Momville

Middle Child (Guest Post by Anson age 11)

2012-01-17T23:41:00.000-07:00

You may have heard about being born first or last and it being great but what about the middle? It can sure stink, like this occasion.

One night my mom said I had to babysit the little two and Nathan, I had been doing pretty well and I was about to turn on the BYU game when my sister Emma stepped in the door, she casually walked down the stairs, took the remote, called the little two in, and over, and over turned on Deigo, Dora, The Backyardigans (which wasn’t half bad), Team Umizumi, and then finally, finally gave me the remote back, put the little kids to bed and then finally stuck her nose where it belonged, a book. So I was, for the second time, going to turn on the BYU game, when my mom and dad stepped in took the remote from me and told me to go to bed.

Being a middle child can be bad for me because I have to share a room, I get fewer privileges, and I have more chores. Why it’s bad too share a room for me is Nathan makes messes and doesn’t pick them up which is super annoying like the one time he turned our room super messy when we were smaller. Fifty percent of the time, he won’t listen to me and when he’s mad, Nate talks negatively about himself. (And I’m not even going to go there.) He sometimes makes noises at night so it is hard to sleep like one time he talked for 2 hours and I couldn’t fall asleep.

Another reason why it’s bad being a middle child is you get fewer privileges than the oldest like you have to go to bed earlier than the oldest, and Emma’s play dates are making cool stuff and going mini golfing and other fun places, when mine are playing board games and stuff. While I have to share a room, Emma gets her own and doesn’t have to share because she’s the oldest. Emma can make up fake excuses to get out of doing chores while I just do mine which is so cheap and unfair.

My last reason why being a middle child is bad is I get more chores because when I don’t have projects I get done with my homework, piano and chores fast so I can hopefully play with my friends, but my mom can almost always think of other chores that need to be done like the kitchen floor swept, and the upstairs bathroom scrubbed, the garbage taken out, etc. And because Nathan is slow at homework and Emma has a lot, I get more chores than both of them.

Those three reasons are why being a middle child is bad. I have to share my room with my brother Nathan. I get fewer privileges like staying up late with my mom and dad to play games like Sorry. I get more chores like taking out the trash.

On the other hand, there are some things about me being middle child that are awesome like the fact that I’m the oldest boy, I know the best hiding places and can hide from any one. Because I do more chores I get more money, and sharing a room isn’t that bad considering you can set up an army base with your brother and do “Mission Destroy the Alien Sister” or “Evil Doctor Fudge the Teddy Bear.”

So I guess there are some pros and cons of being a middle child/2^nd child out of 5.

Pros: Nathan, the 3rd out of 5 children, appreciates you and thinks you are awesome.

Cons: You have to share a room, you get fewer privileges, and you have more chores.

Organizing Week

2012-01-14T23:41:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, V came over and I burst into tears as predicted. However, she was very sweet and even complementary. As she looked at my house she would say things like, "This is great." "What a good system you've started here." and "You've really worked at this haven't you?"

I have. I have read the books, I have watched the shows and I have purged and purged and I still can't seem to control THE STUFF. But I am on my way now and I'm pretty stoked about it.

Highlights from what I learned this week.

1. You can't organize a space until you have enough room to organize it in. Example: My bedroom. V told us, "You guys have done great things to maximize this space, but you need more room. We can't start to organize your room until you either have a second dresser or a wall unit." We opted for the second dresser. We found a great one on KSL in three days.

2. You need a lot of bins. A lot. I am now the proud owner of 16 large bins, 13 shoe box size and 9 in-between-those size bins. And that's just for starts. V would love it if I had 20, 20 and 15.

3. You need to label everything. EVERYTHING. Heck, I've even labeled my label maker box. (Grinning.) But suddenly the kids can put their clothes away because they know right where underwear, socks, shirts and pants go as well as those once-a-week things like scout shirts, Sunday clothes, and basketball jerseys.

V says, (you're going to hear this a lot) "Most people stop organizing at the labeling. They feel done and they want to move on. Don't do it. Finish the project. Label everything."

4. Your premium space is anywhere in your house that hits you from the crown of your head to the top of your hip. Put the stuff you need most IN THAT SPACE. So swimsuits, jerseys, etc. They get a low drawer in the dresser, not one of the top three. (The #2 space is from your hip to your knee. #3--I think--is from your knee to the floor and #4 is from the top of your head up.)

5. Organize where you use things. I have tried over and over to use my hall closet as a linen closet with no success. So when we're in the laundry room, V asks, "Where do you keep your sheets?"

"Here," I say gesturing to a jumbled mess in the bottom to shelves of a shelving unit in the laundry room.

"Great!" she says enthusiastically and completely undaunted, "Let's get some bins and sort them and label them."

I am, therefore, the proud owner of three sheet containers labeled Boys Sheets, Girls Sheets and King Sheets. (Actually it only says, "Girl Sheet" cuz I messed up in the label maker, but you get the idea.)

6. Follow the 80/20 rule. You know, you wear 20% of your clothes, shoes, jewelry, etc. 80% of the time. Get rid of (purge) the bottom 50% of what you don't use.

There's so much more, but I'll try to give you the highlight with after pictures. (Wink.)

Not Good News for Nate

2012-01-11T11:19:00.001-07:00

I didn't post at all about my kids' appointment with the retinal specialist two months ago. Partly, because I figured if I didn't put it in writing then maybe it's not really happening.

But it is. And we could use some prayers. Nathan is not responding to the diuretic as well as the girls. His right eye, which is his good eye, is kinda responding. It seemed to show some improvement at the last visit, two months ago and is essentially holding steady (though maybe slightly worse) since last time.

Nate's left eye we are losing. In two months his vision had dropped from 20/30 to 20/35. And because we aren't seeing notable improvement in Nate's right eye...I feel nervous. I came home from the retinal appointment yesterday and had myself a little cry. I don't want to watch my child go blind. But I also know that this is--big time--in the Lord's hands.

Our next step for Nate is to get a basic metabolic panel and see how bad the side effects of the meds are. You see Nate is on the same dose as Emma. So physically there's a big difference. (Emma's 5' 6" and Nate's more like 4' 6".)

Two months ago, we bumped Nate up to Emma's dose. Now, if his body can handle it, we'll bump him up again. If his body can't handle more of that, we'll have to try the injections in the eye that Emma got at the beginning, you know the ones that cost between $200-$2500 depending on whether it's name-brand or generic.

So we will do what we can and leave the rest to the Lord.

Why I'm Terrified

2012-01-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

The professional organizer is coming over on Tuesday. I'm scared out of my wits about it. I can't just get the living room, kitchen and bathroom "reasonably" tidy and call it quits. She's going to see THE WHOLE HOUSE.

Per my request, we are starting on my bedroom. This is for two main reasons. 1) The bedroom becomes the dumping ground when I'm cleaning in a hurry and/or to keep things away from the kids. 2) Because I think it should be an example to the kids and a sanctuary for me. How can I tell the kids to clean their rooms when mine isn't? And how can I get mad if they don't obey me?

I have to lead by example. So that's where we'll start.

My professional organizer, let's call her "V," has given me a couple of assignments. The first is to take everything out of my bedroom that doesn't belong there and stick it, whatever it is, in the room it should be in. The second is to take pictures of every wall and detailed pictures of the closet. Third, I'm to empty some of those big plastic bins, you know, the kind with lids. I use those to hold my clean laundry before it's folded and put away. Well I have to empty at least three of them to help in the sorting process. So I'm doing laundry like crazy.

I've warned her that I may start bawling when she comes over. She thinks that it's because I'll have a hard time letting go of things. It's not. (Well, I may have a hard time, but that's not my primary concern.) It's because I'm deeply embarrassed to have someone see how I really live.

Figuring It Out

2012-01-04T08:00:00.001-07:00

So, it didn't really take me that long, once I'd had my whining session, to figure out how to track my goals for this year.

I have a few rules for myself. Even though I can think of about a jillion things that I've been putting off doing, I can only display 5 on my sidebar at a time. I have to get at least one done before another can go on the list.

Next, I'm going to count organization success in drawers, shelves, closets and rooms.

Those are the rules. I think I can follow them and have some success this year.

To 2012! (Followed by sounds of clinking cups that are full of Martinelli's Sparkling Apple Cider.)

2012 Goals or Mumbling

2012-01-03T23:10:00.000-07:00

Many years as I've begun the New Year--I know. I know exactly what I want to accomplish this year. But this year is hazy.

I'll be finishing up being PTA President this year, after that, I want to slow down a bit. I'd love to apply for Graduate School in 2014. To prepare for that I need to take a GRE course and practice tests and see if I need to take a couple classes to get those all important references (or will my PTA work do.)

But I don't want to do any of that until after my term as PTA Pres is done. So it's this year-ish, but that could really bleed into next year and is hard to measure on my sidebar.

I want to get organized. This has been my goal every year for so long that I can't even remember when I started writing it down. But I'm determined this year. I'm hiring a professional organizer to help me. Seriously. I really hope it works and it sticks. But, again how does one measure "getting organized"?

I can keep my Book of Mormon count going. I could keep my temple count going, too. Though I don't feel a real need to change either of these goals. I perfectly content with where I am with these.

I've been thinking about trying to tackle "things I've been putting off that I really need to do". I have many and varied of these. Everything from getting out Christmas cards (for last year) to getting Nathan a cub scout belt for all those belt loops. (Nate's 9.5, so he's half way done with cubs. And he has a belt, but it's too big. And I can't find it to exchange it, so after more than a year since I've seen the belt, I just need to bite the bullet and buy a new one.)

How many of these should I try to accomplish? How do I track it?

And, of course I need to lose weight--this year more desperately than in year's past. But I think putting it on my sidebar jinxed me. That and quitting Weight Watchers. So I'm not going to publicly track that, because it undoes me.

So here I am again. Mumbling and thinking and not sure how to go forward.

The Thing About Goals

2012-01-01T18:46:00.000-07:00

It started a few years ago when I realized that I rarely read books and I set a goal to read some.

And I couldn't quit.

Year after year I've been posting goals on my side bar with surprising good results (or at least surprisingly good justifications).

Publicly setting and reporting on my goals has been one of the single best things I've done each year.

So here is my final report for the goals of 2011.

1. Do 9 homework lessons. Yeah! I did it! Not only did I finish the 9 remaining lesson, I started over again and did one additional lesson.

2. Read 12 sessions of General Conference. I just finished last week reading the last article for my General Conference goal. It has been incredible and enriching. I need something different for this new year, but I commit to keep my GC reading up.

3. Make 18 Temple Trips. I made 21 temple trips in 2011 including one on Dec 31st that got me home 4 hours after I left. (Note to self: Don't go to the temple the last day of the year next year...)

4. Lose 12.4 lbs. I wish I had a good justification for this one. My original goal was to lose more than 30 lbs this year. Instead I've gain 20. Sigh. Apparently tracking this one on-line is not helpful.

5. Read more of the Book of Mormon. I started last year on page 158 and I'm ending on 284. That's similar to the year before when I began on page 30 and ended on page 158. Seriously. 128 pages in 2010 and 126 pages in 2011. That's about as close as I can get. I have accomplished my lame but completely achievable goal of just "reading more." (This still makes me smile.)

I don't know yet what my goals for 2012 will entail, but I'm very happy about what I accomplished in 2011. Very.

Almost As Fun As I Thought

2011-11-06T20:10:00.001-07:00

Wendell and I took Emma to the temple to do baptisms again. It was, as the temple always is, a good experience: sweet and peaceful. As Emma and I combed out our hair after our baptisms we chatted with another temple goer. She had brought family names to the temple as had I. But it was our first time with our own names and it was amazing.

I gestured toward Emma as I had been explaining about the names and said,"And this is my 12-year-old daughter, Emma."

The woman looked startled and said things like, "No way. You're too young. You can't be her mother!" All of which I appreciated. I said things like, "You're too kind," in return.

"Yes," I went on, "my husband and I have 5 children and she's the oldest." Emma then proceeded to list her siblings.

The woman joked, "Gosh, what did you do? Start when you were 15?"

"Yeah," I joked back, "I started when I was 15."

She almost got whiplash as quickly as she turned to look at me. "You did?!?" she exclaimed.

I chuckled until I realized she was serious. "No," I said totally blowing my cover, "I was almost 23 when I had her."

Although it was fun to be mistaken as Emma's sister, friend or roommate, it was not as fun to have someone make the next leap in which she thought I had been a teen mother.

Thoughts on Tragedy

2011-10-27T08:27:00.009-06:00

Wendell and I mark our favorite websites in different places on the computer. As near as I can tell, he never looks at my extensive lists in the "Bookmarks Menu" and I ignore his little words that go underneath the URL. Until yesterday.

The site said, "On the Wing...y everyone." I'm everyone and so I put the mouse over that name. It said, "kelseaandsavvy.blogspot." I like the Savvy Shopper site and wondered if this was similar. It wasn't. It was a blog about the girls who were killed on the train tracks, here in Utah a week or so ago. (Find the story here.)

The blog was set up, I'm assuming, to post the medical progress of the younger sister who survived the initial accident. But just a couple of days later, she succumbed to her injuries and passed away. So the blog is brief, comprised of just a few posts.

One post is called, "Don't Judge Me" and it address the obvious issues of "what were they thinking?" The sister's mother writes, "Playing on train tracks sounds like a silly thing to do, but not to these girls.
It was a beautiful, fall day in the canyon, the leaves were starting to change colors, the sun was getting ready to set and the three muskuteers had their camera in hand. Only a few minutes prior to the accident Savannah had posted a message on her Facebook sharing the fun she was having."

It was naive, to be sure, playing around active train tracks of fast moving trains. It was, but one foolish decision made by teenagers. (Surely, none of us ever did anything that foolish in our teens, right?) This one decision cost these girls their lives, but one could hardly say that they deserved what they got.

Their mother believes that the girls were not on the tracks themselves, but in the 3 foot space between the tracks. What they didn't know, because they were teenagers, was that the force of the wind coming from the fast moving trains would be enough to blow them into the train's path.

The mother addresses some of the what if's that only serve to drive the bereaved crazy. Then says this, "We can spend every day of our lives hiding in our homes, hoping to avoid [tragedy and] heartache, but when it come[s] down to it what we'll [lose] is the opportunity to experience this beautiful life that God has blessed us with."

I think that is wise. We can live in fear every time a loved one leaves our sight that something bad might happen. Or we can press forward, putting our own lives and the lives of our loved ones in God's hands. We can choose faith that no matter what the future holds, God is already there, waiting for us, loving us, helping us through whatever trials come our way.

Riding the Edge

2011-10-26T09:00:00.001-06:00

"What kind of music do you listen to?" I was asked the other day. Sheepishly, I admitted that I loved contemporary Christian music. The person I was talking to spoke about their new favorite musical genre and mentioned individual artists that could only be euphemistically labeled as "edgy."

So I quickly backpedaled and started listing the genres and radio stations that I used to listen to, because they were "edgier" than the music I now like. I spoke about them with a sense of pride. Like, back in the day when I was such a rebel.

Why do we do that? As Mormons and Christians, why do we sometimes pride ourselves on our ability to walk the line without falling over it. Our media consumption becomes "edgy" as we try to put our foot as far as we can into the "great and spacious building" without officially wandering off the "straight and narrow path." We listen to music, watch movies and TV shows that cannot, by nearly anyone's standards, be categorized as edifying, then we feel a weird sense of pride in it. (At least, I did.)

"See," we say to ourselves," I can handle this (music, movie, TV show). I'm still a good Mormon." I used to say, in jest, that I had to have some kind of sin or otherwise I'd be translated. Listening to alternative rock was keeping me on the planet. Plus, it wasn't that big of a deal.

I am reminded of the story of the stage coach drivers. You know, the one where the employer asks potential hires how close they can drive to the edge of a cliff. One by one they brag about how far they can drive over the edge without falling, each trying to out do the other, expect the one guy. He doesn't know how close he can come to the edge because he stays as far from the edge as possible.

We all nod and think how wise that guy is. And of course he's the one who gets hired. What they don't tell you is how the other stage coach drivers roll their eyes, mock, and think the he's lame.

I don't watch TV anymore. Almost never. The last "show" I watched was more than a week ago and it was BYU game. I rarely watch movies and favor family shows and old classics, when I do. And I don't listen to anything other than Christian radio.

I'm not bragging. There's no element of pride in becoming the "insipid" type that I used to mock. These are simply my defenses that help me battle my personal demons. Nothing more or less. I've written about forks in the road before. And how I had one. Sure, I tried for a while to be "normal," watching the same movies, TV shows and listening to alternative rock music. But it made me crazy. Literal run-to-the-doctor-for-meds brand of crazy.

So I don't ride the edge anymore. I can't. And you know what? I don't miss it. I always have been afraid of heights.

Clutz

2011-10-25T20:57:00.001-06:00

I fell down in Las Vegas. It's a whole long story about how every floor in Vegas in marbled and even their sidewalks are buffed and painted. Now everyone knows that it doesn't rain in Vegas, right? Never. It's hot at Hades, probably because the devil lives there. Right?

So I was caught very unawares when a friend and I found ourselves in a rainstorm on marbled tiles wearing flip flops. (My friend and I were wearing the flip flops, not the tiles.) To minimize our treacherous walk home we cut through one casino and when we got through the other side I slipped on marble tile and fell over and hit my knee. That was 2.5 weeks ago. And my knee still hurts.

Not the inside mind you, it was only a flesh wound, but the knee cap itself is seriously messed up. I finally started favoring that knee--not kneeling on it, etc. And it was getting better. Almost normal. Then yesterday I hit THAT knee cap on the very corner of a piano bench. And I'm starting over again, favoring the knee, being careful.

So today I slammed my middle two fingers of my right hand in the car door. Now I have so many bruised and injured parts I don't even know what to do.

Quitter

2011-10-14T23:06:00.000-06:00

You can't quit a job when you don't have one. But it doesn't stop you from pursuing a "dream job," does it? The book, Quitter, by Jon Acuff is a good one. Really, it attacks all of the reasons that people (this may or may not be applicable to me) use to not pursue a dream.

His #1 point, "Keep your day job" is especially easy for me because my day job is to be a mom. And I'm not quitting that no matter what.

I don't know if it was the next point in the book or not, but it was the next "biggy" that I got, which is--you must pursue your job around your other obligations. Unlike the author of Eat, Pray, Love, we're not getting paid to travel around spending months in secluded areas and write about our experiences. (In defense of the EPL author, I have never read her book, but I did see her twice on Oprah.) We have spouses, children, bills. We have to decide how to do what we love around and with who we love.

There's plenty more that I want to say, but 1) I have not yet finished the book and 2) Wendell is waiting for me to come to bed.

Quote of the Day

2011-09-26T09:51:00.000-06:00

"When love becomes our guiding principle in our care for others, our service to them becomes the gospel in action. It is the gospel in its finest moment. It is pure religion."
--Silvia H. Allred, "The Essence of Discipleship," Ensign May 2011

General Conference

2011-09-24T22:37:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite things in all the world is the Biannual General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is awesome and inspiring. And flat out fun to sit at home for church, even if I am "going" to 8 hours of church in 2 days.

It was a little over a year ago that I began to truly understand the importance of these meetings. And not just the meetings themselves, because I really think I got that, but the messages from the meetings that come as a special edition of the Ensign magazine. These are the words of prophets and apostles on the earth today! Trials in my life at that time seemingly drove me to the magazine and the messages, which I had never really studied before.

Now I was pouring over the messages, underlining things that were important to me and rewriting them in a journal I started for that express purpose. One year and two months later, my journal is full. And my hand is tired.

But I still want to record the messages that mean the most to me. I've wrestled with how to do it. It was Pres. Uchtdorf who helped me decide. He said, "Perhaps the Lord's encouragement to 'open [your] mouths' might today include 'use your hands' to blog and text message the gospel to all the world!"

Therefore, I will very inconsistently, though occasionally, have a feature where I share my favorite quotes from a favorite General Conference talk. Ta-da! Aren't you all excited?

And, since I'm here, there's no time like the present.

I LOVED the talk, "More Than Conquerors through Him That Loved Us" by Elder Paul V. Johnson. I have an almost ridiculous amount of favorite quotes. So, as I was wrapping up my journal, I couldn't fit them all for lack of space. Here are the ones I couldn't squeeze in the final pages of my quote journal.

"Time after time we see marvelous blessings on the heels of great trials."

"No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby." --Hebrews 12:11

"Our personal journey through life will provide just the right amount [of trials] for our needs."

"Sometimes we want to have growth without challenges and to develop strength without any struggle. But growth cannot come by taking the easy way. We clearly understand that an athlete who resists rigorous training will never become a world-class athlete. We must be careful that we don't resent the very things that help us put on the divine nature."

Where Were You?

2011-09-11T21:28:00.001-06:00

I was in bed, happy to be sleeping in, on Sept 11, 2001. It was Wendell's day off, so he was up with our two small children, Emma (2) and Anson (10 months). I awoke grumpy and abruptly as Wendell shook me awake with urgency.

"What?" I snapped.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but a tower in New York City has just been hit by an airplane."

We couldn't afford cable and we couldn't get any reception with an antenna. The only channel that did come in, was a very snowy Fox 13. I remember thinking it was weird that Wendell even had the TV on, to this day, I don't know why he did. As I stumbled into the living room, the second plane hit the second tower. It was evident, this was an attack. Who was attacking us and how they commandeered commercial planes, would take time to find out. To a degree, it was moot.

Wendell and I sat on our couch and watched in horror as the towers went down, knowing they were full of people. Knowing those people were dying right before our eyes. I clasped my hand over my mouth, unable to voice anything. We watched the people run through the streets from clouds of dust and debris as the Twin Towers went down.

We wanted so much more than our snowy coverage could provide, so we quickly dressed, packed up the kids and went to Wendell's parent's home to watch the news. Today Emma and Anson asked what they were doing. I don't have any real recollection. I don't remember eating anything that day, either, though I'm sure we did.

I just remember the news. A plane hit the pentagon. The President was safe. The President had been moved and was constantly being moved. All planes were being grounded. Another plane went down in Pennsylvania.

In the days and weeks that followed, I was touched by so many stories. Stories of heroism and valor. There is one that I will never forget. A young couple with two small children were preparing their kids for the death of a parent. Their mother had cancer and only had weeks left to live. Though, he didn't usually work there, on Sept 11, this father was in one of the upper floors, laying tile, part of a crew remodeling a business suite.

As his family watched the news coverage, the young mother was unconsolable. She knew her husband was dead. And in weeks, her children were orphans. Though I don't know his name, today I honor this man, who went to work, just like any other day, and never came home.

It is a day I will never forget.

Intuitive Eating: The Next Steps

2011-09-03T22:17:00.000-06:00

The next chapter the dietician recommended reading was Chapter 7 Making Peace with Food. The essence of this is that you can eat any food you want. Really. I know that they hit that in Chapter 10, where I began, but it was a review of this chapter, which, obviously, came first.

After that, the dietician said to read chapter 5 which is about ditching dieting. It sites a lot of studies demonstrating that diets don't work and, in fact, contribute to them problem. (We feel we must obey a set of rules rather than listening to what our body wants.)

They said we should get rid of the scale. I haven't. In fact, I weigh myself almost everyday. So I'll get on one day and be like, "Yea! This is working! I'm losing weight!" and two days later I gasping in horror as I think, "I'm 0.6 lbs away from THAT NUMBER. The number I swore I'd never be again. The number I kissed good bye. Oh. Freak. What am I doing?"

The book says not to count calories, carbs, or follow some kind of ridged guideline because that invariably backfires. Eventually, we break the "rules" and after that, who cares?!? They have studies that talk about that too.

Of course, me, I'm still going to Weight Watchers. But I'm becoming more skeptical. I think, "Are cookies really the enemy?" Or as members talk about how WW works as long as you work it and that they just struggle with "will power," I think, "There was a study that should that people with tremendous will power still couldn't stick with diets and will power had nothing to do with it."

I have prepaid for two more weeks. I thought I'd keep doing this and keep going and keep weighing myself until it turned around. Surely I can over come all my "stuff" and start losing weight in 5 weeks, right?

Wrong. This week I'm up 3.6. That's the most I've gained in a single week in quite a while. And I've been eating like it. I can't remember the last time I bought sausage. It's probably been more than a decade. It's been months since I've had bacon in the house and I could go a year or more without baking even a single batch of chocolate chip cookies.

And I've done it all. It's been very...freeing. But, unfortunately, also very fattening.

This post by a friend of mine has me thinking even more.

Holding Steady

2011-08-30T16:43:00.000-06:00

Beck had his semi-annual appointment with the retinal specialist today.

On Emma's, Nathan's and Annika's imaging, there's this big spot in the back of their eye. In the middle of that is a white blip where their retinal is pulling away from the back of their eye.

Beck has no fluid under his retina--no white blip. But he has that big spot. This is why we're watching him.

Technically, his retina had an increase in thickness of two micrograms. This is a very insignificant amount.

"It could be," Dr. Two told me, "just the difference in how well he was holding still between last time and this time."

So we've been cleared for six more months. But looking at his scans I feel quite sure that it's just a matter of time....

Intuitive Eating: Satisfaction Factor

2011-08-23T00:55:00.000-06:00

Let me just say that this road to learning to intuitively eat is one of the most fascinating and frightening ventures I've had. Thus far I've gained 3.4 lbs, which has, unfortunately, returned me to my start of the year weight plus 1.6 lbs.

That's depressing. I can feel that I'm getting a bigger "spare tire" around my middle. My pants are tighter and my tops have more to cling to. Part of me wants to throw in the towel and say, "Never mind. I'm going back to Weight Watchers."

But even as much as I want to share my "testimony" that WW works, I can attest that it hasn't for me. 12 years after starting, I weigh about 1 pound less than when I began. So, I remind myself that it doesn't work and didn't work for me and that I'm willing to try intuitive eating, even if that means I'm gaining weight while I learn.

So, Chapter 10, where this dietician recommended that I start reading in the book, Intuitive Eating, is all about satisfaction. The point of this chapter teaches:

1) Eat what you like or you won't be satisfied. Eating rice cakes when you want chips or WW desserts when you want cornbread, nearly always leads to eating too many calories because you're not satisfied by what you're eating.

2) Take time to figure out what you like and don't eat what you don't like. If you put a bit of food in your mouth and you don't like the food, toss it and get yourself what you really want.

3) Savor the food you love. Create a great eating environment. Plate your food beautifully. Eat slowly and enjoy!

4) Keep a variety of foods in your house. You should have access to soups, pastas, fruits, veggies, proteins and even cookies. You never know what you'll want to eat. Chances are if you have a variety of foods in your house, you'll find something that will satisfy your hunger.

5) Stop eating when a food stops tasting good. As we eat and our hunger is satisfied, foods tend to taste less yummy. Checking in while we're eating and figuring out if we still satisfied by the food is critical. Because we can eat ANY food, we can have that food again so it should be less traumatic to toss the food.

I reviewed this chapter because, although I'm doing some things right, I know, by my weight gain, that I'm doing some things wrong, acting instinctively from years of depravation.

I can check #1 off. I'm doing great at that one. As we speak I have granola bars and cashews in my house, both previously "off limit" foods for me.

I'm improving at #2. Last week we took the kids to eat out at a mom and pop burger place because we've become acquainted with the owners. What I ordered was very mediocre. So when I got my shake and it was as disappointing as the meal was, I tossed it and later that night bought a shake I do like from a place that makes good shakes.

#3 I'm terrible at. My kitchen is cramped. The counter is cluttered and it's rare for me to get even one meal day that I can fix my food the way I want and really, really savor it. During the school year, that meal is lunch. Most of the time, I tend to eat on my feet while fixing food for others. Sometimes I eat a complete meal and I barely recognize that I've eaten it. Then I crave desserts, something I usually eat slowly and linger over after the kids are done with their meal or after they've gone to bed. I'm starting to realize that what I really crave is the lingering, not the dessert.

I'm doing better at #4, but it frightens me. Still, for the sake of the advice, I've tried to buy more things and pay better attention to whether or not I want to eat them.

#5, I'm terrible at. Deep down I know there's a limit--that I'll go back to WW or some other kind of weight loss program and I won't be able to eat those foods again. So I better get them while the getting is good. The truth is, I've only half bought in. I want to try it, but only if it's going to make me lose weight. Then I think, "No! I'm in no matter what. I gave WW 12 years, surely I can give this a year." Then I chicken out. I worry. I obsess. I watch the scale creep up.

But I want to give this a shot. I can incorporate good things I learned at WW, like the results on the scale are feedback and not failure. Still, as I adjust my too-tight pants and try to uncling my shirt, I hem and haw fighting with myself as those cartoon characters do with the angels and devils atop their shoulders. And I wonder who will win.

Confessional

2011-08-20T23:44:00.000-06:00

Awhile back I read through the Babble top 50 bloggers. One of the things that pushed people to the top spots was how confessional the blogs were. The more confessional--the higher the rating. One of the bloggers, a self-proclaimed, "recovering" Mormon, had lost her job because she was so...I'm sure she'd use the word candid.

There are times I wish I could be. That I could just lay it all out with no hint of pretense. But that's not really me. If I could be 100% real--raw, some would call it--and it would effect only me, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I can't do it (and I can't imagine anyone who could) without hurting someone else.

If I tell you all my stuff about the kids--and I'd like to--it could hurt them. This is a public blog after all. Some acquaintance's parent or sibling or even the child themselves, could, I suppose, stumble on this blog and then if there is some sort of incriminating statement, harm my child with my own words.

Sometimes it seems like it would be nice to just air marital issues. Because I'm sure loads of us have similar feelings about our spouses. But, again, I have trouble imagining that helping anyone's marriage, mine included.

There are times that I have so much I wish I could say, but I'm afraid to say any of it. I wish there was a filter I could use and allow the blog to be public, but to only those who won't judge me and will keep obviously private things private. But, of course, that would undo the whole public-access-thing.

I could go private. But that is the kiss of death to any blog.

So I keep the blog tidy even though life is messy.

One of those days

2011-08-18T23:04:00.000-06:00

Today I got yelled at.

And it wasn't my fault.

But I'm the PTA Pres.

Then I got yelled at and it was my fault.

Because I'm the PTA Pres.

Two people were snippy with me.

Four people were grateful.

I ran late everywhere.

Emma had a 30 minute appointment that I was 15 minutes late for.

Because I was on the phone with the assistant principal.

Because I'm the PTA Pres.

I'm really, really hoping this gets easier as the school year goes on.

But First...

2011-08-15T22:41:00.001-06:00

My youngest daughter, Annika, starts Kindergarten in two weeks. Exactly. But first, she starts 1st grade.

I know it's a weird way for a kid to go to school, but I think it's going to work out fine. See, Annika is smart. Freakishly smart. Today she read, "And it came to pass that when Jesus had spoken those words, he touched every one of them save it were the three who were to tarry, and then he departed." (3 Nephi 28:12) The only word she didn't know? Tarry. No pausing, no sounding out. It's hard to believe unless you hear her for yourself.

So one week from today, she'll be going to 1st grade for 1 hour and 15 min. Literacy time. I'm hoping it will help her not be so bored in school. Once Kindergarten starts, she will be going from 1st grade to Kindergarten where she'll be until lunch-time when I get to pick her up and take her home.

And you know what? She's bummed that she can't go to school any longer. That she can't eat lunch at school and own a lunch box. I've told her it's just too darn bad. She doesn't get to grow up THAT fast.

Intuitive Eating

2011-08-13T23:52:00.000-06:00

At the recommendation of a dietician, I've been reading a book called, Intuitive Eating. This way of eating is, in a word, revolutionary. Now let me tell you two things. First, I've been a Weight Watcher member since 1999. Second, this isn't a joe-shamoe dietician. She works at an eating disorder clinic and specializes in helping people who have an unhealthy relationship with food. This book, Intuitive Eating, is the basis for their nationally renown program. I kid you not.

The dietician recommended beginning reading it on Chapter 7. She feels that this one is a crucial first step. This chapter gives you permission to eat whatever you want. Cool, no? Anything. If you like it, it's allowed. There is no more "good food" verses "bad food", it's all just food. Food shouldn't be moralized. And this is a big key between intuitive eaters and those of us that diet. Intuitive eaters don't have foods that are off-limits.

By doing that, nothing becomes binge-worthy. If you're not saying to yourself, "I CAN'T have this chocolate cake" then you never get to, "This will be the LAST time I eat chocolate cake" which, of course, leads to, "Since this is the last time, I'd better eat it while I've got it!"

It's like stepping off a roller coaster that really never was any fun. The big truth I've learned is, I don't have to eat myself to oblivion since it's the "last time." I can have (fill in the blank) again. Anytime I want.

Joy in the Journey Part 6

2011-08-12T08:00:00.002-06:00

“Joy is not a stranger to pain," Barbara Workman, shared in a talk to missionaries. "We may not feel deeply enough to know joy unless our hearts have been hollowed out by sorrow. A heart may not be big enough to know real joy until it has been stretched and pulled by trials and hard things. In 2 Nephi 2:23 we find this phrase, ‘having no joy for they know no misery.’ Our capacity to feel joy actually increases as we righteously endure our pain.”

Many of you are aware of the difficult news our family received a few months ago when we learned that 3 of our 5 children have a rare eye disorder. Because of this condition, Emma is blind in her right eye. During those first few months we watched the scans of Emma’s left eye get worse and worse. Rather off handedly, the doctors decided to try a different medication for Emma that was cheaper and less invasive than the injections in her eye that she had been receiving.

In a matter of weeks Emma was seeing 20/20 in her left eye again. We will now start Nathan and Annika on the medication and we feel very optimistic about the prognosis.

I am deeply grateful for the faith and prayers of so many of you on behalf of our children and acknowledge the hand of the Lord in this miracle in our lives.

I am grateful to a loving Heavenly Father who has given me growth experiences that have been to my everlasting benefit. I leave you my witness that it is possible to be full of joy even while wading through afflictions. No matter our individual difficulties, may we strive to find joy in the journey as we come unto Christ.

Joy in the Journey Part 5

2011-08-11T08:00:00.002-06:00

Heavenly Father’s desire that we have joy and His desire that we grow are not mutually exclusive. We can have joy while we grow if we will, but see his tender mercies around us.

A song called, Blessings, explains it beautifully.

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering

All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

What if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

I certainly know that to be true in my life—that the trials of my life have been mercies in disguise. When the Savior told us to come to Him with a broken heart and a contrite spirit we must recognize that we will face trials that break our hearts. Only then can we come to the Master Healer and be made whole.

“Trust in God,” Elder Scott has instructed, “no matter how challenging the circumstance. . . . Your peace of mind, your assurance of answers to vexing problems, your ultimate joy depend on your trust in Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.”

Recently, as I have faced trials, I have asked myself, am I willing to turn my will and my life over to the care of God, the Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ?

As a youth, I remember memorizing Proverbs 3:5-6 which was our scripture for girls camp that year. We likely all know it by heart. “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all they ways acknowledge Him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

Yet how often do we present the Lord with our plan then get frustrated that He won’t follow it. We tell him what we want, then we tell Him when we want it. Often we follow that with pacing and worry and wondering why He won’t answer our prayers when we never bothered to ask what we should be praying for.

I remember a particular instance in my life where I felt inspired to take a certain action. It was not an action that I wanted to take so I decided to negotiate with the Lord. I committed to use my agency as I had been prompted but only if the Lord committed to never let me feel emotional pain in my life again.

There was no question about the answer—no deal. But I felt the Spirit whisper, “I cannot promise you that. I will not control other’s agency. But I promise to be there for you, to heal you when you hurt, to calm you when you worry, to comfort you when you feel alone.” And the Lord has kept His promise.

Joy in the Journey Part 4

2011-08-10T08:00:00.000-06:00

Even smaller and arguably more mundane problems can be turned to God as well. A young mother, Winnie Dalley, relates this story.

As I look into the smiling eyes of my infant son and experience the warmth of his vigorous, chubby little body wriggling in my arms, I feel the fulness of the moment and sense a glimmer of eternity.

The sounds of my feuding preschoolers arouse me from my reverie. “She scratched me!” wails four-year-old Kendra. “She took away my dolly,” cries Brittany, age two. And before I can do anything, Kendra proceeds to bop her younger sister on the head. Soon there is crying, then there are attempts to get even, then more crying.

After pleadings and stern admonitions, I finally manage to placate each party and achieve a cease-fire. I breathe an inner sigh of relief, grateful for some reprieve. Then Brittany begins: “Mommy, I want more cookies.”

“Honey,” I try to explain to her, “you already had a lot of cookies today. You need to eat other food besides cookies to help you grow big and strong. How about some yogurt?”

“No, I don’t want yogurt; I want cookies. I want some, I want some now!” She starts crying ferociously, then screaming and then kicking. It seems impossible to reason with my little two-year-old.

Spencer, the baby, is crying too. He was patiently sitting in his swing, where I had placed him in my efforts to deal with his sisters’ crisis. But now he is no longer content by himself. I hurry over and pick him up. He looks into my eyes, and his pouting mouth slowly curves into a smile. I cannot help but give him a kiss on the cheek.

In the meantime, Brittany’s tantrum is showing no signs of subsiding. Kendra gets up on the couch and starts jumping. “Honey, don’t do that,” I tell her. “You might fall down and get hurt.”

“No I won’t,” she insists, continuing to jump without the least concern.

“Stop jumping right now,” I say, my voice rising.

Nearby in the kitchen, a mound of dirty dishes waits for me in the sink. The laundry is not done, the carpet not vacuumed, the bathroom not scrubbed. Toys are strewn haphazardly all over the living room and kitchen floor. A pile of unpaid bills sits arrogantly on top of the bookcase, exerting silent authority. All of a sudden, the negative aspects of the moment seem to outweigh the positive.

But it is really not so. I remind myself that I need to look beyond the temporal mists and regain my eternal vision of clarity. A house does not have to be perfect to be a home of joy, a child does not have to behave perfectly to love and be loved, and every moment of life does not have to be perfect to be of value.

Heavenly Father wants us to have joy. But He also cares far more for who we can become than He does about us being comfortable every moment.

Elder Scott said, “Just when all seems to be going right, challenges often come in multiple doses applied simultaneously. When those trials are not consequences of your disobedience, they are evidence that the Lord feels you are prepared to grow more. He therefore gives you experiences that stimulate growth, understanding, and compassion which polish you for your everlasting benefit. To get you from where you are to where He wants you to be requires a lot of stretching, and that generally entails discomfort and pain.”

Being part of a family is one of the ways the Lord provides that stretching.

Elder Bruce C. Hafen shares this story about his wife.

During her first pregnancy, Marie was sick—an odd way to be showered with joy. For part of each day for several months, she felt just terrible. It was morning sickness ad nauseum.

Then about four weeks before delivery she threatened to miscarry, which sent her to bed for several days, causing serious complications in the classes she was taking and those she was teaching. But when the big day finally came, even the hours of labor were worth it as she lay there in the hospital bed holding that beautiful baby boy.

Nothing could be more wonderful than this, she thought. Surely the world stops for such a beautiful baby.

The day after the baby was born, she was cuddling him happily in her hospital room when her doctor came in. A plain-spoken man, he looked at them and said cheerily, “How does it feel to have the easiest part over with?”

“Easiest part?”

“Why sure,” he replied. “It’s the next twenty years that are going to be tough.”

Now, more than twenty years later, we have discovered, right there among mortality’s thorns, the sweet fruit of having joy in our posterity. After all the diapers, the bruises, the washing, the cheering, the cleaning up, the pleading, the nail biting, the crying, the laughing, the pacing, and the praying, we understand. We feel about raising children the way Ammon felt about missionary work:

“And this is the account of Ammon and his brethren, their journeyings in the land of Nephi, their sufferings in the land, their sorrows, and their afflictions, and their incomprehensible joy”.

Joy in the Journey Part 3

2011-08-09T08:00:00.001-06:00

So I just had one of THE most fun get-togethers with three of my high school friends. We are talking and stuff and it comes up that a mutual friend has posted one of his talks on FB. And that is apparently VERY uncouth. And I'm sitting here thinking, um, I've just broken my talk up into several different posts and put in on my blog. Man. That's tacky.

Then I think, hey, this blog thing is really for me, right? And I want a copy of my own talk. So avert your eyes if you think it's tacky. I brag about my kids and I know that's tacky, too. But, I don't really care. For the record, no one is *making* you read this. And who knows? Maybe someone who stumbles on this needs it.

Another obstacle that we face in experiencing joy is our perception of the trials we experience—note that I say the perception of our trials and not the trials themselves. Words of prophets, both modern day and in the scriptures are replete with examples of those who experience joy during trials and testimony that we can do the same.

One of my favorite examples is in Helamen chapter 3.

This was a time of great prosperity in the church. In fact, in the previous couple of years there were tens of thousands of new converts to the gospel of Jesus Christ. But as always happens in times of prosperity, pride began to enter in and some of the people began to persecute other members of the church.

In verses 34 and 35 we read, “And they were lifted up in pride even to the persecution of many of their brethren. Now this was a great evil, which did cause the more humble part of the people to suffer great persecutions, and to wade through much affliction. Nevertheless they did fast and pray oft, and did wax stronger and stronger in their humility, and firmer and firmer in the faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation, yea, even to the purifying and sanctification of their hearts, which sanctification cometh because of their yielding their hearts unto God.”

I love that it says they grew stronger and stronger in their humility. When do we ever think of being strong in humility? But the thing I love the most is that these humble people received joy and consolation WHILE wading through affliction. That is potent imagery. When I think of wading, I think of slogging through water up to my knees at least. Perhaps the water is up to my waist, where it’s difficult to take a step forward and everything requires so much effort. And it was at this time, not after the trial was over, but while wading through affliction that these people in Helamen received joy and consolation because they yielded their hearts to God. They trusted Him. And because they rested their problems and struggles in God’s hands they had joy.

Joy in the Journey Part 2

2011-08-08T08:00:00.001-06:00

Life is a lot like having a new baby in the house. It is wonderful and full of joy, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t challenges or it’s not a lot of work. The key to a joyful life is having joy in the journey.

The online guide to the scriptures says that joy is a condition of great happiness coming from righteous living. The purpose of mortal life is for all people to have joy. A full joy will come only through Jesus Christ.

The prophet Joseph Smith said, “Happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, IF we pursue the path that leads to it; and this path is virtue, uprightness, faithfulness, holiness and keeping all the commandments of God.”

From this, we learn that joy is conditioned on personal righteousness. Thus, sin is an obstacle to joy.

Elder Richard G. Scott taught, “If you are suffering the disheartening affects of transgression, please recognize that the only path to permanent relief from sadness is sincere repentance with a broken heart and a contrite spirit. There is really no other way to get lasting healing and peace.”

In another talk Elder Scott promised, “I know that every difficulty we face in life, even those that come from our own negligence or even transgression can be turned by the Lord into growth experiences, a virtual ladder upward. I certainly do not recommend transgression as a path to growth. . . . It is far wiser and so much easier to move forward in righteousness. But through proper repentance, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and obedience to His commandments, even the disappointment that comes from transgression can be converted into a return to happiness.”

Joy in the Journey Part I

2011-08-07T15:54:00.000-06:00

This last Mother's Day, Wendell and I were asked to speak in church. My topic was about having Joy in the Gospel. This is my talk in, well, a few parts. I hope you like it.

Mother’s Day 1999 was something that I had been looking forward to for about 9 months. Yet, as I waddled into church 7 days overdue, I felt a little miffed. Emma was born the next day making her reluctant entrance.

She was a colicky baby, which I attribute to my nervousness and inexperience, rather than any temperamental deficiency of Emma’s. And I was as nervous as they came. I was prone to calling the doctor for comical reasons leaving nurses on the other end of the phone struggling to breathe while also restraining their laughter.

So you can imagine the production it was to go to the grocery store for the first time with Emma in tow. I went equipped with multiple changes of diapers, wipes, a change of clothes, toys, binky and spare blankets. I had her buckled properly in her car seat, swathed with blankets to keep her warm even though it was already June. With a shopping list tucked in my purse, I struggled to carry Emma, in her car seat on one arm and a gigantic diaper bag and my purse on the other arm into the grocery store.

It was one of the most exhausting shopping trips I had had to date. Finally at the check out, a sweet white-haired woman behind me peered into the car seat to look at Emma.

“Oh, isn’t this wonderful!” she said to me.

“This,” I said, pointing at Emma, “is a lot of work.”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “but isn’t it wonderful?”

Two Outa Three Ain't Bad

2011-08-05T18:10:00.002-06:00

Today was retinal specialist day. So at 10:30 I packed up Emma, Nathan and Annika and took them to the retinal specialist's office. There was a new tech--a nice guy, but one I'd never seen before. I had decided last time when the tech was struggling to get the kids eye pressure that I wouldn't do it this time. We've never had anything, but a normal reading, the fluid in their eyes has been going down, and they're KIDS for heaven sake--not an age group prone to eye pressure problems. (Shush. I know kids aren't prone to problems with their macula, but still.)

As Tech Guy pulled out the pen-thingy that they have to touch your eye with 13 times to get a reading, I said, "I don't want to do eye pressure readings today." He looked at me, a bit aghast. Then he glanced around the room thinking rapidly. He opened Annika's chart.

"We did it last time," he pointed out.

"Yep," I said. "And we've never had anything, but a normal reading, right? I'll do it next time, but I don't think we need to do it today."

He seemed befuddled. I was making him buck procedure and he was obviously uncomfortable with that. He kept saying things like, "OK. And we aren't doing the eye pressure right now, but we might in a few minutes." Then we'd switch kids and a different one would have their turn having an exam.

Tech Guy went out to check and see if it was OK that we didn't do the eye pressure, but when Dr. Two came in, he was hunky-dory about it. It's one of the many reasons I like Dr. Two. He's cool with that kinda stuff and he lets me be in charge.

After an exam with Dr. Two, we got the kid's eye scans done. Then I sent the kid's to the waiting room to ~~fight over the iPad~~ play together quietly, while I sat comfortably out of earshot in an exam room with Dr. Two.

"Are any of the kids doing a better job at taking their medications than others?"

"No. They all take their meds at the same time everyday. Why? Are some receiving more benefit than others?"

The short answer was, yes. While Emma was showing marked improvement not only in her left eye, but also in the side vision on her already blind right eye. Annika was showing slight improvement. Hopefully. At the very least, she's holding steady. The scans showed some improvement in her central vision, where it matters most. Yet, she had additional fluid in her lower vision, more indicative of the fluid sloshing rather than dissipating.

But Nathan had actually gotten worse. In light of that, Dr. Two and I also talked about the results of the blood work that had been done at the hospital previously. Emma and Annika were retaining a bit of carbon dioxide--an expected side effect. But Nathan was complete with in normal range. This, coupled with the increasing of the fluid, could mean that Nate's not on the right dose of medication.

That really didn't surprise me when I thought about it. Nathan and Annika were on the exact same dose, even though Nathan is 9 and Annika is only 5. Nate's head and shoulders taller than Annika and probably weighs 75% more. So Dr Two and I decided to raise Nate's medication 50%. Emma will take two pills a day, Annika one and Nate one and half.

We come back to see what that's doing in three months. Meanwhile, Beck will come in later this month for his biannual screening. Stay tuned.

I Knew I Would Stink At It

2011-08-01T08:00:00.001-06:00

OK. It's pretty obvious. I'm not a good streaker. I think any one who knows me well would know that I would stink at this. I'm just too darn modest.

Here's the deal. I was actually doing really, really well going to bed at between 11:30 and 11:45, but not BY 11:30 which is what my goal was. So I said to Wendell, "I'm going to count it if I'm in bed before 11:45. That's going to count for my streak."

You know what Wendell said? "No way. Then it will be 'as long as I'm in bed before midnight', and pretty soon you'll be going to bed at 12:22 and counting it as going to bed by 11:30."

"That's it," I said. "I'm going to have to change my streak and push it back to 11:45, then."

"Or," Wendell pointed out, "you could start getting ready for bed at 11:15."

He's right of course. And that's what I *should* have done. But I didn't. What I did was the opposite. If it was 11:25 and I didn't have my PJ's on yet, I'd just sit and read or visit or do whatever until 11:45 or so. And then I'd get ready for bed. Or, if I was making a concerted effort and realized that it was 11:35, I'd just stop, give up and play Angry Birds on my iPad for 20 minutes. But bit by bit I have been going to bed later and later. I'm desperate for an afternoon nap, I don't want to get up and work out, I feel crummy.

In a nice way (love you, honey) I'm telling Wendell to stick it. This is MY blog, dang it, and I can do whatever I want. So I'm pushing my streak back. And at 11:20 each night, I'm going to make a break for it. I think this will work.

The other thing was, I wanted a little container to hold my earrings and I was looking around for one to motivate me to go to bed on time and this was going to be my reward. And my dear husband (sending kisses and adoring looks his way) told me that I could use this, that or the other to hold my earrings. And he's right again. I could. But I also lost my motivation to go to bed. I KNOW that feeling good should be enough. It's not. I want to buy myself stuff. Nice stuff. Helpful stuff. Organizing stuff. So there. When I go to bed a whole week---seven days in a row--at 11:45 or earlier, then I'm going to buy myself an earring holder.

There. I feel so much better.

Book Review: Summer Fit Workbook

2011-07-31T08:12:00.000-06:00

Last week I went searching for an email in what hasbecome my spam email box--a box I've completely lost control over. I'vetried to rescue it, I really have. But it's time. I have officiallygiven up. Still, I was mucking about in this box looking for an emailamong my 8890 unread messages, (sadly, this is not an exaggeration) when Istumbled upon an email from Media Guests, for whom I review books, asking ifI'd received and would review the Summer Fit workbook.

The email was dated May 11.

Thus, the mysterious appearance of the workbook hasbeen solved and it was total and complete coincidence that I got THE perfectbook for my daughter.

But there is the matter of the review for which Ireceived the free book in the first place.

I LOVE Summer Fit. Let me tell you a bitabout what it is. These guys who created Summer Fit wanted kids to bephysically and mentally active during the summer. So they used nationalstandards to create this book. Each book begins, deliberately, easy andjust touches on different subjects to keep the kids fresh but not bore themwith pages and pages of repetition. The book increasing in difficulty asthe book moves along, but the focus of the book is review.

In addition to the academics, the book encouragesphysical fitness. Each day there are recommend activities, with lists ofgames including instructions on how to play. The activities alternatebetween aerobic and strength training and have fun names like, Fly in theOintment (that one I could feel for a few days) and Moon Touch.

Summer Fit also includes a character trait for eachweek (the first is Honesty) has a recommended age appropriate reading list onthe topic and a bio about a famous person who exhibited this trait. (Abraham Lincoln is honesty; Mother Theresa is compassion, etc.)

I have been so impressed with the thought and depththat has gone into creating these workbooks. There a few issues I suspectthey are working out. We've run into titles of books that were notablyoff. On one of the boys' books the title in the book said, "TheSummer My Father Turned Ten" but the actual title was, "TheSummer I Turned Ten". There have been some math terms that aren'tquite right either. Like, instead of "find the nearest hundred" it says "hundredth", which of course is a decimal two placesout and the page has no decimals.

But it hasn't been a big deal. It's been easyto figure out what they meant and give an assignment to look for typographicaland other errors. That always makes kids feel smart.

I heartily endorse Summer Fit as a well-rounded workbook with excellentcurriculum and a certain solution for summer doldrums as well as kids who needan extra challenge in the school year.

The Mystery of "Summer Fit"

2011-07-30T15:40:00.002-06:00

In the spring, I got a package in the mail. It was a children's workbook. I LOVE workbooks. LOVE THEM!! It was a 1-2 Grade workbook, which is absolutely perfect for my obnoxiously advanced 5-year-old. (She'll be in Kindergarten in the fall.)

There was no return address on the envelope, but my mom's big on workbooks too, so I figured she sent it to me.

The second week of May I was at PTA Convention at BYU (I'm going to be PTA President next year, you know) when I saw them--Summer Fit workbooks were exhibitors there. I stopped and talked to the guy.

"Hey," I said with some excitement, since workbooks are very exciting, "I just got one of these in the mail."

The guy looked at me and blinked. "How did you get a workbook in the mail. We just came out with them."

I shrugged. "I thought my mom mailed it to me, I figured she bought it somewhere."

"No," the guy insisted. "We're not in any store yet, you just about have to know us. Who's your mom?"

My mom is great, but she's not employed, not "well-connected," not famous and there was no way this guy knew her. I told him as much.

We puzzled it out. Eventually, we figured that since my mom had gone to BYU Women's Conference and they were exhibitors there as well, that must have been when she ordered it. And had it mailed to me. Which is weird since she lives two minutes from my house. But, that had to be it.

After this strange interchange, this really nice fellow explained how the workbooks worked, the concept behind them and I purchased two more copies for my big boys.

Shortly after the conference I called my mom.

"Thanks so much, Mom, for the workbook. Annika's already doing it and she's loving it."

(Pause) "I didn't send you a workbook."

"You didn't? Do you know anyone else who might have?"

Mom eventually decided that her younger sister, my Aunt Lisa, who was a presenter at BYU Women's Conference, must have sent it. "She's been doing thoughtful things for people lately," Mom explained. But I was still somewhere between baffled and impressed that she knew what level of workbook to get Annika. Especially without consulting my mom or me.

But I loved these books. I loved the concept and so I swiped the book from Annika before she could get any further in it and set up my whole summer curriculum around the Summer Fit workbook.

Some Kid-isms 2011 Edition (Plus a few other things I've posted on FB)

2011-07-24T16:10:00.000-06:00

I'm really, really good at posting kid-isms (the funny things my kids say) on Facebook, but I'm not good about writing them here. But this is what I'll make my blog books out of one day! So this is where they must be. Here are some of the highlights...

Jan 6
Annika (4.5) said, "It's not a POT pie, Mom, it's a POP pie."

Jan 10
I love that Annika (4.5) just told me, "Watch and learn."

Jan 14
Annika (4.5) asked, "Why does everything say, 'Choking hazard. Not for children under three years'?" Having a 4-year-old who reads sparks some interesting conversations!

Jan 15
Beck (3) said, "When I was young I liked Bob the Builder."

Feb 9
Wendell and I took Annika to Lowes. As we made our purchase, Annika found a bench to sit on. Wendell asked, "Why are you sitting on that bench?" Annika: "Because I want to and it's fat free!"

Feb 19
Yesterday Beck (3) was insistent that there was a termite in his pajamas that was biting him.

Feb 28
Annika (almost 5) said: I remember being three like it was yesterday.

March 13
We learned an important lesson today. Little girls can not wear bright blue underwear with cream colored dresses.

March 30
M: Beck, will you go and check on Annika?
B: (looking puzzled) I don't have any chicken.

April 4
Beck (3) while eating breakfast said, "The raisins are having a party in my mouth!"

April 28
I love that Emma (11) just explained to Wendell what a dystopian novel is.

May 3
Annika, while working in a workbook, "This book says 1st grade. I'm almost to Kindergarten, so this book is exactly what I need."

May 11
Today Nathan (8) announced that Emma is 12 and 1/365

May 29
Wendell to me: Did you just say to me, "I wish you would use your words"?

Nathan (8.5): Oooo! I LOVE Minuet in G Major!!!

June 3
Annika (5): You know I have Ninja moves, right?

June 6
Annika (5): How come you didn't pour a tsunami of milk on Beck's oatmeal?

June 7
Beck (3.5): That was a LONG short-cut.

June 16
Annika (5): These shoes are too heavy.
Me: They don't fit. That's 9/10 of the problem.
Annika: No. It's 11/12.

June 18
Annika (5, looking through a box of crayons): Hmmmmm. Where's cerulean?

June 23
My whole family was laughing at me because I told a child, "Don't bite the bacon." I meant, "Don't take the bait." Sigh.

June 26
As I'm watching my three-year-old run into the street, I call after him. To which my whole family bursts out laughing and Emma (12) says, "Did you really just tell him to stay in the street?"

June 29
Nate (almost 9): One man's refrigerator box is another monkey's vending machine.

July 1
At 8:50 pm Beck (3.5) asks, "Mind if I have a snack?"
"Well, it's bedtime, " I say.
"No it's not," he says emphatically. "It's 3 o'clock! It's snack time."

July 2
Emma comes home from girls camp today!!!! Anson (10.5) was asking about her yesterday and asking what time she came home. When I told him that she wasn't coming home until 3:00 pm he said, "Awww." Apparently, he's missing her, too. :)

July 17
One of my favorite things about Nathan's 9th birthday was that he made all of his own origami bows for his presents.

July 18
So Annika (5) rushes out of her bedroom and says, "PS If you eat rust will you get poisoned?"

July 22
I love my three-year-old has turned on the metronome and is "playing" the piano.

July 24
Anson's new Webelos leaders came over to meet him today. When they spotted Beck (3.5) they said, "What's your name?" And without missing a beat Beck said, "Pablo."

Why I Look Like a Lop-sided Chipmunk Part II

2011-07-23T16:46:00.000-06:00

I went to a Pioneer Day breakfast with my ward this morning. Many people pretended not to notice my swollen and lop-sided face. Which, I appreciated. But I'm vain enough that I haven't ventured out again. I feel like I MUST keep explaining what happened and the reality is most people just don't care.

It was a bit of a negotiation process to decide to do this many, five, gum grafts at once. Back in the olden days of three years ago, dentists had to "harvest" your own tissue to do gum grafts, putting a bit of a limit on how many could be done at once. This also left the patient with a gapping hole in the roof of her mouth that was, no question, the most painful and annoying thing to heal.

But in the last three years they have learned how to take starts from cadaver tissues, grow it in a petri dish, then sew that into your gums. Or at least, that's my understanding of the procedure. Not only does it save the roof of your mouth, but you can now have a zillion teeth grafted at once.

So I entered the dentist's office at 9:00 in the morning and by 9:30 was breathing deeply vanilla flavored nitrous while holding my iPad in the air, by it's edges trying to figure out how to make it so that I was the only one to hear the music coming out of it.

I was introduced to a pre-dent student named Jason and things were underway. Except my earbud in my right ear--the one right next to the dentist--kept falling out and the nitrous was on so low that I wasn't anywhere near loopy, a condition I prefer while having gum grafts. I eventually wound my right arm up to my ear and stuck the bud back in, then, tapping the laughing gas that was across my nose, I jerked my thumb in the air twice to tell them I didn't want to be conscious of every little thing they were doing.

It was 11:40 when they told me that they were going to let my mouth rest (code for see other patients in the middle of my extremely long procedure) and left. As I sat and listened to my Christian/Gospel music, I became increasingly aware of two things: 1) I could feel my teeth and 2) I needed to go to the bathroom. It was 10 after noon, by my best estimation, when my team came back to finish what they had begun. My first four gum grafts--the ones that took 2 hours to do--were all on my upper right side. My remaining graft was on my upper left. (This information is critical later.)

After sticking a "tooth pillow," that thing that keeps your mouth jammed open during dental procedures, in my right-side, the dentist began scrapping at the root of my tooth on the left. I nearly came out of my chair. So, they numbed me up again and immediately began scraping, to which, I had the same reaction. There was nothing to do now but let me sit again until the medicine took effect. I took the opportunity to take a potty brake. But having been on laughing gas for more nearly three hours, I could hardly stand up, let alone walk a straight line.

The sweet, petite, nurse who's name tag said, "Jenny," thought she should walk next to me on the way to the bathroom. This seemed absurd since, if I fell over and she tried to catch me, we'd both be going down. But I slid my hand along the wall and tottered my way drunkenly to the bathroom.

After I was seated back in my dental chair, with a blanket over me because I was freezing by this point, I was more and more concerned about how much I was feeling on my right side. Under these circumstances, my dental team appeared once more and worked for the next 30 minutes on my left side. When I left the office at 1:00, I couldn't get my post-op instructions, prescriptions for meds, pay and get out of there fast enough.

It was 1:30 by the time I got home and collapsed in my bed awaiting Wendell's return with some pain killers while holding an icepack to my face.

Why I Look Like a Lop-sided Chipmunk Part I

2011-07-22T22:23:00.001-06:00

The day finally came. The procedure I've been putting off for two years now came due. So, on Thursday, I went to the dentist's office and four hours later (four-freaking-hours!) I left the office with five new gum-grafts. (Apparently, this is what I get for being a woman, having children, breast-feeding and being related to two other gum graft recipients--my dad and little sister--neither of whom has ever been pregnant or breast-fed anyone.)

This is not my first gum graft. I had that pleasure about three years ago, I think. And I remember thinking, "I will do ANYTHING to not go through that again." Knowing full well that we had only tackled the worst cases and that my gums were still receding.

(Going against my better judgement, I am now going to reveal the history of my dental hygiene.) You see, I've always been a good brusher. Even too good of a brusher (another reason for receding gums), but I was a below average flosser. Oh, I'd go to the dentist and get a little reminder that I should floss everyday. And I would. For a few weeks. Maybe even a couple months, but that's really the outside edge. Then, I'd quit flossing, except, of course, when something obvious was in my teeth, like meat or popcorn. Therefore, I was still flossing at least once a week-ish.

Then I'd get that little card in the mail that says, "It's time to go to the dentist again..." And I'd think, "Oh, pooh, I haven't been flossing." So, I'd floss like crazy that last month. Then the cycle would repeat.

But after that first gum graft... There is NOTHING like pain to motivate a person. Nothing. And I floss every single day twice a day. It may be flossing overkill, but it's how I roll now. And it helped. When I got the first gum grafts the dentist thought I'd have a year, tops before I'd have to come in for more. One year became two and then three and I'd reached the outside edge. And it became time.

And I have no make-up on. Because it hurts that much to touch my face.

The Miracle

2011-07-16T22:43:00.000-06:00

The man's voice boomed as he talked in the echoey entrance of the Rec Center.

"I just got sealed to my family about 2 months ago. It was so neat. We were kneeling across the alter and they brought the kids in. I feel like I've gotten a second life!"

He was just launching into how well his business was doing when I slipped out the front door. I don't have any idea what his "first life" entailed. But the fact that he has had a complete turn around and now felt the joy of the gospel of Jesus Christ was evident.

This is the miracle of repentance.

Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, it is a miracle available to all of us.

Sadly, many of us (me included) wrongly think that we don't really need repentance. After all repentance is for guys like the man in my story, people who don't have a temple recommend--addicts, adulterers, people who don't pay their tithing. You know. "Those" people.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell said of this, "Even when free from major transgression, we can develop self-contentment instead of seeking self-improvement.... Repentance is not solely for the renouncing of transgression. [It is] reflective of our total progression."

He went on to say, "If we were more meek, brothers and sisters, repentance would be much more regular and less stared at."

In Elder L. Tom Perry's most recent talk on the sabbath and the sacrament, he reminded us that each Sunday should be a time of reflecting on where we have gone amiss both in offense to God as well as to our fellow man. To ponder on these things--our faults and failings--then turn them over to God is how we offer our sacraments unto the Lord.

To truly repent, we may need to seek out those we have offended. This is humbling. But, oh the sweet peace of conscience after we have done so!

Sometimes, as we reflect we may think of someone we offended from so long ago that we no longer know how to get in touch with them. Or we may think of someone who never knew of our unkind actions or feelings toward them. How can we make amends in such a situation? For me, writing a letter, sometimes even reading it aloud to a chair or a nonjudgmental friend, can bridge that gap. And then putting into action that final most difficult step of repentance, changing. Becoming a new creature in Christ. Allowing the grace of God, the mercy of the Atonement, to help us not to make that same mistake or offense in the future.

To be sure, we are works in progress. We will fail some days. But with the help of the Atonement we will succeed on others. And soon all things become possible through Christ which strengtheneth us.

I Dug It Up

2011-07-14T22:25:00.002-06:00

It's true after 10 whole minutes of searching, I found my goals-to-be-accomplished-before-I'm-40 list. And you know what? I was surprisingly unambitious! (Unlike my friend who has 40 things she wants to do before she turns 40. Sheesh. Overachievers.) I am completely sure that the fact that I had a 3-month-old baby when I wrote this list has NOTHING to do with my lack of ambition. But here is what I hoped to accomplish and should be half way done with by now:

1. Improve my spiritual life.
2. Get healthy
3. Participate in the PTA
4. Get out of debt
5. Early to bed, early to rise
6. Nourish my relationship with Wendell
7. Get the house organized.

That's it! Seven whole things. So, I should be done with 3.5 of them. Number 1 is going well. Number 3 is well in hand. Number 4 is checked off! Number 5...still working on that. Number 6 is going well. And we're trying mightily at Number 7.

That was fascinating.

I Did It! (And Looking at Other Goals...)

2011-07-02T12:54:00.000-06:00

You should have seen me last night running around the house trying to get everything done and still get to bed at 11:30. At 11:30, Wendell and I were on our knees saying couple prayers. I think that counts. It was, realistically, 11:35 before I was *actually* in bed. But who is going to quibble over 5 minutes? Not me. I'm counting it.

It dawned on me yesterday after making this post that July 1st is the half way point of the year. So, I should be half done with my yearly goals. And having made a new goal to go to bed at a reasonable time, I thought (shrug) that I'd just take a look at all my goals.

Goal #1: Finish 9 homework lessons. Check! I did it. In fact, recently I've been reviewing some of the things I worked on earlier, so I'm almost done with 10.

Goal #2: Read 12 sessions of General Conference. I've read 5.75 actually. I'm almost done with the 6th session. But if I am to achieve this goal, this has to be a bigger priority.

Goal #3: Make 18 temple trips. I've been 11 times so far this year and am on track to meet or exceed that goal.

Goal #4: Lose 22.4 lbs. (Clearing throat) Well, I always knew this was the hard one for me. As I sit today I've lost a whopping 2.6 lbs. Which isn't awesome or noteworthy or anything. But it's better than having gained. (This is me trying to look on the bright side.) One of the things that frustrates me is all the up and down. I've probably lost as much as 8 lbs at certain points. But here I am only down two and a half-ish. The sad thing is, I think my original goal was to lose 32.4, then I dropped it to 22.4. And here I am at the half-way point tracking to lose a solid 5 lbs in 12 months. (Sigh) It is self evident that I will not be achieving even my reduced weight loss goal. So, I have to do what any reasonable person would--I'm reducing the goal again. Can I lose 9.8 more lbs in the next 6 months? I should be able to. I should. So, I'm dropping my goal again. 12.4 lbs, here we come! (Grinning)

Goal #5: Ahhh. The goal I cannot fail! Read more of the Book of Mormon. I started on page 158 and am now on page 229. I have read 71 pages of the Book of Mormon so far this year. Last year I read 128 on the year, so I'm tracking a bit ahead of that. But it doesn't really matter. My goal was only to read more of the Book of Mormon. I've already achieved that. And every little bit extra I get is just that much more icing on the cake. Or, rather, fat-free whipped topping on the angel food. (Trying to keep all my goals in mind.)

Later I've got to go through my journal and figure out what, when I turned 30, I set out to achieve by the time I'm 40. I turned 35 in May, so I'm just a hair past the half-way point of that, too. But I don't have the vaguest what I thought I wanted to accomplish in the next 10 years and with 5 years already behind me, I'd better make adjustments as I look ahead. I'll keep you posted. (Pretend you like that.)

Priorities (and Streaking)

2011-07-01T21:16:00.000-06:00

The other day I asked Wendell to name his top 5 priorities in order of importance. It's not as easy as it sounds, but I have been giving this topic a lot of thought. Particularly because of the disconnect between what I proclaim my priorities to be verses where I actually spend my time.

So here are my priorities.

1. Spirituality (includes: personal scripture study, personal prayer, journal writing, attending the temple)

2. Family (includes: dates with my hubby, FHE, fun family activities, one-on-one time with the kids)

3. Health (includes: getting 7 hours of sleep, exercise, eating healthy)

4. Housekeeping (includes: making meals, dishes, laundry, regular house upkeep, decluttering)

5. PTA/Callings (I am the PTA President next year, so PTA had better be up there.)

These are followed by helping with homework, piano, kids' activities.

Now these are good priorities and demonstrate a shift. Before this self-review, I would have to admit that what is now my #4 priority, housekeeping, used to be very last. It fell behind PTA, church responsibilities, helping the kids with homework, piano and being a mama taxi service to get everyone to all their activities. And my house shows it. It can take 30 minutes just to pick up all the stuff off the kitchen floor to be able to sweep and mop it. It can take 20 minutes for 5 of us (me, Emma, Anson, Nathan, and Annika) to pick up the living room so that it can be vacuumed and everyone can sit down. I'm sure that you can do the math on how long that would take for me to do that by myself.

The essence of the problem isn't work ethic, because hoarders--like me--actually spend more time cleaning than non-hoarders. The problem is priority. (And hoarding issues like not throwing papers away because I'm afraid I'll throw away something important and I'll regret it later. So I'm over run with papers. And it embarrasses me.) But there's more to all this than just that.

There is a primary disconnect between my priorities and the way I allocate my time. If my spirituality is my top priority, then why do I struggle to find time to study my scriptures or say my morning prayers? If my health is a priority, then why do I frequently go to bed between midnight and 1:30 AM making it that much more difficult to be motivated to exercise?

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that going to bed earlier will solve so many problems. Let's say that I just went to bed at 11:30 pm every night. I do well on 7 hours of sleep, so I could feel very rested and get up at 6:30 in the morning. I usually get up around 7:15--later if I've stayed up till one. That would buy me and extra 45 to 60 minutes each day. Thus I suddenly have time to read my scriptures and time to plan my day. I bet I could tell you what was for dinner by 7:15 AM instead of wandering around the kitchen at 5:00 PM distraught that I never put something in the crock-pot.

And once I get used to it, I could start going to bed even earlier. And getting up even earlier. And getting even more done.

Now this isn't the first time I've had this particular epiphany. I can't tell you how many General Conferences, I have written down, "go to bed at a reasonable time" and put a big star in front of it. Yet here I am, 35-years-old and regularly going to bed at midnight or later.

So, I'm enlisting a little help. I'm posting this on my blog to make me accountable. And I'm going streaking. (Ha, ha. Not like that.) I'm going to post and track how long of a streak of going to bed at 11:30 or earlier I can put together. I'm going to buy myself a little present if I can do it for a whole week.

A Letter to Emma

2011-06-26T16:59:00.000-06:00

Every year when our YW goes to camp, they take a hike and write letters to themselves that they open the next year. Since the first years don't have a letter from last year, their moms write a letter to them. Here is mine to my oldest daughter.

Dear Emma,

I am so excited for you to be at camp! I loved camp as a youth and it was an amazing place that helped me grow. There are so many things that I want to say to you that I almost don't know where to start.

I'm so proud of you! No just because you are smart or all of the awards that you've won. I'm proud of you for you. You are kind, thoughtful and a good friend. You are motherly to your younger siblings which shows me what a good mother you'll be.

You're fun! You have a great sense of humor, contagious laugh and you're just plain fun to be around. But of everything that you are and do, I am most amazed by your spirituality. I love that you love the Lord. I love that you keep His commandments. I am in awe of your scriptural understanding. You know things about the scriptures that I didn't know until I was an adult. That is a spiritual gift that you should continue to cultivate.

I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you. I am far from perfect as a mother, but I pray that the Atonement of Jesus Christ can make up for my lack. You are so dear to me. You are my joy and my helper. You are a ray of sunshine wherever you go. Don't ever be afraid to let your light shine.

I love you with all my heart!

Love,
Mom

It's Not Really My Birthday...

2011-06-24T18:23:00.002-06:00

My birthday is in May. So, it's not my birthday, but this is one of the best birthday presents I've ever received.

An Ideal Evening vs. Not Ideal

2011-06-23T21:36:00.000-06:00

An ideal evening includes, sitting on my new comforter and leaning on my new pillows to read in bed. And Wendell is reading in bed, too. Then we are talking about what we are reading and connecting on a deep intellectual level. This is followed by prayers, snuggling and going to sleep at a reasonable hour.

A not ideal evening includes me reading in bed while Wendell drools on the sheet. Then there's praying alone because it's almost one o'clock in the morning and I don't have the heart to wake Wendell up. And then when I get in bed, Wendell tries to get up, so I order him to stay asleep and he complies. Then I fall asleep without having really talked to my hubby because I stayed up reading too late.

Is anyone else willing to dish? What does your ideal evening look like? What usually happens?

Control Issues

2011-06-20T22:56:00.001-06:00

Normally, I'd say that I don't have serious control issues. Or maybe I just know so many people with worse control issues. (This is me waving and smiling and not mentioning any names...)

But Wendell and I have decided to add an additional filter to our computer after the 5-year-old and 3-year-old found a surprisingly indecent picture very accidentally. This filter is called K9 and... I LOVE IT! Best of all, I love the level of control I have.

I now have all Google images blocked (this is where the offending photo was found), I have all the game sites blocked and I can block any other site at any time I want. BWAH HAHAHA! CONTROL!!!

Do you have teenagers? You can block Facebook. Then, with your password, you can override it for yourself for a certain amount of time or allow the kid on for, say, 30 minutes, then buh-bye. When time's up they are kicked off the site.

You can even set the computer to bark every time a blocked site is attempted to be accessed!

And I almost forgot--you can also set time frames that the internet can't be accessed. I have "Night Guard" to shut things down from midnight to 6:30 AM, but you can shut it down anytime, any day.

I am so in love with it--I would kiss it if I could. I am seriously having a control high right about now.

When the Only Thing Left Is Hope

2011-06-15T15:12:00.000-06:00

Like you, I've been through some hard things. I'm not silly enough to think I have a corner on the market. We all go through tough times. We all have bleak moments. Whatever the source of our trials, feelings of anger, sadness, loneliness, betrayal, loss and other sources of pain are part of this mortal experience.

At one such time in my life I recognized 1) I was powerless over the situation and 2) I was in desperate need of some hope. But when you feel hopeless where do you find hope?

A friend of Wendell's made a comment about General Conference and how he was sorting through the talks looking for specific messages. He had a whole sorting and highlighting system that he was sharing that struck Wendell. He told me about it and, reluctantly, I began reading conference talks. Wendell was reading the current edition, so I started with what I could get my hands on--an older copy--and just started looking for titles that might apply to me.

Titles like, "Attempting the Impossible", "That Your Burdens May Be Light", "To Acquire Spiritual Guidance", "Hold On", and "Safety for the Soul", drew me in. I learned that right there before me were messages from God for me. These were gifts from Apostles and Prophets on the earth today, and in modern vernacular, no less. In a talk by Elder Scott I read, "Had I not responded to the first impressions and recorded them, I would not have received the last, most precious guidance." And I realized that I needed to record my messages.

So I backtracked and wrote down, in a pretty little journal, all of the quotes from those general conference talks that were meant for me. And when the days were the bleakest, I opened the Ensign and read, underlined and rewrote messages in my journal. Later I could sit and reread those lessons in quote form.

"Love. Healing. Help. Hope. The power of Christ to counter all troubles in all times. . . .That is the safe harbor God wants for us in personal or public days of despair." --Elder Holland

"In the scriptures there are very few stories of individuals who lived in blissful happiness and experienced no opposition. We learn and grow by overcoming challenges with faith, persistence and personal righteousness." --Ann Dibb

"Because personal revelation is a constantly renewable source of strength, it is possible to feel bathed in help even during turbulent times." --Julie Beck

As I read His words, hope elbowed it's way into my heart. Not only was I crying less and smiling more, but perhaps even more importantly, I was building an reserve of hope and coming to understand that hope is not just a state of being of which we, emotional mortals, are victims, but rather a commandment and a responsibility.

"Be of good cheer" is just as much a commandment as "thou shalt not steal." And despair is a temptation that I should resist.

Of all the ways I had looked at hope--this was certainly a new one. But a reassuring one, too. Hope was no longer a passing phase, but an action that I could take. Prayerfully, I could ask Heavenly Father, in the name of His Son for the spiritual gift of hope. And what a gift it is!

Telling verses Guiding

2011-06-13T11:21:00.000-06:00

I had a chance to go to a fireside recently where I had an epiphany about being a parent. Let me back up a bit. I have found myself, recently, in a position where people are often seeking my help and advice. To say that sounds a bit self-aggrandizing, which I'm not. It's just that because of what I have learned facing trials in my life, others facing similar trials seek to find the same peace and calm that I have. And I'm happy to share.

But these are adults, so when they ask me my advice I begin by saying that I don't know what the Lord would want them to do. Often, I share what helped me when I was in a similar situation, but mostly I encourage them to pray, study, and write in their journal.

My main objective is not to tell anyone what to do, because that would be obnoxiously presumptive of me. After all, who am I to advise someone else? But I know that the Lord knows what they should do, after all personal revelation is...personal. And the best help I can provide for anyone will come in teaching them how I am learning to listen to the Spirit and follow the promptings I receive. I'm far from perfect, but I'm willing to share what I'm learning if it might benefit someone else.

So here comes my epiphany: why don't I do that for my children? Especially with Emma. She's 12 now and she starting to need to make decisions on her own. But instead of saying, "I don't know what you should do, but I know the Lord knows what you should do." And then teach her about prayer--real prayer not the repeating the same stuff you say over and over at meals or bedtime prayers, then teach her the power of journaling, seeking answers through scriptures and New Era or Ensign articles. It could be so powerful! It could be so helpful!

Instead I tend to say, "You should do (insert my own "wise" idea)." To which she reacts by saying, "That won't work! I can't do that!" Then I get frustrated and say things like, "If you won't listen to me then just figure it out on your own. So far everything I've said is wrong!"

But there's a reason why everything I've said is wrong. Because it is. It's MY idea of how to solve her problem and it stems from years of MY experience. But she's absolutely right. This might not be the way to solve HER problem.

It would be far better and so much wiser to stop acting like I have all the answers. Because I don't. But I know Who has all the answers and I'm getting better and better at turning things over to Him and letting Him lead me to do what I should do next. What a gift that would be if I can help Emma--or any of my children--know how to find His answers rather than giving them my two cents.

Why I was mean when I was a kid...

2011-06-09T13:11:00.000-06:00

Today a friend of mine posted about how her sweet little 6-year-old got a rash on her legs from sitting "criss-cross applesauce". Apparently, this little girl is allergic to the souls of her shoes.

Suddenly that brought back for me a time when my little sister got a rash. On her legs.

Only it wasn't a cute little rash. These were big ol' boils. My older sister and I were particularly grossed out. I think my older sister started it, but we got little sis to believe that inside the boils were some kind of bug--a beetle maybe--and when they burst a bug was going to come walking down her leg. My little sis was completely freaked out.

And I don't know if that was even the worst thing we did to her...

Things I Have Learned (or Been Reminded)

2011-06-07T21:39:00.000-06:00

Summer is not as relaxed as it seems. Instead of the kids going to school at 8 and the insanity starting at 3, it's just insane all day. We've definitely started summer off with a bang. Here was yesterday's schedule.

9:00 Emma and Anson to swim team
9:00 Nathan to Golf camp--it is always tricky getting 3 kids to two different locations at the same time.
10:00 Pick up Emma and Anson
They shower and get ready.
11:00 Take Emma and Anson to art
I take frantic shower so I can...
12:00 Pick up Nate from Golf Camp, while my mom picks up Emma and Anson from Art. Wendell meets us at home about 12:15. Feed Emma and Anson lunch.
12:30 ish Anson leaves for his golf camp
12:45 Take Emma to the Scera where she's working.
1:00-3:00 Run summer school for Nathan and Annika.
3:00 Pick up flash cards that have been waiting for me for a week and a half, put gas in the car (my gas light was on), and rent a flute.
4:30 Walk in the door and Emma called--work was done early. In fact, she had already called at 4:10, but I was still renting the flute and she doesn't know my cell number.
5:00 Wendell got off early to pick up Anson
Then we fixed dinner and had FHE.

Today was similar. I think the insanity slows down tomorrow, because Nate's done with golf camp.

Eye Have Some News

2011-06-05T08:33:00.000-06:00

It's been quite awhile since I've written and update about the kids' eyes. So here are the things that have happened lately.

*Emma was put on a diuretic. No one thought it would work and the doc (Dr. Two) wrote the prescription wrong.
*At Emma's next appointment we got a new prescription and the doc wanted to see her the next week.
*6 days later having had only 4.5 doses of this new medicine, every single image (which are taken in "slices" of the eye) showed improvement. Doc suggested we try it for 3 more weeks.
*At the next appointment, Emma could see every letter on the 20/20 line.
*Appointments were scheduled for Nathan and Annika to start them on the same meds.
*Went to appointment with Dr. Two again, on Friday. Emma and Nathan, who were only taking half their dose, showed slight improvement. Annika, who is very diligent about taking both doses of meds, showed notable improvement.
*In one of Annika's eyes, her retina is laying down completely. :)
*I became more determined to have Emma and Nate take their meds twice a day.
*Emma can still read on the 20/20 line. :)

I know that we have witnessed a miracle. I feel so grateful for the blessing that we've received. Now it's up to us to do our part.

In other news, Dr. Z has "located the mutation" in our family genome. Dr. Two is calling me next week to tell me more about that.

V. S.

2011-05-20T08:45:00.000-06:00

Today I'm steamin' mad. Last Saturday, Emma and I went to the University Mall. We had occasion to walk from one part of the mall to another past a store I hate, V. S. I instructed Emma to look across the aisle while we walked past. I did the same.

But on the way back, I had a shock. V. S. is moving. It will no longer be in a little alcove down by Nordstrom's, easily avoided. It's now going to be about two shops down from Dress Barn. Right across from a game store. With a store front twice the size. Depending on how they construct it and where you're standing, come Christmas, you might even be able to see in the store when you're standing in line for your kid to see Santa. Nice.

What ticks me off the most is that I know a lot of women will, with me, feel upset about the move. But they shop there. Now I don't, I don't even look at the windows or set foot in the store for any reason. But others will be upset, yet are too ignorant or stupid to make the connection that their financial support of the store makes possible the move.

You can not click your tongue at the advertising, then shop there and despair that the world is going to heck in a hand bucket. No one asked for a vote in where stores like that go in, but in a capitalist situation we vote with our dollars. If you shop there, you can not also complain when V. S.'s presence becomes more ubiquitous. You can not complain about the catalogs, you can not complain about the TV ads, you can not complain about the annual ~~porn~~ fashion show. You are supporting them!

As my children are approaching teenage years, I feel angry that this store will stand in the middle of the mall, a beacon of temptation to my sons and a degrading example of an impossible comparison for my daughters.

And though I've been completely forthright and moderately insulting, if this makes you mad, will you join me and stop shopping there? I promise you can find great bras at other stores, too.

How Old Are You?

2011-05-04T17:29:00.000-06:00

We get something like this almost everyday. It's a standing joke.

The only thing I wonder is, who thinks my 35-year-old husband is turning 65?

I've told Wendell that I thinks he gets these letters because of his name. Did you know that "Wendell" achieved it's peak popularity in 1946?

I bet whoever put together the list knows that.

Fire Fox

2011-05-03T19:28:00.002-06:00

I can no longer post new posts on Blogger from Safari. So I'm trying out Firefox. Which is fine, except for whatever reason it won't stay on my toolbar on the bottom of my screen. So in order to make a new post, I have to go to my Finder and search for Firefox.

I keep hoping that the computer fairy will magically make Blogger work. So that the next time I log into Blogger on Safari and I click "New Post"--it will just work and I'll be able to post without any hassle. Alas, no such luck.

Tyler

2011-04-15T22:24:00.000-06:00

On Tuesday morning I got the call that no one ever wants to get. The call that tells you someone you love has passed away.

With three octogenarian grandparents, it's a call I knew was coming. Except it wasn't any of my grandparents. It was Tyler my 27-year-old cousin who died of an accidental drug overdose.

Tyler is the third of six kids and he and his two older brothers grew up just down the street from us. Our moms, who are sisters-in-law were friends and swapped babysitting on a semi-regular basis. I played at my aunt and uncle's house and JR, Garrett and Tyler played at mine.

I don't remember how old we all were when Tyler's family moved to West Valley. But I remember still seeing them at Thanksgiving and swapping cousin Christmas gifts, etc.

My very favorite memory of Tyler was at Thanksgiving one year. There had to have been nearly 40 of us sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner when Grandma asked everyone to go around the room and say one thing they were thankful for.

I remember being annoyed because I wanted to eat dinner not sit there and let it get cold. I also remember being worried if I could say the right thing. I didn't want to sound stupid, but I also didn't want to say too much. I had gotten through my turn alright and was still breathing easy when it was Tyler's turn.

Tyler had some kind of growth problem. He had a heavy upper body, but thin, short legs. He had to wear a halo thing around his leg and turn screws to make his legs grow right. He was in his pre-teens and this has been really hard on him. If you knew him as well-proportioned, nice-looking adult you'd have no idea what he went through growing up.

But here we sat at Thanksgiving and Tyler, after having had such a hard year, talked about how thankful he was, in particular, how thankful that he could walk. I don't remember exactly what he said, but I know exactly what I felt. This small boy had a powerful testimony and was full of gratitude for the things the Lord had given him, even through the struggles. I felt awed by his maturity and his depth.

But Satan was listening to. And he worked and worked on Tyler. The devil convinced Tyler to get angry and then led him to rebellion, drugs and addiction. Once Tyler was addicted, his agency had be hijacked and was no longer his own. But in recent years, Tyler had been fighting back. He had been working on his own recovery from addiction through 12 Step programs, rehab and others.

But ultimately his addiction cost Tyler, one of the very elect, his life.

I like to think now that Tyler, free from his body, is also free from his addiction and is now able to make spiritual progress that he no longer could make in this life because of the bondage he was in.

It Said, "Easy"

2011-04-09T18:37:00.001-06:00

Emma talked me into looking for new recipes at Weight Watchers.com. I find a recipe for "herb-crusted roast and vegetables" that was rated "easy." I'd like you to know, they lie.

After chopping up 2.5 lbs of red potatoes, 2 lbs of zucchini, 2 onions and throwing in a bag of baby carrots, I was ready for the hard part. (Do you have any idea how much food that is? 5+ lbs of veggies? Let me say that I don't own a bowl big enough to hold it all.)

So, then the recipe says that I need 1 cup of parsley. So I pull the parsley out of the fridge and begin chopping. I chop and chop. With a knife. Only after I'm done chopping do I realize that the recipe actually says, "parsley leaves". I look at the stems in the bowl. I pull a couple out. Who cares, right?

Let me take a small detour here to say that I own a food processor. I've owned one for years. But I have never, ever, ever, EVER used it. I don't begin to know how. Wendell has used it periodically to make fresh salsa, but I haven't. And I don't know how to use it. I don't even know what pieces I need and I've only got 45 minutes until I have to leave to pick up my kids from piano. So I'm chopping with a knife instead.

Next, it says to add a 1/4 cup of chives, roughly chopped. That is easy for me. I'm good at roughly chopping, though Annika started asking why I was throwing grass in the bowl. Then I'm to add 1 Tbs of rosemary. As I measure out 1T of dry rosemary, I realize that the recipe might mean fresh rosemary, but I don't have any and I don't care.

Next it says to mince these together. Then I realize that by mince it doesn't mean "mix". I make a frantic phone call to Wendell.

"My Magic Bullet is supposed to do that!" Wendell tells me. We look up how to do it on an on-line user manual since neither of us knows where the actual user manual is. "Use the cross-blade and pulse," it says.

I begin to look for the cross-blade.

"It's in the second drawer down," Wendell says. I can't find it.

"Try in the corner cupboard." I can't find it there, either. I say so.

"It's there," Wendell asserts.

Doesn't really matter what he thinks, I think to myself. He's there at work and I'm the one here looking for it and I can't find it!

I look in the thingamajigit drawer. Nothing. Second drawer down, silverware draw, corner cupboard. It's nowhere.

I hang up with Wendell and grab the regular blade. I shove the herbs in the "small cup" as directed. I pulse as directed. It does jack. I get a larger cup. I pulse and shake and pulse and shake and it kinda seems to be working. After a while, I declare it good enough.

Next I am to add 2 cloves of garlic. But I only have garlic powder. I throw in 1tsp. I think about adding another, cuz surely one clove of garlic = one teaspoon of garlic powder, right? I rush to my computer to double check. eHow seems to have a conversion.

One clove = 1/8 of a teaspoon of powder. 1/8. I now have four time the amount of garlic... Good thing I like garlic, right?

Add Dijon mustard, salt and pepper. Mix. Rub onto roast. I rub. Time is ticking down. I have 3 minutes until I have to leave to pick up my kids. I add the olive oil to the rest of the herbs, I mix. I hear the garage. Wendell is home. I am supposed to leave in 1 minute.

I have the veggies divided out between two bowls since I don't have a bowl large enough to hold all the veggies. I blop part of the herb mixture in one bowl and the rest in the other. I look at the spoon. I toss it in the sink and start mixing with my hands.

Wendell takes off to pick up the kids. I put a few veggies around the roast in a casserole dish. The recipe said to use a roasting pan, but I don't own one. It also directs to only have one layer of veggies. I can fit 13 veggies around the roast. I stuff 7 more in. I pull a cookie sheet out of the sink, wash it, pam it and pour all the rest of the veggies on. It's not exactly one layer but it's close.

I turn the temp down to 350 degrees and set the timer to 1 hour 15 minutes. It's already 5:30. We won't be having dinner until at least 7:00.

I'm wasted. But I sure hope it tastes good.

Quote for the Day

2011-04-06T12:22:00.000-06:00

"We must know ourselves, for until we are conscious of our weaknesses, we cannot correct them; until we know our strengths, we cannot use them well."

---Bruce D. Porter, Ensign, Nov 1971, "Searching Inward"

3-year-old's Prayer

2011-04-05T08:48:00.001-06:00

Beck loves to say the prayer. But he doesn't really know what to say most of the time.

Dinner prayers he has down pat.

"Dear Heavenly Father, We're thankful for the food...in the bodies. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

He's supposed to say something about the food being good for our bodies, but he usually skips that part and I figure Heavenly Father knows what he's trying to say.

For other prayers, Beck needs some prompting. Last night, he said the closing prayer for Family Home Evening. Following are my prompts verses what he actually said. Skipping the traditional opening and closing, which he got right, here is the rest of the prayer.

M: We're thankful...

B: We're thankful...

M: for Family Home Evening.

B: for Family Home Devening.

M: Please help us

B: Please bless us

M: to have faith

B: to have Nathan

M: to choose the right.

B: to choose the right.

After that everyone was in fits of laughter, including me, and I prompted him to end the prayer.

Co- What?

2011-04-01T11:13:00.000-06:00

I remember as a kid watching General Conference when Pres. Benson gave his historic talk on pride. I remember, as he listed off what pride was comprised of, thinking how this applied to this person I knew and that element of pride applied to someone else, all the while feeling rather smug. Then he said something to the effect that if you are only finding evidence of pride in other people, then you were being prideful, too.

I was dumb-struck. I had never considered that I had much, if anything, that I needed to correct in my life. Yet here I sat and clear as day realized that a Prophet of God was calling me to repentance. He told me that I was prideful.

It was not that dissimilar of an experience when someone told me that I was co-dependent.

The only thing I knew about co-dependence was that someone dear to me proclaimed herself to be co-dependent. And though I love her very much, we have many notable differences. So, I figured, if she was co-dependent then I, obviously, wasn't.

Wrong. I am co-dependent and so are you. At least, that's the statistical likelihood. Co-dependence, in layman's terms, simply means attaching your emotions to someone else's behavior. If you've ever been ticked that someone cut you off in traffic or marched through a store fuming because someone stole your parking spot, then you're co-dependent too.

The real issue with co-dependence comes in the application in our close interpersonal relationships. Imagine that the person who stole your parking spot isn't some stranger, but your spouse, sibling or child. Obviously, they are the problem since they stole your parking spot. If their behavior was different, then you'd be happy. Most of us would pull that person aside and give them a piece of our mind. We'd explain how they "made" us mad and how changing their behavior would solve the problem.

And it might. Until said loved one did something else that annoyed, offended or bothered us. Like leaving the toilet seat up or not clearing their place after dinner or dropping their socks on the floor. Then, only if they changed their behavior again can we be truly happy.

See the problem with that?

The tendency for a co-dependent is to work on solving the problem as we see it, which, pretty much always, is working to get someone else to change. We nag. We cajole. We threaten. If left unchecked, we begin to blame, shame, guilt, and embarrass our loved one in an effort to get them to change. We are doing everything we can to manipulate and control someone else so that they can solve the problem, which is them. They are the problem!

In our head, we are justified because we are not the one leaving the toilet seat up/dirty dishes on the table/socks on the floor. We are not the problem! The longer this behavior goes on, the more mad we get. Sometimes we start behaviors of suffering, letting other people know that we are a victim of someone else's behavior!

"Look at how hard I have to work," we might say. "After doing 9000 other things I now have to pick up after you."

If the other person's behavior gets more extreme, so does our co-dependence. Once we're sure that someone is "messing up their life" the obvious solution is for us to either a) jump in and fix it for them or b) worry ourselves to death about someone else's decisions.

"My intentions are so honorable," we say as we hunt for a job for someone else, or drop off a book or article on cleaning/organizing/loosing weight/living more righteously.

Because most of us also interact with co-dependcnts, we know how being on the receiving end of this kind of "help" feels. We find ourselves fuming when someone has dropped by with an article called, "30 Easy Ways to Keep Your Yard Looking Nice" or "Why Children Who Watch Too Much TV Get More Ear Infections."

"Stay out of my life!" we think as we search for an article for them on why it's important not to butt into other people's business.

"That's so silly," you might think. "Who cares about dishes/laundry/losing weight. These aren't big problems. But my loved one has a BIG problem. You see, my loved one is drinking/smoking/doing drugs/living immorally/not going to church. If I don't save them they might not go on a mission/get married in the temple/go to the celestial kingdom!"

Thankfully, the Lord has weighed in on this problem, too. He said, "When we undertake...to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men ... the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved." (D&C 121:37)

Our loved ones already have a Savior and--here's the good news--it isn't us! No matter what the problem is, when we use manipulation and control, not only are we not solving their problem, we're driving ourselves away from the Spirit.

Even in the little everyday things, we just don't need to nag, embarrass or manipulate. You see, the Lord will take care of that too. He's promised, "I give unto men weakness that they may be humble. (Ether 12:27) [I] show unto men their weakness (Jacob 4:7) and out of weakness [they] shall be made strong. (2 Nephi 3:13)"

Usually

2011-03-30T08:47:00.000-06:00

Usually a child with a double ear infection and an eye infection would deserve to be babied. He would get what he wanted, have my undivided attention and concern. Usually.

But right now, he's not even the sickest kid in the house. Annika (5) has a raging fever that has ranged from 102.1 to 104.1 without medication for the last four days. Yesterday the lowest I got her fever with medication was 102.5. This is largely do to the fact that she couldn't keep anything down, thus making it difficult to take fever reducing medication.

The sum total of her caloric intake yesterday was comprised of 2/3 cup apple juice and one Go-gurt. She also tried one fruit snack, one bite of a frozen pedialite pop, one bite of applesauce and one sip of Power-aid, only to reject every single one as tasting "weird".

*Sigh*

Today she woke up with her lightest fever yet, only 102.1, and asked for a drink of water. She gulped down about a half cup only to promptly throw it back up. We are working on sips of apple juice again. I have my fingers crossed that in a few hours she might actually be able to eat something again.

First, We Have To Do Everything

2011-03-26T22:49:00.001-06:00

I was recently privy to a conversation that included a little summary on miracles. The story of the woman with an issue of blood, who was healed by merely touching the hem of the Savior's robe, was cited. Then it was summed up this way, "What we have to do is first, do everything that is in our power to fix our problems. If we will put forth all of our efforts, then have faith that God will do his part, miracles will happen."

Raise your hand if you have heard this doctrine before. Yep, that's pretty much all of us.

And it's completely false.

The point of the story of the woman with the issue of blood actually demonstrates the futility of doing everything that is in our power alone. For more than a decade, she lived with this problem, calling upon doctors and all of the medical wisdom of the day to no avail. All of that work profited her nothing, in fact, in Mark 5:26 it declares that for all the poking and prodding and money spent, she was worse! Only when she exercised faith in Christ and partnered with Him, by touching his hem, was she healed.

If she had struggled with this medical problem for a few months or a year, say, and had called on but one doctor and she did the exact same thing--she exercised faith in Christ and touched his hem--would she still have been healed? Or would He have turned to her and asked, "Have you done everything you can on your own first?"

Of course she would have been healed. And our Savior never would have asked her to heal herself without His help. When the questions are put like that, they seem absurd, as they should.

In Matt 11:29, Jesus says, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me...and ye shall find rest unto your souls." What he doesn't say here is just as important as what he does.

But first, let's remember what a yoke is. A yoke is a wooden crosspiece with two bow-shaped pieces of wood that cattle or oxen stick their heads through. The point of the yoke is 1) to keep the animals very close together working step by step and 2) to multiply the strength of the animals so that they can carry much heavier loads.

So, it's important to note that Christ doesn't say, "Take this yoke upon you, drag it as far as you can by yourself and when you're completely exhausted, I'll lift my side for a little while and give you a rest."

Our Savior is already in the yoke! It is His yoke, after all. He is but waiting for us to come unto Him, to be by His side, shoulder to shoulder, and allow Him, through His atoning power, to pull our load, thus giving us "rest unto [our] souls."

There are many other examples of this principle. In 3 Nephi 11:38, Christ says, "Ye must repent and be baptized in my name, and become as a little child, or ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God."

Why do we have to become as a little child? Some think it is to be so innocent. Others think that it is to be meek, humble and teachable--all good qualities that children possess. But I think it is dependence. Note that Christ says "little child" and not just "child". In some languages our English word "toddler" translates only as "little child".

Thus, He is giving us an example of dependence. My 3-year-old is dependent on me for food, clothing, shelter, love, teaching, etc. In this way--as a little child--Christ wants us to be dependent on Him. Giving up our will to follow instead, the will of the Father, just as little children are eager to follow parental guidance and please us.

Even though we need to be self-reliant in temporal matters, paying our own bills and not dependent constantly on some kind of intervention or aid, we should not be self-reliant in spiritual matters. That merely puts our faith in the arm of flesh. No, we have been directed over and over again to go through life with a divine dependence.

Most of my life I have not understood this doctrine. But now that I do know what it truly means to come unto Christ, to trust God and to surrender the only thing that is uniquely mine to give--my will, I can't help but share this message. We don't have to go through life alone hoping that if we do enough righteous things, then we can take advantage of Christ's Atonement. No, the Atonement of Jesus Christ can help us everyday, with everything, thus making Christ not only our Savior, but also our Friend.

The Week of Good News

2011-03-21T23:10:00.001-06:00

I am totally behind on posting. I've been meaning and wanting to give you a blow by blow, but life is getting in the way. But we have had too much good news in the last week and I'm just bursting with it!

On last Tuesday, Emma went in for a follow up appointment with Dr. Two. Much to our surprise and delight Emma was not only able to read the whole 20/25 line, but several letters on the 20/20 line! Then when we went in for the scan she showed less fluid at the lesion in her right eye.

This means that the bleeding has stopped. She isn't adding any more sub-retinal fluid. Thus, why her vision has improved. Now, the scans are rather thorough so they show that tho she had less fluid at the macula, she had more fluid lower down.

In layman's terms, gravity is pulling the fluid out of her vision center and to lower parts of the eye.

This bit of info changed everything. We were going to give up on the shots and try--or at least consider--a more invasive treatment. Now, we thought, we should stay the course.

But Dr. Two had another thing he wanted to try. He had absolutely no faith that it will work, but thought it couldn't hurt. So he prescribed a diarrhetic that, in theory, should reduce the fluid in Emma's eye.

Now Emma is not a good pill taker. And these are not small pills. So we smash them with a mallet and stir them into applesauce and after she's gagged that down, then she can have a serving of unpolluted applesauce.

We set our appointment for 6 days later. I was sick on Sunday, so, naturally, she got no medication the whole day. (Why moms have to remember everything...) When we walked in the door today Emma was all hopped up on Xanax and we got right to our appointment.

Her vision screening went the same--20/25 with no problem and some of the 20/20 line. Then she went in for the scan. And what do you know? It worked. The diarrhetic did exactly what it's supposed to do. And it worked!

Not only is there notably less fluid in Emma's left macula (where the crux of the vision is), there's less fluid everywhere. Her whole eye. It's working! Heck, even her right eye that has very little fluid at this point had slightly less.

So, Xanax or no, Emma didn't have to get a shot today. And we just have to keep smashing pills.

To be real, this medicine has some serious side effects and isn't really a long-term solution. But if it can eliminate the fluid in her eye in the short term, then we'll see what happens next.

For today, it's working and we'll smash those pills with pleasure!

Zap!

2011-03-16T08:51:00.001-06:00

Beck (3) has magical abilities. He can cast spells at a moments notice. He's capable of shrinking and growing family members or turning them into things--like frogs. Sometimes this involves a wand, sometimes not. The spell goes something like this...

"Zippity zip and zippity zap. Turn this boy into a frog. ZAP!"

Book Review: Don't Shoot! I'm the Guitar Man

2011-03-10T22:32:00.000-07:00

This book intrigued me because it's a true life story of a man, Buzzy Martin, teaching criminals to play the guitar in jail. It was written in diary style with each entry detailing Buzzy's visit's to the jail and his thoughts and impressions of the event. One of the driving motivations for his participation at the jail, (and I assume, writing the book) was his work at juvenile detention centers.

In his experience, some juvenile delinquents look forward to jail and relish jail time a badge of manhood. Buzzy wanted not only to help those in the jail, but also to bring real life stories to the detention center to help persuade the "lost souls" in detention to turn their lives around while they still had time.

Having said all that I hated this book. It was terribly written. Each journal entry has a lot of the same insights as the entry before that. There is no plot and no flow. Under severe editing, this book could really be amazing, but as it stands, it's a mess. There is also excessive profanity and frequent sexual references.

Full disclosure: I received a copy of this book for free from Media Guests in exchange for my candid review of the book.

7 Calls

2011-03-06T22:02:00.000-07:00

Call 1: First thing in the morning, just after I'd gotten the kids off to school, I got a phone call from Dr. Two. Not just any phone call, but a call from Dr. Two's cell phone. I KNEW he was calling about my canceled appointment and I was nervous that he might chew me out. So I didn't pick up the call.

Call 2: After our trip to the Moran, I thought of all kinds of questions that I hadn't asked. They had been simmering in my brain for a week and I just couldn't wait. I knew that Dr. H had her conference this week and it seemed unlikely that I would be able to get ahold of her, but I figured if she at least had my questions, she'd be able to answer them as soon as she returned. Plus, if Dr. Two was calling me... maybe I should get a little more information.

So I called the only number I have for the Moran which is for general scheduling. The lady I talked to at scheduling was determined to relay my questions herself, so I asked two questions and hung up the phone. Not 10 minutes later Dr. H was on the phone to me. She talked to me for 15 minutes answering my question and relaying mild frustration that her secretary/assistant hadn't already gotten ahold of me with some of the information.

Call 3: Five or so minutes after we'd hung up, Dr. H called again going over a few more things and asking me a couple of questions.

(In the next 24 hours I received an email from the assistant and phone call from a surgery nurse wanting to schedule appointments for various of the kids. When the surgery nurse called and I asked her a few more questions and she seemed moderately impressed with my medical savvy. Mostly I learn quickly--these ARE my kids' we're talking about--and I'm not dumb. She said that she would ask Dr. H and get back with me, but Dr. H was already at the pediatric retinal specialist conference, so I haven't heard back, nor scheduled anything.)

Call 4: The phone number that showed up on my caller ID was "Utah Valley...." and I didn't know what that meant. I'd already placed a call to Utah Valley Eye Center where Dr. Lloyd's office was to discuss a billing issue. And my kid's pediatrician is part of Utah Valley Pediatrics, where I'd set a few appointments recently. So I picked up the call. It was Dr. Two's office.

"Dr. Two has a question for you," the receptionist said.

"OK," I said thinking that she would then ask the question.

"Hold on a moment."

Curse you, I thought. Your darn caller ID fooled me and now I'm going to get chewed out by Dr. Two.

"Hi, this is Dr. Two," Dr. Two began. And then very meekly explained that he had just today realized that I had canceled the appointment with Dr. Z. He kept saying things like "it's not a big deal" and "you can do whatever you want" and "I'm not trying to pressure you to do anything".

I explained that the doctors at the Moran didn't like working with Dr. Z since he left the Moran,we were already involved in a study at the Moran, etc. Dr. Two told me repeatedly that that was fine. No big deal. Dr. Z flies into Utah on a very regular basis.

Call 5: In the late afternoon, I got another call from Dr. Two's cell phone. Intrigued, I picked up. Dr. Two was incredibly apologetic, but Dr. Z is really amazing and would I be willing to reconsider coming to the multi-hour appointment for all seven members of my family the next day.

I told him I was willing, but I had a couple of issues. Number one, cost. Our current insurance has an out-of-pocket maximum of $9000 for our family for one year. We are on track to reach that and we can't begin to afford it. Number two, trauma. Annika was poked for a blood draw at the Moran that went very badly. Those are my issues.

Dr. Two said that he understood my dilemma and it was no big deal if we didn't come tomorrow, but would I at least talk to Dr. Z.

"Sure. I'll talk to him," I told him.

"You're a very nice woman," Dr. Two gushed, apologizing again for bothering me so many times in a day.

Now, my big boys had just finished their basketball season and to conclude things, their coach wanted to take the team to a BYU game. Wendell and I already had a few tickets and had promised our kids that we could go that night, but we didn't have enough tickets for our family to sit together, so this would work out nicely. The boys could sit with their team and the other 5 of us could share the four good seats. Unfortunately, Wendell ended up in an all day meeting in Salt Lake and I had to do all of the meeting the coach, feeding dinner and getting the kids to the game by myself.

Knowing that Dr. Z was going to call, I hung around the house as long as I could. At the appointed time, I drove to the school to meet the boys coach and pick up our tickets. Though the coach had been very specific about the time, he showed up almost 10 minutes late. I got the tickets and rushed home.

Call 6: Dr. Z called, as I had feared, while I was gone to get the tickets. Anson picked up the call and relayed the message when I got home. He told Dr. Z to call back in five minutes. We quickly ate our hot dog dinner. I decided that we have a life outside of doctors appointments and if Dr. Z called before we left, we'd talk, otherwise we'd have to talk tomorrow.

Call 7: As we finished dinner, the phone rang. It was Dr. Z. He introduced himself by telling me that he was not just a geneticist, but he was also a retinal specialist and is the best in the world at what he does. Then he encouraged me to look him up. (I did. He's Harvard, MIT and Johns Hopkins trained and is currently the Director of Institute at the the university that he flew in from.) He went on to explain that he's sure that, as a parent, I would like to see as many doctors as possible. I told him I agreed, but I had a couple of issues.

"I know. Cost. I am not charging you anything. Dr. Two is not charging you anything for this visit. The DNA will cost you nothing and if other costs get too great we can connect you with some charity and things."

Cool.

"I have just one other issue," I began.

"Yes. Dr. Two told me. No, we do not want to scare your little ones. We can do some things with spit and cheek swabs. That is all I need to get the DNA."

"Great," I said. "We'll see you tomorrow at 1:00."

"I'll have Dr. Two call you tomorrow to confirm everything," Dr. Z said.

Apparently, the condition my children have is rare enough that the retinal specialists are now calling me, begging to see my children, and even meeting my "demands". This is all a little weird. Still, how cool is that the people are fighting over my children and willing to see them for free?

After the Moran

2011-03-03T22:30:00.000-07:00

I had notable trepidation when I called to cancel my WHOLE family's appointment with the geneticist who was flying in from California. Even though Dr. Two told me repeated that Dr. Z comes to Utah all the time. I had a hunch that his main reason for coming was us. And I was sure that Dr. Two would be mad.

But the receptionist thought it was no big deal and I cancel a bunch of appointments and she was very pleasant. And that was it. Until Wednesday.

Monster Day at the Moran

2011-02-21T15:36:00.000-07:00

Last Wednesday we packed up the troops and headed to the Moran Eye Center in Salt Lake City. We dropped Beck (3) off at my mom's at 11:10, checked Emma and Nate out of school and headed up. I packed the least nutritious/most fun lunches I could think of. I bought Uncrustables, and packed grapes, carrots, juice boxes, Go-gurts and granola bars. Emma (11), Nathan (8) and Annika (4) were in seventh heaven.

Wendell and I didn't get much of a lunch, me because...I don't know. I was nervous. Nervous we wouldn't be on time, it would be hard to find, we would have to wait for hours before we could even get in, etc.

It was trippy trying to be with three kids all at once there, because they liked to do things simultaneously. I was happy that Wendell had switched days off to be there, but we still couldn't be with all of the kids at once. We ended up with me pairing with Annika and Wendell going with Nate and Emma just had to go alone. The doctor ordered vision screenings from three different cameras on all of the kids.

As Emma as called back, I kept the door open and my ear to the hall for when Annika might get called. I heard a tech say, "Great. I've got a four-year-old who I have to get pictures from three cameras."

I poked my head out and said, "The four-year-old is mine. When you call her back, I'm coming too."

I left Emma with her tech and I went with Annika trying to help her hold still. Nathan had a bunch of extra imagining done, some of which I recommended and some of which I had no idea we were doing.

We got home from the Moran at 8:00pm. Some of it is still a blur. Here are the important points.

* This retinal specialist has never seen anything like my kids' either. She happens to be going to an international pediatric retinal specialist conference this week and asked for permission to present about my kids and see if anyone else has seen anything like it.

*Dr. H is not trigger happy. As long as Annika's and Nathan's eye's are stable, she recommends not treating them.

*She recommends staying with the Avastin treatment for Emma. Except that this is Emma's only seeing eye and, um, the treatment isn't working...so maybe go with the next shot that's $2100.

* At the Moran, they are happier if everything is in-house. So we enrolled in their genetic retinal specialists study because the guy that is flying in, is stingy about sharing.

*Annika was so terrified of having her blood drawn that she threw up when the guy missed and we were considering switching arms.

*At the Moran, invasive tests and treatments can all be done sedated. This is where I'll have Annika treated. Period.

It was a long, long day. And I have a ton of questions still. Hopefully, we'll be able to get them answered as we go along.

Book Review: The First-Timer's Cookbook

2011-02-19T16:07:00.001-07:00

To divert myself from all else that is going on in my life, I am doing a few book reviews. At the very least, this should light up my blog!

My first review for 2011 is Chef Shawn Bucher's first book, The First-Timer's Cookbook. This is not your traditional cookbook since there's not a single recipe in it! Instead, it's full of the kind of tips that you call home to your mom while you're in college to ask--things that seem like they should be intuitive, but really aren't. (e.g. How do I cook spaghetti squash? How long does pasta take to cook? If my chicken's pink on the inside can I eat it?)

This book reminds me of Suze Orman's, Women and Money, in that some of the tips seem eye-rollingly obvious. While other points are really beneficial. In Women and Money, for example, Suze Orman would say things like, "A checking account is bank account where you use the money by writing a check." Similarly Chef Bucher keeps things (ridiculously) simple with tips like,"Knife skills...come down to this--don't cut yourself." Nevertheless, if you keep reading your bound to learn some valuable info, like how to use "carryover cooking" to your benefit to have perfectly done meat, which months certain fruits and veggies are at their best and even how to cook obscure vegetables like egg plant.

I personally benefited from the "how to cut butternut squash" segment. Something that previously had been the bane of my existence, I could now do with ease.

While the average stay-at-home-mom could definitely find a few new tips and tricks in this book, I think it's biggest target is those learning how to cook, also called people-who-can-only-make-microwave-popcorn. That includes, young cooks (my 11-year-old daughter is DYING to get her hands on this book), young men wanting a crash course before they serve a mission, missionaries who missed the crash course and are tired of ramen noodles, and co-eds who don't want to call their mothers.

Full disclosure: I received a copy of this book for free from Media Guests in exchange for my candid review of the book.

Gratitude in Trials

2011-02-12T22:59:00.000-07:00

Trials stink. They are hard. We worry, we wonder, we stress. But we aren't alone. And it often doesn't take very much looking to see all the ways in which we are blessed, even in our hardest moments. In light of my trials, I would like to list of ~~all~~ a bunch of things that I am thankful for.

1. Emma told me quickly about her visual disturbances.
2. Mike Lloyd had an opening the next morning.
3. Mike is a really great doctor.
4. Emma was able to see the retinal specialist and get started on the treatments immediately.
5. Dr. One mentioned in Dec that Emma's condition was likely genetic, so I got the kids into the eye doctor.
6. Mike was prompted to screen all of the kids, not just Nathan. (There really is no reason we should know about Annika's condition except for that.)
7. Anson and Beck don't have this problem...at least for right now.
8. Wendell and I don't have this eye condition.
9. The retinal specialist's office is fighting the insurance company for coverage for us.
10. Retinal specialist, Dr. Two, called the premier genetic retinal specialist in the US to consult on our case.
11. Said genetic retinal specialist is coming to Utah in two weeks and wants to see us.
12. Mike called the Moran Eye center to help me get appointments.
13. Then the Moran Eye center called me to set appointments for my three affected children.
14. So many people are praying for my family.
15. There are treatments to try! Seven years ago when we first found out about Emma's right eye, all of the treatments we are using didn't exist.
16. The kids all see remarkably well despite the fluid under their retinas.
17. We have people who love us who are willing to help us with medical bills if (when) we need it.
18. We live so close to the Moran Eye center and other great specialists.

I'm sure there are tons of other things that I could include on this list. But I want you to know that the Lord is leading us and helping us. We have so much to be grateful for!

Shot of Fun

2011-02-08T08:31:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, I checked Emma out from school and met her in the hall. I had a tiny white pill in a baggie in my pocket and a small plastic cup in my hand. I was a little worried about how to explain why Emma should take this pill, but she was more than game.

Emma's not a particularly good pill taker and it took two swallows to get the thing down, at which point it had started to disintegrate. She let me know it was bitter and terrible, but she was still hoping that it worked.

Our wait in the doctor's office was a long one and I read and read and read to her. (As a side note, we read Glida Joyce Psychic Investigator. That is a terrible book! One of the subplots is about suicide--people who have committed it and a 13-year-old girl who is considering it. AND it talked about Gilda catching her brother and another character viewing pornography. That was treated very lightly. I edited and commented as I read, then I hid the book from Emma and returned it personally to the school librarian with my report. She was horrified and pulled the book.)

By the time we were called back, the Xanax had been on board a good, long time. The rest of the appointment went quite normally. When the doctor starting commenting about how much worse Emma's retina, that she looked up, worried. I guess the Xanax can't do everything. The blond lady with the chocolate, had a bag ready when we walked in the door. I grabbed the candy and walked Emma into the hallway, where there are chairs and shut the door.

Emma lost a little vision between this visit and the last. The medication isn't working, but they always give it three shots before they move on, the doctor explained to me. There are two more options. One is another shot that cost $2100 per injection and insurance won't cover it. The other is a laser treatment.

"I don't think the laser treatment is an option," Dr. One said. "I don't think she'll sit for it."

I had seen how relaxed Emma was leading up to this shot.

"She had Xanax on board this time," I told him. "Don't count her out."

Emma had brought a picture with her of some fungi she found on the internet. The fungi was pink and I taped it to the wall where they wanted her to look while she got the injection. The numbing shot went quickly and easily. Emma squeezed my hand, but sat perfectly still.

"That's it?" she asked when the injection was done.

As we waited for the Novocain to work, we walked down the hall to the bathrooms. Emma staggered slightly and guffawed loudly as we went. When we came back from our bathroom run, Emma was hilarious.

"You have four eyes!!!" Emma blurted, then burst into maniacal laughter that made her almost fall out of the exam chair.

I also had three noses and one of my eyes was in my hair. I couldn't help but laugh along. Not only was Emma not in terror, but she was having a genuinely good time.

Emma had no problem holding still for the real shot either, which included having her eye "washed" with iodine, the stick and rinsing the iodine out after. Dr. One was ecstatic.

"Bring that picture again!" he said with a wink.

As we walked (Emma staggered) out the door, Emma declared, "That was fun!"

Preparing for Treatment

2011-02-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, my brother-in-law and his wife had twins. Over the weekend, Wendell and I visited them in the hospital. Despite the fact that we were there to rejoice in the birth of two sweet little babies (Andrew and Amanda), the conversation turned to our kids and the concern about their eyes.

We talked about Emma and how she was due for her next treatment and how high her terror level had been at the last appointment. I worried how I could get her to sit still and calm down enough for the shot.

As we visited, my brother-in-law said that when his wife had received laser eye treatments, to correct her vision, they put her on Valium or something, so that she wouldn't worry about the procedure. It seemed like a brilliant idea.

First thing Monday morning, I placed a call to the pharmacist. I explained the situation and asked about the Valium.

"No way," he said. "She'll sleep for the next two days."

"I had been hoping that she might be able to take something that would get her through the treatment, but still allow her to do her homework afterward."

He made a couple of recommendations, the best of which was Xanax. He told me that it could stay with her for a couple of hours, but she should be fairly functional.

"Lots of people take it to fly," he explained.

My next call Monday morning was to my retinal specialist, wondering if they could please give Emma something, Xanax perhaps, to reduce her level of stress and terror at getting a shot in her eye.

*******

There are two retinal specialist at the clinic here in Utah County and, unfortunately, both of their last names start with C. So I'm going to number them for you, to help you keep them straight. Dr. One is the original retinal specialist here in Utah County. Dr. Two is his partner who has joined the practice fairly recently.

The day after Emma first told me of her visual distortions, we saw Dr. Two. Emma had seen Dr. One twice before, so I didn't really want to see Dr. Two. On the other hand, Emma had a problem and need to be seen immediately.

When Dr. Two came in the room, he seemed rushed. He would ask questions like, "Why are you here?", then say, "Uh huh, uh huh," all the way through my explanation in a way that made it seem that I was giving him redundant information. He wasn't particularly interested in listening to anything Emma had to say (mostly about loving school, loving to read and wishing she was there). I tolerated Dr. Two, because he was my only option that morning and looked forward to seeing Dr. One next time.

*******
I waited on the phone for the tech, Chadwick, to come back on the phone and tell us what the doctor had said. I was surprised when the voice on the other end said, "This is Richard Two."

Dr. Two, himself had come to the phone, so I asked him about prescribing Xanax for Emma. He thought that it was a good idea for her to take it, but was hesitant to prescribe.

"I'm nervous prescribing for her. I frankly don't know how to prescribe that for a child. I'm not trying to push you off, but I think that it would be a good idea if you called her pediatrician for a prescription."

I instantly felt bad/nervous because it was Emma's pediatrician's day off. I happen to know where he lives because he's been my parents bishop for the last 5 years. Still, I hate to call him at home. Yet I felt sure no on-call pediatrician was going to give me Xanax for my 11-year-old. I think I may have audibly sighed, because Dr. Two apologized for the inconvenience again. Then he shifted topics.

"I ran into Dr. Lloyd on Friday as I was leaving," Dr. Two informed me. "He told me about your other children."

He seemed intrigued about them from a medical standpoint. It's rare enough to ever know one child Emma's age with this condition, let alone three in the same family. The odds against this are astronomical. But he paused with compassion.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Thank you," I replied.

He stayed on the phone with me for 15 minutes discussing the best course of action for my family and his willingness to work Nathan and Annika in immediately. I appreciated the conversation, his interest in helping my children and even the compassion from someone who had struck me as rather cool and clinical.

After making several more calls to the Moran Eye Center, Dr. Lloyd's office and the pediatrician, I called the retinal specialist back. I was unsure when the docs at the Moran would see my kids, but I knew Dr. Two would see them that week. I called the receptionist. True to his word, Dr. Two had left a message that I would call and they worked Nathan and Annika in on Friday, even though Dr. Two's schedule had been full for weeks.

The pediatrician was so kind when I called. He had heard about my kids' condition on Sunday and was more than happy to help. He asked about Emma's height and weight and was only slightly irritated that the other docs wouldn't prescribe for her since she's adult size. He had some Xanax at his house and if I could come right over I could have it. Bless him. I threw on some clothes (I'd been making calls in my PJs) and rushed right over. Emma would get to try her shot the next day all hopped up on some good stuff and I was hopeful that she wouldn't be screaming this time.

Nathan's Situation

2011-02-04T22:35:00.000-07:00

As Dr. Lloyd examined my children last Friday, I learned some additional things about Nathan.

"Nathan has a few things going on," Dr. Lloyd explained. "He has his far-sightedness, amblyopia and sub-retinal fluid."

I kept nodding as Mike talked, assuming that I knew what he was talking about. But when "sub-retinal fluid" was something different than "amblyopia", I knew I was getting new information.

"Wait. What is am-blee-o-pia?" I asked, working to repeat correctly a medical term I was clearly unfamiliar with.

Mike looked disconcerted. Like I should have known about this before now.

"Amblyopia is a condition where the brain can't see 20/20. Right now the best Nathan can see is 20/40. It doesn't really matter what prescription I give him, his brain can't recognize the extra correcting. You didn't know about that?"

I paused, thinking. It did sound a little familiar. When Nate was 4 the eye doctor we saw then said something about that. He thought if we came back in 6 months, Nathan might have self corrected. Six months later, he hadn't. So glasses were ordered and even though we came back 6 months after that and the year after that and the year after that, the eye doctor seemed satisfied with Nate's condition and didn't mention it any more. I assumed that glasses had fixed it.

Mike chose his words carefully. He seemed frustrated that the other eye doctor had not tried to correct this condition already. He conveyed that it would have been better had this been tackled a while ago, but it wasn't too late, Nathan still had a shot at getting 20/20 vision. But not with his retinal condition.

"Part of why Nathan can't see is the fluid under his retinas. It's hard to tell right now how much of his vision problem is the amblyopia verses the sub-retinal fluid. What would be best is to get his retinas to lay down and if his vision doesn't improve, then I can do some work on the amblyopia. I'd like to see Nathan again in 2-3 months."

I have to admit to feeling irritated with the other guy. Why, when he saw a big thing in Nate's eye did he not refer us to a retinal specialist? Why, when he knew about the amblyopia when Nate was 4 did he do nothing?

I remind myself that only this November did we have any idea what had happened in Emma's right eye. She had seen 5 different doctors and left them all scratching their heads. None of them, including the retinal specialist and the pediatric opthamologist, had ever seen anything like it before. How could this sub par opthamologist be expected to know what to do?

But amblyopia (also called lazy eye), is THE MOST common childhood vision problem. Guess when the optimal age is to fix this? 3-5. Guess how old Nathan was when it was found? 4. This should have been treated long ago. Fortunately for me, there is a buffer time period. Between the ages of 6-10, amblyopia can be treated with good results. After age 10, only a partial vision recovery is possible. Thank heavens Nate is 8 and a half.

The big question is, how quickly can we get Nate's retinas to flatten out? At Emma's current rate, it could take a while. But that is a post for another day.

The Silver Lining

2011-02-02T23:19:00.002-07:00

Today was Beck's doctor's appointment. This morning I was a wreck. I had a full on sob fest in the shower while trying to get ready for the day. I didn't know how I'd cope with having an other child with this disease. I didn't know what to do. The prayer I wanted to pray (and prayed anyway, even though I shouldn't try to boss God around) was something like this.

"Please help me. I can't take any more bad news. I can't bear it. Please have Beck be OK. At least right now, just let him be OK."

But I know better. That prayer is not me following God's plan for me, that's me begging Him to follow my plan. So I tried to pray this prayer instead.

"I know that You know our journeys perfectly and that the trials we face are part of the perfect journey that will bring us closer to You. Please give me strength to deal with the news, if Beck has the Macular Dystrophy, too. You know I've had a lot of bad news this week. Please give me Your strength to get through this."

Wendell, to my surprise and delight, accompanied me to this doctor's appointment, taking almost two hours off from work. He wanted to be there if there was more bad news. He knew I could use the moral support.

When we got in, they dilated Beck's eyes. He wasn't a fan of the eye drops, but he did like the slinky and sticker that he got for getting through that part. His eyes dilated quickly. Dr. Lloyd accompanied us in for the scan. He explained that it was unlikely that a three-year-old could hold still enough to get a great scan. But if he could observe the scan, he would be able to detect more easily if there were problems.

Sweet little Beck wanted so much to do what he was asked, but had no idea what to do. At one point the technician told Beck to open wide and he opened his mouth as wide as he could while still keeping his chin in the chin rest. It was a needed moment of comic relief. She scanned Beck's right eye first. After doing the scan twice, for optimal results, Dr. Lloyd said the words I was longing for.

"That eye looks great."

We gave Beck a little break and I demonstrated for him how to open his eyes wide. He got the idea and the scan on his left eye was even easier. The verdict was the same--Beck's eyes have no fluid under the retina's right now. I was giddy after getting the news. Elated. We have two kids that are OK!

I blurted the news out to Wendell as soon as I walked in the room. Dr. Lloyd donned a "hat" that looks like he's going spelunking and checked Beck's eye with a little mirror thing. Beck held impossibly still. Leaning on me as he sat on my lap, he tried to do what the doctor asked if he could figure it out.

"Your kids are so good," Mike said. "And from someone who sees a lot of kids... I know."

I appreciated the compliment, although a lot of that is just in their natures. They inherently want to obey--all of them.

Beck got an official all clear and I set appointments for Beck and Anson for 6 months. If they do start to get fluid under their retinas, we're going to catch it early.

This has been and will be a whale of a roller coaster ride, but for today I am just grateful.

President Monson said it this way, "We have all experienced times when our focus is on what we lack rather than on our blessings. ...[But] regardless of our circumstances, each of us has much for which to be grateful if we will but pause and contemplate our blessings."

Quote of the Day

2011-02-01T12:16:00.000-07:00

"I testify that the Savior's Atonement lifts from us not only the burden of our sins but also the burden of our disappointments and sorrows, our heartaches and our despair."
-------Elder Jeffery R. Holland, Ensign, April 2006, "Broken Things to Mend"

Breaking the News

2011-01-31T17:06:00.000-07:00

When we found out about Emma's Macular Dystrophy we ended up in doctors appoints for 3 hours. People knew something was going on. I got a call from my mom at the office and after I hung up, Emma wanted me to call Wendell. The phone call went something like this.

"Hi sweetie! It's me. We are at the doctor's office, still. Emma has been diagnosed with Macular Degeneration! She's going to get a shot in her eye now! Isn't that great that they can do something! Alrighty. The doctor's here so I better go. I'll call you later!"

See how perky I was. I didn't want to be, but Emma was right there. He and I talked later for real. But that was how I broke the news.

When I found out about Nathan and Annika, I knew this was not news I could break over the phone. I wanted to get to Wendell--to be with him. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted a safe place to fall apart.

So I wracked my brain with what to come up with to make sure he was in his office, and not running some errand or other, without worrying him or have him press me for news on the phone.

All the way home from the doctors office, I fought the tears. Hold it together, I said to myself, hold it together. As we approached home, I had a thought.

"Kids," I said, "I'm going to drop you off at home with Emma and go to Dad's work to fax something that Dr. Lloyd gave me."

When I got home, I said hey to Emma and got my fax number and took off. Wendell got the same story and he was, thankfully, at the store.

When I walked into Honda, Wendell was waiting for me up front.

"Come with me," I said as I walked to his office.

"Why? What?... Where are you going? My office is locked," Wendell sputtered.

"Go get your keys," I said and kept my back to the sales office. I felt eyes on me. But I was just barely holding it together. Wendell came around the corner with his keys and unlocked the office. I bolted in and shut the door behind us, sat down and fell apart as planned.

"Emma's not the only one with Macular Dystrophy," I explained. "Nathan AND Annika have it too."

Wendell was in shock. He asked questions starting with things like, "Are you sure?" and ending with questions about what to do next.

We made plans. He hugged me. I cried a bunch. Wendell got me tissues. I pulled myself together and we went to the other office and sent the fax. Wendell told me to go to Wendy's and buy the kids dinner. He would run an errand for work and pick us salads for us at Zuppas. As I pulled out, I picked up my cell phone and began making calls.

It Runs In the Family--Part II

2011-01-30T22:17:00.000-07:00

My mind started to wander after receiving the news. My doctor recommended a particular doctor up at the Moran Eye Center and encouraged me to contact them on Monday. I started asking Dr. Lloyd to write things down on post-its since my brain was still processing. As he watched me, Dr. Lloyd gave me a post-it with his personal cell phone number on it.

"I'll meet you here night or day," he said. "Please call me if you have questions or if I can place a call to the Moran Eye Center for you. I can't guarantee that my call will do anything, but I'll be willing to do anything I can to help."

From what Dr. Lloyd understood, the Moran Eye Center can't do anything more for my children than the retinal specialists that we're currently seeing. The advantage, in his mind, is that they are a cutting edge facility and will have the newest treatments available.

"You need to get all of you in," Dr. Lloyd instructed. "You need to get the baby tested, but Jenna, I think this disease is dominant not recessive."

I blinked. My brain was working so slowly--there was simply so much to take in.

"What I mean," Dr. Lloyd explained, "is that I think one of you has this. There are simply too many kids effected for this to be a recessive trait. Perhaps the blind spot for you or Wendell is way in your peripheral vision so you don't notice it. But when you call the Eye Center, tell them that you have 4 kids and 2 adults who need to be tested. You'll need to make a day of it. Treat it like you would a day in the car. Bring the snacks, games, the DVD player. Just expect to spend a day there."

He went on to explain how much hope there was in the future. Not just for the current treatments which were unavailable as recently as 7 years ago, but also for treatments that were yet to come. There is current and future research. There is hope.

I nodded. In addition to all of the other thoughts running through my brain was, hold it together--just hold it together.

Mike looked at me and around the room. The boys were climbing on the furniture and Annika was pulling on my arm and whining. Since the kids weren't paying attention, Mike gave me the worst case scenario, too.

"It's possible that everyone's eyes could end up like Emma's right eye," he said.

"I know."

The code is, it is possible that Emma, Nathan and Annika could go blind. But we've caught it early. And we'll be able to give it a good fight.

It Runs In the Family--Part I

2011-01-29T14:00:00.002-07:00

On Nov 19, 2010, my oldest daughter Emma (11.5) was diagnosed with a rare eye disorder called Macular Dystrophy. On Dec 22nd, the retinal specialist informed me that he thought what Emma had was a rare, recessive genetic disorder.

"She has four younger siblings. What are the odds that one of them has this?" I remember asking.

"Zero. Nil. She's the only one."

"Lucky me," Emma grumbled tearfully.

But I took enough biology in high school and college to know that that's not how this works. Each child gets a 25% chance of having the disease. Every one. So I gathered up my courage and set doctor's appointments for Anson (10), Nathan (8.5) and Annika (4.8). I left Beck home, because he's three and that seemed reason enough.

Dr. Lloyd (my friend Mike, from high school) seemed happy to see us. He also has a 10, 8, and 4-year-old, so it was really fun for him to see my kids who are the same ages as his.

"Are you here because of Emma?" Mike wanted to know.

"Partly," I admitted.

I explained about Anson's squinting and other visual concerns, including, an eye doctor saying that he saw something in Nathan's eye a year and a half ago.

"OK," Mike said. "Let's run a scan on him." He went out of the treatment room and a few moments later came back in. "You know what?" he ventured. "If these were my kids, I'd want to scan them all."

"Great," I confirmed. "Let's scan them all."

Nathan's scan came up first. The right eye was affected. But so was the left. Over the year and a half since the other doctor saw Nathan, his left retina had gotten a lot worse.

"This is like Emma's right eye," Dr. Lloyd explained. "The difference is it's low in his field of vision so it doesn't bother him."

Anson's scan was next. Beautiful, flat retinas. It looked almost concave compared to the pictures I had seen of Emma's eye recently.

Then Annika's scan. It came on the screen. Dr. Lloyd's shoulders slumped. His hand came to his forehead momentarily.

"Do you see these?" he asked quietly.

"I do."

"I'm so sorry."

Both of Annika's retinas have fluid under them, too. Three kids with the same rare disorder. And we haven't even tested the baby yet.

Quote of the Day

2011-01-25T20:08:00.000-07:00

"The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation."

-------Pres. James E. Faust, Ensign, Aug 2004, "Fathers, Mothers, Marriage"

What's the REAL Story

2011-01-23T20:17:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, a youthful-looking, middle-aged woman was in an office visiting with her ecclesiastical leader. Just making conversation the man said, "How many children do you have?"

"Three," said the woman.

The man looked up disapprovingly and took a lecturing tone. "Children are a blessing," he said.

The woman nodded. I don't know exactly what happened in the complete exchange, but the woman felt chastised for having had such a small family and felt that this man was suggesting she should quickly have more children.

But he was passing judgement without knowing the whole story. First, he assumed, incorrectly, that she was still within child-bearing years. Second, he figured that the woman had deliberately had a small family so that children wouldn't inconvenience her. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

He didn't know of her desire to have a large family, the miscarriage and years of infertility. But it also wasn't any of his business. So, she didn't share this with him, but merely left slightly wounded.

I think that most of us have had this happen to one extreme or another. Someone takes one piece of information that is fact and extrapolates a story that doesn't exist, assuming the worst of us and injuring us in the process. But we must forgive them, because their ignorance puts them in a category of, "they know not what they do."

Very often, we feel like this woman, where we could tell them the story and correct their judgement of us. But in the long run, it's just none of their business.

Now the harder thought is, do we do this to others? I have. I remember hearing of a ward member who was hospitalized after complications from cosmetic surgery. This didn't agree with what I knew of this woman and I felt so confused. How could she be so vain? One day I learned that she had had cosmetic surgery as a result of treatments for a medical problem that left her deformed. The cosmetic surgery was only to correct the deformation.

The reality is that we should all cut each other a little slack and not assume that because we know one fact, that we know the REAL story.

The Illusion of Power

2011-01-21T16:32:00.001-07:00

When I was in high school I became a bit feminist. Well, as feminist as a Mormon girl from Utah gets, anyway. I hated chauvinistic jokes, but loved reverse chauvinism wherein women look intelligent, sophisticated and superior while the men in the jokes looked like apes. (BTW, being a mother of sons has made me hate those kinds of jokes, too.)

I memorized all the words to "I Am Woman Here Me Roar" and would burst into song whenever it seemed the conversation was chauvinistic. (My male friends in high school would let me finish the song and then, in their highest falsetto, meow. Oooooo, that made me so mad. And they thought it was so funny.)

I was all about Women Power, Mother Power or whatever else that could associate me with Power. (Insert muscle flexing here.) I liked to feel powerful, smart and in control. I liked to feel that I could control myself and my family. I remember as a young adult, seeing kids misbehaving in a store and thinking, "My children will NEVER do that."

As a young mother, I started to realize that this power-thing, this idea of controlling everything, was an illusion. I felt like I couldn't control anything. Sometimes it just felt like life was happening and I was trying to react to each situation.

Over time, as the kids got older, I've had a sense of power come back. That I'm-in-control-of-my-own-destiny sensation. And in that mind set, I've often not understood scriptures like Mosiah 4:11 where King Benjamin taught that we need to "always retain in remembrance...your own nothingness...you unworthy creatures." I'm mean how does that jive with "I am a child of God and He has sent me here"?

If God knows and loves me individually, then how am I nothing? Or if I am nothing, then how can God care about me?

I think the answer to this paradox is found in Alma 26:12.

"Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever." (emphasis added)

I, of myself, am powerless. I have, at best, the power of one ordinary person. But when I link myself with God by following His Spirit, then he gives me His power to accomplish everything that He wants me to. Would he do this if he didn't know me and love me? Of course not. It is because He is my Father and knows and loves me perfectly that He wants me to be aware that I need Him today, tomorrow and every step of the way through my life.

Do I have power? Nope. No woman power. No mother power. Nothing. But when I link myself with God by seeking and following His will, do I have power? I do. It's still not mine, but I am satisfied that God trusts me enough to give me "his strength" so that "I can do all [the] things" that He wants me to do.

Quote of the Day

2011-01-18T19:28:00.000-07:00

"Because of my faith, I work through the struggles and difficulties in life with peace and assurance. ...And because of my faith--even in the seemingly worst of times--I recognize with peace and gratitude that, in reality, it is the best of times."
-------Bishop Richard C. Edgley, Ensign, Nov 2010, "Faith--the Choice Is Yours"

It'll have to do

2011-01-17T22:44:00.000-07:00

Monday's kill me. I used to love them--early out day, piano lessons (no practicing required) and Family Home Evening. But Monday's have changed. Piano was moved to Saturdays, so Emma signed up for an academic club called Odyssey of the Mind. In this club the kids work on projects and compete with other kids around the state. If they win at state, then they get to go to "world's". Emma learned, to her disappointment, that if they win at state and go on to world's, then she'll have to miss the last week of school. She loves school and doesn't want to miss a day, let alone the last week. If they win, I foresee trauma.

The boys are taking Art, which they were taking on Wednesday, but they had basketball practice right after and one of them had scouts. So Art got moved to Monday. Here is how Monday now looks for me.

1:45 Carpool drops off the kids
3:45 Emma goes to Odyssey of the Mind
4:30 Anson and Nathan go to Art
5:30 All of the kids have to be picked up at two different places at the same time.

Now, you may ask, when do you make dinner? Excellent question. Lately, I don't. This is a problem because my family likes dinner. Now, obviously, it would be in all of our best interest if I got up in the morning and threw something in the crock pot. But, in my head, I'm still on the old schedule. So every Monday 'bout 3:00, I start panicking.

"Oh, no!" I think, "I don't know what we're going to have for dinner."

I spend the next 45 minutes wracking my brain for what I can make that I have all the ingredients for while simultaneously helping everyone with homework and piano. Last Monday, I picked up Wendy's, then the kids. They all didn't mind that I was late.

Tonight, Wendell voted that we go to Jason's Deli.

I love Jason's Deli so it sounded like a great idea. Long about 6:30 we strolled into the restaurant. We learned that, sadly, they had no pepperoni, so that child opted for a cheese pizza. We also ordered 3 hot dog kids meals, one bow tie pasta and two adult salad bars for Wendell and me.

We found seats and after 7-8 minutes some guy comes up. "I have bad news. And I'm going to give you all your meals for free, but we have no hot dogs, and no pasta."

"What do you have?" I wondered.

He came back with a menu. We changed our orders to two PB and J sandwiches (major eye rolling by me, I could have made PB and J), and three cheese pizza's. I had one child in tears about the change.

"At least they have ice cream," Wendell ventured. I nodded. All disappointment would be forgotten after they'd finished dinner and had ice cream in hand.

After we ate, I took Nathan to get an ice cream. There was a little sign over the "swirl" that said, "Temporarily Out of Service." No problem. There's still vanilla and chocolate. By the time Nate had picked chocolate, Anson had wandered over. I couldn't figure out what to push or pull.

"You'll have to get Dad," I told them, "apparently, I'm not smart enough to figure out an ice cream machine."

So we traipsed back to the table and when Wendell went back, all 5 kids were with him. Evidently, Jason's Deli was now out of ice cream, too. The "Out of Order" sign was for everything. The two youngest were howling. Wendell had just gotten himself a bit more salad, but I was out of patience. While Beck and Annika screamed that they wanted cones, I pushed them all out the door promising that cones were on the way--we just had to go to this other place...

True to his word, the employee, gave us our dinner for free, and said that he wanted to give us gift cards, but--you got it--they were out of those, too.

We loaded up and drove to Arctic Circle and spent $7 on ice cream. And that, my friends, became Family Home Evening. Waiting around for dinner and driving around for dessert. It was pathetic. On the up side, everyone was happy when we got home. I also learned two important lessons.

1. Don't go to Jason's Deli for a late dinner. Ever.
2. I need to figure out what's for dinner for next Monday.

Coasting

2011-01-13T22:11:00.000-07:00

My sophomore year of college I took a teaching of the living prophets class at BYU. One of our big assignments of the semester was to read several talks by one Apostle and then write a paper about him. We also did background on him, where he was born/grew up, what he did for work, and so on.

I read through several conference talks and I fell in love with the writing of Elder Neal A. Maxwell, so he became my subject for the semester. His writing is poetic and profound. Each line holds so much information and the imagery is amazing. So the other day a friend of my was talking about an old talk written by Elder Maxwell and I couldn't resist reading it.

It's called "Repentance" and was given in 1991 for General Conference, and it gave me a new perspective on the subject.

I think that as members of the LDS church, and perhaps Christians at large, we think of repentance as a form of punishment for sinners. But Elder Maxwell says, "Repentance is a rescuing, not a dour doctrine. It is available to the gross sinner as well as to the already-good individual striving for incremental improvement."

I'd like to think of myself in the category of the "already-good individuals," but am I "striving for incremental improvement"? To reach "full consecration," Elder Maxwell says that we need to change our focus to "the sins of omission" which often become the stumbling blocks of the so-called, good guys.

He warns that "even when free of major transgressions, we can develop self-contentment instead of seeking self-improvement." In other words, we have to stop coasting.

*****

I was a sober child with things related to the Spirit. I started reading the Book of Mormon when I was 6. (I remember being very confused and not really understanding what was going on. There was a lot about "seeds" like "my seed shall be blessed". I did eventually figure out that they were talking about children and family...) I was 8-years-old when I finally finished the book and put Moroni's promise to the test. I remember being overcome with the feeling that this book was true. Even though I couldn't understand it all, I was sure it was truth.

When I was in high school my arthritis was quite bad. I had to go to the doctor weekly to get injections and still, there were times I limped or even had to use crutches because the pain was so severe. But this experience also brought me to Christ and I learned that the Atonement is not just for sin, but for pain also. I learned that, like the people of Alma, I could be strengthened in Christ so that my burden became light.

I don't know exactly when it happened, perhaps as I crested into adulthood with new worries and concerns, but at some point I started coasting. God started to seem farther away and part of me doubted that He really cared about my everyday goings on. I was never unfaithful. I went to church every Sunday, held regular Family Home Evenings, had family scripture study and prayer. I even went to the temple several times a year. I didn't even realize that there had been a shift.

But I was coasting. I wasn't studying the gospel the way I should. I excused my lack by declaring that this was a hard "time and season" in life. (Elder Maxwell calls this a deficiency of style and declares that "[we] are too quick to forgive ourselves in matters of style.")

For more than a decade now, God has been patient with me. But He wants me to understand "things as they really are." And the truth is, God cares far less about my comfort than He does about my character and progress. And so, in 2010, He began to stretch me. (Think of it as spiritual yoga.) And, naturally, I resisted. But the stretching didn't stop and He brought me to a crossroads where I could coast no longer. It was do or die. I had to actively move toward Him or away from Him. There was no middle ground.

So I made my choice. I will move toward him. I feel, now, like I've stepped out a fog or removed sunglasses. Everything about the gospel seems so vibrant and new. And even though I am no "gross sinner," I recognize not only that I am just as in need of repentance as anyone else, but also that without repentance I can't come closer to God. I if I want to live with Him, then I must learn to be like Him and I can only do that if I am led by Him.

...And to the Dentist

2011-01-12T15:11:00.000-07:00

Today Beck (3) and I walked into his room because he was in need of a diaper change. He noticed his favorite blanket, Bob, was still in his crib. (Yes, I know my 3-year-old shouldn't still be in a crib, but he's not climbing out and he's the baaaaaaaby.) Delighted by his find, he rushed to pull Bob from between the slats.

It was then that he remembered that we were there to get rid of the stinkies so he dropped Bob on the floor.

"I'm gonna leave Bob there," he said, "so he doesn't get yucky and stinky and go to the dentist."

"Oh, yes," I agreed without really listening. "It would be terrible for Bob to get yucky and stinky and have to go to the dentist."

He nodded and I paused. "Wait. Why would Bob go to the dentist?" I asked.

Beck held his hands out to the side as if it was obvious, "To get cleaned?"

Sure. Why not! But I hadn't thought of that.

Quote for the Day

2011-01-11T22:26:00.006-07:00

I know bloggers who have a weekly ritual of some sort. Some have a Wordless Wednesday where they simply post an adorable picture of their child. Some have a Saturday Synopsis where they quickly rehash everything that happened the previous week that they didn't have time to post. I know one lady who does a Tuesday Shoesday and features new shoes that she bought. (Imagine having enough new shoes to post about it weekly!)

My most burning question is, what rhymes with quote? ....Zactly. It's a problem. And I'm not good about the weekly stuff. I mean sometimes I'll write every day, then other times it will be weeks and weeks between posts. It's just a matter of how busy I am and how big of a priority it is.

I guess this "feature" will be periodic. But I'd love to share some of my 200+ quotes. I don't really know how to pick, so I'll probably just go in order of General Conference talks I read.

Here is my first 2011 Quote for the Day!

"Joseph Smith was told that the terrible things he suffered for years at the hands of his enemies would 'give [him] experience, and...be for [his] good.' The suffering we experience through offenses of others is a valuable, though painful, school for improving our own behavior."

------Elder Whitney Clayton, Ensign, Nov 2009, "That Your Burdens May Be Light"

Taking Care of Ourselves

2011-01-10T13:17:00.007-07:00

As women we take care of things. We take care of our kids, our husbands, our house (to one degree or another), the dishes, the laundry, the homework, the music lessons, Family Home Evening, scripture study, etc. And we are good at it. We run everybody's life and help them get where they are going physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

We tend to take care of absolutely everything, but us. We are the person we tend to forget. We forget to get our exercise. We forget to eat right. We forget to study our scriptures. And sometimes, we even forget to pray. Not to pray, I mean we hit our knees every night and give Heavenly Father a memorized report, asking for a few things, expressing gratitude, never forgetting the missionaries and the Prophet.

No. It's not that kind of praying we forget. We forget to really pray. To just have a conversation with our Father in Heaven. We forget to tell him, "Today was a really hard day." And then tell him why. When we pray like this, everything changes.

One of the changes that I made last year has made all the difference for me. I started a quote journal.

It all started after I read Elder Scott's talk from Oct 2009 General Conference called, "To Acquire Spiritual Guidance." He said, "Had I not responded to the first impressions and recorded them, I would not have received the last, most precious guidance."

I had read through a few talks already in that Ensign, but I realized that, though I was finding messages for me, I hadn't recorded them. So I got a beautiful little journal and started writing. I learned that, "Jesus Christ took upon Himself the weight of...the injustices that are committed in the world to the end that we can be free from the consequences." (Elder Jorge Zeballos, Ensign, Nov 2009, "Attempting the Impossible") I was reminded that, "Through it all, the Savior offer us sustaining strength and support, and in His own time and way, He offers deliverance." (Elder Whitney Clayton, Ensign, Nov 2009, "That Your Burdens May Be Light") And I even giggled a little when I read, "In the scriptures there are very few stories of individuals who lived in blissful happiness and experienced no opposition. We learn and grow by overcoming challenges with faith, persistence and personal righteousness." (Ann M. Dibb, Ensign, Nov 2009, "Hold On")

In the last 6 months, I have jotted down 229 quotes just for me. Note the, just for me, part. It's rather easy for us to look through for quotes and think, "Oh. That quote is just what (so and so) needs." And maybe you're right. But it's also possible that you're not. In fact, you could be dead wrong. So disciplining ourselves to look only for us is a challenge, because we're used to caring for everyone else.

For me, this is particularly true of my relationship with Wendell. I would think, "Oh he needs to hear that." Or, "If Wendell heard that, that would really help him!" Really? Am I in Wendell's head? To even assume that I would know what would help Wendell is a version of playing God. And playing God is clearly inappropriate.

As I read through the talks, when something jumps out at me, I stop and think to myself, "Is this a message that I need or is this something that I think Wendell needs?" If it's the later, I leave it. I don't mark it and I don't write it down. It has to be a message for ME. And, apparently, there's a lot that I need to know.

My quotes aren't just from Conference talks either, although that is the source of the lion's share. My quotes are from other Ensign articles, Mormon Messages, other book's I read and the scriptures. Scripture study is also a whole different experience when I'm consciously looking for messages for me.

This seemingly insignificant little quote book is changing my life. And, although I don't have any idea what would be good for your life, I highly recommend it.

The Letter

2011-01-09T21:48:00.002-07:00

Wendell decided a few months ago that we would try a new seating arrangement at church. Instead of sitting all seven of us on a single long pew, we would sit, layered on two small pews on the side. This seating arrangement has several benefits. Every child is now within arms reach. If Emma is sitting immodestly, we can tap her, if the boys are talking we can whisper in their ears that if they don't stop right this minute they'll be sitting on the couch at home in silence forever. You get the idea. Plus I get to sit next to Wendell the entire sacrament meeting, something I haven't done in years.

It also has some disadvantages. Like the little ones wanting to move from row to row, sitting with mom and dad for part of the time and sitting with the big kids part of the time.

Today, the little kids (Beck, 3 and Annika 4.5) were sitting on the row in front of us (Wendell and me) when they decided that it would be a good idea to put their feet on the pew in front of them. Now, you likely have all had children do that, thereby kicking your "neighbors" in the head, arm and accidentally pulling hair.

Unfortunately, for me, I wasn't aware of what the little ones were doing. I did hear Wendell chide them to get their feet down, but when the lady in front of us, heaved a big sigh, stood up, turned around and looked at us (the look said, "Please! Control your children!") I flew into action. I whisked Beck out of his seat and dragged him over the pew into my lap. Annika, quickly straightened up once she saw the consequences Beck was experiencing.

During Sunday school, I put my arm around the lady who has very long hair and apologized for my kids' behavior. Her reply, "I can understand if the kids make a bit of noise. But today, as if the noise weren't bad enough, then she (meaning Annika) started pulling my hair!"

"Oh, goodness!" I said. "I thought Beck had been the guilty party and once I realized what was going on I got him right out of there. I'm so sorry! I guess I got the wrong child."

But my kids were actually quite reverent. We had no major outbursts, until I hauled Beck into my lap, and the kids were quite quiet. So the, "As if the noise weren't bad enough," part kinda rankled me.

I found myself praying, "Please help me to not be upset. Please help me to be forgiving."

*************

In May of 2003, when my kids were ages 4, 2.5 and 10 months, we received a letter. It was typed, unsigned with no return address. It read, "Dear Brother and Sister Wood, We hope you will not be offended by this, but your children are rather disruptive during Sacrament Meeting. It would be better if you sat at the back of the chapel so that your children would disturb fewer people."

Wendell had the good sense not to show me that letter for seven years. But he made sure that we always sat near the front of the chapel, if at all possible. That fact still makes me smile.

****************

There is no way that that letter would have come from this family who was struggling to keep their own three-year-old quiet at the time. But this impatience with children bothers me. We are a family church, are we not?

Still, I learned a lesson today. I will make for darn sure that we never sit behind them again.

The Trouble With the Gift

2011-01-06T12:26:00.004-07:00

My three oldest children participate in a gifted program. They are all several years ahead on their reading and ahead in math too. They have enjoyed the additional challenge and depth of projects offered as part of the gifted program. So, in theory, I should have been ready for Annika.

Annika started reading at 22 months. She could read Mama, Daddy, Annika and Baby. She never got them mixed up. So we just kept adding more words. It was hilarious to see her read as a two-year-old. You know when you watch those movies with animals talking and it looks weird because the lips are moving? It was like that. You just couldn't believe what you were seeing.

It would be cool if I could lay some kind of claim to Annika's skills, but I can't. She simply came this way. She is fascinated with academics. At four, she reads on a high 3rd grade/low 4th grade level, she is working her way through first grade math and demands spelling words and writes regularly in a journal. Some of our biggest fits come when I help the older kids with their homework rather than teach her something new because their assignment is due, while Annika's is merely self-imposed.

I've had people suggest that I put Annika up a grade. I haven't really entertained that idea for a few reasons. First, she has a late March birthday which puts her in the younger half of the kids in her own grade. Second, I expect that she would want to play with kids her own age. Third, by being academically so far ahead of her classmates, she would have the advantage of being a leader. Other students begin naturally looking to you for answers. When EVERYONE is older than you (some, a year and a half or more) how do you develop leadership?

So it seems that my mind is made up. Not so. Annika had a recent playdate with a girl in her preschool class. They way they wanted to play and the kinds of things they wanted to play were vastly different. There were times that you could see the wheels turning in Annika's head as she realized that this friend didn't understand what seemed obvious to Annika.

She kindly opted to play along at her friends level, and they had a good time. But I've seen her playing with neices of mine or Wendell, who are 6 or 7 and she plays much more like the older kids. I'm concerned that socially, Annika would benefit of being put ahead a grade, an idea that seemed proposterous to me before.

As Wendell and I consider our options, and there are many, do you have any experience of putting kids up a grade? Or were you bumped up? Did you like it or not? I'd really like to know.

I Have a Dream...

2011-01-05T19:01:00.005-07:00

It's goal time again. I acknowledge that you don't care and might even rather not know what my goals for 2011 are. Well, avert your eyes then, because I'm writing them anyway. You see for the last two years I've actually accomplished some goals because I've kept regular track of them.

You remember, (what? you don't? OK, I'll remind you.) two years ago I had a goal to read 20 books and I read, like, 25. And last year...you've already heard about last year, but the point is I accomplished at least one goal! Isn't that great!

So without further delay here are my goals for 2011--at least the ones I'll track on my side bar.

1. Homework. I have nine lessons that I need to do for a class I'm taking. I'd like to finish them all this year.

2. Read the General Conference talks. All of them. There are usually 6 "sessions" in each Conference Ensign. I want to read 12 sessions by the end of the year. (Right now I'm still on Saturday morning from the November Conference, although I did read the Priesthood session.)

3. Go to the temple. Having turned into a more regular temple going patron, I want to go even more this year. I'll set the goal at 18 times.

4. Lose 32.4 pounds. I'm taking quite a plunge in saying that I'm going to track how much weight I lose this year. I'm hoping you'll love me anyway even if I fail miserably. But I've also learned the power of the side bar. It keeps me motivated and focused. Let's see how I do.

5. Read the Book of Mormon. Note that I do not say finish. This was not even going to be one of my goals this year, but my Relief Society presidency wants the whole RS to read the whole Book of Mormon this year, so even though I'm not going to, I figured I could at least track the progress I'm making. I ended the year last year on page 158. The other reason I'm going to include this--it's a goal that I can't fail. As long as I read at least one more page, I've succeeded. I LOVE guarenteed success.

Of Goals and Things

2011-01-01T20:01:00.002-07:00

Last year I had three main goals:

1. To finish reading the Book of Mormon (again)

2. To read 8 novels to my kids

3. To make 10 temple trips

And...drumroll, please...I achieved one of the three!!!

Statistically, I don't think that's really great, but now I can take an opportunity to tell you why I'm not really minding.

First, the Book of Mormon is 531 pages long. So a mere 2 pages a day would have mastered that goal. And, as I recall, I started on page 30. By the end of January 2010 I was 57 pages in. So, um, what happened? Why am I only on page 158?

There are so many twists and turns on this path we call life that it's hard to foresee all of them. Or, really, any of them. And that, my friends, is what happened. There were a few twists and turns in the road of 2010 that I didn't see coming. It would appear that because of the aforementioned events that I gave up and all of my spiritual growth was put on hold for the year.

Not so. In fact, this year I think have grown more spiritually than in any other previous year of my life. Quoting a talk I read recently, I would say, "This time it is as if a veil has been removed from my spiritual mind and I see the same gospel, but in sharper focus, with clearer colors, and with added dimensions of understanding." (Elder F. Enzio Busche, "University for Eternal Life," Ensign, April 1989)

It has been amazing. It has been magnificent and incredibly painful, but, as always, it has been worth it.

In lue of reading the Book of Mormon daily, I substituted General Conference talks. First, I began with Nov 2009 Ensign and cherry picked the talks that I thought I needed. And there was so much in there for me that I started a quote journal. I got a beautiful little notebook and just began to jot down the messages Heavenly Father had for me in it. Then, I got my own copy of the May 2010 Ensign (Wendell and I now have "his" and "hers" copies) and I proceeded to read the entire thing cover to cover. I have never done that before.

That is not to say that I have been oblivious of the great messages from General Conference. I watch all 8 hours that are broadcast over the two days of Conference Weekend. And when I got my Ensign, I would always read the entire priesthood session, since I couldn't watch it. Sometimes I would read a talk here or a talk there, but often as not the Priesthood session was all that I would get done.

I had really overlooked the amazing experience of "feasting" on the words of modern day prophets with up to date revelation for the Lord's people right now. I pray I never do that again, because reading that Conference edition was so enriching. (I even read the YW's section!)

Despite all of the other reading and quote writing, I still read an additional 100 pages of the Book of Mormon. So, I think that is a great accomplishment, even if I didn't meet my goal.

Goal #2 was to read my kids 8 novels last year. In this post you can see that I just stole that as a goal from my friend and I guess I wasn't really committed. I tied my accomplishment of reading them 4 novels the year before and, perhaps, that's enough.

Goal #3 was to attend the temple 10 times. That is a terrible goal. Every year since I've been endowed, I've set a goal to go to the temple 12 times a year. And every year I've fallen short. 2009 was the record worst and I had gone to the temple only 7 times. So, for the first time in 13 years, I lowered my goal, hoping that I could actually achieve it.

And this year I have my personal best record of temple attendance. I found the temple to be an amazing refuge from those twists and the turns of life. It was a place I could ponder, I could pray and my mind would actually be still. I am so glad for every one of the 16 times that I went to the temple this year and hope that I will yet do better next year.

I am still thinking on the goals I need to set for 2011, but I am pleased with the results of 2010.

Which Do You Want First?

2010-12-23T20:30:00.003-07:00

Yesterday was Emma's follow up appointment with the eye doctor. First the good news: Emma's vision is better. Last month she was seeing 20/60 with her glasses on. Yesterday, 20/25 with glasses off. And the lines have straightened out. Things don't look so wavy or squished.

The bad news: Emma's eye is continuing to degenerate or dystrophy depending on which doctor you're talking to. This doctor, Dr. Carver, says that she can't have macular degeneration because degeneration is, by definition, an age related falling apart. You can't have age related falling apart when you are 11. So, he calls her condition Macular Dystrophy.

The image showed more fluid under her retina and more weakening and holes in upper layers of her retina or macula or something on the picture that wasn't there last time.

Dr. Carver didn't really mince any words. She would need shots every 4-6 weeks until.... Until. Until some researcher somewhere comes up with a better treatment. Which could be a while.

You remember, of course, how much Emma LOVES shots, right? Only this time she knew exactly what was happening. So she freaked out in advance. She was sobbing and shaking so hard that Dr. Carver literally couldn't put the Novocain in her eye. He suggested just putting in the injection of the real medicine, but warned that it would be a bit tender.

Finally, I sent the doctor out to give Emma some time to calm down. She cycled through hysteria and calmness followed by more hysteria. As luck would have it, a seventh grade girl named Alexa was shadowing her...mother (?) that day. This is the same blonde woman who brought Emma the chocolate last time. So she came in to talk to Emma with Alexa in tow. They realized that they both attended Cherry Hill in the gifted program and visited about Emma's teacher and some of Alexa's former classmates who Emma knew.

Then they came back in with chocolate chip cookies. And bribed Emma with a whole plate of cookies to take home to the younger siblings. Most of the way through her second giant chocolate chip cookie, Dr. Carver came in and Emma was able to get through the Novocain injection--which is the worst part. Then I read to her a silly book that I checked out from the library and she got through the injection. She didn't black out in her eye and we were able to get out quickly.

As we were setting up her next appointment, another woman from billing looked up and saw us.

"How are you?" she asked with concern.

"Fine," I said, smiling, "except that we're here."

The billing woman is the mother of one of Emma's classmates and she came with us on a field trip last year. She knew exactly how devastating a diagnosis like Emma's is. Of course, without knowing that Emma is already half blind. So, it's slightly worse than she thinks, but she, at least, had proper reverence for what Emma is up against.

And perhaps she'll keep Emma in her thoughts and prayers. Which can't hurt.

Organization and Behavior

2010-12-15T22:39:00.004-07:00

If I had a lot of money, I would pay a lot of money to have someone show up at my house and help me get organized. Sadly, I don't have a lot of money and I certainly don't have enough money to pay someone to organize my house. Do you think someone will take pity on me and help me with my house anyway?

I love to read about organizational behavior. I think it's fascinating. My favorite class in all of college was OrgB, which I took for my business minor. Sadly, there are no graduate degree programs at nearby schools for organizational behavior.

Three is Key

2010-12-08T22:26:00.005-07:00

Beck turned three on Monday. And I've been terrible about doing these kind of--for your blog book--kinda posts. But I have to do one for my little guy. So here are some fun things about Beck. (Note on the pics: These were all shot in early July when Beck was more than two and a half, but we're calling them his two-year pictures and I'm posting them now while talking about his third birthday. )

*He loves the alphabet. For months the only lullaby he wanted was the ABC's, which is, arguably, not a lullaby.

*My dad taught Beck "The Wind Mariah" Song. I had to sing it 9 zillion times. I only know one verse. Then, Beck began to sing it to me. So, so cute!

*Beck will take his pants off when he gets mad. It's the ultimate way to punish me.

*Beck has become quite the little singer. He sings Old Nick Donald (with a farm, farm here and a farm farm there), Mickey Mouse Club (M I C A V I...), and Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeep, among others.

*Often, Beck will hop on the piano, set the metronome, and "accompany" himself to any of various tunes.

*Beck's birthday was on a Monday this year, so the Saturday before Wendell took the other kids out to each buy Beck a present. He knew where they were going and what they were doing. Sunday morning Beck woke up and said, "I want presents!"

*Beck loves to give kisses. He will often give you a BIG smooch. Sometimes he has to go in a certain order with a hug, kisses, "noseys" (rubbing noses), butterfly kisses, high five and knuckles.

*Since turning three, Beck has announced that he is a big boy and not Baby Beck. He's Cohen Beck Wood!

*On Beck's birthday, he was asking for presents alllll daaaaay. At one point in the afternoon, Beck asked, "Can I have my presents now?" I said to him, "Do you see anyone here for your birthday party?" He thought for a second and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Annika?"

*After Beck's birthday, if he saw anything he wanted he would say, "You're gonna sing 'Happy Birthday To Me' and give me a present."

Do You See What I See? Part V

2010-12-04T21:07:00.002-07:00

Dr. Corey came in and Emma began whimpering.

"It's almost over," he told her. "You won't feel this at all."

He prepped us a bit on what to expect with the actual medication shot. Just like a basketball that's all ready full of air, getting a bit more air, Emma's eye pressure would increase when she got the injection. This leads to blacking out in the eye for a little while. If the eye pressure (and sight) don't return to normal fairly quickly, the doctor will withdraw a little fluid from the eye to correct the pressure.

Emma and I took our positions, her eyes on the wall and her hand in mine. Emma was more wary than she was for the first injection. She closed her right eye making the clamp hurt and once the injection began she turned her eyes back toward him, so he was unable to continue until she looked at her spot on the wall.

To Dr. Corey's credit, Emma didn't feel a thing. But the medication swirled in her eye making the room spin and go dark.

"It's gone," Emma said rather calmly.

"You can't see?" Dr. Corey asked.

"Uh huh," said Emma. "OK I'm ready to go now."

"Um. We've got to wait to make sure you can see first," Dr. Corey said.

"Oh. I can see," Emma insisted. She wanted out of there.

Dr. Corey lingered a bit rechecking her eye pressure until he was sure she was fine. Then Emma fairly bolted out of the room.

We picked up some nifty wraparound sunglasses that fit inside Emma's glasses and I led her out of the building and down the stairs to the car and directly to school.

********

Since the procedure, Emma's mentioned that lines are a little straighter. Dr. Corey told us that sometimes Emma's kind of macular degeneration can be corrected with only one injection. But he warned us that sometimes it takes many shots. He leaned into me at one point and told me that he thought Emma's eye would take many injections before her vision returned to normal.

Dr. Lloyd called this week to follow up and see how Emma was doing and answer any question I had. He told me that had Emma's left eye started to degenerate 7 years ago--when we discovered the blindness in her right eye--that the doctors would have only been able to say they were very sorry. And we would have sat helplessly watching Emma go blind.

But now, seven years later, there are two different injections--both with good track records. And Dr. Lloyd felt optimistic that there would be more good treatments in the future.

For now we just wait and see. Emma's vision has not yet returned to normal. Her next appointment is a couple days before Christmas. It's likely that she'll need another injection then. But Emma has come to terms with the fact that it's shots in the eye or going blind. And as much as she doesn't want to get shots in the eye, she wants to go blind even less.

I've put Emma's name on the temple prayer roll. We will be fasting for her tomorrow. But I have faith that whatever happens, will be the Lord's will. This trial, regardless of outcome, will help Emma, me and many others come to better appreciate the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

If you would, please join us in praying for Emma that her eye might be healed.

Do You See What I See? Part IV

2010-12-03T22:05:00.003-07:00

The assistant put numbing drops in Emma's eyes. Last year when I noticed her right eye wasn't tracking as well with her left as it used to, I took her into the retinal specialist who said everything looked fine. But when they tried to do an eye pressure test by tapping on her eye with a special "pen" she freaked out. Ultimately, they never did the test.

This year Emma took her numbing drops like a woman and didn't freak out even slightly over the test.

"That was easy!" she said when the assistant had finished. She and I were both very proud of this new accomplishment. Little did she know what else she would have to endure before the appointment was out.

The retinal specialist, Dr. Corey, came in asking questions about why we were there and so on and brusquely dismissing the answers as information he already had. He spoke a bunch of doctor mumbo-jumbo into a handheld recorder with a message for Dr. Lloyd. Emma looked at me wonderingly, asking with her body language if I had any idea what he was saying.

I shrugged my shoulders and motioned above my head. The most I was catching was "open parentheses, close parentheses".

Dr. C bustled through the appointment with appropriate awe at the indescribable "situation" in Emma's right eye and talked a bit about macular degeneration.

"This looks like a case of what we call wet macular degeneration. These situations are rare in children and we need a dye test to verify what I think, but that fluid and debris build up that Dr. Lloyd showed you in his scan, that looks like wet macular degeneration. First the dye test. We will inject dye into your blood stream and track it's movement in the eye..."

He went on for a while explaining that only 1 in 100 people start puking when they get the dye and only 1 in 100,000 has immediate cardiac arrest, so, really that means it's very, very safe. That wasn't really what Emma and I got out of those statements, but I acted cool, trying to extract the phrases like "safe" out of the doctor.

We were walked into the photography room where Emma was first photographed as she has been before. Up close pictures of her eyes were taken, then it was time for the dye. Emma hates needles. She burst into tears as the photographer was taking out the dye and syringe.

It had been a long morning and now she was being stuck with a needle. I tried to distract her, cracking lame jokes and plying her tissues for her running nose. Once the needle was in--it wasn't nearly as bad as she'd thought. As the dye was released into her blood stream, the photographer took a 20 second video clip of the dye entering and moving through her left eye then took pictures of the interior of each of her eyes every 30 seconds for 10 minutes. It actually wasn't as long as that sounds.

Emma was keen on the photographer. He was young and handsome and funny without meaning to be. She reported later that he was her favorite, him and the woman with the chocolate.

Once all the photography was complete, Dr. Corey came in and walked us through what we'd just seen.

"This is a standard case of macular degeneration. If I didn't have Emma sitting right here and I was just looking at these pictures of the eye, I would say that she was 55 with macular degeneration. See the brighter spots here and here," he said pointing at screen, "this is where she has leakage."

He explained that the eye has the retina, a layer of protective tissue, then blood vessels. If the protective layer weakens, as it has in Emma's case, then the blood vessels begin to leak like a garden hose that's perforated. As that fluid accumulates beneath the retina, the retina bends distorting the vision.

Then he said the best thing I had heard all day, "Fortunately, we have a couple of medications that work on macular degeneration. They must be injected into the eye, but the eye is easy to numb and the procedure will be completely painless."

Emma was whimpering already, so he continued, "I mean completely painless."

I am not a squeamish person by nature. And having been diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis when I was ten only added to my courage when it comes to medical procedures. I have never squirmed, whimpered or cried during a blood draw and I could take injections too. I've been given them in my hip, my backside and I've even given them to myself in the stomach.

But eyeball things have always bothered me. Stories of people going blind by accidentally poking a fork in their eye or even fake eye procedures on TV or in a movie left me queasy and unable to watch. I would clamp my hands over my own eyes and say loudly, "Is it over, is it over, is it over?" until the answer was, finally, yes.

So, as Dr. Corey instructed us that we would move into the next room to do the procedure immediately, Emma and I would both have to face our worst fears.

"Did you hear that he said, 'painless'?" I asked Emma as she grudgingly allowed herself to be led in to the procedure room.

"I don't like needles," was her only answer.

Dr. Corey popped in and out of the room dropping numbing drops and antibiotics over and over in Emma's eye. I pulled a chair up and loudly read Eragon, working to keep her calm.

Eventually, Dr. Corey came in and was ready to begin. First, we learned, she would get an injection of Novocain--exactly like they use at the dentist's office. That would, he revealed, pinch a little, but it wouldn't be bad and everything after that would be painless.

I held Emma's left hand with my right. "You can squeeze my hand a hard as you want if it hurts."

The doctor put an eye clamp on, to keep her eyelids out of the way, exposing her whole eyeball. She picked a spot on the wall and stared at it as the doctor poked a needle in my daughter's eye and injected enough fluid to pucker a spot on the white of her eye into a tiny, puffy pillow. She squeezed my hand hard, but made it through.

"That was the worst," Dr. Corey assured us. "The next one is easier."

I looked my daughter constantly in the eye, even with the puffy puckered part, and told her that she would be fine. As I settled down to read Eragon again, a thin blonde woman poked her head in the door.

"Do you need some chocolate?" she asked.

To Emma, this women was an angel with special vision to present her with the perfect gift. Emma just gaped for a moment.

"You see," the woman explained, "we have this leftover chocolate from Halloween and, I don't know about you, but chocolate helps me feel better."

Emma giggled a little, "Me, too."

"Would you like the chocolate now or after?"

Emma paused, thinking. "Um... after," she answered without conviction.

"Because, if it were me I'd want it both. Now and after."

Emma relented with a giggle again. "Me, too."

The woman returned momentarily with an unopened bag of mini candy bars and insisted that Emma take two handfuls. I unwrapped them for Emma, who could see less and less clearly, as I read. She was, for a moment in heaven, a book to listen to and chocolate in her mouth. She has just polished off the last mini candy bar when Dr. Corey returned for the final time.

Do You See What I See? Part III

2010-11-27T19:27:00.004-07:00

Back in the exam room, Emma's appointment turned very normal. Mostly, we did more of what we'd just done in the opthamologist's office. The only real things of note we're on a test on Emma's "blind" eye, they put a little screen in front of her eye and asked her if she could see better.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Emma said. She seemed impressed. "The letters are a 'C' and 'N'," she said with confidence. The screen made her vision worse in the left eye.

"What was that?" I asked the assistant.

"It was pinholes that change the way that light is refracted. We just want to see if there's a way to eke more vision from the blind eye."

It had been seven and half years since we had discovered that Emma was blind in her right eye. No one had ever tried to eke more vision out of that eye. I was intrigued, but the focus at today's appointment is Emma's left eye.

Do You See What I See? Part II

2010-11-23T08:33:00.002-07:00

We walked into the retinal specialist's office on the heels of our nurse. She handed off a chart and some squiggles Emma had drawn on a small grid--showing where and how her vision is distorted.

I stood expectantly holding both Emma's and my coats, Emma's backpack and my purse. I shifted my weight from one foot to another. "You may have a seat," the receptionist instructed us and I dumped my armload on a chair.

"What time is it?" Emma asked for the second time that morning. She HATES to miss school and has received awards in years past for 100% attendance. In first grade, she begged me to let her go to school the day after she had been released from a children's hospital with a head injury she got sledding. Not want to squelch her enthusiasm, I let her go.

"9:30," I told her. She sighed. The book report she had worked so hard on the night before was due today and, as much as she loves books, she was hoping to do an "author share" where she would talk about her book in such a way that other's would want to read it. The time the share would end was at 9:15 when the remaining half of the class arrived.

To say that Emma loves to read is a massive understatement. She reads, 250 books annually. At least. When she was in third grade, I realized that Emma could read faster than I could and maintain the same level of reading comprehension. Now as a 6th grader, she can read exactly twice as fast as I do.

With her eyes dilated, she can't read, but she needed desperately to get her hands on a book. "Can you read to me?" Emma asked. "Books calm me," she admitted, "when I feel nervous they just let me escape."

"I get that," I told her. "Have you got a book with you?"

She went through her backpack and pulled out Eragon by Christopher Paolini. It's 544 pages long and Emma has read it 5-6 times. It's a favorite of hers and I like that it takes her 3-4 days to read it. I opened to the first page and began, "Prologue: Shade of Fear. Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world...."

I couldn't help thinking that a chapter about shades of fear and the world changing was rather apropos. I didn't find the book nearly as distracting as Emma did. We were only a few pages in when we were called back.

Do You See What I See? Part I

2010-11-22T15:59:00.004-07:00

Thursday afternoon, Emma (11.5), said to me that she was having trouble seeing things on the computer. "It's been going on for a little while now, where straight lines look wavy and round objects look squished and oblong."

I led her over to a small cabinet. "Does this look wavy?" I asked. "Yes," she said, and so do the blinds and the lines between the tiles."

Now any mother of any child is going to react when the child starts having weird visual disturbances, but Emma is already blind in her right eye. When she was born there was a vein that grew into her field of vision. On that vein is a calcium deposit and a bubble of fluid. These things combine to block the center of her vision. She has peripheral vision and a little on the inside of the eye, but dead center is blank, blinding that eye. But this wasn't a huge issue, because aside from being a bit farsighted, Emma could see just fine out of the left eye. Until now.

I quickly called a few doctors and got her an appointment first thing Friday morning. The first appointment that was available in the morning was with a friend from high school. My mom had seen him and was impressed, so I was delighted that he had an opening early.

We explained to Dr. Lloyd what was going on with Emma. He had her eyes dilated, scanned and examined. As he showed us the scan he explained, "As you can see here there is fluid and debris under her retina. This fluid is bending the retina which distorts her vision."

He paused and looked at us. "Now the question you have to have is, does this have anything to do with the right eye? I don't know. But logic says, it has to."

Emma looked at me with some panic. She knows very well that she's blind in her right eye and if the same process was happening in the left...

Dr. Lloyd left to call the retinal specialist and see if we could get in now. Emma slumped in her chair and said, "I'm scared." I went over to her and hugged her. I wanted to cry and was fighting against the tears that were swelling. Someone had just told me that my little girl, my avid reader, was going blind. Or might be going blind. I wanted to sit down and just have a good ol' cry. But I needed to be strong for Emma. We had so little information at that point and my friend, Mike was trying to get us into the specialist who could give us that information. Mike came in and told us that the retinal specialist would take us right now and one of the nurses would walk us over to the specialist's office.

As we left, Dr. Lloyd looked me in the eye. Despite my chipper disposition, he could see that I was fighting back the tears and the worry. "Call me," he said, "and tell me what they say." I nodded, shook his hand and thanked him.

Pumpkins

2010-10-28T11:12:00.002-06:00

Bragging Rights

2010-10-16T20:23:00.003-06:00

If you hate it when people brag about their kids--avert your eyes. Annika (4.5) read a verse of scriptures tonight all by herself. (Note: by herself means that she had no help.)

Here is her verse: "Behold, now it came to pass in the sixty and ninth year of the reign of the judges over the people of the Nephites, that Nephi, the son of Helaman, returned to the land of Zarahemla from the land northward." (Helaman 7:1)

Seriously.

Let's Pretend (Also Known as Day 1)

2010-10-13T16:45:00.006-06:00

Let's pretend that it's early March and I just returned from my trip to Germany. This post is our pretended "yesterday post" and I'm happy, tired, jet-lagged and so delighted to be with my children while simultaneously missing the good German food and far away friends...

I'm back!! It was such a wonderful trip that I will have to post a zillion posts just to tell you every that happened on my trip to Germany.

Day 1: As I'm flying into Munich, I realize that, although Inga told me that some family member or friend would pick me up, I had no idea who that would be. After landing and getting my luggage, I picked the door "nothing to declare" even though I had no idea what people have to declare when they do have "something to declare."

I had an amusing interchange with some guards who spoke about 55% English. It went like this...

M: If I had to declare something what would it be?

G: You have something to declare?

M: No. I don't think so... I...

G: You have nothing to declare.

M: Well, I just don't know. I mean, if you have to declare something, what is it?

G: You have something to declare?

M: I guess not.

G: You have nothing to declare.

M: (walking away slowly) OK. Bye. Thanks. (muttering under my breath)...I think.

(Note: I have since learned that having "something to declare" means you're bringing large quantities of cash, items to sell, fire arms, chemicals and the like. Most "regular" people will never have anything to declare.)

After the above hilarity, I walked slowly with my luggage scanning the crowd for someone holding a sign with my name on it. Although I'd only ever seen him in pictures, I recognized him right away. Inga had sent Emil, her fiance, to pick me up.

(Note: Emil wasn't wearing a tux or holding a bouquet at the airport. All that came later...)

Emil recognized me, too, even though we'd never met, and he was just putting the sign down and coming to help me with my luggage when I spotted him.

You always hope, when you meet a friend's future spouse, that you're going to like that person. I instantly fell in love with Emil. (Not like that. In the I'm-happy-that-he's-going-to-be-my-friend's-husband kinda way.) He's charming, smart, funny, tall, cute. I kept thinking, Inga, you lucky girl! Every moment I was with Emil made me happy for Inga. Plus, he just seems like the kind of guy that you'd be friends with.

I know that you don't want to hear every minor detail so, I'll sum up.

*As Emil loaded my luggage into the car, I broke my sunglasses.

*Emil drove me straight to Inga's work so I could see her for a moment. She looked fabulous and happy and we made dinner plans for later.

*Emil drove me to the hotel where I was happy to see Inga's parents.

*Hannalore, Inga's mom, kept patting her face and saying, "You look so, so...." I filled in the blank for her, "Old." We laughed and laughed.

*We went to a Starbuck's Coffee place where I got to visit with Udo, Hannalore, Inga's grandma and her grand aunt. I drank water without carbonation. It was perfect.

*Udo and Hannalore, took me back to the hotel and let me sleep.

It was a sight for tired eyes. And aren't German beds just cool?

OK. So I didn't get through Day 1. But the dinner needs it's own (shorter) post.

PS My sister thinks Inga's mom's name is spelled Hannelore. She's probably right. But I don't know. Inga, if you read this will you tell me how to spell your mom's name?

Carpet Cleaner Coming Leads to a Quick Clean Up

2010-10-08T20:51:00.005-06:00

It is a known fact that I stink as a homemaker. I'm a reasonably good mother, but no risk of getting Mother of The Year. I'm good with academics. That's really my strong suit. But I'm terrible at the clean-house-lovely-decorations-feng-shui kinda thing. Terrible. That's why this was such a big freakin' deal.

Once I had accomplished that not-so-small feat. I decided to call the carpet cleaner.

There was a time when I was as regular with having the carpet cleaner as I

was at the dentist. And I'm perfect with dentist appointments. Every six months, like clock work. But having the last two babies back to back, I just started thinking, why? Why should I have the carpet cleaner come when some baby is going to urp on the carpet tomorrow? So I waited until the urping was done. Plus a year. Then I cleaned up and called the carpet cleaners.

Now, in the week between when I called and when the cleaners could actually come, um, the basement wasn't quite so tidy. And, um, the upstairs which hadn't been thoroughly tidied in quite a while was, um, still in need of tidying.

So at 8:00AM, the morning of the carpet cleaning, Wendell and I flew into a frenzy trying to clean up. We were the first appointment of the day and the cleaners were coming at 9:00. At 8:50 Wendell and I were in a sweat. The basement family room was mostly devoid of furniture, but still littered with small toys and crumbs and garbage. And the upstairs living room had barely been touched.

At 9:10 we were going strong, grateful the cleaners were late. I may or may not have been praying that they would break down and be really, really late. And Wendell may or may not have been cursing me for setting the freakin' appointment at 9-freaking-AM.

At 9:15 the cleaners called and said they'd be late. I was having a forced pit stop to change a poopy diaper. If I'd been on the phone, I would have told them not to hurry and I was glad they were late. But Wendell got the phone and just said things like, "Yeah. OK." and stuff.

At 9:25 Wendell headed out the door to take Annika to pre-school. I was now alone to do all remaining cleaning. Suddenly Wendell popped back in. "They're here," he said. And took off with Annika. Real panic set in now. I started scooping up armfuls of papers, piano books, and cub scout manuals from the Bermuda Triangle portion of our living room, and sprinting to my bedroom to dump the things on my bed, which wasn't made.

At 9:30 the first carpet cleaner entered my home, saw my disheveled living room and me in my drenched sweats and said, all casual-like, "Hi. So....are you ready for us?" I paused, panting, and grinned. "Yeah. But I need you to start downstairs." As he brought in his cleaning materials, the sprinting to the bedroom continued.

Wendell returned from the pre-school drop and helped me finish cleaning up, just in time for carpet cleaner guy #2 to arrive. All of the necessary dumps had been made and I was frantically vacuuming with my Dyson as he stood with his trusty old fangled vacuum that vacuums 10 bazillion times better than my Dyson, and saying with a rural Utah drawl (if there is such a thing), "I can vacuum this. You can stop now."

So I turned the carpets over to him and went and did the dishes (both sinks were full) and wiped the counters which were still showing the remains of breakfast. And I cleaned for another hour, solid.

When they left, I collapsed. But not on my bed, because it was full of stuff. And I ignored my bed-full-of-stuff until bedtime, at which point, I could no longer ignore it. So at 11:00-ish PM Wendell and I walked into our room to see how long it would take to clear our bed, which looked like this.

And I started laughing. "What's so funny?" Wendell wondered. Between giggles, I pointed at the book.

Yep. It's All Too Much by Peter Walsh, the organizing book that instructs you to throw away all your junk. Ah. The irony of it all.

Twice a Year...

2010-10-06T16:17:00.003-06:00

General Conference* is one of the highlights of the year for me. I love nesting down for two days in the basement and being with the family for 8 hours of church (over two days).

As a kid I so looked forward to Conference because it meant laying out sleeping bags in front of the TV, doing quiet activities, listening to the prophet, wearing PJ's to church, and eating special conference snacks.

I've worked to reenact this fun for my kids. My family, when I was growing up, was comprised of three little, (mostly) reverent girls. My current family is comprised of five children including three boys--enough said. The long and the short of it is my kids are often loud and occasionally rowdy and sometimes someone spends a few minutes of Conference in a time-out.

But all in all, I think it is good for them. And I think it's good for them to learn to stop and sit and listen to messages of guidance and instruction.

There were dozens of talks on different subjects over the eight hours of learning and lessons, but each year it seems that I get a succinct personal message. This year the message was: Don't follow the crowd. You are Christians, you are Mormons, you are different--so act that way. Stop watching the smutty TV shows, stop listening to music with suggestive lyrics, in fact, just stop. Stop and listen to your children, don't over-schedule them and be present with them.

I have plenty to work on. And I can't wait to get next month's Ensign!!

*Mormon 101: General Conference is a biannual meeting of the entire Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (Nearly 14 million members world wide.) This meeting gives members the opportunity to hear teachings and get instructions from Prophets and Apostles on the earth today.