Kissing palms

This morning I awoke to the crying of two of my babies.  The oldest I gently picked up, wrapped her in her tattered pink blanket and laid her in a warm cozy nest next to Jon.  And she was safe and happy, in one of the most comforting places in her little world.  Jon gathered her into his strong arms and I left them to their moment.  Then I went in to the outstretched arms of my little boy who stood at the end of his crib in his dark room. I gathered him up, excited for a 5 am snuggle. I sat in my faithful friend, the sage green rocking chair that has nestled me while I've nestled all four of my babies. And true to routine, I cradled my baby boy's tender head in the nook of my arm as he effortlessly nuzzled in and began to nurse.  Perfection in my opinion, an absolutely untainted natural moment for a mother and baby.  Only the two of us will ever share these moments.  Only the two of us will ever know our routine; the way I swivel the chair to kick my feet onto the wall, the way he gently rubs the top of my garments.  He was wide awake this time, his beautiful eyes looking at me.  I would smile at him and he would keep nursing, just staring.  What was he thinking about?  I knew that all I was thinking about was how in love I am with this darling boy of mine.  He put his hand up to my face and I kissed his tiny little palms.  Oh, how I love that.  He would tuck his fingers around his blanket and then, after a moment, he'd put his hands to my lips and let  me kiss his soft tiny little palms again.  And this is what we did.  So absolutely quiet and unknown to anyone and all I wanted to do was bottle it up to enjoy again any time I wanted.  But alas, that is not how moments work.  It is now a memory and he is now a moment older, a moment closer to coming into his own.  It is such a painful realization, one that puts into perspective how precious time really is.  I'm going to miss our moments cradled in my rocking chair.  But, I'm prepared to savor and so very grateful that I've had these moments in the first place. 

moments worth recognizing

I truly wonder sometimes how and why I have been so blessed.  Many people think that all children do is take, take, take. And in many ways it’s true.  No longer do I have my pre-baby body,  my privacy, a clean house, or the chance to eat a dessert without having to share. But these beautiful girls have given me so much that the things they take are replaced a hundred fold.  I would give everything I have for them.  I love them so much!

I tucked Reagan into bed tonight and was blessed with one of those rare opportunities when you realize how precious the” everyday” is.  Too often I find myself going through the motions without being engaged, without treasuring or realizing what a gift each moment is. Tonight Rea asked me to lay out her blanket on her bed, like she does every night, so she can lie on top of the soft side of her “pink.”  She doesn’t like to crawl into cold sheets and likes her blanket to be just so, laid straight without wrinkles or folds.  Many nights I try to convince her that her sheets are just fine, that somehow my being tired and barely able to grant another request justifies not recognizing something so unique and beautiful to her.  There will come a night that she will no longer ask for me to lay her blanket out, soft side up, minus the wrinkles.  But I have it now, I have it tonight.  So, I kissed her beautiful face that snuggled against the softness of her pink, and realized how special it is to truly know someone and their intricacies. Isn’t life lived in the details?

 Every morning, as Jon is racing through his morning routine, no matter how late he is, Rea insists on sharing with him an “I love you” bump before he heads out the door.  And, amidst her many declarations throughout the day that I am a mean or horrible mom, she is also great to announce in very random moments that I am the “best mom ever” and that she loves me more than “a house and a car and a planet and a toilet.”  That’s a lot of love and no one can say it as well as she can.

She gets out of bed multiple times in a night, requesting ice cold water, a snuggle or a hug and kiss.  Often I hear her tiptoe into our room in the wee hours of the morning after a potty break, leaving the hall light on and dragging her blanket behind her. Ever so carefully and quietly, she crawls over either Jon or me, and snuggles in between us and within seconds is fast asleep pressed closely against our backs.   Often she is so stealthy that neither Jon nor I are aware that she is there until we get a notorious jab in the side,  a forceful shove, or a kick to the head. Often I am awakened by her tiny finger poking me in the forehead over and over again.  “Mom.” Poke, poke. “Mom.” Poke, poke, poke.

Fearless, she carries confidence and is completely uninhibited.  It does not matter who or what you are.  She is most often the first to volunteer in music, primary, or preschool.  The other day in fast and testimony meeting she marched herself up to the podium by herself without an inkling of intimidation and bore her testimony as clearly and easily as if she had done it a thousand times before… “My name is Reagan.  I love my daddy.  I love the Spirit.  In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

I think of my baby Hayden and how she loves to stretch out long from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes,  how she finds comfort in the nook of my neck or with her  cheek against mine.  She always snuggles in deep, radiating pure love and trust in her tiny embraces.  I love how she lights up when she sees me and her arms and legs flail with excitement when I go to pick her up.  It’s incredible to be someone’s world and she makes me feel so wanted and special.  No one else can do for her like I can and that is an amazing and beautiful opportunity.

She enjoys showers and sucking on shoulders and giggles every time her zippered jammies are zipped up underneath her chin.  When she sleeps, she arches her back and wiggles and squiggles until her face is buried in a soft blanket.  When she nurses, she wraps her hands in her blanket and pulls it to her cheek and has a sweet quirk of digging her straight little thumb into things and popping it.

I’m going to miss her little quiver which has faded as she’s grown.  Her precious bottom lip would tremble every so often, enticing me to gather her quickly into my arms to comfort her.

And my precious Mo, who has the entire world at her fingertips, never ceases to amaze or amuse me.  She is silently strong, and most tender and constant.  The cold, silky, shredded binding on her favorite blanket is a testament to how deeply she loves.  Her icy toes always find their way into the small of my back in the early mornings accompanied by all that is on her mind at that moment with her morning chattiness.  Without fail, as I pull her covers up under her chin at night, she has two requests, a glass of water and an answer to her predictable question, “what are we doing tomorrow?”

Through her sweetness is a little bit of sass.  She speaks her mind, and stands up for fairness.  She likes to poke at people, finding what irritates and pushing to the limit.  Snapping her fingers is a new talent that she’s discovered and she knows that it irritates me.  She’ll snap her fingers with a slight smile and twinkle in her eye until I notice.  Then she giggles knowing that she got me.  She also likes to poke at Reagan, knowing how to get her into trouble.

 I often find her huddled with her knees to her chest and a crayon in her hand, creating the most amazing things and she loves to share this gift with others.  The faith and testimony of the Lord radiates from her and she has a spiritual gift that is undeniable.  Always poised and proper, she emulates a true lady.

Although these girls are so different with amazing gifts unique to them, I adore them all with my entire being.  I just hope that I can learn to treasure the moments; the super simple, unpredictable kinds.

Antique

Nothing like your six year old serving up a reality check...


Setting: Kitchen at lunch time.  Hot pockets are in the microwave. Girls are sitting at the counter.(Disclaimer: I only serve hot pockets on a rare occasion.  I know they aren't the wholesome lunch I should give my kids. But, it happens.) 

Morgan (after remembering a previous conversation.): "You used to eat hot pockets every morning when you were a kid?"

Me: "Yes, I did.  Every morning on my way to drill team."

Mo:  "Wow!  And they still make them?"


Setting: Laying on Morgan's bed with the family getting ready to read our bedtime story.  The Very Bad Bunny is in hand. 

Me:  "This was one of my favorite books when I was little.  Actually, this is my book.  See, I wrote my name in it."

Mo: "So this was your book?"

Me: "Yes."

Mo: "So that means that it is really old."  Said as if she was holding an antique. 

Girls' Dance Recital

November 20, 2011

Cruise

November 2010

Life Vantage Cruise

Miami

1st Day at Sea

Jamaica

Diving

Swimming with the Sting Rays

Last Night on Ship

Heading Home

mornings

The air in our room was chilly and very still, which complimented my warm bed perfectly. I was awake but unwilling to move. I was so comfy. Jon was breathing steadily next to me, putting me in a trance. He started to stir, shifting his pillow and rolling over and then he was still again. The sun was beginning to peak through the curtains and I couldn't help but feel annoyed. It was too soon for morning; too soon for hustle and bustle and obligations. The need to not be anywhere or do anything was nice. Very nice. And I knew that that moment wouldn't last long.

I heard little footsteps, my door opened, the light flip on and then off, and the footsteps returned to their corner of the house. I waited. They are so predictable. A few minutes later, those little feet stopped on the side of the bed. Morgan, her hair knotted in the back, her yellow flung over her shoulder, crawled into bed and snuggled in between Jon and me. Her head was next to Jon's, pushing him off his pillow. His arm overlapped her belly from one side and mine wrapped around her from the other. I recalled something my grandma said about always feeling safe in her parent's bed and I hoped we could we always be a safe haven for her.

All was quiet and still. We refused to open our eyes or move in the slightest. Content is the best word to describe us. Well, almost. In came Reagan and without so much as a word, she pushed me over, crawled into the covers on the side of the bed and snuggled into my back, flinging her pink and white blanket over her. Now we were content.

And we laid there for a long time. All of us in our bed, fitting perfectly together like a puzzle. And I thought about how we were a family and how our picture isn't complete without each puzzle piece fitted together. Maybe our puzzle is complete. Hopefully it isn't. But the picture it forms right now is beautiful and I am very happy.

Hawaii

November, 2010
Big Island, Hawaii

Jon and I had the opportunity to leave the Utah snow behind to bask in the beautiful rays of the Hawaiian sun for a few days. The Hilton Waikoloa delivered and delivered in excess: Sparkling pools, a lagoon inhabited by giant sea turtles, the constant chatter of dolphins, a museum walkway full of beautiful art and artifacts. Truly paradise.

After a restful few hours of sleep our first night, we were awakened pre-dawn by the tropical sounds of the native birds... thousands of them right outside our door. With no way of escaping the less-than-pleasant chatter, we embraced the early Hawaiian sun and prepared for our first day's adventure... a tranqual waterfall hike.

We joined our new friends in the back of an ancient Austrian military vehicle that bounced and rattled us miles through tiny villages and remote forests until we parked under a make-shift canopy at the beginning of our trail. We filed ourselves out into the mud, observed a family of wild pigs, and headed out into the thick green abyss.

Our tour guide was awesome, a biologist who knew his stuff. He told us about the plants and the animals and the culture as we walked along trails eating Strawberry Guava straight off the trees. It rained unceasingly drowning the trail and our borrowed yellow rain jackets but not our spirits. We bounded around observing this unique environment, ooing and awing over the beautiful falls and the lush, thick vegetation.

It smelled so good, different from the rain on dust we love at home in the desert... it was rain on mud and giant palm leaves and whispy ferns. Damp and musty. Delicious actually.

After our hike we were loaded once again into our imported vehicle with nothing more than a canopy to shelter us from the pelting tropical rain. We huddled within our borrowed jackets as mud splashed up onto our backs from the tires as our guide recklessly chauffeured us to our dining accommodations.

Atop a giant cliff overlooking a cove were multiple red picnic tables pooling with rain drops. The view was spectacular with the heavy clouds nuzzling the cliff sides and barely balancing above the waves. The precipitation was no longer light and bearable but beating and relentless. There was no shelter so we happily ate our hogie sandwiches and fresh fruit amidst the puddles that jumped and bubbled with rain drops.

That evening, after we dried our soggy toes, Jon and I walked along the shore hand in hand on our way to dinner. I toted a carefully guarded box toward a rocky cove where I gave it to Jon. Not so long before, in those very waters, Jon's wedding ring was snatched off his finger and has since been buried somewhere off the beautiful Big Island never to be retrieved. I had intentions on replacing his ring for Christmas but felt it much more appropriate to give it to him along the same thieving shore. Full circle, if you will. Gratefully, he loved it.

Sporting his new ring, Jon then escorted me to our Luau where we enjoyed VIP treatment. The pig roasted behind us, servers bustled around and a man in nothing more than a loin cloth blew a conk shell announcing the setting of the sun. We enjoyed traditional Hawaiian food which never ceased nor did the tropical drinks and entertainment. At the end of the night Jon and I were both lured on stage to hula; me with a strong, well-built man in a grass skirt and Jon with a beautiful native girl in coconut shells. After dinner we were invited as guests to attend a concert of Three Dog Night. Who knew? More entertaining than the entertainers were the middle-aged drunks who slung beer all over as they danced completely unihibited in the isles, falling all over one another half conscious. Great times!

The next day we enjoyed the sea air on a catamaran that anchored in a beautiful cove with gigantic cliffs that towered above the crashing waves. Jon and I put on our snorkeling gear and enjoyed the surprises the shallow water was hiding. It was so peaceful bobbing atop the waves, watching the colorful fish elegantly glide through the coral.

We were famished after being tossed in the waves. Bubba Gumps treated us well with a vast array of delicious delights from the sea, my favorite being the coconut shrimp. To settle our food before our bus ride back to the resort, we browsed in the simple shops that lined the street. The flee market bragged gigantic unusual flowers and exotic fruit, wooden creations and hand made jewelry. The winding road back to the resort lulled us to sleep.

We arrived back at the resort just in time to dress up for a special dinner at Ruth's Chris. Our Hawaiian vacation friends joined us for rock-star treatment in a glitzy limo. We sat around a large table talking and laughing and eating the delicious cuisine that kept coming in droves. The people were so interesting, from every walk of life with wild stories to tell and we enjoyed the evening immensely.

The next morning Jon went golfing on a neighboring course that had beckoned him since we arrived. He enjoyed the fantastic ocean views complete with spouting whales and 18 holes of pristine greens while I enjoyed some quiet time by the glistening pool.

I loved the days when we soaked up the sun without a care in the world. This day was great, reading poolside, drinking exotic drinks. We also got to swim with the dolphins who were lovingly kept right below our hotel room. The main attraction was a three month old baby dolphin who stole the hearts of all who gazed upon her. She would swim next to her mother in the shallow pools, oblivious to the crowd who gathered to adore her. She was darling.

That night, our final night, we attended the most astounding dinner on the shore at sunset. The theme was Blue Hawaii, the linens blue Hawaiian print and the center pieces ukuleles draped with blue leighs. It was breathtaking to say the least.

The food was exquisite. Potatoes, corn, crab legs, lobster tails and pork sausage steamed for hours in special baskets. Delicious!

After our meal, we were graced with a little Elvis. This impersonator was eccentric and cooky and awfully entertaining. He was a womanizer and the intoxicated ladies fell at his feet, giving his ego the boost he was looking for. He was actually pretty good and with the sun setting behind him in the calm ocean, our evening was quite magical. It was a nice end to a fantastic adventure.

Unfortunately, as with all good things, it had to come to an end. After a red eye flight, Jon and I hazily pulled our luggage into the frigid air where we realized that we were now facing reality. Jon scraped the snow off our car and we raced home to our little girls, the only reason we got on the return flight home.