gelato shop, under the Woodland Park Zoo, through the duck pond, and even to the hospital. Your fertile soil has always provided whatever my sometimes thirsting roots have needed - even when what I needed was quite painful. Your steady nurturing has helped me grow immeasurably into a more comfortable, quiet tree. I’m at peace with myself largely because of you and the time we spent together.

So, I’ve made a decision. Pulling my tender, yet firm, roots from this wonderful city is too agonizing to even consider. It’s too weed-like and common. I don’t think I’ll be able to get them out without damaging the gnarled, stubborn things, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ve decided to leave them here.

You see, I want to avoid making a large hole where I once was. I realize that means you can’t fill that space with someone else, but, selfishly, that’s exactly my desire.

Please don’t replace me.

I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know if I’ll be back. It seems very unlikely, but, in my dreams, I’d like to imagine myself back in your realm - directly over the city roots that so painfully and comfortably and imperceptibly grew.

And, that’s the end. Of the letter, I mean. I remembered the letter yesterday when a completely different sky squeezed a few drops of nourishment out maybe just for me. I remembered, and I thought about what kind of roots I might have beginning here in my new home. They feel very small if there are any at all. I would claim that they are as insignificant as a mountain flower - small, delicate roots pushing their way through the dry desert, yet robust mountain soil. But, I have not yet seen any flowers here. Spring is a long time in coming. But, sometimes the things that take the longest end up being the most beautiful.

                     The 'swing' tree. Also in our backyard last April.