Thursday, November 22, 2012
Gobble Gobble Super Turkey
This is a week of firsts for me:
1. This is my first blog entry made completely on my kindle. So it will be shorter than usual.
2. I used a hot glue gun in bed this week.
3. I had what can reasonably be called my first nervous breakdown.
4. I was alone during my nonexistent Thanksgiving dinner. I was invited of course but did not feel well enough to attend.
5. I found a narcotic that does not cause me an allergic reaction.
6. My sweet husband made both the mashed potatoes and 4 dozen homemade rolls to take to his parents today. There is something very desirable about a man who can work the yeast.
7. I watched the parade and some dog shows. I don't even like parades or dog shows but it was so great to feel good enough to repose on the couch rather than my bed that I didn't care what was on.
8. Finally, while getting a heparin shot in the hospital, the nurse said my stomach didn't have much fat and didn't look like I had birthed 6 children -and I couldn't respond with my usual "You haven't seen me with my clothes off!" because, well, you know. . .
It has been a very difficult week for me as I struggle to recover from my second surgery this Fall. My husband has been my wall to lean on, quite literally. I have received tons of help and support. Of course I am grateful to everyone and especially to Heavenly Father for the blessing of life and even for excruciating challenges that leave me forever changed. I was on the brink this week, hours away from a return to the hospital,physically and emotionally spent, when we called on a friend to help my husband give me a priesthood blessing. I was able to calm down, go to sleep, and resolve the issue in time to avoid the hospital. It wasn't a miraculous healing, but just enough improvement for me to keep on plugging.
There is always good to be found if only you look. There is always happiness to feel if you want to, maybe something small on the darkest days, but no matter what, "Let us resolve to be happy, regardless of our circumstances."-Dieter F. Uctdorf
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Confessions of a Serial Trick or Treater
Why should Halloween be just for the kids? Okay, I really do understand the reasons why trick or treating is for children, but it took me a long time to get it out of my system. A VERY LONG TIME. It may have involved trick-or-treating as an adult on more than one occasion. Okay, it did involve that. I admit it. I LOVE TRICK-OR-TREATING!!!!!!!!!
Trick or treating as a child was perhaps the highlight of my entire year. I loved candy, I didn't have an allowance most of my life, and this was my one chance all year long to hit the mother load. Easter and Christmas were great too, but Halloween offered so much more! I grew up in a nice flat Texas neighborhood and we would trick or treat for about 3 hours straight, often running from house to house. I probably pulled in 5-10 pounds of candy, which I never managed to make last past Christmas, unlike my friend Ronni who would eat one piece a day. Some people are just born with incredible discipline. Some of us are born dreaming of Reece's Peanut Butter Cups. Oh, sweet memories of childhood!
Well, I had really awesome parents who let us trick or treat every year and didn't make us stop at any particular age. But, my older siblings naturally stopped around 16, so I thought I would too. I was planning on my last year of trick or treating to be the best yet. Then my dad got a job in Moscow Russia and 6 weeks later, in September of 2001, we were living there. They don't have Halloween in Russia. Ahhh!!!!! Horror of Horrors! I was traumatized. My parents couldn't even go out and buy me candy to make up for it because they didn't have much imported American candy and Russian candy was just not the same. I probably should have felt worse for my little brothers, but hey, I was a selfish teenager, and I just felt bad for me. I slowly simmered about my lost candy for 3 years. Then I moved back to America, 17 years old, as a Freshman at Brigham Young University. Halloween quickly approached and I made my plans. I would go trick or treating!
I selected my partner in crime, a boy in my ward who was also very youthful looking. We dressed up and we headed on foot up to the married housing apts. at the North of campus. And it worked! They gave us candy!
You might think I felt redeemed, but no, it was more like the having the pump primed. The next year I was dating my husband and we trick or treated around his cul-de-sac. So, it was 6 houses, but I did go. The next year, we refrained. The next year we had a 3 week old baby- plenty old for trick or treating. And by the next year, when he was 12 months old, he was totally old enough to beg for candy, and still too young to eat it! Ha ha !
Since then, we've been legitimately taking our children trick or treating and not even stealing their candy.
And I was almost recovered from my need to go, but I needed one more jaunt into the magical world of Halloween. I was 27. Yes. I was 27. I looked very young. I dressed up as a butterfly and took my 14 year old sister out with me in my in-laws neighborhood. These people knew me, but I wore an eye mask. I hauled. And I didn't have even one person look at me strangely . I had 3 children at this point. I know, I'm pitiful, but I wanted the candy. I shared it with Judd. We were poor. But, the good news, I'm sure you'll be glad to read, is that I was finally cured. Time, and better income, finally satiated my desire to beg door to door for goodies. I am a recovered trick or treater. It doesn't hurt that my mouth issues prohibit me from eating most candy these days. Anyway, that is my confession, my deep dark secret? What's yours?
Trick or treating as a child was perhaps the highlight of my entire year. I loved candy, I didn't have an allowance most of my life, and this was my one chance all year long to hit the mother load. Easter and Christmas were great too, but Halloween offered so much more! I grew up in a nice flat Texas neighborhood and we would trick or treat for about 3 hours straight, often running from house to house. I probably pulled in 5-10 pounds of candy, which I never managed to make last past Christmas, unlike my friend Ronni who would eat one piece a day. Some people are just born with incredible discipline. Some of us are born dreaming of Reece's Peanut Butter Cups. Oh, sweet memories of childhood!
Well, I had really awesome parents who let us trick or treat every year and didn't make us stop at any particular age. But, my older siblings naturally stopped around 16, so I thought I would too. I was planning on my last year of trick or treating to be the best yet. Then my dad got a job in Moscow Russia and 6 weeks later, in September of 2001, we were living there. They don't have Halloween in Russia. Ahhh!!!!! Horror of Horrors! I was traumatized. My parents couldn't even go out and buy me candy to make up for it because they didn't have much imported American candy and Russian candy was just not the same. I probably should have felt worse for my little brothers, but hey, I was a selfish teenager, and I just felt bad for me. I slowly simmered about my lost candy for 3 years. Then I moved back to America, 17 years old, as a Freshman at Brigham Young University. Halloween quickly approached and I made my plans. I would go trick or treating!
I selected my partner in crime, a boy in my ward who was also very youthful looking. We dressed up and we headed on foot up to the married housing apts. at the North of campus. And it worked! They gave us candy!
You might think I felt redeemed, but no, it was more like the having the pump primed. The next year I was dating my husband and we trick or treated around his cul-de-sac. So, it was 6 houses, but I did go. The next year, we refrained. The next year we had a 3 week old baby- plenty old for trick or treating. And by the next year, when he was 12 months old, he was totally old enough to beg for candy, and still too young to eat it! Ha ha !
Since then, we've been legitimately taking our children trick or treating and not even stealing their candy.
And I was almost recovered from my need to go, but I needed one more jaunt into the magical world of Halloween. I was 27. Yes. I was 27. I looked very young. I dressed up as a butterfly and took my 14 year old sister out with me in my in-laws neighborhood. These people knew me, but I wore an eye mask. I hauled. And I didn't have even one person look at me strangely . I had 3 children at this point. I know, I'm pitiful, but I wanted the candy. I shared it with Judd. We were poor. But, the good news, I'm sure you'll be glad to read, is that I was finally cured. Time, and better income, finally satiated my desire to beg door to door for goodies. I am a recovered trick or treater. It doesn't hurt that my mouth issues prohibit me from eating most candy these days. Anyway, that is my confession, my deep dark secret? What's yours?
I am Old
I am officially old.
Yes, I am.
Okay, maybe not old, but definitely a complete and total, no denying it, grown up. I just turned 35 - halfway through my 30's. 40 will be here to smack me in the face before I can say "Stop kicking your sister under the table" 1,825 more times, or something like that. Time goes so fast!
Not so long ago, I was a cute little baby. It's taken me years to agree that I was cute and not some mutant with quadruple cheeks. They were big. But, I guess that's okay.
Before I knew it, I was 5 years old. Those early years really flew by for me. Then things slowed down a little, but, Wammo!, Junior High was just around the corner. And just when I was getting the hang of things, we moved to Russia.
Fast forward past three amazing years of homeschool High School and a little maturing and I descended upon the college scene like, well like an American teenager who was starved for cute guys who spoke English. I had a goal of 3 dates per week. So, naturally, with that important mindset,I quickly found an eternal companion. We wed.
Then, we bred.
And here I am 35 years old, married for 15+ years, mother to 6 children. I have a 14 year old child. I was 14 when I moved to Russia. It doesn't feel like that long ago. Time felt so sluggishly slow when I was a child, like I could actually touch it while it dripped along, bit by insanely slow bit.
And now. . I can't seem to get life to slow down. And before I realized what happened, I've left my young life behind. Many of my friends, older than me, laugh at the concept of 35 being old. I know that it isn't really old. But, it isn't really young anymore either. It's time to be a grownup.
It's time to admit my greatest weaknesses and to overcome them. I'm not going to admit them to you, but I'm admitting them to me, and to God, and I'm going to change. Because, before I know it, I'll be 60, then 70, then, one day, I'm going to pass on from this life.
It's also time to embrace my talents and consciously develop them further. While I was recovering from surgery and had a lot of spare time, my parents had me do some projects. I painted flowers on rocks. I painted a soccer ball. I painted a bird house. We sewed. I realized that I have not been developing some abilities that mean a lot to me. And I'm not getting any younger! I shouldn't let my time be spent only helping my children with their many activities, but I should also set aside a little time for me to continue growing.
I want to improve my sewing ability, my art abilities, my music abilities. I want to do things I've never done, but always wanted to do. I want to do things I haven't done enough. I want to go on hikes. I want to do amazing things with my garden. I want to explore art. I want to write about things that matter and reach a wiser audience than my facebook friends. I want to play difficult piano pieces flawlessly. I want to teach, not for money, I just want to teach. And I want to be in a play, a real play, not just starring as the devil in the ward roadshow 21 years ago. That doesn't count.
This might be my little version of a midlife crisis. I'm just really starting to understand the fragile nature of mortal life. I don't want to have regrets. In some ways I have been in limbo for 2 1/2 years, my life on hold while I deal with my strange mouth problems. Next Friday I will have surgery to hopefully fix another problem I've been dealing with since Timothy's birth. Then, I'm going to start doing these things. My midlife crisis is going to be one of self-improvement, not selfishly, but balanced with my most important roles of mother and wife. Let the crisis begin! I'm feeling old and times a wastin'!
p.s. I also want to know who actually reads this blog. Please feel free to comment. I adore comments!
Yes, I am.
Okay, maybe not old, but definitely a complete and total, no denying it, grown up. I just turned 35 - halfway through my 30's. 40 will be here to smack me in the face before I can say "Stop kicking your sister under the table" 1,825 more times, or something like that. Time goes so fast!
Not so long ago, I was a cute little baby. It's taken me years to agree that I was cute and not some mutant with quadruple cheeks. They were big. But, I guess that's okay.
Before I knew it, I was 5 years old. Those early years really flew by for me. Then things slowed down a little, but, Wammo!, Junior High was just around the corner. And just when I was getting the hang of things, we moved to Russia.
Fast forward past three amazing years of homeschool High School and a little maturing and I descended upon the college scene like, well like an American teenager who was starved for cute guys who spoke English. I had a goal of 3 dates per week. So, naturally, with that important mindset,I quickly found an eternal companion. We wed.
Then, we bred.
And here I am 35 years old, married for 15+ years, mother to 6 children. I have a 14 year old child. I was 14 when I moved to Russia. It doesn't feel like that long ago. Time felt so sluggishly slow when I was a child, like I could actually touch it while it dripped along, bit by insanely slow bit.
And now. . I can't seem to get life to slow down. And before I realized what happened, I've left my young life behind. Many of my friends, older than me, laugh at the concept of 35 being old. I know that it isn't really old. But, it isn't really young anymore either. It's time to be a grownup.
It's time to admit my greatest weaknesses and to overcome them. I'm not going to admit them to you, but I'm admitting them to me, and to God, and I'm going to change. Because, before I know it, I'll be 60, then 70, then, one day, I'm going to pass on from this life.
It's also time to embrace my talents and consciously develop them further. While I was recovering from surgery and had a lot of spare time, my parents had me do some projects. I painted flowers on rocks. I painted a soccer ball. I painted a bird house. We sewed. I realized that I have not been developing some abilities that mean a lot to me. And I'm not getting any younger! I shouldn't let my time be spent only helping my children with their many activities, but I should also set aside a little time for me to continue growing.
I want to improve my sewing ability, my art abilities, my music abilities. I want to do things I've never done, but always wanted to do. I want to do things I haven't done enough. I want to go on hikes. I want to do amazing things with my garden. I want to explore art. I want to write about things that matter and reach a wiser audience than my facebook friends. I want to play difficult piano pieces flawlessly. I want to teach, not for money, I just want to teach. And I want to be in a play, a real play, not just starring as the devil in the ward roadshow 21 years ago. That doesn't count.
This might be my little version of a midlife crisis. I'm just really starting to understand the fragile nature of mortal life. I don't want to have regrets. In some ways I have been in limbo for 2 1/2 years, my life on hold while I deal with my strange mouth problems. Next Friday I will have surgery to hopefully fix another problem I've been dealing with since Timothy's birth. Then, I'm going to start doing these things. My midlife crisis is going to be one of self-improvement, not selfishly, but balanced with my most important roles of mother and wife. Let the crisis begin! I'm feeling old and times a wastin'!
p.s. I also want to know who actually reads this blog. Please feel free to comment. I adore comments!
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