What I Can't Talk About

a lump in my throat.

a shooting pain in my heart.

I feel the immediate squeeze in my jaw.

and the tears are right there,

just behind my eyes.

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold on

and then,

I have to change the subject

to you, to yours, to the weather,

to anything other than

my son.

Just sitting here in the quiet of morning,

alone with my thoughts,

I wonder if I can

if I dare

let this out.

I've guarded this with all that I can--

when asked about my son,

I hold back and say,
"I can't talk about it."

Because, if I even start to go "there"I know I will lose it,
and the person on the other end is going to be left standing there
feeling helpless to say whatever they can think of to comfort
a mother's heart that is torn and bereaved to the point
that there are no words that can give comfort.

And that would be a burden I don't want to place on any unsuspecting person.

I hold these feelings as sacred to me.

And while I know there are others who carry similar burdens--
I suspect there are others, anyway--
there isn't anyone in my circle of family or friends
who truly truly know how I feel.

It began last December when Dean had a seizure that took him to the ER.
He was in the hospital for 5 days...
MRI, CATscan, blood tests, spinal tap--
where was found a lesion on his brain.
The neurologist said if we'd noticed aggressive behavior increasing in Dean--
that was a 'yes'--
then he said it's because the lesion on Dean's brain was exactly on the part of the brain
that controlled aggression.

To counteract the seizures,
a drug called "Keppra" was prescribed
and a follow-up appointment was to be made
by the host home provider and agency that oversees Dean's needs.

That was December.
I asked about that appointment over and over and over and over and over and over and over--
given excuse after excuse after excuse after excuse
as to why it hadn't been made.

I was trying to be patient,
but in the meantime,
we couldn't have time with Dean because he'd lost control
while he was around us,
and it was too hard to do that.

He calls me everyday
and asks to come over.
He misses us.
And I was told to keep away from my son
because he is worse after seeing us--
with the promise that once his meds kicked in,
he'd be better.

In May,
while I was at Women's Conference--
the first day I was there in fact,
I got an awful phone call that said Dean had been removed
from his host home because of serious bad behavior--
the police had been called,
Dean had been handcuffed.
handcuffed.
My special needs son, who has the cognitive ability of a 3-8 year old,
handcuffed.

I was sick.
I sucked it up and tucked it inside,
deep inside my heart,
and went through the rest of the trip
half there.

I came home and had an emergency meeting with Dean's team.
He was there too,
but as soon as he saw me,
took a swing at me and had to be removed.
My heart broke for him.

This isn't my son.

I demanded help--
when is the neuro appointment?
You know, the one from December??

Turns out, the agency lost the referral months before
and no appointment had been made.

WHAT??

I went home and made phone calls.
To the State agency--
I needed help for Dean.
It was at the end of the day-- 4:57pm--
with a prayer in my heart that someone
ANYONE would answer the phone,
I was relieved that the actual Director took the call--
when he said later,
that he never answers the phone so close to the end of the day.

I could barely get out my name,
before the flood gates opened
and I sobbed to this stranger on the other end,
telling him what was going on with my son,
and asked for any kind of help.

He gave me names and numbers,
and support that I have been needing for months.
He gave me his personal cell phone and email
and told me to call him anytime at all.

I hung up, relieved, with a plan.
I was going to take control and demand accountability!
I contacted ARC and got an Adult Advocate assigned to Dean
to protect him and his rights.

There were more emails to lots of people--
each seeing that I copied the Director on them
as he told me to do.

Things with Dean got worse before they got better.
He ended up in the ER again,
in the psych unit--
escorted by police--
only to be held there for a few hours and released
with no treatment plan.
I sat in the waiting room--
unable to go to him because someone identified me as a
"trigger".
I cried when I had to leave the hospital
and he had no idea I was even there.

"It's the DRUGS! This is not my son!", I kept saying.

He was moved more than six times between May and July.
Six nights I didn't sleep.
Six nights and more mornings, I went to bed with tears and woke up the same.
Kent gave me a preisthood blessing, wherein I was told
that I have much work to do for Dean and
I will be given the strength to do it.

I fasted for him.
I fasted that he would get in to see the Neurologist.
A new nurse was assigned to Dean at the agency, Shannon.
She came in to get things done.

Finally, though, he got in.
Turns out, the Keppra has known side effects that induce aggression and violence.
Seriously.

Dean had another MRI scheduled.
He would need to be sedated for it.
The morning of, the nurses didn't put it in his chart (or whoever was supposed to, didn't)
so that appointment was cancelled AFTER he got there.

Another appointment was made weeks out from that one.
Shannon was on top of it.

Finally,
the MRI was done and we had to wait two weeks to get the results:
which were
that the lesion on Dean's brain had hemorraged to the point that
there is no brain matter left in that part of the right frontal lobe.
Which means he will continue to deteriorate in his abilities
to remember things, names, people.
Me.
That his language skills, already difficult to understand, will decline.
As well as his ability to understand language.
And his posture is affected.

I can't even talk about this.
I am looking at these words,
and I can't even say them outloud.

I have seen Dean since they took him off Keppra.
In fact, I saw him last Tuesday.
He looks homeless.
I don't know why his respite care provider doesn't make sure
his teeth are brushed,
his beard is trimmed,
he's wearing clothing that fit him...
I've complained.
I said it isn't OK with me that Dean looks unkept.
But his new HHP is committed to changing that,
and I am hopeful that he keeps his word.
Anyway, I got to look into my son's blue eyes.
He was sweet and hugged me and stood close by me
as we talked about him going to a special needs camp
in the mountains last week,
put on by the Lions Club.
His speech is slurred, his posture is weak,
he couldn't remember the kids' names--
Joseph and Bee were with me--
it is evident he is struggling.
But his smile was there.

He went and had a great time.
The Leader of the camp wrote me email and sent pictures
of Dean while he was there and said he did great.

I interviewed a new host home provider, Eric.
I met with the team again,
and requested a new case manager as the other one
clearly didn't care about Dean--he was better at excuses than action.
I was applauded by other team players afterward for that decision.
The new case manager is awesome.
I love her. I need her. Dean needs her and she is on top of everything!
At the meeting where Eric was present,
I told him and the rest of Dean's team that once Dean's meds have been
evaluated and changed and he's doing better,
I want him home.

He belongs to me.
I belong to him.
Just as I belong to my other children,
but even more so.
And if you have a special needs child,
you know what I mean by that.
Having a special needs child,
makes me a special needs mother.
I have needs regarding his care that exceed my abilities
at times.

I believe,
I have been blessed by God in heaven
to see Dean's last moments on this earth
and I am at his side in those moments.

His days are known.

"Thy days are known, and thy years shall not be numbered less; therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever."

I can't talk about this.
I say that to my family, to my friends, to anyone who asks.
I can't.
It is too real. Too hard. Too much to put at anyone else's feet.
Too much.
I don't think anyone really wants to hear it all.
And I certainly can't talk about it without my heart leaking through my eyes.


When I close my eyes at night,
my heart opens and reaches toward the heavens,
and my silent prayer is the same,
"Please watch over my Dean. Help me, Lord, to be strong."

A Teacher's Grace

Over this past crazy weekend of moving,
we also had a visit from my special needs son, Dean.

We had planned on having him here months ago,
long before we knew it was going to be a crazy weekend.
We didn't dare cancel,
because, seriously, I sleep better when he's
within arm's reach.
I just do.
All is right in my world,
when Dean is visiting.

And he loves to be needed,
loves to help,
loves to be where the action is--
so this was a perfect weekend to have him visit us
when you know this about Dean.

We worked hard all day long on Saturday.
All. Day.
Packing and moving
packing and moving.
And he never once complained.
I wish I could say the same for the rest of us.
We're so much a bunch o' whiners.
I get so cranky that I consider calling
ARC to come n' get whatever they can fit into their truck
n' call it a day
cuz we own more stuff than is legal in some countries.
And the little yahoos whine so much
that to get them to help is akin
to bowling with broken fingers.

Anywho, we worked hard all day Saturday,
and come Sunday morning,
well, we didn't go to church.
Two reasons really:
Dean didn't bring his Sunday clothes,
and I couldn't find the box with my underwear in it.
I'm not kidding. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

ANYWAY,
Sunday morning, I was looking at our family picture
where all of us are smiling and looking all radiant
after being sealed as an eternal family
in the Salt Lake temple right at 7 years ago,
I got all choked up n' stuff
like I do.
Dean came over to me and gave me a big hug.
I mean, a really big hug
where he didn't let go immediately,
because normally he's a hard one to get a good hug from
as it just stimulates him too much to bear.
But not this time,
he hugged me good and tight.
When we both let go a little,
I held his hands and said,
"I want you to know that I know you have been sent here
to teach me.  Thank you for being so patient with me.  I love you so much."
And then I wrapped my arms around him again.

Then, I pulled away to wipe the tears from my eyes,
and he started to walk away towards to back door,
when he did something unusual--
he turned back to me,
smiled
and slowly
took a bow.
The whole arms stretched open,
head down,
bending at the waist
like a
"it's-my-honor-to-teach-you"
bow.
It will ever remain the most gracious bow
I have ever seen.

And made my crazy weekend
awhole lot sweeter.

I love him.

6:36 AM

Boofus creeped into our room this morning,
wrapped both arms around his sleeping daddy's shoulders,
laid his head on the large pillow
and says,
"I'm barely on the edge."

We scooted over to make room,
half-awake, half- asleep.

"I had some weird dreams last night.
I dreamed about fried chicken."

Mr W and I crack up in laughter--
eyes still closed.

"N' I dreamed about a big organizer.
N' it was for jerky.  Turkey jerky, jalopeno jerky,
teriyaki jerky, beef jerky, buffalo jerky..."

Dad: "Did ya go to bed hungry, Boof?"

Boofus: "Yeah."

Me: "I am so blogging this."

I love waking up laughing.

I'm With the Band

Last night was two concerts for Joseph and Arianna--
he, on the clarinet and she, on the violin.
Joseph's been going to band under duress since about December.
Begging for permission to quit.
Mr W and I told him he could not quit but had to finish out the year he committed.

Before we left the house last night,

I asked Joseph if he needed to shower,

and he said 

"Mom, I've been nervous today. Band had to play for the whole school! I was so nervous, I was sweating. I forgot all the notes!  Mr. Schwartz said if we didn't know them, just fake it, so I did! And the kid sitting next to me, J*, wet his pants! I looked over at his lap and saw a big circle of pee! Can I just quit band right now?  Just quit. It's okay, another kid did. Can I? Can I? "

Ahhhh elementary school.

When we got to the school, 

I told Joseph to remind his bandmate to go potty

before they got on stage.

It was better than I expected.
Much better.

Lemme just say that the music was so good,
I didn't recognize any of it!
Each time a piece would begin,
I'd think--
"Did Ari ever practice that?
I don't think she knows it.
This does not sound like a cat in a blender."

"Is Joseph really playing his clarinet?
I never heard him play this song."

I was watching to see if he was faking it,
and
watching the pee-pot kid next to him.

The concert was good.
 I did ask Joseph afterwards if he played or faked it--
"I played the whole time, Mom.  Mr. Schwartz thinks I'll do good in middle school next year."

"So you're thinking you wanna be in band again next year?" I asked.

"Uh yeah. This was fun."

I'm getting a t-shirt
Rock on.

Mother's Day Lists

My family asked me what I want for
Mother's Day,
this Sunday.

That's a loaded question.
Just ask any mother in the world.
So I answered them with this:

"I'd like to be disappointed
all day long and here's how:


I want all of you kids to be particulary ornery and messy
on Sunday.
And Dad,
I'd like you to alternate between being oblivious and cranky
while you deal with the ornery and messy children.

I'd like to get up early because one kid is puking

and another is crying.

Forget about breakfast in bed,

unless it's burnt eggs and cheerios.

I want a bad hair day

so if you could arrange for it to either snow or rain,

that'd be super.
Also, add a skirt that fits too tight, with a smudge of
kid-snot on the front of it,
and I'd be a lucky woman.

And it'd really be great
if the children look like hillbillies at church,
fight on the way there,
and if one could start crying during the prayer,
that'd just fix. my.life.

I'd like snarling from the grounded teenager whose
upset because she missed curfew.
And if she could act like I'm an inconvenience in her daily life,
that'd fit the bill!

I want to cook a big dinner and do dishes afterwards,
while everyone else peels off and does their own "thang".

Yeah,
I want that.
And to top of the day,
I'd like a big old-fashioned family throw-down
in the living room and end it with me in tears,
shaking my head and saying:
 "all I ever wanted was to be
a wife and mother,
and you people are ruining this experience!"

So yeah,
the only way to get what I'd really like
is to ask for all of that--
don't disappoint puhleez."

The whole family smiled and said,
"You got it!"

But if I could produce a legit
Mother's Day Wish List,
this is what it would be:

• A Clean House.
• No Quarreling for 24 hours...that's wakeful hours, sleeping hours do not count.
• A full nights' rest between 8 to 10 hours of non-interrupted sleep.
• Someone else to go through all the piles of papers on the desk. (I hate doing that!)
• A Garage I can park my car inside of.
• No Cooking for a Month! I don't care if we serve cereal and toast as long as noone complains!
• Have my car detailed.  I love the "new car" smell instead of the "Wendy's old french fry" smell.
• The backyard poop-scooped without complaining.
• No text-messages asking for money, time, or attention for 24 hours.
• A small amount of praise in the form of gifts and cards would be nice too.

What about you?  What's on your list?




* incidents/attitudes described above may or may not have happened in real life.

Mothering in My Younger Years: Flying Money & Nightgown Shenanigans

In honor of Mother's Day,
I'm going down Memory Lane today
and sharing a memory or two of my younger mothering years.

Age: 25
Yahoos' ages: 4,3,2.
Place: Phoenix, AZ.

One bright, sunny morning (is there another kind in AZ?),
my husband left me grocery money on our bookcase headboard.
Four crisp twenty dollar bills.
The kids and I got going that morning
with our usual routine,
and when we were all ready to go
I went to get the money from my room.
Only, it wasn't there.
I looked on the floor
nothing.
Under the bed,
nothing.
Pulled all of the covers off the bed,
nothing.
I was exasperated!
Then I looked up and saw that the glass-sliding door
off my bedroom
was just barely open.
I called the kids into my room
and asked
who'd been outside that morning,
and did either of them see the money on my bed.
Four year old David Scott's eyes lit up
and he smiled a big smile.
Then he related how he'd taken the money,
and thrown it off the balcony to the apartment parking lot below.

"Why?", I asked "Why, would you do such a thing?"


"I wanted to watch money fly out the window." he said.

Yes, I cried back then. But eventually, it became a joke in our house.

******

Age 30:
Yahoos' ages: 9,8,7, almost 2.
Place: Spartanburg, SC

A chilly spring morning,
the oldest yahoos were off to school
leaving Diana and I alone at home.
I loved my mornings with her.
She was my little shadow.
Well, one morning,
right after I watched the older kids get on the bus
from my front window,
I realized I hadn't checked the mail the day before.
The mailbox was just at the end of the driveway
so I decided to just run out there real quick
in my nightgown and fetch it.
Just as I got to the end of the drive,
I heard the front door slam shut.
I wasn't concerned until I went to open it.

Diana had not only shut the door,
but the door's faulty lock had "caught" too.
All she had to do,
I told her,
was "turn the knob".
Turn.
The.
Knob.

Turn.
The.
Knob.

Turntheknobturntheknobturntheknob.

I could see her plainly thru the window panes
on the door,
and I stayed as calm as I could.
But she started crying anyway.

"Mama. Mama. Mama."

I climbed up to the planter in the front window,
to see if, by chance, that window was not locked.
It wasn't!
Yes!
I was looking closely at the window screen,
trying to figure out how to pull it out,
when I heard a male voice just behind me
on the ground.
"Locked out, hunh?"

ACK!

It was my neighbor, headed out to work.

"Uh, yeah." I answered. humiliated. embarrassed. freaking out inside.

"Here," he said "let me help."

So I came down out of the brick planter,
folding my arms in front of
my nightgown.

He got up there,
popped out the screen,
climbed thru the window
and opened the front door.

Little Diana came running toward me,
tears all over her chubby cheeks
and we both hugged each other like we'd been
separated at birth.

I thanked my neighbor profusely
while he replaced the screen.
Then me and my dignity went back into the house
where we looked for a corner to die in.

*****
I wish I had been the woman to say this,
because it's so true:

Motherhood Ain't For Sissies.

Okay so tell me I'm not the only mother in the world that's had these kind of experiences?!!

When Lucy and Ethel Staged a House to Sell....the missing episode

Yesterday morning I went to a house I recently staged
to help the homeowner (Hi W.!) get ready for a showing.

W. has a beautiful home--
six bedrooms,
five bathrooms,
thousands of square feet so noone's standing
in front of the theater screen
across the room.
Ever.
Gleaming wood floors,
granite countertops,
winding staircase,
huge landscaped lot--
seriously,
this home is a great one!
The only thing standing in the way
of my purchasing her home
is that her asking price is above what I can afford by
$250,000.00
give or take.

I showed up just a little bit before the showing
to see W.'s hard work--
and lemme say,
that Momma W. done worked her bum off!
Everything shines like a new penny.
Bedrooms are perfect,
bathrooms are spotless.
We turned on the lights,
cued up the music,
and
the final touch:
chocolate chip cookies
and water with fresh lemons.
It looked great!

Just as I was about to slip on my shoes
and head out the front door,
the doorbell rang--
ACK!
it was the Realtor and her clients
seven minutes early FCOL!
W. took off for the backdoor to the garage,
as I greeted the guests as I made my Ethel-like getaway:
"Hi there. I'm not the homeowner. Nice to meet you.
The house is beautiful. Have a nice day."--
wondering if W. was gonna get out before being noticed.

I jumped in my big honkin' Sub and went home--
thinkin' that W. had also jumped into her big honkin' sub
and left her house.

Only she didn't.

She got in her car, intending to leave--
but realized she didn't know where the Realtor parked--
was it in the driveway or on the street?
If it's in the driveway,
there was no way she was going back into the house
and ask them to move their car.
Why?
Because she didn't want to make any sort of impression
on the buyers.
And,
she'd been too busy to fix her hair and make-up!


So channeling Lucy,
W. did what any awesome-house-selling-momma would do--
she got into her car and hid inside there
until the Realtor and buyers left her house.

While in there,
she remembered that a breaker switch had flipped,
so she waited until she could hear them going upstairs
and jumped out of the car to flip the switch
(I'm guessing it was in the garage!)
and jumped back into her hiding place.

She heard them come into the garage,
and hid under a big coat of her husband's--
and held her breath for dear life
until they left.

****

And this, dear people, is one of the many many reasons,
Mothers like W. have secured their place in heaven.
Lucy woulda been proud.
I know I am.

Derodiant

The Caboose, lifting up her arm: Hey, smell my armpit!

Momza: Uh, no. I don't think so.

The Caboose: It smells good! I'm wearing my new dee-ro-dee-ant!

Momza, smelling from a distance:  Mmmm, spring flowers!

Dear Mr. Easter Bunny 2.0

Dear Mr. Easter Bunny,

I wanted to do this personally,
but seeing as how you tend to show up to our house
in the middle of the night with your goodie-laden basket,
this will have to do.

Mr. Bunny, you and I go way back...
since I was just a little chick--
that's what?--like 400 years in bunny years?
I've always delighted in your arrival and have truly appreciated
your accommodations for our family's celebration of Spring
by coming to our house Friday night instead of Saturday.
That alone,
saved many threads of the yahoos' new easter clothing
as well as my sanity,
since I didn't have to take children
hopped-up on sugar
to Church come Sunday morning.
So thank you for that.

Remember last year,
when my letter to you was all about the 15 year old?
Thanks for the tranquilizer dart-gun.
Totally worked.
She slept for three whole days,
which meant peace and quiet for me.
I owe you for that one!

I have a new and different situation this year--
ever since The Caboose turned 10 last month,
she has become a whiny, pouty girl.
She stomps her feet and raises her voice in anger,
n' oh heaven help us if she doesn't get what she wants!
It's as though someone pushed an "ornery" button
on my little Caboose!
I'm nearly outta patience over here--
and I'm sure you can relate--
seeing as how we all know that bunnies
have large families too.
You get me?
So, I'll get to the point here,
because I do have one--
can you perhaps mix a "chillax"-flavored jellybelly
in with the rest?

Just one.
For me.
Maybe two.
Okay, thanks.
Be sure to grab some organic carrots on your way out.

With love,
Momza

P.S. Look for me in the easter parade. I'll be standing next to her:

Mom Interrupted

I write my blogs early in the morning--
usually just after Mr. Wonderful leaves for work,
before the yahoos and the dog get up,
but just before Daisie leaves for Seminary.

One day this week however,
I lost my mind and was trying to pluck out a few lines
while the yahoos were getting ready for school.
Normally, it's not that big of a deal--
I let them watch TV until 7:30-ish,
then I start coaching them along--
"eat breakfast"
"practice piano/clarinet/violin"
"feed Kota"
"take Kota out"
"brush your teeth"
etc...
Mornings are non-events for the most part.
Hey, I'm down to three yahoos at home now.
I've earned whatever peace and quiet,
harmony and melody I can get these days.
I even told my doctor that since I'm down to three,
I'm considering taking up drinking now--
I was sober for seven,
I can do three, drunk.

Anyway--back to the other morning--
from the loft/study I heard
the youngest two going at it
loud and strong--
Boofus: No! You Don't!
Caboose: "Yes! I Do!"
There was awhole lotta weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth!

Momza: "Hey! Hey! Guys! What's going on?"

Come to find out, they're fussing over who loves the dog MORE.

So I put on my "Wise Mother" hat,
and offer:
"Guys, you're getting ready to leave our house and go to school.
It's going to be a long day. 
School can be tough. 
Don't you think you'd feel better if you're kind
to each other and make up before you walk out into the world? 
I love you both so much. 
It hurts my feelings when you're mean to each other. 
AND, you're both good pet owners. 
Kota loves you both. 
Can you think of something kind to say to each other 
before you leave the house?"

The Boofus and Caboose, in unison: "NO!"
They walked out the door
and down the street
together.

Set 'em up, Joe.

Evolution in Parenting

In a moment of clarity and sanity,
I put some thoughts down,
and shared them over here.
Head on over, will ya?

Evolution: It's Something to Believe In

ev-o-lu-tion. n.

A gradual process in which something changes

into a different and usually more

complex or better form.

I love the word evolution.

To evolve, to change gradually, to become.

That is so Me.

At this age, how pathetic would it be,

if I still thought and acted like a twenty-year old?

At twenty-one I was a new young mother

who didn't know a dang thing.

But I was an eager student

to learn how to become better.

Reading books,

listening to good women and men's counsel,

seeking

always seeking out the good stuff

has helped me

"evolve".

We're all evolving

on some level.

Some of us take longer to learn 

the lessons of life

than others.

Common sense is not so common.

Sometimes it seems that

the World of Logic

is next to

Fantasyland.

In my fiftieth year,

just when I'm comfortable

with what I've learned,

my brain lets go of things

randomly, without warning.

Even in this process,

I am evolving my attitude

that says

"I must control everything"

with the realization

that it's not necessary.

I've made my best efforts in some areas,

most of these years,

but not always.

I can still do better.

Be better.

That's very encouraging thinking 

for my heart--

to know I've still got time to love more,

love deeper,

love for the sake of love.

There's yet more to learn

to explore and experience.

And heck no,

I'm not going to be perfect at it

the first go-'round.

But I can get better.

Having realistic expectations for myself,

gives me opportunities to teach my children

that they too

are evolving human beings,

and some days are gonna be wrecked-up messes--

regret, remorse, repentance

will all be part of their 

Journey.

So is forgiveness and love of self.

Appreciation 

for another sunrise

to try again

is seen as the true gift it is

in the light of day.

Whilst In the midst of trials,

all is not lost.

All is measured and weighed,

added to the sum total

of the equation

of evolution.

When our understanding matches our actions

then we can measure more fairly.

When we know better

we do better.

Doesn't it all make sense this way?

That's the legacy I want to leave behind

for my posterity.

That Life is for Learning:

"Do your part"--something we say to our children each day; 

and something I am certain they are sick of hearing, 

but also something I am certain 

they will say to their own as well.

"Learn what you need to learn,

and get on with it."

"This is the day that the Lord hath made,

let us rejoice 

and be glad in it."

Trials are part of this great journey...

but like a gray cloud--

as dark and fierce as it may be--

thankfully,they too pass.

There's yet much joy to be found

no matter what our circumstances may be.

We just have to look for it,

or 

create it if necessary.

Don't let the ghostly weight of past flubs

tether themselves

to the dreams of today.

Forgiveness of self is part of evolution.

Make things right

and then move forward 

with confidence.

You and me?

We have a work to do in our own little part of the vineyard.

I used to kneel and dig the earth

then I planted the seeds,

tended the little sprouts as they shot up to the sky,

watered and fed them most days--

and here I am,

standing 

in the glorious vineyard 

that is mine 

to enjoy 

in the rays of the sun,

shadow of the moon,

cloudy and rainy days,

snow-covered nights,

and every day that I cast my eyes heavenward.

Evolution.

I bet you thought I was writing about Apes, hunh?
Nope. 

.

Peeps Season

It's that season in my ol' mother hen's life

when one of my peeps is leavin' the nest.

That's right,

she is headin' over the west side of the mountains

towards that single adult mecca called

BYU.

Otherwise known as "Happy Valley".

Nana's going there to experience a little more of the LDS culture

for the summer before heading off to a mission next fall.

Some of the things I anticipate for her:

Fun Roomates.

Educational Experiences at the Library.

College Sports

Opportunities to stretch her political/social muscles.

Enjoying the Great Outdoors of Utah 

Practicing her Ninja skills to ward off would be suitors.

And realize that the world is bloomin' full of really sweet peeps.

Who love to have fun.

But not that kinda fun...

heaven help me.

No. No. No.  Not that kind!

Yes, it's time to give her the boot

outta the nest.

I miss her already.

5 Spiritual Solutions for Everyday Parenting Challenges--Book Review & Giveaway

"We didn't create our children;

they come as who they are

from a Father who entrusts us

with stewardship for them."  

~ R. & L. Eyre

New York Times #1 Bestselling Authors
Richard and Linda Eyre
have a new book out:

I was invited to read and review this book,

and just received it two days ago.

I've never met the Eyre's in person,

but I've known them for all of my parenting years--

that's 27 years and counting,

as their books have always been a part of my quest

to be a better, happier parent.

So when I was contacted about their latest offerings,

I was very humbled at the opportunity.

I'm not finished with this book yet--

it's hard to read through tear-filled eyes,
did you know that?
Each page is so entirely complete in it's presentation,
that you don't just skim through them,
you inhale them...
slowly and deeply...
soaking the truths into your very core.

It's not just about Parenting your children,
it's about who we are as Eternal families,
and how knowing that truth
and understanding it more fully,
helps us embrace our roles with Clarity,
Purpose and Love.

I didn't even get through the prologue
without tears, seriously.

I sat in my room,
and read the book outloud
because I wanted to hear the words
ring in my own ears.

I brought my almost 16 year old up,
and read some pages to her,
and again
to my 20 year old
and again to my husband, Mr. Wonderful.

The power that is in the Eyre's message
is palpable.
You will find yourself nodding in agreement while you read;
you'll get goosebumps on your arms,
tingling at the crown of your head,
lumps in your throat,
and Joy,
absolute JOY
in your whole body while you read
and swallow up their beautiful, sacred message.

My copy isn't going to be pretty--
it's getting dog-eared,
highlighted,
tear-stained
and shared!
That's when you know it's a GREAT book, right?

Deseret Book has graciously offered a lovely copy of
5 Spiritual Solutions for Everyday Parenting Challenges
by Richard and Linda Eyre
to one of YOU.

So here's the deal to enter the Giveaway:

Leave a Comment relative to this Giveaway.

That's it.
You can tell everyone you know about it too, if you want.
I want every parent in the Universe to own this book!!
You may get your own copy at Deseret Book, too.
You need this book.
Your kids need this book.
Your friends and neighbors and everyone whose ever been a child
needs it.

Now, if you'll excuse I've got to get back to it!

* I was not paid for this review, only given a copy of it for my review and one to share. For which, I am entirely grateful.  Thank you!

"Hey, Mom"--the best phone calls begin the same

You know what's one of the best rewards of Motherhood for me?

Phone calls.

"Hey Momza."
 It's my son, David Scott's voice on the other end.
He calls me on his way to work nearly once a week.
Hearing his voice gives me joy.
I enjoy hearing about his comings and goings,
what he and his sweetheart bride are up to these days.
We talk about the coming summer and make plans
to go camping and hiking.
The conversation winds down just as he is pulling into
his work parking lot,
we say our "love yous" and "good-byes"
then hang up with a smile.
****

"Good Morning, Mom."--that sweet voice on the other end,
is my daughter-Mommy, Dani.
"How's the Ninja Baby?" I ask.
"He's {fill in the blank--sleeping, poopy, playing}.
We go from there,
talking about the coming days' events,
how school is for Mr. Idaho,
and eventually get around to talking about
the coming baby and names they like for a girl.
They'll be in Houston this summer for another internship,
which is a challenge as we figure out when I'll leave to go there
to help out with the new baby that will be born
while they're in Texas.
We talk about the other kids,
recipes,
callings,
and the weather--
which is always a topic in the Rocky Mountains.
I listen to the Ninja baby yell and squeal in the background,
giggling at his cuteness and tell Dani ten thousand times
how much we love that baby and we plan our next visit.
Then, as his voice rises in decibels,
we say our goodbyes and talk-to-you-laters
and I hang up with a smile on my lips.
************

"Hullo, Mom. This is Dean Johnson."
"Hey, Buddy! How are you?"
"Good. How ah you?"
When Dean calls,
it's as though there's a special button that goes off in my noggin,
as I know I must listen with different ears,
and try to read between the lines of what he's saying
and not saying.
Within the first two minutes,
he will ask me when we're going to see him again.
We talk about it in generalities,
because if I said we're going to see him next Saturday,
and it's just now Monday,
well he'll just stress himself out every day in between.
So I say, "Soon. We'll see you soon.  What do you wanna do while you're here?"
If I were a gambler,
I'd be rich by now, as I know his answers will be one of these, verbatim:
"Let's go out for dinner."
"How 'bout we go to da mall?"
"Can we go to da Park?"
Then, I'll ask if he needs anything,
to which he'll answer, "Yes, I need some more footwear."
Dean loves new shoes.
Before he hangs up,
he'll ask to speak to any- and every-one
in the house.
The phone is passed around until he's had enough
and hangs up,
sometimes with a "good-bye" sometimes without.
**********

"Hey, Mom." --a tired wispy voice on the other end
 greets me early this morning.
It's Nana, whose in Provo,Utah this week,
hanging out with friends.
"I had the BEST time last night...we went blues dancing,
 it was so much fun,
everyone was so nice, and we laughed all night long.
 Didn't go to bed until four thirty this morning,
but I'm already awake and Mom, it was so much fun."
She used the word "fun" a hundred times more,
describing her night,
hour by hour,
all the personalities,
the silly and the thoughtful,
until she is out of things to say.
And all I can think of is how grateful I am
that she wanted to share it with me,
on this side of the Rockies,
and how much I'm going to miss her
when she leaves for a mission this Fall.
**********

"Oh, hey, Mom. I have a question."--most of the conversations
I have with Miss Daisy begin with that opener.
Not always, but most.
We're still working on having good communication at her ripe old age of
almost 16.
Phone calls are not for catching up as much as they staying connected,
ya know?
"Can I go{ fill in  the blank}?"--seems to be on the other end at this age.
Our best conversations aren't on the phone,
but in person,
usually in the car,
or in a bedroom,
at the dinner table after everyone else has gotten up and left--
but those conversations in person are laying,
I hope,
the foundation for the phone conversations to come.
*******

"Hey, Mom. I did my homework. Can I play now?"--
the Boofus' voice is on the end.
I'm at work when he gets home from school.
I go over the list of chores and things he's supposed to do daily,
and once he's done, he's clear to go.
"Be home by five. I love you."
"Love you too. K."
click.
*****

"Hello, Mommy? This is Ari."
Her sweet 9 year old voice is like honey to my ears.
She doesn't know this, but there's rarely anything she could ask of me,
that I wouldn't give to her.
When she is cuddled on the sofa with me,
or I'm laying in her bed next to her at bedtime,
she asks me who my "favorite" child is--
I tell her that she is,
"but don't tell the other kids."
She giggles and says it's our secret,
then snuggles in closer.
Phone calls, at this age,
are pretty much the same as the Boofus'--
information seeking, permission seeking--
"When you get home, can we go to the store?"
"When I'm finished practicing piano and violin,
can I go play too?"
I try to say "yes" when there's no reason to say "no."
And we end with a "I'll be home soon, Love."
********

I don't know what my kids will tell their kids
about me being their Momza--
I could list the things I've done wrong in parenting--
and it'd be a long list alright.
Yet,
I hope I've done enough good to make up for the flubs and floundering.

A long time ago,
someone said to me,

"You're such a good mother."

To which, I replied, "Thank you. My hope is that my kids will want to come home and visit me,
when they don't have to."

To my yahoos,
I love hearing your voices on the other end of the phone,

                                                              "Hey, Mom."

In God's Timing OR Where'd that IUD go?

You know how,
when you were young,
you made Plans for your L.I.F.E.?

What you wanted to do.
Where you wanted to go to school.
Who you wanted to marry.
How many yahoos you wanted to have;
and to show a particular sense of responsibility,
choose birth control to govern when those yahoos
would make an appearance
in this mortal nest.

Yep.
All planned out like a 15 year old
going to her first prom.

Life.
You live long enough and you realize
Life is funny sometimes.
Sometimes you do get the dream boat of your affections,
and sometimes you get a tug boat.
And sometimes you get into that school of geniuses
n' sometimes you go to community college.

But you know,
you work things out.
You work with what you've got
and go from there.

I married young.
Twenty.
We lived in Houston, Texas.
Just over a year later,
I had my first baby.
I was over-the-moon-in-love
with his baby-ness.
But man-oh-man,
was I tired. And sore.
But I was happy.
Did I mention tired?

At my 6 week check-up,
I found out I was pregnant again.
I know.
After I sucked it up in the ob's office,
I went out to my car and sobbed
feeling like a very cruel joke had been played on me.

I had just gotten used to nursing,
washing more laundry,
sleep was not happening,
I had no support system
as my husband was in school and working
full-time,
and no family nearby.
And,
we were moving to another State
the following Spring
for more schooling.

I found out that the La Leche ladies
had lied:
breastfeeding is not a "natural" birth control.

Ten and a half months later,
Danielle was born
in Independence, Missouri.
She was an easy baby.
She slept thru the night
from nearly the beginning.

Thirteen months later,
and one failed "sponge" contraceptive,
Dean was born.

If you're keeping track,
that's three babies
in two years.

That's when I learned that God was in control.
Either that, or I was an idiot.
But we kid around here,
that I needed Dani in-between the two boys
to keep me sane.
She was my right-hand man
and the Lord knew I needed some help.

The next child didn't show up until 6 years later.
After much trying in years 4 and 5.

So where's this going?
Well, a couple of weeks ago,
I went up to Dani's to see the beautiful Ninja baby,
since they'd spent all of their Christmas break
with Mr. Idaho's family.
She had been ill while on vacation--
but so had the rest of his family,
all with the stomach flu.

The stomach flu was not the only thing she had.
Missing a cycle while up there,
she went to her OB when she got home,
where it was discovered
somewhere in time,
her Mirena IUD came out,
and in it's place,
is an 8 week old little fetus.

She didn't tell us any of this before
she first brought out
the ultrasound!
Diana and I just grabbed her
and hugged her tight!
Yea! a baby!
We love babies!

Mr. Idaho is still in denial.lol
He hates doctors and modern medicine.
He feels betrayed,
because he was "Responsible".
No more kids until graduation--
maybe three years from now...
because he's going onto get his Masters.

Danielle is handling it better, I think,
than I did.
She said, "God's in control."
followed by a "dang it."

I told her it's kharma--
total payback.

She's due in mid-August,
while they are in Houston, Texas
for Mr. Idaho's internship.

God laughs when we make plans.--
I think I heard that maybe once or a million times.

So here's where you share your stories about failed birth control
or the plans that you made that took detours!
Dani will appreciate them.
And poor Mr. Idaho too.