A mom's sick day

I have been sick this week and so not in the mood to blog. Really, there weren't very many moments that I can say I really was loving. I am a pretty selfish sick person and just want my bed and pillow. And there were a couple of days that were so hot, so miserably hot that made it all worse. Northern Californians do not believe in air conditioning. Honestly I just don't get how Silicon Valley can be the hot bed for all technology, yet they are missing the amazing invention of the AC. Come on people. So as you can probably read, I have been grumpy. 

Unfortunately the job of a mom does not let you call in sick. My mood was rubbing off on everyone. You know the saying, "if mama ain't happy, ain't no one happy," well this week I discovered the truth to that. My boys matched my mood perfectly. They were restless and at each others' throats. I knew they were needing to get out and about. This morning I was feeling pretty good, so I decided we would make a run to the park. And what a great choice it was. The weather was a perfect 72 degrees. There were no other kids there. I sat down on a bench and basked in the cool breeze and fresh air. They boys ran right to the playground. With shoes off and sand toys in hand, they were off to play in complete happiness. It was amazing. There was no fighting, no whining, no calling mom to build a sand castle or help them down the slide. They actually played without me. They ran, and laughed, and climbed, and slid, without needing me right by their side. It was so refreshing. Now don't get me wrong, I love to play with my boys, but sometimes it is nice to just watch. I have always been jealous of moms that could go to the park and just watch their kids play. It can get so exhausting when I am their only form of entertainment all day long. With Gavin, independent play is not common, and today it was a gift. We were at the park for almost two hours. I did push them on the swings, and read a book while we ate a snack on the bench, but other than that, I sat and watched, and it was the best moment of my week.

Reaching my full potential

A little over four years ago I went to visit an allergist in Baltimore. I was having a hard time sleeping because I was itching so bad. We decided to do a prick test to see what I was allergic to.  It took some time to stick the 20+ needles in my arm and let them sit, so the doc and I had plenty of time to chat. He was probably in his late fifties and very friendly. We chatted about his family, Utah, and more. Of course he asked what had brought us out to the east coast from Utah. I told him about Jim's schooling and my job, and that I would need allergy meds that were okay to take while pregnant because we were  planning to start trying for a baby soon.  He surprised me when he asked why I wasn't going to school. I explained that I had finished my Bachelors right before the move and now I was trying to support Jim in his PhD.  He started to get a little huffy and told me I shouldn't put my husband before myself. He told me I was a smart girl and should have my own goals, and not just follow my husband into his dreams. He then went on to tell me about his amazing wife who was a psychologist who had made a big name for herself. They had waited to have children until they were both established in their careers and then had one daughter. He told me I should really think about kids because I was young and had plenty of time. He warned me that I might loose my potential if I jumped into kids right now.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I found myself a little embarrassed and fumbled over words trying to make my plans seem more appropriate to him. Luckily the test soon ended. As I left he told me to think about myself and what I could become. I smiled and got out of there as fast as I could. As I drove away I felt ashamed of myself. I knew I could do grad school and succeed. And than that shame turned to anger. How dare this stranger tell me what is most important in my life and make me doubt myself. He didn't know Jim and I. He didn't know our beliefs and our plans. How dare he pass that judgement. I never went back to the follow up appointment. 

And now four years later that anger has turned into perspective. I wish I could go back and answer his questions in such a different manner. I wish I could erase my embarrassment and self doubt and let him know what I believe. If you believe that what makes you great, and what makes you reach your full potential is only a career, then he was dead on, I am not going to amount to much. But I don't believe that. I have learned more in three plus years as a mom than I did in any class or job I held before. Being a mother gives me more purpose in life than anything else I have ever done. I have grown and changed more through seeing myself in the eyes of a child than ever before.  I have a deeper desire to be kind, charitable, loving, giving, humble, and prayerful than ever before.  I  believe that having a family refines you and makes you a much better person than anything else in this world can.   I believe it is through families that we can reach our full potential.  The world may disagree with me. To the world my job my seem lowly and unattractive. I may look to some like I have given up on myself, like I have wasted my potential. But that is okay, because I know that in giving of myself, I am becoming more like the person I want to be.  

Wrapped in a band aid of love

About four months ago my father had a horrible accident. He owns his own contracting business and was up on a roof doing measurements for a job. As he started down the ladder he slipped and fell, landing face first on the cement. He spent weeks in ICU with a serious brain injury. We were just lucky he was alive. I talked about Grandpa's accident with Gavin. He kept him in his prayers and always reminded whom ever was praying to pray for Grandpa. His tender heart was very worried about him.  I spent a lot of time in the  hospital, and my boys stayed with my amazing in-laws. Each time I left them Gavin wanted to come with so he could give Grandpa a band aid to make him feel all better.

When Dad was finally moved out of ICU and to a rehab floor, the boys were able to come with to see him. Gavin search through the box of Toy Story band aids to find the perfect one with Woody on it. He held on to it for dear life as we road in the car and walked through the hospital. I will never forget the look of concern on Gavin's little face as we walked in to see Grandpa. His little three year old eyes were filled with so much compassion. He was gentle as he climbed up on the bed and softly hugged Grandpa. He told him "Grandpa I brought you a Woody Band Aid to make you feel all better!" Grandma helped him put it on Grandpa's arm. Relief seemed to come to Gavin once that was finally on Grandpa's arm.  He had been wanting to bring in for so long, he just knew it would make him feel better. Dad wasn't responding too much yet but he did give Gavin a faint hug and a sweet smile. Before we left Gavin sang Grandpa his favorite song, "I Love to See the Temple." Tears rolled down Dad's cheeks. The whole visit was one of the sweetest things I have ever experienced. The concern, compassion, love, and faith that radiated from my little boy was so strong. Oh how I hope he never looses those qualities. My dad refused to let anyone take the band aid off his arm for a couple weeks. I think he could feel the love that it represented. 

When we arrived at my parents house on our most recent trip to Utah, Gavin was excited as always. He bounded in the door and then stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Grandpa walking down the hall. "Grandpa's all better!" he exclaimed with excitement. My heart melted with gratitude as I saw my dad walking in his home with a big smile on his face. While he still has some challenges ahead, and strength to regain, he is doing amazing. And I would like to think that a small part of the reason he is doing so well is because of the love and faith of a little boy.       

Never trust a silent toddler

Dear Target,

I want to apologize for the half eaten plumb that is lying on the floor somewhere in your store. Griffin grabbed it and took a bite while I was picking out yogurt. I had intended to buy it and foolishly let him carry it in a bag through the store. It was not until I got home and unloaded my bags that I realized it was missing.  One day I will learn not to trust a toddler to carry anything for me. I intend to pay you back on my next visit.

Sincerely,
Kathie

The headless dancer

I have a small collection of willow tree figures. Each was given to me at an important milestone in my life. When I look at them, I am reminded of the most important and special moments in my life, and the dear people who gave them to me. One day Gavin was throwing a ball around the house. I asked him to stop and said "Something is going to get broken. We only play with the ball outside."
The moment I finished my sentence Gavin launched the ball into the air. It seemed to move in slow motion and I knew what was coming. It smashed right into my shelf, knocking down three of my figures. I heard the crash and new one had to be broken. Sure enough it was my little dancer. She had been decapitated.

I was quite distraught, and Gavin could see that. He was really sweet and actually very concerned. He looked and searched for a way to fix it.  He gave me hugs and kisses.  It was so sweet.   I looked and looked for the head, but it was nowhere to be found. We eventually gave up the search. I knew the head had to be stuck behind the shelf and would show up eventually.
So for the next couple months my dancer sat headless on the shelf. Over that time it actually became kind of funny, and was a great conversation piece for people who visited.  When I would dust and came to that shelf it started to make me smile as I looked at my headless dancer. I would remember Gavin's little face, so full of concern that he broke something, and how he was devastated when we couldn't find the head.  It just became symbolic of my rambunctious, compassionate little boy.
A couple of days ago I was pulling out a book off a shelf and out popped the head!  I was surprised, and quite excited. Now she is waiting to get some superglue to hold her back together. However, I think I will miss my headless dancer. The simple experience reminded me that things are just things and they don't really matter. My greatest treasure and memories are the little boys right in front of me.

Recovery

I flew home late Tuesday night with the boys. Flying with children late at night is not recommended. Although I must say my trip was much better than expected. It was probably my easiest time going through security. The boys seemed to be in a trance the first half of the flight. All I have to say is thank goodness for portable DVD players. 

With twenty minutes left on our flight Gavin decided he wanted to sit on my lap. Griffin did not like him coming into his territory. A screaming and pushing fight started and lasted for a good five minutes. Trying to reason with two tired little boys at 10:45 at night is useless. I finally got them settled down, each balanced on a leg with their arms carefully placed so they wouldn't touch each other. I looked around to see quite a few people looking at me.  Their faces were mixed emotion. One man looked annoyed, everyone else had looks of compassion, helplessness, and I even sensed a little admiration from a mom of older boys. I met her eyes, and I gave a big sigh.  She smiled back and told me "You are doing amazing. I can't imagine flying alone with my boys when they were your kids age!" That little comment meant a lot to me. Thank you to the lady on the plane. It is always so comforting to have others understand and appreciate those horrible mom moments!

We survived and were so excited to see dad. Oh how we all missed him. You would think that getting home after midnight the boys would sleep in, but no. Griffin was wide awake at 7:30, which I guess is kind of sleeping in for him. Needless to say, we were all in a daze on Wednesday.  I couldn't even convince Gavin to go to the grocery store with me, which he usually loves. His reply was "I think I will stay here by myself. You can just take Griffin."

We did desperately need milk, the life sustaining substance of our household. This is what finally persuaded Gavin to venture outside. He requested that we walk in the stroller to the store.  So I obliged and headed to 7 Eleven. When I got there I spotted the slurpee machine. There was a summer in high school where my friends and I got a slurpee probably five times a week. We would even travel to different 7 Elevens to find the flavor we wanted. I am pretty sure I had not had one since then. So I treated my self. 

  

Now you would think my kids would be easy to put to nap after having such a short sleeping night. However that would be a wrong assumption. Griffin cried, and cried, and cried. For almost an hour. Gavin amazingly slept through it. I gave in and tried to lay down with him. That resulted in him poking my face and eyes, and playing peek-a-boo with the pillow. I don't understand it. He should have been so tired. I gave up. I don't do that very often with naps. They are my time, and my kids will take them. But that day I just couldn't do it. By evening Griffin was so tired he fell asleep eating dinner. And nothing could wake him up.     

One of my friends once said that "vacations with children are not vacations, but service projects for your kids." I laughed and laughed when I read it. How true it is. It is exhausting, and so much work to travel with kids, but you know what, it is worth it. When I look back at these times, I will hardly remember how tired I was, or all the difficult and stressful moments. I will remember the fun we had, the memories my children got to make with their relatives. I will remember the pure delight a game of bowling brought to their little eyes.  I will remember their laughs at the swimming pool. I will remember the little arms giving hugs to the grandparents they are lucky enough to know and love. And hopefully they will remember too. The exhaustion will fade and I will recover, but the memories we create will always remain.

A mother's pain

I returned back from my trip late last night. I have some great adventures from my trip to share with you, however I wanted share some different thoughts today.
On this day eighteen years ago, my twenty six year old brother died in a car accident. I was just eleven years old. I remember the night very clearly. It was just a regular night. I ate a home cooked dinner made by mom, played Sonic on the Sega, put on my Rainbow Bright pajamas, and headed to bed.  However the rest of the night was not ordinary. I woke up sometime after midnight to the phone ringing. My heart was racing, I was in a cold sweat, and breathing very fast. There were lights on in the hall and I could hear my parents rushing around and talking in hushed voices. I was confused at what was going on but just rolled over and went back to sleep.
A few hours later I  awoke once again. This time the sound that disturbed me I couldn't place, but it frightened me. I can honestly say it was the most terrifying moment of my life. My heart was racing once again. I knew something was desperately wrong. My mother came into my room and I realized the sound was coming from her. It was her cry. The cry of a mother in complete torment and sorrow. The unthinkable had happened. She wrapped her arms around me and between sobs uttered the words "Darren is dead."
I don't know how long we hugged for, but after a time she left my room. I laid back down and tried to convince myself that it was a dream. But I knew that that sound, that cry, could not be a dream. It was too raw, too real. After a few minutes, I headed out to the front room to where my family was gathering. I know at one point I curled up on my dad's lap and stayed there for much of the night. It was very comforting to have his strong hands wrapped around me.
I have thought about that cry often. I learned a lot about motherhood from that cry. No sound I have ever heard can rival it. It was pure pain. The pain only a mother could know. The pain only a mother who has given her life in service and love, for her child could comprehend. I believe a mother's love is the deepest on this earth and the closest thing to God's love there is. But with the greatest love brings the possibility of the greatest agony. And that night I heard what that agony sounds like.
On my recent visit home I chatted with my mother for a few minutes about my brother. She has never stopped missing him. She won't forget his smile, his voice, his humor, the way he stood, the sound of his laugh, or the shade of his eyes.  While eighteen years can erase a lot of my little girl memories of my brother, it hasn't touched hers. He is a part of her soul. He is a large piece of her heart, that has temporarily been removed.
Today, for the first time as a mother myself, I tried to imagine what my mother went through instead of remembering through my own eyes. I tried to imagine loosing one of my little boys. I couldn't even fathom the idea of not seeing their faces every day. I couldn't image the hugs and kisses ending. I couldn't imagine not waking up to their little voices. I couldn't imagine life without them.  I started to cry just thinking about it.  I don't know what I would do.  I spend 90% of my time taking care of them, feeding, playing, washing, dressing, diaper changing, reading, etc.  They are my life. I wouldn't have it any other way. And so although sometimes they make me want to pull my hair out when they won't go to bed, or eat any food, my heart breaks at the thought of all of that being gone. That amazing love I have for my boys is a gift that is so worth every frustrating, exhausting, and emotional moment. I pray that I will never have to experience the grief of loosing one of them. I pray for all the mothers who do.  Most of all today I pray thanks that there is a love that is so powerful to bring about such strong emotion. How grateful I am that I have the chance to be a mother. I hope I can more fully appreciate it.