What NOT to do when your daughter graduates...

Three years ago, my oldest child was graduating from high school. 6/6/06, bad omen. I should have known it wasn't going to be easy, nothing ever is with your first child.
I cried in the playground on her first day of kindergarten as she walked so bravely into those big doors, 12 years later...I cried everytime I thought of her leaving the safety of Mr. Dehaans classroom to enter into the big wide classroom called "life". Mr. Dehaan was Chelsea's concert choir/Belle Voix/Madrigal teacher, but he was so much more. He was a mentor, a great example of the gospel, and although he couldn't preach it in class, he taught them every chance he could when they performed in sacrament meetings throughout the valley. So it was on this day, 6/1/06, that my sad tale begins.
Mistake No. 1- It was the saturday before graduation, and I had asked my friend Melanie to come to the house. Melanie was a student of cosmetology and had recently learned the art of making ones eyebrows perfectly seperated and arched. I must have been a sucker for pain that day, because after my eyebrows were waxed, I decided to have my upper lip, chin, side-burns, (I know, I'm hairy) and nose waxed as well, and no, it wasn't the top of my nose (yeah, ouch!). Pretty much my whole face came out feeling as smooth as a baby's you-know-what. But no time to admire my hairless-ness, I had a baptism that afternoon to go to as well. My niece Heather had asked me to lead the music, so I had little time to waste before I had to get ready and make the 1/2 hr. drive there. Applying make-up to my stinging face wasn't as easy as I had hoped. I had never been waxed before, and didn't know the consequences that would follow. My face was red, tender, and swollen, but I hoped the makeup would conceal the redness and the swelling would go down before I reached my destination.
Mistake No. 2- The kids and I piled into the car for the pleasant drive up to Bountiful that beautiful summer day. Chelsea, in the front seat, had control over the tunes that filled our air-space. She had her Madrigals CD, and although I normally love to hear their beautiful voices, all I could think of that day was the fact that she would no longer be a Madrigal. She would no longer associate daily with those friends whom she became so close with. She would no longer have a teacher like Kelly Dehaan to encourage and inspire and bring out the best in her. So when the madrigals started singing the song "Do you Remember", I LOST it! Tears started streaming down my already puffy face. By the time Chelsea noticed something was amiss and asked if I was OK (hint: never ask a weepy-woman if their ok) that put me into full-out bawl-fest. Now I have to choke out why I'm crying, how life would never be the same, for her or me. How she was moving on, and although she may have been ready, I wasn't prepared to let her go.
NEWS-FLASH: I am not a pretty cryer. Let me just tell you, I have one of those faces that when it cries, it gets all distorted, and red and blotchy, and my eyes turn red and puffy, but even knowing all that, I still didn't know quite how bad the consequences were.
We made it to the baptism, I tried to sneak in the back, but the soft prelude music and my emotions that were still not quite under control got the best of me. I was crying before they even started. I made Chelsea get up and lead the music, I just couldn't do it, and that brought several heads turned in my direction to see why it wasn't me up there. I got more than a few strange and concerned looks from my family. All through the talks, the baptism, the blessing, all I could think of was the day Chelsea got baptized, how it didn't seem that long ago, and now look at her. Where did those years go? After the baptism, I quickly left, and by left I mean I got in my car and drove away. I was bawling again. The flood gates were opened and didn't seem to want to close until I got it all out. So, I took a little drive till I could calm down. By the time I got back, they had started the luncheon. Of course by now everyone was worried about me. Where did I go? Why was I crying? But even my explanation didn't seem to soften the confused and worried looks upon their faces. It wasn't until I got home and looked in the mirror did I realize why I saw horror and worry in their faces...I looked like a freak! I thought the swelling and redness would have gone down, but instead, due to constant crying I'm sure, my face was even more swollen, red, blotchy, and bald! I was so embarrased...people who didn't know me at the baptism must have thought I was a burn victim.

So, this year Kayla, I am not going to get waxed (I'll have to go hairy) I will shy away from baptisms, and will not listen to sad, remember-when songs. I have learned my lesson, you will not have to...what did you say? Tonights your farewell concert choir performance? You get to present Mr. Dehaan his gift? The Madrigals will be singing "Remember"? Oh boy, I'm in trouble...here we go again!

I can't decide...you choose.

I didn't know whether to title this blog...Call it a smoothie and they'll drink anything!

Fear Factor...mom style.

OR


Got Kale?

I sorta got on this health kick. I say sorta cuz it only lasted one day. A friend of mine was telling me about this great drink that she makes everyday, how good it is for you, how she lost all this weight from it, her nails are stronger, her body leaner, her bodily functions moving along nicer, and I'm thinking, sounds great! I could do that! What's in this magic drink?
Kale, cranberry juice, and fruit.
(a little hesitant now) OK, sounds healthy. I like fruit and juice. Don't know what kale is but can't be too bad right? wrong. I go to the store with my list and my determination in tact. At the produce section I stock up on fresh strawberries, bananas, apples, then I come to the leafy stuff. Chard, spinach, green leaf, red leaf, and kale. (it rhymes with hell, go figure) And as much as I like the fresh, crisp, colors of the others in the leaf family, Kale just didn't do anything for me. It's ugly. It's dense. It's water content non-existent. But I didn't want to be judgemental on the poor vegetable, afterall it's my secret ingredient to a bathing suit bod. So I bought a headfull, and feeling so good about my new-found healthiness, I bought spinach too. Then came home, put a few leaves in the blender, added some pretty juice, bright red berries, and within a matter of seconds, "Grass in a Glass" was born.
Do you like the smell of fresh cut grass in the spring? So do I! Do you like the taste of fresh cut grass? Neither do I! But that's how this drink tasted, like the smell of fresh cut grass. Some smells are better left un-tasted. It wasn't so much the flavor as it was the bits of crunchy-ness in the foam. If I have to chew my drink, it just gives me too much time to think about what's in it. So I tried to gulp it instead, bad mistake. It almost came back up. Sipping through a straw was the best method I found, like wading into a cold lake, one inch at a time. One sip at a time, and 45 minutes later, I finished my first Kale Slushy. But was it my last? I'm not sure I have what it takes to become a health-nut, then I remembered something I read in a e-mail once and it solitified what I thought all along:

I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that most people die of natural causes.

Health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in the hospital, dying of nothing...

So I think I'll stick to the greens that lay on my plate, preferably the ones heaped over pork barbacoa, black beans (those are healthy) rice, a cheesy tortilla, drowning in a river of house dressing. Afterall...

I didn't really want to wear my bathing suit this summer anyway.

Happy Mothers Day Moms!

Have you noticed how mom's are a unique species. Giving birth to a child, also gives birth to new feelings of defending their young, putting selfish desires aside in order to take care of the new one, and doing all in ones power to keep the baby alive. I marvel that some mothers travel thousands of miles to give birth to their young where climates are warmer, thus enabling a better start for their babies. Or mothers that starve for months, not risking the life of the newborn to search for food, or the ones that do find food, only to regurgitate it to feed her babies. Um, did I mention I recently saw the movie "Earth"? I loved the beautiful scenery and the feeling that I was right there in the jungle or the ocean with the animals. But I was taken back by the realization that mothers everywhere and of every kind, yes animals included, all have the same love and tender feelings for their newborns. It just proved to me once more, how those feelings of pure, unselfish love is instinctual. If even the smallest of animals, like a bird, to the biggest, like the Blue Whale, can get it right, why don't we humans always get it right.

We might not all have been born with maternal instincts. Certainly any person after witnessing a temper tandrum thrown by a unhappy child at the store or a resturant, loses all desire to breed offspring, but once that tiny, precious little child is placed in your arms, a greater love is born and the instinct to protect and care for, giving little thought to your own needs, kicks in. And just like a momma bear, we tend to want shelter our little cubs from anyone that would want to hurt them.
I see it everytime at the ball park. Some little 11 year old that comes slidding into homeplate, only to be called "OUT" by the ump. You know who the mothers are, they're the ones behind the chain link fence shouting "WHAT? He made it by a mile! Open your eyes ump!"
I admit, I have been known to express my unsatisfied feelings with the man in the mask before. It's instictual, baseball brings out the mamma bear in me.
Did you know whales birth their babies in the caribbean where the water is warm, then 2 weeks later travel 2000 miles back with their baby to the icy waters of the antartica for food? As I am huddled in the stands with my coat, gloves and blanket wrapped around me, my son is on the field with nothing but his t-shirt and hat on. Everytime he runs back into the dugout I'm there offering a sweatshirt and a blanket to wrap up in while he's waiting for his turn at bat. He always assures me he's fine, he doesn't feel the cold. How can that be? If I'm cold he must be freezing, right? It's just the mamma whale in me.
In Africa, during the dry season, animals of all kinds gather at the last remaining water holes to stay alive. Enemies stare each other down as they slowly dip their tongues to the precious water, cautious of each others sudden movements. After the game as each boy is given his 'treat ticket', 24 boys all descend on the snack bar at once. Each one shoving his way to the front of the line, garuanteeing themselves a hot dog before they run out. I'm always at the back, telling my son, who is small and polite, (2 deadly combinations for the snack bar mob) to get in there! Don't let that kid cut in front of you! Just shout out what you want, someone will hear you! Did he just push you? Shove him back! Don't be afraid to speak your mind! I'm afraid baseball also brings out the mamma lion in me.

As you can see, we're not so different than the animal kingdom. Sure, we don't eat our young like some species do (although somedays we might agree with this theory) and I don't know that animals feel remorse or regret after they attack their enemies the way I do. (I'm sorry to the obnoxious lady on the other team for whom I made a snide remark too, and yes, I did apologize after the game). But we share a common bond, in that we love our offspring. We try to nurture, teach, and help them survive in a crazy world until they're old enough to tackle the world on their own. And when they are ready to leave the nest, we usually do as the birds of paradise. We might shed a tear or two, but when the door is closed safely behind us, we turn to each other and do the happy feet dance!

(Uh...It's actually a mating dance, but hey, we know what that leads too. And afterall, we just got rid of one child and don't need another one to replace it!)

Happy Mothers Day Mom! Oh, and if I refer to you as a mamma elephant, don't be offended...that just means I'm willing to follow you wherever you lead me!