This is Alot, So Try To Keep Up

Christmas 2013:

 Diana had been home from her mission just about a week she was up earlier than anyone else!

 Then January 2nd we headed to Rexburg, Idaho to drop our college freshman, Dara aka Daisie,

off for her first semester:

 Her own little corner of her own little world:

Somewhere in the middle of January,

we went to the Denver Temple:

 Snow. We've gotten alot of it this year. It's a Thing:

 Dean came over sporting a new haircut and looking better than we'd seen him in a long stinkin' time:

 St. Baldricks!  Joseph has wanted to do this since he was in 3rd grade, this was his year!

 The Caboose's 13th Birthday! Lotsa girls, lotsa giggles, zero drama! I call that a SUCCESS!

 Another trip to Idaho and then to Utah:

                         We met up with David Scott & Tisha in Rexburg! So great to see them!

She starts school at BYU-I in September

A trip to the Rexburg Temple! Loved it!

Me and my good friends, Lynnel and Debbie. 

I have to say we laughed so hard, 

I even blew water thru my nose at one point.

The parents of a certain missionary whose coming home in July.

Yeah. This summer is happening.

At the Christus statue on Temple Square.

 My April Fools' Prank on the Family:

Yummmmm!

Me, the Mother of Dean

Dean came over this weekend.

I drove the thirty minutes south to pick him up.
He was so excited to see me,
he wet his pants before I got there
and was in the shower when I rang the bell.

I visited with his HHPs during the shower time.
They didn't know him when he was higher functioning...
and it was hard to even talk about how much my son has deteriorated
these past two years.
He used to play soccer, baseball, volleyball, basketball, bocci ball, bowling, track and field, snowshoeing and swimming in the Special Olympics--
we have boxes of medals won from those years.
Now he needs help unbuttoning his pants.

Dean came downstairs to see me there,
grinning ear to ear.
I reached up and gave my boy a big hug.
Breathing him in and holding tight.

I held his hand as we walked down the stairs from the door to the car.
He used to shrug off my helping hands,
these days, however,
he holds so tight
that I wonder if I could actually steady my self and him
if he did trip.

We get in the car and he is happy.
I ask him a few questions, he softly answers
and shrugs his shoulders when the answers don't come out of his mouth.

It reminds me when I had that awful concussion a couple years ago...
the words just weren't there sometimes.
I would get upset though...where Dean does not.
He smiles and shrugs like it's all okay.

At the house he is greeted by the whole family--
and Ari introduces him proudly to her new friends who are over for the night.
"This is my brother, Dean."
She doesn't add anything remarkable about him--
the girls get it-- that he's different--
so they smile and say Hello
and together they all go on with their adolescent conversations
and giggles.

Dean loves helping in the kitchen  STILL--
since it's dinner time,
I put on an apron from the pantry--
one for me and one for him.
I hand him the wooden spoon--
the one with the extra long handle--
and tell him to be careful
while he stirs the macaroni that's bubbling away.
I stand next to him,
making the salad,
seasoning the meat...
and calmly remind myself to have fun.

My eyes catch Dean's soft blue eyes--
we smile at each other.
That smile.
The one where we both know what's going on.
I swallow hard and look away
so he doesn't see tears welling up.
 I make my hands busy so the tears suck up--

Kent comes up behind me and hugs me--
he catches the tears
and squeezes tighter.
He knows.
I'm so grateful he knows my heart.

He lightens the mood by saying something silly to get Dean to laugh--
which has always been easy.

When dinner's over,
Dean is ready for bed.
It's just about 6:30, so I try to keep him up just until 7.
He helps load the dishes,
offers to vacuum, even.
The boy loves to vacuum.
When he was little, the vacuum aisle in Target was his favorite aisle.
I don't know why.
He's worn out nearly a dozen vacuums in his life,
from using them over n over n over again.
My floors were especially clean those years.

Finally, Kent and I tuck Dean into bed.
He is still childlike...he prefers total darkness,
and always pulls the covers over his head
just as he did when he was six years old.
As I lean over to kiss his twenty-eight year old head goodnight,
I whisper,
"Thank you for coming to see me. I love having you here. I always sleep better when I know you're home."
His blue eyes crease as a smile crosses his lips.
No words though.

Saturday morning
he is up at dawn.
He knows the sister missionaries are coming for breakfast.
He LOVES the sister missionaries.
As he comes out of the shower upstairs,
I call to him to come look at some pictures we have
of the sister missionaries--
he smiles and says,
"Which one is for me?" plain as day.
I respond, "Oh they are all so beautiful aren't they?"
He nods.
"You're going to marry a beautiful girl someday, hunh?" I say.
"Yup." he answers with a knowing smile.

The sisters arrived, making a special effort to talk to Dean.
One sister in particular, Sister Little, is especially gracious and kind to him.
She tries earnestly to engage him in small talk and he enjoys that so much.
He smiles a lot, can barely look at her face, and blushes all over.
Smitten.
He is suddenly chatty--tries to offer more than one-syllable words up to answer her questions.
Always looking to me to translate for him...
which I do.

My heart is so full of gratitude for these young women.
For their tenderness and understanding.

The day goes on, we listen to General Conference together
and when it's over,
time for the sisters to get on with their day,
Dean decides it's time for him to leave too.
I coax him to stay just a little while longer--
the kids break out the WII games and he is happy to watch them play tennis,
baseball and golf for a bit.
I remind Ari to include Dean and give him a turn to play.

And then,
before I know it, it's time to say goodbye again.

Kent does me the favor of driving Dean back the thirty miles south,
because I frankly, am a mess everytime I drive away without my son.

We pack up his things, bring them downstairs,
walk him to the car, and just before he gets in
I hold him tight and send a thousand prayers heavenward
while he is yet in my arms.
He smiles when he lets go and waves good bye as they drive away.

I chastise myself for not taking a single picture like I'd wanted to--
of him and us together.
I spaced it altogether.
"NEXT TIME."
Oh I hope there's a next time.

It is a hard thing to be a sane mother when your heart strings are wrapped up and around
a child like Dean.
I don't know anyone personally who has a situation like mine.
I know OF a sister in our ward who has a special needs son, wheelchair bound--
but she doesn't mention her son at all. And has never reached out to me.
I see her tears in the congregation whenever I speak of my son,
but she doesn't say a word to me.

This night,
I am reflecting upon the goodness of the Plan of Salvation,
and upon my belief in that plan and in the sealing ordinances of the temple
that will bind my family for eternity.
I am grateful for the teachings that we are eternal beings and someday,
Dean will stand before me perfectly glorious and free from these affirmities
that have limited him in this life.
Also, grateful to know through priesthood blessings that I chose to be Dean's mother
before I even came to this earth. Fully, completely aware of his calling and mission
to teach me and others things we would've never learned otherwise.
That he is always always always surrounded by angels and that Heavenly Father
never leaves him alone.
There's comfort in this knowledge.
I see it on Dean's face and in his blue eyes.

Oh I am learning so much.

Three New Things

This week, I found inspiration on Pinterest and actually made the two recipes below:

http://www.food.com/recipe/spinach-feta-stuffed-chicken-breasts-376231

http://www.mykitchenescapades.com/2012/07/carrot-zucchini-bars-with-lemon-cream.html

*the family gave two thumbs up to both recipes!

And I found an awesome shower curtain at Kohl's for $6.99

that will go well with this paint color called, 

"Colorado Gray" that I am going to use asap

in the kids' bathroom:

Checking In

It's April 3rd here in the Rockies and true-to-form,
we're havin' a snow storm.
I know others are enjoying a beautiful Spring day,
but this is typical for our part of the world.

I don't mind it, really.
Not today at least.

My life has been non-stop go go going
since last Fall
and this is the first week in months where my calendar is empty.

So updates:
Dean is doing OK. Still.
We'll see him again this weekend.
His memory continues to decline,
as does his language skills.
He tires easily.
Doesn't say much.
But if you ask him how he's doing,
he says, "Good!".

And that's all I can say about that.

Our new college girl is finishing up her 1st semester at BYU-I.
She started off strong,
has had some adjustment problems,
some health stuff too,
but seems to have gotten ahold of them
and we're hoping for a strong finish too.
I was up there over Spring Break to see her,
get my arms around her--
spend some time with her, you know?
Diana went with me,
David Scott and Tisha came over from Boise too
so we all got to spend some time together.
I did the Mom-Thing by tidying up Dara's apartment,
cooking some meals, helping with laundry, etc.
I didn't mind.
Dara has one more semester before her track is over in July.
Oh and there's a boy.

Diana is adjusting to being home from the mission.
She's done a bit of travelling since December--
to Idaho, to Texas, to Utah
and today she is back visiting her mission in NY
as a treat from the oldest daughter, Danielle.
As far as the line of young men for Diana's attention,
she is weeding them out pretty good.
And that's all I'm allowed to say about that!
She'll be attending BYU-I in September.

Danielle and Brad and their boys are moving this summer
to Saudi Arabia with his job.
I think they've signed up for 5 years.
Dani likes a good adventure, so this is right up her alley.

David Scott and Tisha are expecting a baby, due Halloween.
And he just got a new job in Boise, so they're doing pretty good.

Joseph is 1/2" shorter than Kent,
last we checked.
He's turned into a full-on teenager.
Somedays I want to wring his neck.

Arianna turned 13 last month.
She also wants to wring Joseph's neck most days.
Ahhh the joys of having two teenagers at home.

And me.
Well I am usually swamped with staging houses.

We've been busier than ever.
It's been good for me in so many ways...
I like having a reason to get going in the morning.

Random Stuff:
* I deconstructed a denim jacket for Diana--took it in, shortened the body and the arms, added some lace and put it back together. I'd never done it before and was surprised at how easy it is.
* Diana had a tonsillectomy last month. What was an easy surgery, had a rough recovery as she had "respiratory failure" coming out of the anesthesia.  That's another story for another time.  It was life changing for her though.
* I clean my house every morning because I don't know when the phone will ring and my life will change forever...I don't want the RS to have to come clean my house or to know I left dishes in the sink. I know, I am weird.  It's a thing. Kelly and I have a deal that before the RS comes in, she will, to make sure it's not a disaster.
* We continue to pray for a new job, as the one Mr. W is at is sucking the life out of him.  I told him to open his online search to the whole western US, including Texas, but not AZ. ( I cannot take that heat.)
*We have a new calling, or an "invitation" as the Stake President put it: "Assigned Temple Patrons"...we go once a month and at the end of the year, return and report our experiences from that.  I love it.

And that's it.  Thanks to those of you who've emailed me and checked up on me. I'm doing Ok and appreciate your friendship.

Because I'm Happy

We're doing ok over here on this side of the Rocky Mountains.
No, really.
We're doing OK.

It's been rough,
but this week,
we're doing better.

Dean is stable.
Meds have been changed. Caregivers have changed--care givers who actually care.
No seizures in a few weeks.
He came over this past Sunday and actually looked healthier than he has in awhile.
Whew.
Everytime I see him, I wonder if it's the last time I'll see him--
Bee told me I had to stop thinking that way,
"Heavenly Father isn't going to do that to you, Mom. Stop being sad."

Okay then.

I'm trying to be more happy these days.
It takes a conscious effort--just saying.
Like, watching uplifting movies
n' reading happy books n' upbeat music too.
because FCOL,
life goes on, people.
Life. goes. on.
And I'm still a Momza--
laundry still grows,
people have to eat,
bills must be paid...
life is still happening
and as much as I think things should slow down,
they just don't.
Thankfully,
they just don't.

Distractions are great.
I love distractions.
You could say I have a profound appreciation for
random distractions at this time in my life.

One of the biggest distractions
is the line of young men lined up for our
newly-returned missionary girl's attention.
She has been home--what? not yet 8 weeks,
but there are waves of young men rolling through here
like waves at Cocoa Beach.
She has her favorite of course...
but he's not sure if she's his favorite yet,
so the waves keep bringing someone new along.
So it's just good clean fun to be on the sidelines.

I've also been going to the temple a lot.
like, every few days.
I love the temple.
The peace I feel there is, well, heavenly.
I walk through the doors
and melt into the serenity that only
the Holy Spirit can impart.
Rest.  Rejuvenation. Revelation.
How's that for illiteration?

I've also been working a lot with Kelly--
homes we're staging are selling in a matter of days.
No kidding--
if you're selling a house,
hire a stager and get.it.done!
Do whatever they tell you to do,
and move on with the next chapter of your life.
Get rid of the clutter--
all of it.
Toss it out, pack some up, and clean it out!

And do more of what makes you happy.
I saw that on Pinterest
and it's true.
Stop waiting for someone to hand you a personal invitation
to Be Happy.
Find a reason or Make the choice
to Be Happy.
cuz seriously,
the sun is going to come up tomorrow
and that means that you have to live through the next 24 hours--
make 'em good ones.
Not one or two of 'em,
at least 10 hours...
smile more, dang it.
Smiling more makes you feel good.
Try it.
Need some motivation?
Here ya go:

Dean's Storm

I should be sleeping.

At close to 3am, I sit here, wide awake with my thoughts.

my dangerous thoughts.

it's harder to control them these days, really.

Dark clouds trail me like the tropical storms I grew so familiar with,

as a child native of Miami, Florida.

We'd look out over our flat, flat earth for signs of a gathering darkness,

flashes of lightening in the distance...

and we'd count until we heard the rumbling thunder

one

two

three

four 

five

telling us when to run and take cover for the approaching storm.

I'm counting these days for different reasons.

One day without a crisis.

Two days without a call.

Three days without a meeting.

I haven't gotten past 7 days in months.

Reminds me of those workplace signs:

"Accident Free for _____ Days".

Dean's health continues to decline.

Last week we finally got a med change

that he started taking on Saturday.

We had a special day planned for Sunday

as our newly-returned missionary daughter was speaking in church

about her mission.

Our eldest, Danielle and her family flew in from Houston to share the day

and we had plans to have Dean come too.

But it didn't work out that we could see him until after church.

When we did see him

it wasn't good.

It was akin to flashes of lightening for me.

He was hunched over in the car, arms drawn upward,

eyes rolling around, unable to clearly focus or talk,

he needed assistance to get into our car--

and then he puked all over himself and the car and the street.

I wondered if we should take him to the ER--

he wasn't himself.

His HHPs attributed it all to the new med...

it looked like an overdose to me.

We cleaned him up and took him home.

That's the one thing he said clearly:

"I want to go with you, Mom."

Lightening.

We took him home

where he lay on the sofa for four hours

while we fed him small bites of food

and coaxed him to drink lots of water,

as he drifted in and out of sleep.

Danielle came to sit by him

while I excused myself, going upstairs to my room

and dropped to my knees in prayers and tears.

Crying because today was the likely the last time

Dean could've gone to church with the rest of the family.

The next time we're all gathered together at church

will probably be his funeral.

That thought made me sad.

What am I doing?

This is so hard.

Too hard.

What is this supposed to be like?

I've been reading "Joy Cometh in the Morning" by Fran Hafen.

And other articles on losing a child to disease, 

hoping for something I can relate to, follow, whatever.

Gathering my self,

I sucked up my fears, dried my tears

and got busy making the turkey dinner we'd planned.

The rest of the family moved Dean to the family room,

where he could see me in the kitchen and they all sat with him,

and to their credit

chatted as though nothing was wrong.

I made dinner and tried to hide the random tears that made their way

to the corners of my eyeballs.

I had conversations in my head about this whole situation.

I feel guilty for wanting his pain to be over.

I feel guilty for begging God to not take my son just yet because of my own selfishness.

I'm not ready, I tell Him.

Not yet.

How selfish.

Later that night,

after we've delivered Dean back to his HHP--

in better shape than when we got him,

we talk with the family about the lighter things of Dean's situation.

I asked Danielle with as much composure as I can muster

if she'll plan on doing the eulogy for the funeral.

We talk about which primary songs we'll put in the program.

And then we change the subject

because it's all too sad to continue with the topic.

I'm counting for thunder these days.

The storm is no longer just on the horizon...

it's in view,

I see the lightening afar off

and I'm counting

One

Two

Three

Four

Five....

the thunder's coming...
I can almost feel the earth shake--
 or maybe it's just the trembling of my own heart.

I'm trying to find joy in each day
to keep the dark clouds from squelching the goodness
that is Life.
We put on music and dance in the kitchen...
me and Mr. Wonderful
me and the kids
the kids and the dogs on hind legs...
we stay up late and play board games
and laugh until our sides ache...
we leave love notes for each other in random places.
There's alot more hugging and "I love yous" happening in these walls.

We understand, I guess,
that anyday, a phone call is going to change our lives...
that the storm will hit us front and center...
and heaven help us,
it's going to be really hard.

So we'd better prepare for it...
and the only thing that's strong enough to withstand a storm on a family
is
Love.

New Year and New Blessings

I have just a moment to jump in here,
scribble some stuff down and get on with my day--
so here goes:

My life has been incredibly busy--
last Fall was a blur,
Christmas lasted two minutes,
and I can hardly believe it's January 2014!

Diana came home less than a month ago,
and we've been busy getting her the medical care she needed
to be healthy again.
I was concerned for a couple of weeks
because she was so ill,
she wasn't eating much at all,
lethargic, yet not sleeping.
I took some time off work at the store
so I could monitor her, take her to Dr. appts.,
and in general just keep an eye out on her.

I am grateful to report that she is doing much better.
The color is back in her cheeks and she's adjusting being at home,
already making plans for Spring Semester at BYU-I.

IN addition to caring for Diana,
there is the constant condition of making calls, appts,
etc for Dean.
He was over for Christmas day,
and that was a gift for me.
I was worried he wouldn't be here and that he was,
is a blessing for me.
He is still struggling,
and there are daily phone calls, emails, appts., etc.
going on about his care,
but we are crisis-free going on Week 3 now.

Last Thursday,
we (me, Joseph, Arianna, n' Diana)loaded up the Sub
and headed north to Rexburg, Idaho
to take Daisie to BYU-I.
She had planned for this college experience in
the most minimal way possible.
It was as if she had barely thought of it at all--
without going into details,
girlfriend is like that--
flies by the seat of her pants!
Only when it was time to leave her there,
did she have a small emotional moment.
We offered prayer for her, gave hugs and scooted out the door.

Since then,
she has posted many things on facebook about her great happiness
being there...so I guess the lesson here is that not all of us needs to have
an exact plan, spelled out in detail, to be happy.

Lastly,
my own business, UpStaged! home staging
is growing faster than I can keep up with it,
thus affording me to resign my position at Shades of Amber,
as a merchandiser and devote more time and energy to staging.
I am grateful for this so much.
Mostly because I am so dang tired.
I know that any extra strength I have is purely from heaven,
as that has been the consistent prayer of my heart--
to have the strength to meet the demands of my life.

I have had to cut back most social activities,
pick and choose what/who I will exert energy into--
and mostly keep my focus on the big things around here.
That alone, has benefitted my well-being:
doing what I can, when I can,
slowing down or eliminating what I can't do,
conserving my energy where possible...
circling the wagons, as I like to say.

Last week, as I drove hundreds of miles
in a car full of mostly sleeping/texting/ipod-wearing teenagers,
I had some time to think
as the ribbons of grey highway rippled under me--
I counted my blessings,
I counted my challenges,
I reached for heaven's grace to fill in where I cannot.

Those prayers are being answered.
I feel gratitude, hope and clarity.

Feelings of inadequacy are not fruits of the Spirit.
We were sent here to learn from the vicissitudes of life--
not be crushed by them.
Next up:
Declaring our New Year's Family Motto!
Let me remind us of last years:
"We Seek After Bacon"
and the year before's:
"Don't Suck".
One can only hope 2014's will be just as inspirational!

Our Missionary is Home

Our missionary is home as of Wednesday, December 18th~!

We have missed her so much--

I've sat on the end of her bed countless hours since then,

listening

listening

listening

 

 

She has learned so much,

been loved by so many,

given all that she had to give + some

 

 

as her mission president said,

"She left it all on the field."

 

 

She came home a brilliant light-filled young woman--

and we are so grateful for her willingness to go and serve a mission for her Savior, Jesus Christ. 

 

 

 {sweetest moment~}

So good to get my arms around my girl!

 

As hard as it was to let her go,

to know of her trials and challenges while away from us--

it was worth every moment.

 

I can't think of anything else in the world,

any other experience,

that could've done what a mission has done

for my girl

and my family.

 

What a great Christmas present to have her home!

 

 



Bad Things Come In Threes?

You've heard the saying that goes "Bad things come in threes", right?
Hold on while I google where that came from...
nevermind, what I read doesn't make much sense except to say that
human kind has alot of ridiculous superstitions and this is one of them.

Still.
We hit #3 this week.

I as waiting for something else to happen--
it's weird, I know this.
A defeatist, pessimistic view
no doubt.
But, I was indeed waiting for #3,
holding my breath if you will.
On Monday night,
the phone rang and there it was:
our missionary daughter, Diana,
who is just SIX weeks away from coming home,
had spent the entire day in the ER
far away in New York.
She'd been sick since Thanksgiving--
vomitting to the point of dehydration and malnourishment
and passed out at home.
Her companion, unable to revive Diana,
called 911 and she went via ambulance to the hospital.

They gave her an IV of fluids and anti-nausea meds,
ran some tests, an EKG,
and sent her home.

The Mission President's wife came to the hospital,
as well as other local missionaries,
to be with her and help her along.

We didn't get the message until later that evening
of the days' events.

When the call came,
I felt dazed.
Overwhelmed.
"Is this really my life?"--
we've had three children taken via ambulance to the hospital--
for different reasons--
in as many weeks.

What the heck is going on?

We were told by the Mission Nurse that they'd follow-up Tuesday with me.

I didn't sleep well that night, as you can imagine.
I woke up at 2:30am and didn't go back to sleep.

The sun was a welcome break.
But then something clicked while getting dressed for work--
"That's number three. We'll be good for awhile."
I felt relief.
There it was.
One, two, three.
Dean, Ari, Diana.

Dean passed out from seizures at the restaurant,
Arianna had such a bad migraine at school,
lost vision in one eye, numbness/ weakness on the left side of her body,
slurred speech and awful pain,
that the EMTs were called and we were told she had symptoms of a stroke!
And now Diana.
It seemed alot to take in, honestly.

I've since been in touch with lovely, caring members of the church there
that are watching out for our girl in NY
and she's doing better.
Homemade soup, gluten-free cookies, warm fuzzy socks,
and a sofa to nap on while her companions continue to work.
I couldn't ask for more.

But.
Another sad thing happened that I didn't see coming at all.
A very sweet blogger-friend,
whom I had the chance to meet in real life,
lost her six-month battle with cancer.
I will write more about her when my brain can fully wrap around that.

So, no, bad things don't happen in threes at all.
They just happen.
Whenever.
And right about now,
I'm at a loss to see a pattern or explanation of God's Timing.
Ever feel like He has more confidence in your strengths than you do?

Yeah. That's where I'm at.
I know things will work out--
I believe things happen for a reason.
And having faith in God includes having faith in His timing...
so I can be patient.
I can wait to see where all this goes--
imagining that I'm floating with the river
instead of trying to walk against the flow of it.
I can be patient and try to figure out what is to be learned from this chaos.
So far,
what I've learned is I'm not alone in it.
That's what gives me courage to hang on--
and to be OK should #5 come along.

Gratitude Is Best Served with Cool Whip

In case you live outside of the US,
one of our biggest holidays is coming up this week:
THANKSGIVING--
from my earliest memories
it began with white construction paper shaped into a pilgrim's hat
or
construction papered Indian headress assembled with Elmer's glue.

Back in the Olden Days,

THANKSGIVING was, as far as I knew,

based on the kindness of native Americans to the New World Pilgrims

who were seeking freedom and liberty from the Old World.

It was all very simple.

It even tied into The Golden Rule...

treat others as you would want them to treat you.

The Thanksgiving Feast was the cumulative "Celebration"--

to be shared by family, neighbors, friends.

I remember food drives in school--

to make sure none of my classmates missed out on the biggest food holiday 

of the year.

My mother used to tell us kids how,

growing up in Florida, in a family of ten kids,

her brothers and sisters used to go pick citrus fruit

for their local church to make Thanksgiving Gift Baskets--

they'd work at the orchards all morning,

and soon after,

discover a Thanksgiving Basket on their own doorstep.

Hearing that story from my mother made me feel grateful

that people were good even way back then.

Growing up in a huge family--

we usually made two stops on Thanksgiving Day--

one to my Granma Guy's house in Miami.

The little three bedroom, one bath house on the corner

with the humongous rubber tree plant on the side,

and bougainvillas on every corner of the house,

the hand-laid kaleidoscope  tile walkway and porch that my Grandaddy made himself.

All or most of my Aunts, Uncles and 20-something cousins fit into that little red brick house

for Thanksgiving--

I still don't know how we all fit in there 

around the small round dining table--

I remember most of us kids sitting outside on the porch eating.

All of the Aunts brought over their favorite dishes,

while Granma made the turkey and stuffing.

And pies--my mom made a great pecan pie, served with Cool Whip.

The second stop we made was over to my father's only living relatives--

his Aunt Mary and her sister, Aunt Emily--

their home was huge compared to my Granma Guys' house.

They had a built-in pool right off the livingroom...

and a diningroom table that everyone could sit around

plus some.

Aunt Mary usually made something from Uncle Habib's Turkish background--

stuffed grapeleaves were my favorite.

Aunt Emily was always in the kitchen wearing her well-worn apron

with the pink rickrack trim and her house slippers,

her curly gray hair barely touching her sweaty neck

because the kitchen air was so hot.

She'd shoo us kids out from under her apron strings.

It's been decades since I've spent any time with any extended family.

I miss those cousins, Aunts, Uncles, pecan pies and Cool Whip.

Thanksgiving was never about Black Friday Shopping,

staying up all night long to get the "best deal" on Christmas gifts.

Somehow,

I don't know how really,

being grateful for one another was Enough.

A little turkey, 

a bit of dressing,

a spot of cranberry sauce,

devilled eggs,

pecan pie with Cool Whip

served up with family and friends--

whatever you do,

whomever you share the day with,

May your Thanksgiving Day be a memorable one.

November 12, 2013

Auto-Pilot.

That's what I'm on these days.

My goal is to stay in the moment.

Not project to the darker days

that are surely ahead.

Wild thoughts tempt my emotions,

the pleading of my heart ringing in my ears:

"I'm not ready. Please. I'm not ready."

Quickly, I dismiss those thoughts--

banish them from my present. 

My presence.

I will live for today.

Work is good.

Staying busy is good for the soul.

I've cleaned out closets.

The fridge in the garage that has needed it

for so so so long.

I fight the urge to toss out everything that requires

more energy to hold onto,

to care for,

than I want to expend.

I fight the urge to want to control my world

in ways that are unhealthy.

Does anyone understand this?

A friend came by last night;

she said she "admires the way" I am handling my life.

Using words like "example" and "inspiration".

I told her I am completely clueless and totally winging this--

I can't see how I'd be an example to anyone.

There are scenes playing out in my head all day long--

from running far far away in any direction

as though I outrun the coming dread,

to curling up in a ball,

or wrapping my arms around my son so tight

that death cannot take him away

because of sheer willpower and mother-love.

Example?

of what?

a hot mess.

This place I'm in demands answers.

I feel them come in those fight-or-flight moments.

A calm warmth settles on my shoulders.

A blissful thought whispers and suddenly

I am me again.

I see things clearly

comforting

peacefully.

The world slows down.

I quiet my Self.

The wild fears that crowd my mind

leave without a fuss.

I mentally plan a funeral--

who will sing "I'll Walk With You"

and who will sing "I Know That My Redeemer Lives"...

Dean's favorite songs.

Who will tell Dean's story?

I have to get his Special Olympic medals out...

he has had some remarkable accomplishments in his life.

No college, no marriage or career...but still.

He's lived and been successful with what he came with!

I look over old photo albums and see his face with different eyes.

Does this even make sense?

How pre-mature are these feelings?

How ready do I need to be?

I feel guilty even having these thoughts.

I purposefully slow down.

I will not get out old photos again,

not while he's still here.

Will I regret that?

I will not think about a funeral for the next hour.

If I'm not, will someone else come help me when it's time?

I will think about spending time with Dean.

I will think about Thanksgiving and Christmas and Nana's homecoming.

Do I need to call a grief counsellor for me, for my children?

When do I do that? Is it too soon? I am grieving already, so maybe it's not too soon?

How are we going to get through this?

I pray for clarity.

I pray for peace.

I search my husband's eyes for answers--

he's lost both parents and a dear older brother.

He rarely speaks of how he dealt with those losses.

I need him to tell me how on earth I am going to do this

very hard thing.

But the words don't come.

I don't wanna know. really. I don't want to know. 

I know the "why" this is happening.

I understand that.

But. BUT.

Today, I will be grateful.

I will speak to my boy and listen to his voice and make plans to see him later.

And he will hold my nose and say, "I love you, Mom."

I will touch his nose with my finger, "I love you, Deano. Always."

We'll smile at each other with our knowing smiles and see into each other's eyes

the secret we both know...

that time is running out and the next chapter is a page away.

Dean, November 9th, 2013

It's November 9th, 2013.
IN Colorado Springs, it was unusually warm--
a light jacket or none at all was good in the afternoon sun.

We woke up this morning, grateful to be home
after a long night in the ER with Dean again.
We'd picked him up at 5:30-ish to go to dinner in town.
At first the plan was just to have him come over for dinner,
but because we live so far north of where he lives--
and that he was supposed to be staying in respite care this weekend
with a gal named Cecelia and her family,
I made a last minute decision to just pick up Joseph and Arianna
on my way home from work,
and head into town,
fetch Dean and eat wherever he chose.

He decided he wanted Del Taco.
I hate Del Taco.  (French fries with tacos?? ugh)
But. It was his night to chose so be it.
We ordered and took a seat.
Kent called just as our food arrived
and at first said he was too tired to meet us in town
so he'd just go home and scavenge up a meal there.
I understood his tiredness--
I've been tired for months now,
so I told him to do whatever he needed and we'd see him later.

Dean's HHP had texted me the day before to say that Dean
has been going to bed earlier and earlier recently.
Keeping that in mind,
I thought that once dinner was over,
we'd run him to C. so he could get into bed on his own time.
Well, I texted C. once we got our food
and she texted back to say that she and her family were at
a sit-down restaurant and it would be at least an hour
before they were ready for Dean.

OK, I thought, well, we'll eat and because it's Friday night,
it will probably take us at least a half hour or more to get to the east side of town.
"Things will work out."

Kent changed his mind shortly after the first phone call,
called back and said he was on his way to meet us.

#1 tender mercy.

Soon after Kent arrived,
Dean was finishing up his hamburger and turned to me,
looking very tired--
and said, "I'm ready to go."
Patting him on the shoulder I said,
"OK, buddy, as soon as we're finished eating, we'll leave."
He barely nodded his head,
then looking straight at me,
his eyes rolled back and he had a seizure,
slumping towards me.
I held onto him, got Kent's attention ( he was sitting on the other side and talking to the kids)
and he stood and helped me hold onto Dean so he wouldn't fall out of the chair.
He started to come around, but had another seizure and another and another....

I don't recall every detail after that--
I ran out of the restaurant to look at the street sign as I called 911--
the workers at the restaurant were of no help at all...
just a bunch of teenagers.

The dispatcher kept me on the phone--
helping me to describe what I was seeing with Dean
until the EMT's came.

I led them to Dean,
who was still passed out
and suddenly,
felt a tap on the shoulder--
I turned around to see a friend I know from church.
That was tender mercy #2--
Brenda wrapped her arms around me and I can't tell you what she said,
but I felt so loved and cared for in that moment.

Dean was loaded up in the ambulance
and headed to Memorial North for the second time in 3 weeks.
Kent took the kids home in his car
and I climbed into the Sub, alone,
following the ambulance.

I don't remember much of the drive.

I got to the waiting room, gave my name and Dean's name--
he was not yet in a room so I had to wait.
IN that time,
I texted Dara, whose in Seattle for the weekend
as part of her journey home from Alaska.
Told her to let the other kids know.
Then I texted my visiting teacher, Lynnel--
told her what was going on and asked for her prayers
and others' too.

It wasn't long before I was back in Treatment Room #6
with Dean--
they'd given him ADDAVAN for the seizures
so he was awake but drowsy and non-verbal.
I held his cold hand.
"I'm so sorry, buddy."

Kent arrived a few minutes after that.
The attending Dr let us know that there were blood tests being done
and such so it would be awhile.
I don't recall a single word between Kent and I.

Then suddenly,
Bishop appeared at the doorway.
Tender mercy #3.
I didn't expect him.
Hugs and tears all around.

He then told us that our beloved home teacher,
Patriarch Christianson and another brother from our ward, Brother Ellsworth
were in the waiting area, (tender mercy #4)
as they'd only allow one person at a time to come back.
I wanted Dean to have a priesthood blessing,
so I volunteered to leave the room so Kent and Bishop could
administer a blessing upon Dean.

Walking out to the waiting room,
I was so happy to see our sweet friend, Brother Christianson.
He is old enough to be my father. We love him.
He too, gave me a great hug and so did Brother Ellsworth.
They asked me about Dean and then asked me how I'm doing--
"I'm a hot mess." I replied.
Then they asked if I needed a blessing.
Yes. Yes I do.
Brother C. asked a nurse and soon we were given a small room to go into.

Now, I had no expectations of this blessing.
I just needed the peace that comes with such a gift.
But, in this instance,
28 years after the birth of my son, Dean,
I feel like the heavens were opened and I was gifted with the most precious knowledge
that could've been given to me.
I do not feel it proper to share this here at this time--
but suffice it to say,
I am Dean's Mom because my Heavenly Father loves me and trusts me to be--
a decision that was made long before this life.

The blessing did reveal that Dean's time here is limited.
I knew that. I've known that.
But to have it confirmed was also a gift.

I will leave the rest of the blessing private.

They finished, we all hugged and I returned to be at Dean's side.
 Bishop left moments after that too.

I'm gonna skip all the rest of the hospital stuff--
the docs basically increased Dean's seizure meds
and then sent us on our way.

We came home,
tucked Dean into bed,
then ourselves.
It was a long restless night for me
as I checked on him throughout the night.

This morning we made a nice breakfast
and spent the whole day with Dean.
He held my nose several times and told me
"I love you Mom."
Then he held Arianna's nose,
"I love you Bee."
And he held Joseph's nose,
" I love you, Joseph."
November 9th, 2013 was a good day.
We had to get some new meds for him,
then we went to lunch as a family, (Dean tipped the waiter $1)
then we walked around the little mall in town.
He picked out some new sneakers and a hoodie--(he paid $2 of his own money)
we went to the Dollar Store where he purchased a Christmas elf felt hat--(another $1)--
and we finally came home.
Dean likes paying for his own things. It makes him feel responsible and grown up.
I love that about him too.

We came home and decided we could all use a nap!

An hour later, we got up, had left over pizza
and soon after that, Dean said he was tired and going to bed.
It was just barely 6pm.

I tucked him in, turned off the light and shut the door.

If I have another November 9th with Dean,
I will be so dang happy! so blessed! so grateful!

I love him so much.
He is my boy.

An Alaskan Homecoming

My fearless Alaskan Explorer
has packed up her bounty
and is en route home tonight.

Calling from the Juneau Airport this morning,
her voice was giddy and warm:
"I'm so happy that I'm comin' home, Mama."

Words, I think she is surprised are coming out of her mouth.
These are not the words she had been saying
over and over and over
just a few months ago
when she was a high school Senior.
Nope.
The words she most commonly used in my direction
sounded alot more like,
"I can't wait to get out of here."

Sometimes, adding a [bite] on the end
to emphasize just how much she meant them.

I tried to smile through those bites,
and return the same with my own two cents:
"Me too.", I'd say.

Good times.

Of course, it wasn't that I wanted my daughter to leave my life,
I just wanted her to use up her knowledge
that had been accumulating all eighteen years of her life, dontcha know.
She was a virtual plethora of knowledge!
Everything I said to her was responded to with,
"I know, {eyeroll} Mom. I know."

That's when I knew it was time to give her the boot
from the nest, as they say
and let the little chica test her wings.

It was a clean month before she ever even called home
after she left.
I'd get a text now and then,
but it was a clean break--
there was no fretting, no fussing, no mention of "home fires burning"
on either end.

I blessed her Grand Adventure with a hug and a kiss
with hopes that this would be the beginning of an exciting life
for my fifth child
who has been a happy Wonderer since she learned to walk.
The plan was that she would work and pay her own way--
her room and board,
her entertainment and other needs
(except for medical--she's still on our insurance)
and just see up close and personal
what this Life has to offer in a small Alaskan town.

The friend we knew in Alaska provided a landing place,
but not long after arriving,
they decided it wasn't a good fit
so Dara moved in with a family from church
that understood what it means to have a teenager
in the house--
their home had some already!
Dara fit right in and continued her journey
without skipping a beat!
My child who hates getting up in the morning,
GOT UP in the morning to catch a bus for work.
This child o'mine who used to thumb her nose up at dinner time,
made a confession during her first phone call home:
Momza: "SO, what are you learning in Alaska, Day?"
Dara: "I miss someone cooking dinner every night, Mama."

yeah.

There it was.
That was worth the distance itself.
 Kids take for granted the everyday things Moms do,
until they're out on their own and nobody cares of they are eating
healthy three squares a day every day.
She said she missed having someone to nag her into doing the things she should be doing--
noone cared if she was late to work,
had clean clothes to wear,
stayed up all night on Pinterest,
she learned what we all learn
the first time we leave home.

We learn that home is where the heart is...
there are little comforts there that are not found elsewhere.
That's what makes it HOME.

But the most important lessons are those she has learned about herself.
She's about to go off to college in January--
live in a social situation filled with ridiculous young adults
who don't understand much of anything,
immature, self-centered, insecure boobs--
who are anxious to put value-judgements onto their peers
without having a clue about themselves!
I want my daughter to know her Self--
her strengths especially,
so that when those knotheads try to pigeon-hole her into something she is not,
she doesn't believe them.

I hope she goes to college with a stronger identity now
than she would have,
had she stayed home since graduating high school,
being spoon-fed her daily life,
one bite at a time by us parents.

So that's what I hope this adventure has given her.
Confidence.

You can't give someone confidence.
Encouragement, yes.
But confidence? --no, that has to come from inside.
And once you have that awesome thing,
it's yours.

Day is spending the weekend in Seattle
with some kids from her stake in Juneau as they attend the temple there,
and do some siteseeing,
then she's heading down to Boise to spend a few days with David Scott and Tisha--
we'll see her happy shiny face on Friday night!

Getting my arms around my Explorer will feel so good--
there's nothing like a Homecoming.

A Very Rustic Luxe Christmas Finale

Play this first. 

Okay here we GO..... 

Ahhh  the up-cycled pergola with a gauzy scarf and blinged-out chandelier--also chalkpainted in Paris Grey with a silver gilding wax + german cut glass glitter finish...totally works!

  The dresser was painted specifically for this display: ASCP French Linen base w/ Old White wash.
The antique door was painted in Milk Paint, again specifically for this display. Did you know that in France, a blue door is a sign of hospitality? 

I am very fortunate that my bosses at Shades of Amber

fully supported me

and gave free reign to create

the Christmas Room of my dreams.

It was a little bit of inspiration on my part

and a lot of perspiration on theirs.