Smittled

I feel like I should be wise by now.

I thought by the time I was a Grandma I would be all knowing and wise. Maybe not. Afterall, we're not called Wisema's. But I can be Grand. Golly gee-wiz, I'm grand. Maybe not.

What I am is smitten...yes, smitten. That's the first word that pooped into my head when I think of my sweet little PJ.

And since I wanted to make sure I was using the word properly in a sentance, (cuz I've been known to make up my own words from time to time), I looked it up in the dictionary to make sure it was a real word. According to Dictionary.com, it is:

smit·ten 
 –adjective
1.
struck, as with a hard blow.
2.
grievously or disastrously stricken or afflicted.
3.
very much in love.

Does anyone else find it extremely ironic that the same word used to identify one being "very much in love" also defines it as "struck, as with a hard blow", and "disastrously stricken".

Does that mean when you "fall in love" you land on your head? When you're "head over heels" about someone, is it cuz you've been afflicted with vertigo? If you've been "swept off your feet", do you land on your tush with a hard blow? If you "take my breath away", have I been stricken with asthma?

I'm not sure smitten was the word I was looking for afterall.

How about...smittled. According to my pocket dictionary of Lindaisms:

Smit-tled, adj.

1. to have one's heart melt with love.

2. to be completely captivated by a sleeping baby.

3. having a strong desire to snuggle a baby in kisses.

Yes. That is what I am, smittled. Not wise, not grand, just smittled.

Do you blame me? I'm sure once you meet her, you'll be smittled too!

Finally!

I'm back...I hope. My computer has been giving me fits. I'm going on faith that everyone but me can see my blog. Meanwhile, so much has happened in the last month, I'm not sure where to begin.

We started out the month of July by packing up the whole family and spending a week at Palisades. We swam, we fished, we paddled. Some of us sailed, golfed, and caught frogs. But we all had a great time! (Except for JP who was sick, and Cindy cuz she's the mom and that's the way it is when your child is sick)

When we got home from camping, Tary discovered a message on his phone. Would we like tickets to the Paul McCartney concert? Uh, let me think about it for a minute...HECK YES! It was amazing! The guy sang for 2 1/2 hours straight! No warm up band, no intermission, no potty break, and 3 encores! It was the best concert I have ever been too, although Buble' comes in a close 2nd, possibly a tie. I think I'll need to see Michael again to make a accurate decision.

And just when you think the month couldn't hold any more surprises, last Sunday we woke up the call of our daughter who announced she is in labor! Contractions were strong, but not very close yet. But by the time church was over at 4pm, and the road blocks and detours led us past their house, they were just pulling out to head to the hospital. 2 hours later they were back at our house, starving and discouraged. She was dilated to a 3, but hadn't progressed after an hours worth of walking the hospital halls, so they sent her home.

I was expecting a good half-nights sleep, just knowing the call would come at 3 am that she was back at the hospital. But my daughter was more considerate to me than I was to my mom, and let me sleep till 6 am before she made the call. They were back at the hospital, and this time they admitted her for the duration, seeing as how she had progressed to a 6! Holy cow, I had better hurry, she could go at any time! So without so much as a shower or a dab of mascara (I would just cry it off anyway), I woke up my lamaze partner (Kayla) and we rushed to the hospital. By the time we got there, she was at a 7 and progressing nicely. They had just given her an epidural, so things slowed down a bit....

....fast forward to 10 am. Chelsea was now dialated to a 10 and ready to go. Only one problem, the doctor was delivering another baby, C-section. Not to worry, the nurse told us, pushing could take hours. Shall we give it a try? Here comes a contraction...P..U..S..H..again...P...U...S...H...nicely done. Chelsea is a good little pusher. Here comes another contraction, knees in...P...U...S...H...good job, again...P...U....S...H...very good, in fact, too good. Maybe you should cross your legs for awhile, the doctor's not quite ready. So, for the next 30 minutes, Chelsea had to literally suck it in everytime a contraction would come.

Finally, the doctor arrived, the epidural had worn off, and the pushing could continue. 2 pushes later, and our sweet little Paisley joined our family!

What a beautiful little girl she is! As they laid her on Chelsea's chest, I couldn't contain the tears, (although I thought I did a pretty good job of hiding them behind the camera). Funny, I didn't cry when any of my children were born. I think I was in shock, I was relieved, I was too busy trying to get a look at their faces and determine who they looked like. This time around, I was an observer. I was able to watch the miracle of birth without going through the pain, yet it hurt to see my daughter go through the pain. This time the relief wasn't physical, but a mental relief that both my babies were all right. It was a beautiful experience, I'm so grateful Chelsea and Joe allowed me to witness their little miracle.

I stayed long enough to make sure all was well, then after a tearful good-bye, I was off to girls camp for 5 days. I knew they were in good hands, I knew there was nothing more I could do, and I knew I had a responsibility and a commitment that I had to fulfill. I knew the Lord would bless them while I was away, and I was right. I remember after I had Chelsea, I could hardly walk or sit I was in so much pain, but Chelsea was blessed with a quick healing. And just when I thought the month of surprises was over....on wednesday, as I was cleaning up the craft for the day, I turned around and...

...SURPRISE! Standing in front of me, Chelsea, Joe and my sweet little Paisley! I was flabbergasted, shocked, stunned, excited, and a whole bunch of other adjectives! I know not all blessings are immediate, as some blessings are reserved for the next life, but I will be forever grateful that I was able to enjoy the blessings of my sacrifice for the next few hours as I held my sweet little grand-baby for the first time!

A busy month for sure. A month full of fun and surprises. Ask me what the highlight of my month was, I'd have to tell you that although unexpected concert tickets were awesome, flushing toilets and hot showers while camping was divine, rain in the middle of the night instead of the middle of the day was timely, the highlight of my month came in a surprise visit with my grand-daughter. Finally!

Fathers...in heaven

I'm writing this post pre-makeup.

It's a bitter-sweet Fathers Day. Sweet for those of us who still have our fathers with us, so we can shower them with hugs and kisses, hand-made cards and a big breakfast in bed.

Bitter for those whose fathers have been called home prematurely, and they're not able to wrap their arms around them and express how much they love and appreciate them. Wishing and hoping that they showed and told their fathers enough while they were here, knowing they passed on with knowledge of the love they left behind.

Friday night, my dear sweet son in law, lost his father to a tragic accident. Oddly enough, it was the second time in his life that he lost his father. The first time, he came back. This time, he did not. The first time he was given an extension on his life to return and see his children raised. This time, he will anxiously await with his grandchildren in heaven for their time on earth, and watch them grow from above. The first time, he came back to earth a changed man. This time, we have all been changed.

Dale was a great man. I didn't know him before his accident 15 years ago, so I don't know how he was before, I only know how he was now. He was the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, and he would give it to you before you even asked. He was faithful in his church callings, always where he should be to lend a hand. When he spoke, he used the same tone that a mother uses when she calms her little one. His voice was always so soft and caring I almost expected the conversation to end with a pat on the head.

His accident years ago left him with a brain injury that took away parts of his personality. His sense of humor was never quite the same. He always seemed so serious, and in a family where joking and laughing was a way for them to stay sane, at times the humor was lost on Dale and he wouldn't take too kindly to the laughter. Prayer and scripture time, when all should be serious and reflective, at times would take a wrong turn somewhere. Often, while reading scriptures, they would play "Popcorn", where they take turns reading, and mid-sentence can shout out someone else's name to pick up where they left off. This meant you had to be paying attention and reading along. One night they were reading in Alma, the wars were raging between the Nephi's and Lamanites, Nathan was reading..."And it came to pass that the soldier who stood by, who smote off the scalp of" MOM! Everyone started laughing, but Dale didn't find that one bit funny. Often at prayertime, someone, probably Joe, would say some offhand remark that would get them all giggling. No one would be composed enough to pray, except for Dale. He would sit with his arms quietly folded, scolding them, because nothing is funny about prayer.
I'm sure there are a hundred more stories that could be told. Each of them funny in their own "I can't believe he did that" way, just ask the fire department.

In life, he taught them patience and long suffering.

In death, he taught us about hope and charity.

In perspective, we've all learned that life is too short and we never know when it will be our time to return home.

After the media died down, the police and firemen left, the bystanders walked away. Those of us left behind, returned to our homes with our husbands and fathers by our side, and gave them an extra hug, expressed our love and appreciation for them, and shed another tear for those who will be missing their fathers more than ever this Fathers Day.

To my own Father, I love you...I love you...I love you! Thank you for your example, your unconditional love, and for your presence in my life.

To my Husband, I love you...I love you...I love you! Thank you for being the wonderful father that you are to our children. For your example, your service, your love and kindness that you show me, and the children. Most of all, thank you for your presence in my life.

To my Son-in-law Joe, the father of my soon-to-be grandchild, I love you...I love you...I love you! Thank you for loving my daughter the way you do. For your patience and kindness and gentle spirit. I know you're going to make a wonderful father...

...you had a great example.

Thank you Dale! We will miss you, but your influence and legacy will carry on.

He's got an angel with him

All's quiet on the western front.

I like to quote from books and movies that I've never seen or read. That one just popped into my head because it's, well, quiet.

Tary is away at youth conference, probably getting rained on the plains of Wyoming. Years ago when our stake started taking the youth on the trek, I was always amazed with the thought that the sights were still preserved. I always thought some unseen hand must have had something to do with the pioneer trail remaining untouched by land developers and skyscrapers...that is until I had the opportunity to go for myself and see it. It's a whole-lotta wind and nuttin going on out there. Sagebrush as far as the eye can see. But then again, maybe someone deserves more credit than I give Him. Maybe He planned it that way, so youth groups 100 years down the road could stand in the same cove, cross the same creek, hike the same rocky ridge, and feel the same presence of angels helping them every step of the way. I like to think so anyway.

Trey is at his friends birthday party/sleepover.

Kayla is at a single adult activity.

And me, I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. Nothing but the sound of clothes flipping in the dryer to disturb me, and the occasional sound of the heater kicking on. It's freezing tonight!

I've made quite the to-do list for myself and had hoped to spend some un-interrupted time this weekend working on it. I tried to get a jump start on it last night, but Chelsea came over and we ended up talking the night away. Not a bad way to spend the evening, it was rather enlightening.

Have you ever just listened to your children talk? When your paying attention, you can hear some pretty funny things.

Trey: "Do you know what I'm in the mood for? Fish legs". Fish legs? You want fish legs? "yeah"...I didn't even know fish had legs. "I mean crab legs!"

Trey again: " I have cat-like laxatives." Laxatives? You have cat-like things that make you poop? "What? No, you know, that thing where you can always land on your feet" Do you mean reflexes? "Yeah, that's what I have, cat-like reflexes"

Chelsea: "Remember the time that Kayla tooted and Mom answered 'What?' cuz it came out sounding like 'Mom'

Kayla: "Remember the time when Chelsea was being rude to me and she said, 'Just stop talking. Everything that comes out of your mouth is so stupid.' and so the next thing I said was 'Chelsea' and she wanted to kill me?"

I love my kids, they always make me laugh.

It's nice to know you don't have to go all the way to the dusty plains of Wyoming to be in the presence of angels. I have 3 of them at home.

Distractions

I started out my morning by praying for pooh.

It's true. I've learned that the more specific I am in my prayers, the better chance I have of them being answered. And today, I needed to find some pooh.

I have been assigned by my leader to be the designated pooh patrol. ok, it went something more like this. "Roberts Crafts in Brickyard is going out of business and everything is 90% off...is anyone willing to go and see if there is anything pooh related that we could use for girls camp?" Roberts and Clearance in the same sentance? I am so all over it!
We are using a quote from Winnie the Pooh for girls camp this year, and for my vision of the Hundred Acre Woods to be complete, I needed a Pooh. However, since I would be burying half of his body in the dirt, I didn't want, nor did we have the budget, to spend $20 on a new pooh bear...hence the prayer for pooh.

Prayers said...the day begins.

On my to-do list today, I was ready to tackle my closet. Spring doesn't know it yet, but I'm hoping 'If I wear it, it will come', so while swapping out my winter clothes for my spring wardrobe, I turned on the t.v. to keep me company. "My Girl" was on. I haven't seen that show for so long, so clothes sorting took a backseat to Dan Akroyd and Jamie-Lee. I'd forgotten how sad that show was and before I completely ruined my makeup job, I changed the channel in hopes of something a little less tender. Nanny McPhee looked promising. Several distractions and 3 hours later, I had a bag for the DI, and a closet of pastels and short sleeves.

I also had a visit from a young man in our ward. He just started a new job and needed to practice selling his whares, so I agreed to listen to his pitch, fully prepared to say "No" to whatever he was selling. 90 minutes later, I had signed away all my Kohls shopping rights so I could afford the 5 monthly payments on my new set of knives. I'm a sucker, I know. But these things can cut through leather in a single slice! It can cut a rope in a sweeping motion! They were amazazing!
After he left, it took all of 10 minutes to realize what I had done...my husband was going to kill me. For someone who loves a bargain, I don't know why I feel the need to buy from every door to door salesperson that comes along. Usually at a cost much higher than I can afford. My husband has had to come to my rescue more than once. He has saved me from spending our hawaii fund on a furniture/appliance club membership. He's had to cancel the $10,000 worth of new windows I signed up for and the $5000 vacuum that doubles as a air filter system.
However, he wasn't home today to save me from myself, and unless the purchase I make comes at a cost 70-80% less than retail, shoppers remorse inevitably sets in. Today was no exception. I was so embarrassed by my lack of ability to "Just say No", I couldn't even fess up how much I had spent. $50 was his guess. Way off. "More than $50?" Eyes rolling...voice volume higher and more agitated...oh boy, this is not good. Lucky for me, he's off to a softball game where he can vent his frustration with a bat and ball.

As for me, I'm off to the grocery store to buy ingredients for 3 pans of something chocolatey and gooey. Death by chocolate sounds better than the alternative of living with regret at the moment. Grocery shopping on saturdays with half the cities population is distracting enough, but shopping with thoughts of 'what am I going to do to get myself out of this one' doesn't lead to productive meal planning. Dinner and tomorrow's dessert was as far as I got before I gave up.

Groceries bought, food in the trunk, cart in the stall, keys in the door. Funny, I don't remember locking my door. I don't remember having a bag of bagels in the front seat either. Wait a minute. This isn't my car.
Do you know how many people have white Chevy Prism's? At least 3 people in every parking lot. This is exactly the reason I gave my husband just the other day for not taking down my car air freshener, even though it hasn't given off a single scent in a year. Sometimes it's the only way of knowing which white chevy prism is mine. Distracted, I didn't notice until it was too late. As I walked back to the little white car that did have a dangly flip-flop freshener, I was just hoping my groceries were in my trunk and not in the other one. Phew. I just hoped no one saw me playing musical cars.

One more errand to run, dropping off the bag of clothes at the DI. Normally I just drop and go, but feeling a little down, I needed a bargain fix. Something to keep my 'Crown of Clearance Queen' intact. Not really looking for anything in particular, I headed for the videos in hopes that some generous person gave up their season 2 of Lost. No such luck. bummer. Just as I was contemplating why the need to buy someone else's junk when I just happily shed 20 pounds of my own, something caught my eye...it was fluffy, and yellow, with a touch of red. Could it be? Were my eyes deceiving me? On top of a heap of discarded stuffed childhood memories and slobbery kisses, sat on a pile was pooh. As my eyes grew wide and a grin spread across my face, I just knew my poker face had ousted the DI's greatest treasure and now 50 other pair of eyes had also spotted the coveted prize, and if I didn't reach it within seconds, it would be snatched up before me! My speedwalk training kicked in as I dodged and maneuvered around little kids and carts, until finally...victory was mine! Pooh Bear! And he was perfect!

I didn't need more clothes in my closet, more seasons of Lost to distract me from living. I really don't need knives that can cut leather and rope in a single swoop. At that moment, standing in the middle of second hand heaven where bargain shoppers can go wild, suddenly everything was perfectly clear.

Happiness doesn't come from a store. It can't be bought or bargained for. It doesn't hang in your closet or on your walls.

Happiness is knowing that even when we act foolishly and against our better judgement, someone is always watching out for us and is there to help us, even if we don't feel deserving of His goodness.

For me, happiness came from an answered prayer in the form of a pooh.

I'm just grateful that He doesn't get as distracted as I do.

Open letter to mothers

Dear Moms,

Well, another Mother's Day has rolled around. A day for cards, flowers, runny eggs and burnt toast in bed, a day where children everywhere outwardly manifest our love and appreciation for you, although we probably should be doing that every day of the year.

I know as you sit in your church services this day and hear others praise the attributes of 'Motherhood', that you'll be sitting on your bench with tears in your eyes.

If you're holding a sweet little newborn in your arms, you'll be thanking the Lord that Motherhood is finally yours to behold. You'll feel a connection with Him that sent you a precious gift, and get a glimpse into the love that He must have for His children, and finally understand what a 'Mothers Love' is all about.

If your struggling to keep your children quiet, threatening a time out in the hallway, or bribing them with cheerios and fruit snacks, your tears may be those of frustration. As you hear the speaker drone on about their patient, loving, teaching, selfless mother, you might feel overwhelmed or saddened by the lack of patience and joy in the journey you see in yourself. You might feel that "enduring to the end" was a phrase coined by a Mom with small ones attached to every limb, trying to get through another Sunday of lost shoes, hair to be combed, faces to be washed, socks to be found, snacks to be packed, church-filled day. And just when you feel like succumbing to the abyss of self-pity and hopelessness, your children come home with cards filled with hand-drawn flowers, hand-prints forever captured, and hearts with simple declarations of love. Your tears soon turn to those of joy and love, and a longing to keep them young and innocent for as long as possible. Knowing that although the days may seem to endlessly drag some days, that one day you'll turn around, and they'll be grown and just a smile attached to a memory of how things used to be.

If your sitting on your pew and the tears freely flow, a kind squeeze of your hand from your husband gently reminds you that you are still a wonderful Mother. Perhaps your children have made choices that break your heart and make you question your ability to be a Mother. The lives they lead make you doubt and second guess your parenting skills, and leave you to wonder "what more could I have done" , this day might be of no joy to you. As you look around and see from your perspective, perfect families where perfect mothers reside, you might feel like you have failed in the highest calling given to you. Remember, that even in the presence of our loving Father and Mother above, that a third of their children rebelled and are lost to them forever. All is not lost for you. Do you take the credit when your children make good choices and feel the need to nominate yourself for Mother of the Year? So don't take upon yourself the blame when they use their agency and make poor choices, in spite of all that you have taught them. As much as we would like to think we have control over everything our children do, we don't, and at times, all we can do is just love them. That's all they really want. Our attention and unconditional love.

Charity Never Faileth. The pure love of Christ is Charity. The pure love of mothers is a Mothers Love, it also never faileth.

Mom's, don't beat yourselves up today as your sitting in church. If your children aren't perfect, if their socks don't match and their shirts aren't ironed...if your little one just informed you they have to give a talk in primary today...and your teenage has a permanent look of boredom on his face...don't give up. This too shall pass. And one day, you'll look back and wish you would have cherished and celebrated the little moments that come along, not just the big milestones.

Everyday with your children is a blessing. Every child is a gift. Every gift should be received with thankfulness of heart, for the One who gives us the gifts knows best what we need to receive.

Happy Mothers Day to all!

Love, Me

Tom and Gerry

Happy Birthday to two of the worlds most beloved characters of all time, Tom and Gerry. Funny, loveable, furry, mischevious, timeless, ageless. And you thought I was talking about the cartoon characters.

Meet my brother in law, Tom.

And my brother, Gerry.

Two great guys, who just happened to have their birthdays 1 day apart.

I've known Tom as long as I've known my husband, and that's a long time. Tom and my sister we're friends in high school and hung out together, although I don't think they ever dated until they got engaged. Weird, I know, but it's a great story, which I won't go into just now.

When Tom was young, him and his cousin decided they wanted to live in the hills like mountain men. They thought it sounded fun to live off the land and answer to no one. Tom loved his Mom and didn't want her to worry about him, so he wrote a beautiful note, assuring her he would be just fine, not to worry, and that he would be home in a few weeks. He packed his bag, grabbed some oranges, and set off for the woods behind his home. It didn't take long for Tom and cousin to realize mountain life wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, especially when your hungry and there's no one to cook for you, so after a few hours they gave up their dreams and headed back for home. Tom was worried of his Mother's reaction, but all she said to him when he returned back home, was what a lovely letter he had written for her, she would always cherish it.

Now I know where Tom got his nice-ness from. I have never heard Tom say anything mean about anybody, ever. He is quick to laugh, slow to anger, and easy to love. He'll always be a hero for saving my sister from marrying Dean the String, and I'm so honored to call him my brother.

My brother Gerry is 2 years younger than I am. I have fond memories growing up with him as my buddy, whether it was jumping between the beds, not being able to touch our feet to the floor for fear of the alligators in the watery carpet below. Or playing toss the bean bag with books. Sounds weird, I know, but it was really fun. We were pretty creative in finding ways to entertain ourselves back then, before Nintendo and Facebook came along. We used to take the dining table leaves and prop them up against the stairs for a fun little slippery slide, or take the slippery ugly green sleeping bags and slide down the length of the stairs.

When we were little, my mom used to sew most of our clothes. On those rare occasions that she found an exceptional good deal, we would find ourselves on the receiving end of matching outfits. I'm not sure how Gerry felt about it, but he was young enough that I don't think he even cared. Mom used to line us up on these special occasions, usually Easter and Christmas outfits, and have Dad take our pictures. I remember standing still in a line while the movie camera was recording history in the making, when Gerry suddenly, would step out of line and start stomping at the ground! I don't know if he was dilusional or just highly imaginative, but he always thought he was seeing spiders, hence the stomping and killing them. He was constantly killing those imaginary pests, our own little personal exterminator. I'm not sure when it was that he outgrew the spider stomping phase, but I'm glad for his sake that he doesn't continue to see things that aren't really there, especially spiders. eeek.

When we were probably 10 and 12, we decided we wanted to take up skiing. That is not a cheap sport, so our wise mother suggested we earn the money for lessons. We had a neighbor down the street who owned his own food storage business, so my mom talked him into letting us sell his product door to door and get a small percentage. My mom made up samples of his delicious "Peach Delight" and "Apple" drink mix, blueberry and maple syrup, and we hit the streets, trying to muster enough courage to knock on strangers doors and sweet talk our way into a sell. I'm not sure how much money we actually made, but our efforts paid off and we were able to help buy our ski equipment and take a few lessons.

I'm not sure how old he was when he Gerry had the brilliant idea to put caulking material on a water balloon and throw it at the neighborhood bully. For a kid without any formal baseball throwing training, he did us all proud. Smack! It was a direct hit...right in the face! Not only did Gerry run for his life, but every neighbor kid in our yard took flight. The closest shelter? Our house. Problem? Mom and Dad were out on a date, we were alone, defenseless, and scared! We quickly ran through the house, locking every door and window we could find. But that wasn't enough to stop the balloon eating Steve, oh no! We could hear him outside our door, ranting and raving about swallowing the poisonous goo and how he was going to die and he was going to take us with him! Obviously the walls inside our home were not protection enough from the threats and obsenities we could hear, so we ran to the safest place we knew, our "Fruit Room". Don't let the name fool you, it was like our own personal bomb shelter. It was a long, narrow, cold dungeon built underneath our front porch. We called it our fruit room cuz that's where mom stored all her bottled fruit and food storage since it stayed nice and cold. ( It also doubled as a haunted hall for my 2 sister's october birthdays. ) We all huddled together, too afraid to venture upstairs to call one of the others kid's mom and tell her we were being held hostage by a foaming at the mouth lunatic. It was the longest night of our lives. We didn't know if he was still out there, waiting for us to come out, and none of us we're willing to risk our lives to find out.
Finally, when we heard the familiar voices of Mom and Dad, we felt safe enough to come out. We were saved! Steve had apparently given up, went home, called poison control, drank some milk, and was just fine. Gerry, on the other hand, was afraid to walk past Steve's house for the longest time. Ok, I can't really speak for Gerry, but I was afraid to walk past Steve's house.

Those were the good ol' days. Now Gerry is the father of 5. I'm sure his rocket building, balloon throwing, spider killing days has served him well in raising 4 boys and 1 girl of his own. He is a quiet, gentle and giving soul that is filled with knowledge and talent and humility like no other. I am so blessed to have grown up with such a wonderful brother. I don't remember ever, EVER, getting mad or having a fight with Gerry. He always has been, and still is, the best brother a sister could ever ask for.

Both Tom and Gerry have seen their share of loss and adversity, especially this past year. Both have met their challenges with strength, courage, and faith. You are wonderful examples to your families, and to me. I'm so proud to have you as brothers and love you both!