12 things i learned in 2014

2014 was the best of times and the worst of times. Didn't I say that about 2013, too? Anyway--there's a lot of this year I love thinking back on and a lot I would like to forget...except for the lessons they taught me and the character they shaped.

Here are 12 things I learned this year:

1. HOMESCHOOLING IS AWESOME

The year I took in 2013 to homeschool my E through 8th grade made a HUGE difference as he headed into high school. He is organized, motivated, on task, and enjoying learning. He went from failing most of his classes to all A's and B's.

I am continuing to homeschool J and L, now 3rd and 5th grade. We do a hybrid where twice a week they attend a charter school learning center to study History and Science, and the other three days a week are spent at home learning everything else. It's the perfect mix of socialization, class work, mentoring, self-directed learning, and Pokemon trading at lunch. 

So, we have four kids in public school and two homeschooling (with one wishing she could homeschool but we don't get to pick for her--bummer). It is the perfect fit for our life, and I love it!

2. I AM NOT INVINCIBLE

I have spent so much time pushing myself further/harder, always healing quickly, that I was surprised at just how much injury plagued me this year. I had a torn adductor brevis muscle that hobbled me for a good month, a wonky elbow that still gives me pain, sore ankles, strained foot arches, a numb hand, two ear infections, and a nearly broken foot. I still haven't figured out if that means I need to work out more, less, or differently, but I have learned that I have to give myself proper down time or pay the price in re-injury. On the plus side, down time means books, snuggles, and chocolate.

3. I LOVE THE BEACH!

I spent a LOT of time at the beach this year. I have two kiddos who took to boogie boarding and wanted to go all the time. Plus, with the uncommonly hot summer we had and no air conditioning in our house, it was the best place to go and cool down. I love seeing it at different times of day, love searching for shells and sea glass at low tide, love the salty tang of the air, the feel of  water swirling around my ankles, love the beachy curls it creates in my hair. A good barefoot run on the sand is a free heel exfoliating. Also, beach people are really, really nice.

4. THINGS ALWAYS GET BETTER

I think the most frustrating thing about 2014 was that it seemed we could NOT catch a break! As soon as we'd knock one problem down, another would pop up, often at the same time that the problem we had just fixed came unfixed. I have no idea how we got through some of what we did...but we did. Usually at the last minute and almost always with the help of friends, family, and angels on earth. Here was a thought from my journal about our cycle of woes:

"It's one of those days that comes after a long stretch of tough days. It feels, in fact, as if our life has been playing a game of "what can go wrong today" for the last month--car problems, tax problems, school problems, gossip problems, house problems, work problems, health problems, etc. etc. Not that our blessings weren't always there to soften the blows, but when your reserves of faith and patience get all used up, even listing your blessings feels more like making a hit list of what is going to be tried next than an exercise in gratitude. However, today feels like everything is going to be ok, even though nothing has changed. My family is amazing. My life is exceptional. My body is strong. My talents are better than your average bear. I live where I can hear the ocean. Little girls think I'm Ariel. Things are going to work out. They always were going to. I just needed a little clear thinking to remember."

I hope 2015 will be a little less stressful, but I go into knowing that as long as I am working my hardest and holding to the faith, everything works out.

5. I SHOULDN'T GO INTO THE T-SHIRT MAKING BUSINESS...

Seriously. Forgot the T.   I was supposed to be the GANGSTA of  love. Mr. Perfect wouldn't let me throw it out though. It's in a place we can see and  laugh about it regularly. 

6.  YOU CAN'T BEAT A CALIFORNIA SUNSET

'Nuff said.

7. OUR KIDS ARE GOOD SPORTS

We dress them up, we teach them silly songs, we make movies with them and have them puppet creatures and they are (nearly) always on board for the adventure. It often feels like we are raising the Little Rascals. We wouldn't change a thing!

8. HAVING GIRLS IS FUN!

I really, really like being a mom to girls. I'm still learning but they are patient with me. I love them dearly.

9. THE FAMILY THAT VOLUNTEERS TOGETHER...

We had a lot of opportunities this year to take the kids and do service. Sometimes they were more excited than others, but they were always happy they went at the end of it. This particular picture is of us digging up wild mustard and planting milkweed to attract butterflies to the area just behind the therapeutic riding center. Every time we pass by it, the kids remember and  are proud of their work (which has now grown into a lovely, lush area). 

10. PUBLISHING A BOOK IS AWESOME!!

I'm the writer who married the artist--but he still got his book published before mine :). It was AWESOOOOOME! We loved driving around to various bookstores and spying it. The launch party sold out. Amazon sold out. The reviews have been great. Kids love it. Book two of the series comes out in June. We can't wait to do it all again! My day for publishing will come sooner or later and it won't be nearly as colorful, but that's the awesome thing about marrying someone just like you who is also different.

11. I AM STILL IN LOVE WITH BOISE

Even with all the beaches and warm golden sunshine California has been seducing me with, nothing can replace my beloved Boise. So, so happy to have finally got to go back (after nearly two years!). Mr. Perfect loves it too. We have got to find some way to live between both places. The answer seems like money. But that seems like the answer to a lot of things. In the mean time, I cherish the perfect weekend I spent there revisiting all my old favorite places. They hadn't forgotten about me. Boise is kind like that.

12. AND DOG MAKES US A FAMILY OF 9

When your oldest is 17, and you realize you only have a year left with him at home, and the only thing he asks for is a dog for Christmas, and he has asked for one since he was 10, and you can hardly say no to his big green eyes, and some friends set you up with the perfect dog looking for a new home, and even offer to drive all the stinking way to Utah to bring the dog back, and then your kids have the best surprise ever Christmas morning...

You are happy.

A nearly perfect life just got a nearly perfect dog added to it.

2014--I won't be sad to see you go, but I thank you for all you have given me. And all you have taken in the form of pride, fear, and stubbornness. I pray 2015 will be full of more pleasant surprises, but ever softened by the experiences of the past year.

8 things you should know about raising a teenager

You guys, let's pretend the only blog posts I've written in the last four months haven't been in my head and move on to today.

Today my oldest child, my first born, my baby, is...17.

17! 

I can remember being 17. Like yesterday! I applied for college at 17, had a job, I graduated. It is not possible that the little bundle of baby blue that totally spun my world on its axis with his  birth can be practically as old as I was when I had him.

But time has blown by the way my mom used to always say it would, and which I never understood until about that point I started referring to a decade as "a few years ago..."

Anyway, now that I have nearly successfully raised one of my boy squad to nearly successful almost adulthood, I think I have a right to lay down some advice for raising teenagers.

1. LEARN A NEW LANGUAGE
I hope you don't have a teenager afflicted with text speak, who spells before like b4 or makes their capital E's with the 3 key, even if they are writing a school report, but if you do, I'm sorry. And learn that language first.

However also be prepared for things you say to not mean what you think they do to your teenager. Like, if you say, "Time to go," You THINK that means put on your shoes, walk out the door, and get in the car. But a teenager, for some reason,  hears "Keep sitting there watching Man vs. Wild until Mom freaks out just a little then put on your shoes, walk out the door, and get in the car."

Be specific in your language. Be prepared to look up stuff in the urban dictionary. And really read into the tone of that "fine" you get when you ask how their day was. Also, be a little sad that you ever thought they talked too much or asked too many questions when they were little.

2.RE-WATCH INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS
That is your kid as a teenager. They have been replaced. Like overnight. Like one week their pants fit and the next they are two inches off the ground. Like one day they're hugging you good-bye in front of all their friends and the next they're asking you to drop them off around the corner.

My Z and E have never publicly shunned me but they did go from being super snuggly kids to pulling in to their personal space. Luckily, I learned early that even though they act that way, they don't really mean it. They like when I rub their feet or scratch their back. They still really like hugs, even if I'm the one initiating most of them. Their voices may have changed but their laugh is still there.

3.LOOK FOR THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL
Remember how you felt as a teenager? Like, what the freak is  happening to me? I don't want to act this way so why am I?

Your teenager is the same way. 

They know the world doesn't revolve around them, but right now their world seems like the biggest, scariest reality ever. They still don't have enough experience to know that one embarrassing moment won't ruin them forever, that rumors die down, that karma will come back to get the mean kids sooner or later.

You might try to explain to them that you understand, use examples from your teenage years (which will probably seem as weird and long ago as when our parents would talk about the 50's and 60's), but better yet--just listen. Take regular opportunities to spend some one-on-one time with them. Keep reminding them that they will come out on the other side of their teenage years, like walking through a gray tunnel into the light. That life will keep getting better and better. That dumb people will always be around but, as they get older, there will be less of them, and they will have more power over who they let into their world and who they keep at a safe distance.


4. NURTURE THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD
There is no better thing you can do for your child than help them build their relationship with their Heavenly Father-- a higher, wiser power to lead and guide them, to allow them to overcome any thing they may struggle with now and in the future. He is an anchor in a world that is a continuous storm. The End.

5. KEEP THEIR PROBLEMS IN PERSPECTIVE
Teach teenagers to keep their "problems" in perspective by making sure they serve in the community among the sick, elderly, the poor and the homeless. Make them aware of the larger world around them and just how much we have, comparatively, in terms of safety, food, housing, and education. That they don't have the iPhone6 becomes a dumb problem when they see people scratching in the dirt for crumbs or confined to a wheelchair because they were shot while fleeing for their lives from people who would kill them because of their religion.

It doesn't mean that your kids can't still worry or want, but they will do so in a more realistic (read "less spoiled brat") way if you keep all things in perspective.

6. LIMIT TECHNOLOGY
Seriously. Do it. I know it is a teenagers lifeline but it can also destroy them.

At least when we were in school, we knew there was a time we could leave all the gossiping and cliques and judgement behind and just go  home and be ourselves and be loved. Now, teenagers via social media carry that crap around in their pocket ALL. THE. TIME--seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. And don't even get me started on the scourge of the porn industry. I know we are all feeling the woes of technology overdose (Look UP already, gosh darn it!), but only WE (as parents) can do something about it.

My advice? No computers, TV's, gaming systems, etc in teenagers rooms. Keep it in public spaces, including smart phone use. Filter and parental control the bejeebers out of everything. Follow all their accounts. Don't be afraid to restrict what apps they have. Don't be afraid to take their phones away from them at night in the least, and even for whole days. Let them know that you will read every text, every DM, every private group conversation, and there will be consequences if you find them deleting things. Let them know you understand their friends may say certain things or use language beyond your child's control, but your child should not be joining in.

It is a brave new world and we are the pilgrim parents teaching our children to tiptoe over technological landmines. We cannot be scared of them. We cannot be complacent. We have to set boundaries and enforce them until our kids are old enough to set their own.

(P.S. A nice surprise in the limit of technology is that your teenager might actually thank you for it as they observe their 'zombie' friends who have no limits and seemingly no life outside a screen).

7. KNOW THEIR FRIENDS
They might change a lot, or they might stay the same. There might be a lot of them, or just one or two. They might have different friends from different groups--but get to know them. Get to know their parents. Know who your kids are with and what they are doing. You don't have to be "the cool mom"--though sometimes that title comes just from being involved in a time when so many aren't.

8. REMEMBER THEY STILL NEED YOU
Your teenager may be able to make his own food, drive a car, have his own spending money, maybe even grow a mustache or speak politics with you. But...they still need you. Maybe even more than they did when they were little, though in a different way. You are the biggest earthly source of unconditional love they have. You are their safe place. They need your validation, your advice, your acceptance.

You might not believe me since almost everything your teenager says and does seems to say, "Leave me alone," but I promise  inside they are still screaming for you. They need rules. They like being able to use you as an "out" if their peers are trying to pressure them to do something they know they shouldn't. Stuff is scary. Be there. Be there when they get home from school. Be there for their performances and games. Be there to tuck them in at night and listen about their days.Be there when they get home from dates. Be there to take that occasional forgotten backpack or homework assignment to them. Be there when they call and ask you to pick them up from that party they shouldn't have gone to.

--
It seems I spent a lot of time wishing large chunks of my Z's childhood away--wishing he'd learn to sleep through the night already, wishing he'd learn to entertain himself for more than a few minutes, wishing he'd stop tearing apart all my cupboards, wishing he'd hurry and be potty trained, wishing he'd be old enough to stay at home by himself for a few hours while I ran errands or went to the gym.

I'd bring back all those years and do them differently if I could.

But I can't.

Though I have enjoyed every year since--including embracing the best of the teenage years.

Next year, I turn my Z over to the world. This is likely his last year of living in my home full time. I plan to enjoy every minute of it. And it doesn't hurt that he makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world every Sunday...

dear me 20 years ago...

Twenty years ago, on July 5,1994, Brad proposed to me. It's not a hard day to remember, being the day after 4th of July. We were in Portland, visiting his brother and sister-in-law after a long spring and summer apart, with him working on his family farm and me staying behind at college to work at the frozen yogurt shop.

Twenty years ago today, I was saying yes to my forever, so happy I wanted to shout to everyone how in love with this man I was. Today, I was texting with the same man about shuffling around child support payments while the boys are visiting him for the summer. 

I woke up earlier than usual this morning, my throat dry and sore from all the smoke ingested last night, my heart racing from a bad dream. I quietly put on my running clothes and shoes and slipped out of the house to fit in my five mile run/walk before the day got too hot.

On my way home, I stopped at the store for groceries and a big glass of cold water from the Starbucks kiosk (well, and maybe a piece of the pumpkin bread too...). I sat at one of their tables and drank slowly, suddenly picturing myself from twenty years ago sitting with me--both of us as surprised as the other over such an unlikely meeting. Nineteen year old me asks if she can ask me a few questions. I say yes.

Q: Why is your hair so red?
A: Because it got so gray. Don't worry, you'll learn to love it and it will remind you of Grandma Annie and Grandma Engen and their fearless red hair.

Q: How did you get so fat?
A: Because right now, dear, even though you're just starting to realize it--you  have an eating disorder. 103 pounds is not a healthy weight for someone of your height and frame. See how all your size 2 clothes hang off you? We've also had four boys--big ones. But we run five miles almost every day, including today. See how muscled our legs are? See how we still have a nice chiseled waist? You'll still get down on your body sometimes, but it has treated you well and carried you through a lot, so be kind to it. And go eat something that's not air popped popcorn, for goodness sake!

Q: What is that you're looking at?
A: It's an "iPhone." I'm looking at something called "Facebook" on the "Internet." It's basically like having all the world's knowledge in your pocket, but you'll have to sift through a lot of dumb stuff, too. Use it wisely. Don't let it dominate your "offline" life. And please "duck face" as little as possible, ok?

Q: Where are we? 
A: In a grocery story in Huntington Beach, California, where we live now. Just three miles from the beach. Sniff the air. Can you smell it? The ocean smell is everywhere.

Q: Why did we move to California?
A: We followed our heart. We're really good at that. It's why we're still writing, too.

Q: Where is Brad?
A: Well, he's not here. It's a long, sad story that I don't want to tell you right now or you may  not go through with marrying him--and you HAVE to do that because there are four of the most amazing spirits waiting for you to get them to Earth. I won't lie, the next twenty years of your life are going to be some of the most beautiful and most excruciating you will ever pass through. You will have to hold to your faith like it is the only thing that will save you, because it will be. You'll feel so alone at times but you're not, not really. And in the end, I promise all you have will be enough. You will be so loved. And so wise. And though you may wonder at times if you made the right choices, if you could go back and change things and do things differently--just let it all go. No need to fret about things you can't change when you've tried your best. Feel the air passing in and out of your body in the moment and know it's all worth it. It is.
  

happy 39th birthday...and good riddance!

 

Y'all know I love my birthdays, right?

They're like Christmas. But just for me. And also no snow, because, June.

During my single years, they were a chance to throw an epic party with local bands and yummy cake, and to surround myself with the much needed support of family and friends and pat myself on the back for getting through another year.

Since being married to Mr. Perfect, I can honestly say every day feels something like a birthday. Although last year, my birthday started with a trip to the social security office, then the DMV--totaling nearly six hours, ending with no new drivers license (my five forms of ID weren't enough), and where I was treated to standing in line behind the shoeless homeless man drinking ranch dressing straight from the bottle. The day ended with a surprise dinner at Disneyland, though, thanks to a friend who works at the Blue Bayou restaurant at Pirates of the Caribbean...so, totally happy ending :)

I'm hoping for a happy ending from this year, too. Because, let me tell you--this decade, this year, this month, this week, and especially this day are kicking my patootie. Mixed in with all that daily birthday-esque happiness is some tough, tough stuff.

This morning, I woke up with two huge zits on my chin, a continuous reminder of the mega-stress we've been under the last month with custody court and all that entails. Also, one of the kids left the interior light on in the car (our only car) despite our hundred reminders not to do so...which left us with a dead battery 30 minutes before (the not homeschooled) kids needed to be to school. Also, we were out of milk and bread and a lunch needed made.

Luckily, a neighbor was up and around at 6:30 am, we got the jump, got the food, got the kids to school on time, with lunch.

I then put in a load of laundry...and the washing machine leaked all over the floor. Torn seal. $400 to repair.

Then, the dentist called. Two of the boys have cavities that need filled and one needs sealants re-applied. The total cost, even with insurance? $1,205.60. And did I mention two also need orthodontic expanders?

So, while I am beating my head against the wall trying to figure out where I am going to come up with an extra $400 to replace the washer seal and $1,205.60 to keep my kids teeth from rotting out when I currently have $11 in my account,  I get a call from Chase Bank.

They just wanted to let me know, on this the day before my birthday, with the broken car and the broken washing machine and the broken teeth and the child yelling from the living room that his shoes are too small...that I owe them $46,000. You know--from the second mortgage attached to my dream home that the short sale fell through on last year due to liens my ex-husbands creditors put on it, and then ended up in foreclosure, and which I have been diligently trying to repair my credit from for the last year only to find out that it barely hit my credit last month and I still have 3-7 years in front of me before I can even THINK about owning a home again, let alone even renting something better than where we're at, or taking out a loan for a second non-broken car...

I explained to dear Chase Bank that I was told on multiple occasions by multiple people (including their own) that the second mortgage couldn't be separated from the first, which was why the home had to be short sold in the first place, and that I was told the second mortgage would be covered in the foreclosure. When they explained this was not so but that I could "reduce the amount I owed" I told them to reduce it to zero and then call me, because I was already financially wasted.


And then I went upstairs and hugged my Mr. Perfect whose brilliance helped create a children's TV show that generates $15-20 million a year--although we don't get a dime of it (thanks, LLC), and rather than be angry or discouraged, he still works long, creatively exhausting hours every day to provide for our family and his ex-wife, still smiles and laughs and loves us all with all his heart, and is still completely...perfect.

Following this, I cried and felt sorry for our stinky situation then ate six Nutella cookies and got a tummy ache.

As I look back on my 30's all peppered with death and declining health and confused kids and no sleep and broken hearts and broken bones and broken appliances and broken vehicles and financial burdens of an unparalleled nature despite our being very educated and responsible folks and wanting nothing else than to not have to ask any more people for help ever but to provide it, I can't help but say GOOD RIDDANCE!

Now, lest I sound ungrateful for all the amazing things that DID happen in my 30's--all those beautiful daily blessings centered around my faith, children, marriage, nature, and writing--I can only say the gratitude was and is hard won amidst a lot of struggle. It is a peace that comes despite the storms around us. The very most difficult thing being doing all we know is right, following the Spirit, allowing God to fight our battles, being the responsible ones, giving tirelessly in service to our family, church, and community, and still ending up being the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) punching bags. We have known rejection from those who should have no cause to reject us. Amassed unnecessary penalties and undue criticism to the point that even stupid chin zits feel a cursing from the Lord.

I am a grateful soul through and through but I am also tired and burdened and clueless how to get myself or my family out of this mess...

Though, my gift to myself, on this eve of my 39th birthday, is to know that I don't have to know how to.  Not right now. For now, my trust is what God is requiring. It doesn't make sense to me because I can't see the whole picture the way He can--how all these trials can be consecrated not only for my benefit but for the benefit of our children, and even their children. That continued, sweet peace I feel when I'm not in the midst of crying cookie binges, is all I need to be assured we ARE doing the right things.

If everything needs cleared away to lead us to where we need to be, who are we to stand in the way? If we can only be truly Christ-like by passing below it all in a way that is meager compared to His sacrifice--why would we not pass? If all we have is one answer to our volumes of questions, how can it not be enough to know it must be the only answer we need right now?

Tomorrow I will wake and start to live the last year of this unparalleled decade in my life and I can choose to live it in a state of bitter surrender...or I can keep rising up and fighting the battle. I can sit it out or I can march in the ranks of some of the best people I know who choose to believe in ultimate victory, even when the enemy is raging. I can close off my understanding and feel I am being punished, or I can look at this as a time to learn, to continue in obedience, and be refined.

As long as I get in a long run and a big piece of cake, I think I can hang in another year. And I'll still love my birthdays, y'all.        I will.

to mom's everywhere, i high five-fist bump you!

When I started my journey of motherhood over sixteen years ago, I had no idea what I was doing. I had never changed a diaper, never been exposed to a baby crying for more than a few passing minutes, never thought about varying theories of childhood discipline. I'd never even taken Home Ec and had to carry one of those pretend babies around. The only thing I knew was that I wanted a baby...and now I had one...and I was totally in love...and totally committed to whatever lay ahead.

But in all my idea of not knowing how to mother, I never dreamed there would be so MANY ways I would have to mother.

Over the course of the next nine years, one baby soon turned to two, to three, to four; each with such different little personalities and needs. During those years, I was your typical super SAHM -- organizing play dates in the park, volunteer teaching the toddler music class at the library, homeschooling two gifted sons. I had a mini-van I could drive with one hand while retrieving a dropped binky with the other. I learned how to cook from watching Martha Stewart Living, longing to have my own backyard chickens and an unlimited budget to decorate my dream home.

Then, at year ten of my motherhood journey--about the time I was learning that mothering pre-teens was going to be different than mothering easy to entertain littles-- I got divorced and became a single mother. I hated referring to myself as that ("single mother") because it sounded as if I had never made the choice to marry, or had made the choice to divorce (neither of which were true), a term that often brought with it built-in sympathy or scorn, neither of which I wanted. But that's what the world chose to categorize me as for the next five years--like it or not.

During that time, I was the most driven, focused, and exhausted I had ever been. I went back to school and worked my hiney off to graduate with honors. I learned how to live on a shoestring budget and on rarely more than four hours of sleep. I worked five jobs while facing the health fallout that comes with my heart condition of mitral-valve stenosis. I had to learn to build a working, civil relationship with my ex-husband despite terribly hurt feelings, a lack of trust, and court-ordered money that wasn't always available. And all of this for my children. There was nothing I wouldn't have done for them, no matter of personal comfort I wouldn't have sacrificed for them. As their mother who loved them more than anything. As a mother who knew she had to make the best of what sometimes felt little better than survival. And though I often felt then that I was failing, I can look back now with dignity at what I did in those years.

Then, a year and a half ago, I became yet another kind of mother--a step-mother. I was blessed that my daughters-to-be were sweet as could be and accepted me immediately, but it didn't mean the transition was effortless.

In addition to my step-mothering, it also meant my boys were now being step-fathered, both relationships that take time, trust, love, laughter, and mutual respect to establish. It meant I now had to exist in some sort of civil, largely silent relationship with my husband's ex-wife who was/is nearly exclusively supported by his income, and who wasn't thrilled with the idea of me or my children, and all the duress and drama that regularly entails--which still means a lot of forgiving, attempts at understanding, deep breathing. 

Getting remarried didn't return me to my former glory as a SAHM, I still have to work to make sure our needs as a jumbo-sized family in pricey Southern California are met. But it did afford me full nights of sleep and an overflowing emotional bucket of happiness and love. And now, mothering children aged 16,14,13,10, 8 and 8,  I have learned that I will likely  never reach a point where I don't worry over my children, watch over them, cheer them, stand in amazement of them. There will never be one magical solution that worked on one that will work on all of them. That sometimes I will have to let them fail, that sometimes I will have to watch people who are supposed to care about them hurt them, and that sometimes I will give in simply because they outnumber me :)

Yesterday, I took a few hours and wrote each of my six children personalized letters about why I love being their mother. This, because the week before, I was at the gym on the elliptical machine and came across an article called "Ten Questions You Should Ask Your Mother." Having lost my own mother eight years ago now, I was glad I'd had the opportunity to ask her most of the questions on the list while she was still alive, holding the answers close to my heart. But when I reached the question What does your mother love most about you?, I lost it. I was glad I was already sweaty so the man next to me couldn't see that I was crying. My mom had often told me things she loved about me, but I didn't always listen. Maybe I didn't believe her. Maybe I assumed she would always be around to keep telling me. Maybe, like my own children, I could never have pictured a life without her.

For any and all of those reasons,  I wanted my children to know, without a doubt, how much I love them, the reasons I love them, that I will always love them, and that I have always tried to do the best for them with what I had emotionally, financially, and in wisdom available to me at any time. I know there is so much I could have done better, that I could do better, that I will do better, but I set out on this journey committed, and as I have crossed one threshold of mothering after another, I have never flinched.

To all you mothers, at whatever stage or type of mothering you're in, I high five you and wish you a Happy Mother's Day!

Six Years

I woke up from a horrible dream last night in which I had lost this entire blog due to lack of use. I think that has  actually happened to a few people, and I *have* gone from posting daily to weekly to monthly to oops! I missed a month, so it wasn't an entirely unbelievable dream.

And golly gee! Did it ever hurt! Can you imagine losing almost seven carefully documented years of your life? I guess that A. I need to find a way to back up or print this priceless piece of my history and/or B. Get writing more, buddy (!)

April is a good time to catch up here. Both it and August are months that I mark major changes: The start of my single life, the anniversary of recovering from Rheumatic Fever and living with a heart condition and PTSD. Surrendering to God's will.

Naturally, the sting is lessened each year, sucked into the daily mechanism of my blessedly normal life, and spat back out as a twinge of pain and reflection instead of the all consuming beast it once was. I am different. In mostly good ways, but different nonetheless, and I am glad to forever have a record of where I was and am at these intervals in my life.

Year 5

Year 4

Year 3

Year 2

Year 1

So, where do I sit in year six?...

Still happily (re)married to the most perfect-for-me man in the world, happily mothering six amazing souls--I wouldn't change any of it. Except the pee around the base of the toilet, but I know there will be a time in my life I will miss even that.

I have had to face some emotional/physical damage from my previous marriage and even some junk that happened to me when I was single, but it hasn't been impossible, especially when I have such a kind and patient spouse who is dealing with some of the same things himself who is willing to listen and talk. We try not to lose too many days to dwelling on what was. Our trust in one another, in our future together without tragedy, continues to grow.

Another difficulty has been letting go of the things I knew I would miss about single life--namely regular intervals of time to myself. Though I always hated sending my kids off to their dad's for evening visits and every other weekend, my mind and body became acclimated to having that time to throw myself into my writing, my housework, my physical exercise, and my social life. I got ahead in these times, recovered my introverted self, and was able to get back into parenting revived. Caring for seven other individuals in various capacities and for a home that seems absolutely unable to keep itself clean, while working and homeschooling and taking very few breaks has had its chew-me-up-and-spit-me-out moments. I have put on weight without the time I had to devote to trail running and kick boxing (and those post break-up depressions that left me without an appetite, but I don't miss those at all!). I have a dozen stories written, awaiting endings or middles or editing. My head is full of ideas that there just isn't enough time to get down. Most of my wants are trumped by the needs. I haven't had a haircut in nearly five months because I also don't have the money I once did to spend just on myself. The heels are all worn off my shoes.Sometimes my husband eats my ice cream... ;-)

All trivial and easily forgotten most days. Not all of them--I'm still human, but hardly worthy of complaint and easily compared to the struggles of wives and mothers everywhere.

On top of those things, I'm still adjusting to my new home--trying to build friendships in a place where most people already have friends, and where the well was already semi-poisoned against me depending on who was team my husband and who was team his ex-wife after the divorce (I hate that, but it's a sad reality all divorced people have to face). I'm looking for new writing friends, always. None yet.  I miss Boise like a dull ache that never quite goes away, but, again--if you asked me to go back, I wouldn't. A visit would be nice, but I'm committed to blooming where I planted myself. 

I learned this weekend that I am made of eternal stuff and therefore resist endings. I am always finding a challenge or a handful of challenges to force me to the next level. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful at all times, always, just that I am not really happy until I am pushing and being pushed up against by that next big thing. 

I feel absolutely certain I am in the right place, surrounded by the right people, that I need to be to get me chasing that next dream. And, now that I'm one post down, I'm also certain I won't be losing my blog and can move back to dreaming about all my teeth falling down and having to remember high school drill team routines.

Hold to Love

 

Do you remember the first time you saw the ocean? How it just stretched on forever with not a hill, house, or tree to break the expanse? How exciting and terrifying that felt--all that foreverness-- and how it made you feel very small and very complete all at once? For me, this is the only experience I have that feels the same as love.

I first learned love for myself from my mother. The compliments she gave freely—on my writing, my eyebrows, my waist, my smile. They are things I continue to love about myself to this day. As kind as she was, she was easy to love in return, as if I had never known any differently.

Then came love for my first boyfriend. A love that felt outside myself, crazy and new, like I wanted to be with him all the time but would wait forever for him, too. It was all butterflies and the thrill of anticipation.  It was the same love I felt years later for the man I would marry. A type of love that would mellow into what we know lasts, an enduring love that is as much about the other person as it is about yourself. A love that gets you through the days of too much work and not enough money and dirty dishes and breaking cars.  A love that is your soft place to land. A love that feels, like the ocean, endless, that is abundantly passed onto your children who are an extension of that love.

After my divorce thirteen years later, sudden and entirely unexpected, I spent a dark period wondering if I ever knew what love was to begin with. Coupled with some serious health issues I had with two of my children, I felt acutely what a huge risk love is.  For as much as we put into it, it can take away as much. It can hurt. Oh, can it hurt. From that point, love had to be a choice I actively made, knowing the risks but deciding the rewards were worth it. I also had to learn to re-love myself during that time. After trusting, naturally, so much of my worth to the care of my husband and feeling it end with our marriage, I had to return to that shell of love my mother first gave me: I have nice eyebrows. I have a nice waist. I have a nice smile. I can write. I’m going to be ok. I'm going to be ok...

Love did return. For myself. For my life. It stretched abundantly back into my dear children. It stretched into new friendships. It even grew to allow me to forgive my ex-husband, whether he wanted it or not. And then, five years later, it was ready to try again as I spoke those words, “I love you” to the man I couldn’t imagine living without. Lucky me, he loved me, too. He loved my children. I loved his. We were both scared, but the love wouldn’t let us back away. It reminded us both of all that could go wrong. And all that could go ever so right. So, we got married!

After a year of marriage, we have learned to be careful to feed our love with time, patience, and trust. We know the numbers are stacked against second marriages and blended families, but we are committed. We make a point to befriend and learn from successful blended families we admire, ones that are doing it so right you hardly know that they haven’t been together all along. It is encouraging to hear from their experience and how they overcame hiccups in the road. We also seek counsel from our church leaders, and would feel comfortable also seeing a counselor if the need arose. There is a lot of help out there and we gladly take it.

We are happy that our kids like each other and have strong friendships (arguments and all), and as for them loving each other—we’re fine waiting for life to build that emotion with time and trial. My husband still gives me time to spend with just my children, and I with his, and we make a point to do a lot of activities as a family. We are also cautious of the love our children feel for our ex-spouses, their parent,  and would never do anything to harm that.

The other day my nine year old asked me, “Mom, why are all the songs I hear always about love, love love?!” Well, there’s a reason: It makes the world go round. It makes the world fall apart. It makes you want to squeal with joy and cry in agony. It goes on and on, but only if you let it. Things I can’t explain to him now when I can hardly explain his math homework. He’ll learn all about the complexities of love eventually. For now he knows he loves me and Minecraft and big spoonfuls of Nutella. He covers his eyes during kissing scenes in movies. When the time is right, I’ll take him to the ocean and we’ll stand on the shore, waves lapping around our ankles, the sunlight in our face, and we will just stare out until I know he’s feeling it too.