wind in weather and in thoughts

A couple of weeks ago I was at the park right by our house with my next-door neighbor (and dear friend) Becca and our children. It's one of those glorious things that starts to happen when spring is in the air-- sometimes it's planned (a text from me to her or vice versa: "Going to the park to ride bikes in 10 minutes, wanna come?"), and other times we just find ourselves there at the same time.

I've started keeping a list of things that I am going to miss when we move from this neighborhood, and my hang out time with Becca (both planned and impromptu) is high on the list. As we were sitting on the bench talking and watching our kids run wildly, other people started showing up at our park.

Another thing on my 'miss' list?

The fact that every person who showed up that day (and there were many-- probably at least 5 other families) was a friend that I could call by name and chat with.

I have loved living here so much. Maybe I am particularly attached to it because it is the first place that John and I lived that truly felt like "home." We have lived here for almost five years now-- it is the only home my children have ever known (well, we moved in when George was 3 weeks old), and there are so many memories and moments wrapped up into the space that we've occupied here.

I also think that I am so attached to this place because of the people that are here. Oh how I have grown to love my neighbors! I have found a group of girlfriends here that I will love and cherish for my whole life. They are the best kind of friends, I think, because they are so incredible and inspirational, but I never leave being with them feeling like I'm not good enough. You know what I mean by that, right? There is a difference between being with amazing people who just make you feel inferior and then being with amazing people who make you feel like you are pretty cool yourself-- like your particular talents and gifts (though often different from theirs) are valued and recognized and worthwhile. I feel really lucky.

The whole reason I sat down to post tonight was to post these pictures of my kids flying a kite. Weird what that turned into. Anyway, what I was planning to write was that as Becca and I walked home with our kids from the park that day George started begging me to bring him back with our kite. The wind had picked up and he was dying to fly it. I wasn't sure-- I had no clue where our kite was-- but George solved that problem immediately by proudly producing the kite from the shed. So we waited for John to come home and then we walked the 100 yards back to the park with our kite and camera. Yay for March wind and bare feet.







Pearl let the kite get away (several times) so George and I chased it down.

she is ours

My precious daughter is one. I wish I could convey in words how much joy she has filled our home and hearts with over this past year, but there aren't any. She radiates and oozes happiness. If her brother made me a mama, she has made us a family, and I cannot imagine not having her sweet little self in my life. She is magic.



She blows kisses. She twirls and twists her wrists in the most dainty way. She grins readily. She is sunshine.



She has bright blue eyes. And brown wispy, flippy hair. She loves to give high fives. She is delight.



She is mama's girl. She loves to nurse. She has turned into a cuddler. She gives slobbery, open mouth kisses. She is heaven.



She adores her daddy. She says, "Dada" and talks to him on the phone. She crawls at lightning speed. She can't get enough of crawling up stairs, especially because she knows she isn't supposed to. She speed-crawls to them, hoping no one will notice, while shaking her head back and forth because she knows it is a "no no." She is spunk.



She rubs her hands on her chest to say please. She screams loudly when she wants something (especially food). She pretends to get shy around new faces by laying her head down on my shoulder and averting her eyes. She has long, dark eye lashes. She is pure honey.



She is round. She is soft and squishy. She is feminine and tender. She is irresistable.
 


Her eyes twinkle and sparkle with life and thoughts. Her spirit is filled with goodness and joy. She is ours, our very own glimmer of God. She is one.

there is a valley called peace of mind

And I found myself right in the thick of it as I walked along next to my husband, with the babies in tow, up in the mountains last week. There is nothing that feels as beautiful as knowing that you have settled into your little place as wife and mama, that the people you get to be with everyday really are your whole world, and that this life-- the one where your husband spontaneously takes a Monday off and loads the family into the car for a day of togetherness and adventure-- this is the life you have always dreamed of and you sometimes have to stop and catch your breath when you have those moments of realizing that you are living it. This valley of peace of mind? I've been there in bits of my life before, but never as fully as I am now as I try to fulfill, what I believe is, the measure of my creation-- being a wife and mother. I love it here. And yes there are dips and bumps and there will be times where I will have mountains to climb and be forced out of this valley, but I know the beauty of this place now, and I pray that wherever I am in my life I can find this place again.

And you know what they say about this valley of peace of mind?

There is a river running right by its side :).

And there is a baby wearing sunglasses and a mama trailblazing through the dense brush (with the baby attached to her, of course) to catch up to her boys ahead.

There are steep spill-ways and muddy hills (also very steep) that you will all fall down (if you look closely at my bum-- but don't-- you will see evidence of my slide down the muddy hill).

There are places that are pretty treacherous and definitely not really toddler-friendly, and you will question your (and your husband's) sanity for deciding to bring babies along on this adventure.

But there are also wide, flat places that are full of rocks to be thrown into rivers that you have to meander very s l o w l y down because your boy will stop to collect and then throw as many rocks as he can down the cliff into the water. And, even though it is a little bit hard, there is no way you would have wanted to leave the babies behind. This is the season of your life where toting kids around wherever you go is part of the deal. A most blessed and sacred part of the deal.

And for as many of the 'I'm an inadequate mother' places, there are also the places where you are a rockstar and do a little fly-fishing with one child playing in the water at your feet and one (sleeping) child strapped to your body.

There are the places where you hang out with the babes on the riverbanks and watch the daddy do his thing.

And that thing he does? He does it amazingly well. And he is really handsome.

You hike back to the car with these people you love and you feel it, that peace of mind valley.

And the best part? Even when you run out of gas in the canyon and your husband has to hitch a ride into the nearest town to buy a gas can and gas, and you are left stranded on the side of the road on a hot day-- even when things definitely could be going better-- you are still in that valley. You are in the valley because you choose (and at first it is kind of a hard choice to make) to not be mad at your husband for driving WAY too far up the canyon with a low tank of gas and instead you make funny faces in the car with your boy while you wait. And wait.

Happy, full, peaceful days. Dreams? Coming true. Every single little day.

cleaning my mental house

So there are these two questions that friends have asked me in comments on blog posts that I have never answered, and every time I think about it I feel like a loser. So today I am (finally) going to rid myself of the guilt and answer the questions! And instead of just answering to the people directly, I am posting the answers here because I think they may be of interest to a few more of you.

Quite some time ago my friend Lindsay (who is also a teacher) asked me if I was working. I have truthfully been meaning to post about the beautiful school that I work at for the whole year because I think everyone should know that such a place exists, but I'm only now getting around to it. So the short answer is yes, I am working. But the details are what really matter. I had never planned to go back to work after I had kids (unless I HAD to). In the summer of 2008 I talked about the Montessori training that I went to. That opportunity has blossomed, and the woman who paid for my training started an INCREDIBLE school and asked me to teach at it. The school is called the Elizabeth Academy. Click on the name and go to the website-- I love the mission of the school and believe so strongly in what we are trying to do there. Here is a little blurb about the methods and approach of the school from the website:

"The structured Montessori approach is so individualized, so adaptable and so focused on the child's need, rather than the teacher's need, or the parent's want, or the state's dollar, that the child can't help but flourish.  And yet, as the child becomes the teacher's focus, the child becomes less focused on himself and more aware and respectful of the world around him.  There is no better model, no purer way to be inspired than through a Montessori education.

Elizabeth Academy mandates legitimate inclusion-- creating a slice of the real world with a safety net of real professionals at arms length and open arms to competently and lovingly help navigate the path."

The school mimics the actual population by including a ratio of about 20% of kids that have special needs into the classrooms with their typical peers. The students have learned from each other and grown to love each other, without even really noticing the differences between them. It is really remarkable. I fit in as the "Readiness Teacher." There were a few students who weren't quite ready for the full classroom environment, kids who needed more support and structure due to their special needs. I was asked to come in and be the teacher in that small classroom. Why I said yes (other than the fact that I really loved the idea of being involved in such an incredible school)? I was able to bring my little boy along with me as a typical peer model for these kids. Little G has been able to get up and come to school with me (we are only there three mornings a week for three hours) and it has been such a blessing to have him there learning alongside me. Also amazing? The classroom is staffed with three (3!) diversely educated adults-- me (special education), Miss Maria (speech therapist), and Miss Kelly (Montessori teacher). Also amazing? The resources that we have available to us to work with these children. I am seriously constantly shocked at the materials and resources we are given. If we need something to work with a student? We can buy it. We are not limited by government funding, and the founder of the school truly wants to spare no expense to enable these children to thrive. It is really incredible. We started out with five students in my class, and have since transitioned one (who was ready) to the other classrooms, and added 4 more typical students. This was a picture of us at the beginning of the year:

Oh how I have grown to love these little people. I will miss them (all except for the cute one in the yellow shirt-- that one I am taking with me :)) when I leave in a few weeks to have my baby. I may be back next year (can you believe that they will allow me to strap my baby to my body, bring my three year old, and teach?!), but I also may not be. But I feel so grateful for the opportunity to have been affiliated with such a beautiful school. It is truly a model for how education should be, and people have begun to take notice. We have had visitors from around the nation come observe in the school, and hopefully there will be more like it popping up all around. I would feel so blessed to one day be able to send my children to a school like it.

Okay, now onto the next question. Many of you have inquired what I meant by "doing without any extra stuff" as it pertains to the birth of this baby in my belly. Yes, it is true, I am planning an unmedicated, intervention free (hopefully) birth this time around. Let me be real here-- I am not your typical hypnobirthing woman. No no, in fact, I grew up in a house with an OB/GYN as a father who spoke these words often: "Why wouldn't you want an epidural?! It's like getting your appendix taken out without any anesthesia!" So when I got pregnant the first time I didn't even think twice about getting an epidural. And honestly, I had the most incredible experience giving birth-- it truly was just about as picture perfect as I could imagine, epidural and all.

So why would I want to do things differently this time around?

Giving birth that first time made me aware of my identity as a woman, created specifically to bring babies into the world. I felt like my body had been made to give birth to babies, and I knew I could do it just like women have been doing it for thousands of years. I felt (and feel) a desire to connect with childbirth at its roots-- just me, strong and empowered, giving birth the way my body was designed to. 

I also really love the notion of controlling my body with my mind. I have been taught since I was little that I needed to use my mind to keep my natural man tendencies in check, no matter how strong the desire or appetite. And while this is a little different in that I do not in any way think that choosing an epidural makes one mentally weak, I do personally feel a strong sense of wanting to strengthen my mind and use that strength to get through something that is physically difficult.

And lastly, it really is just safer to not have an epidural. No I do not think that epidurals are typically dangerous, and yes, I would potentially consider getting one myself again one day, but still, any kind of medical intervention poses some risk. If I can give birth without submitting myself or my baby to any unnecessary risk (no matter how small), I think that is a good thing.

So I (along with my very supportive husband) am half way through a six week course in Hypnobabies training. I practice deep relaxation and positive affirmations every day. I am truly confident in my body's ability to give birth naturally, and am grateful daily for the time I am spending deep in meditation and thought as I prepare. I think about giving birth constantly and honestly, I am SO looking forward to it. I know that there is a chance that things may not go as planned, but I also know that I am doing the work that I need to now so that I can have a truly incredible experience on the day that this babe decides to come. I know some of you have used hypnobabies/birthing before and I would LOVE to hear any and all advice you have. I also know that some of you will be skeptical and doubting. That's okay, but please, don't leave comments about it because I don't want to have to put up my bubble of peace when I read them :).

knock knock

You just never know who is going to be behind the door when you open it. Yesterday it was a sweet elderly woman from Albania with a young American man by her side. She began saying the few words she knew in English, heavy with her Albanian accent: "Bible? See? You like? I read?" I was puzzled and looked at the man for a little help.
"She's from Albania," he said. "She doesn't speak very much English, but she is zealous to work."
I still wasn't sure what this was all about. Zealous to work at what? So I just looked at her with nice eyes to let her know she could continue.
"No speak English lot, but I read? I read Bible?"
"Sure. You can read something from the Bible."
(a verse from the book of Revelation is read)
"Bible? See? You like?"
"Yes, I do like it. It's beautiful. I believe in the Bible."
(with giddy excitement) "Oh! You like! You like Bible?!"
(smiling and trying to match her enthusiasm) "Yes, I do! I like the Bible, too!"

By this point I had realized who they were and why they were there, but I had no desire to turn them away immediately. I felt like I should treat them the way that I would hope a stranger at a door would treat a missionary from my church. So after a little confusion about what she wanted me to do, I was gifted a book to read and sent on my way with two kisses on my cheeks. Her desire to spread her Truth warmed my heart, and I was glad for her example. I browsed through the book she left with me because, again, if an LDS missionary had left a Book of Mormon in someone's hands I would hope they would at least give it a look. This is the cover of the book: And this is a kind of scary illustration from it: (I recommend clicking on the pic to enlarge it for full alarming detail)
I think it is safe to say that I won't be converting to her religion any time soon, but it was a lovely exchange with a kind, believing stranger that has left me a little more motivated to share her zeal in spreading my own Truth.

I cannot wait for Conference this weekend.

grateful for the calm

"Do I look sick to you???"

It was going to be an relaxing evening. J and I were getting ready to head out to the ReAl soccer game, and Baby G was walking in and out of our closets, having fun opening and closing the doors. Earlier that day we had made a quick visit to the hospital lab to get Baby G's blood drawn-- we had decided it would be good to get his blood checked for lead because we live in an old house and have been doing some remodeling. We just wanted to be cautious and make sure we weren't exposing our boy to anything harmful.


Our pediatrician called us minutes before we were going to walk out the door to the soccer game. I answered the phone, we exchanged pleasantries, and then he asked, "Has Baby G been acting any differently over the past few days?" I told him that he had actually had a low-grade fever off and on for the past week, but that it hadn't been anything significant. He had perhaps been very slightly more lethargic than normal, but mostly just seemed to be acting extra sweet, giving lots of cuddles, stopping to rest his head on my back and reach his little arms around me while I sat on the floor, and just generally being exceedingly good natured and loveable. Nothing I was worried about, to be sure.

Dr. M then went on to inform me that the blood tests from earlier that day had returned with some alarming numbers. Baby G's red blood cell (RBC) count was extremely low. "How low?" I asked. "Can you tell me the numbers?" Dr. M explained that a normal percentage of RBCs in a baby his age is 40%. Baby G was at 17%. "I don't want to alarm you," were the doctor's words, "but this is not something I am comfortable with waiting on. I have already called the emergency room at Primary Children's Hospital, and I want you to take your baby there now to have his blood taken again and have some more tests." I calmly told him we would leave right away and we hung up.

Then I went into the bedroom to pass along this information to my husband. As I was walking in the room I had a brief moment of panic. What if I am about to tell my husband that something is seriously wrong with our baby boy? What if our lives are going to change because of these next few sentences that will come out of my mouth? What if our baby is sick? I took a minute to collect myself because I didn't want to be a crying mess and scare my husband. J called my dad to tell him that instead of joining my family at the game that night we would be driving past the stadium, just a little further east, to the hospital.

To make a long story short, we were at the hospital for four hours. Baby G and his daddy spent lots of time pacing the halls,

and Baby G continued to be so stinking cuddly and cute that we could hardly stand it.
Then the baby had to get some more blood tests and while they were at it the doctor decided to have an IV put in (in case the results came back with bad news and they needed to start treating Baby G right away). Our boy was a champ-- how many people do you know that try to do handstands and sommersaults with an IV in one hand? We realized that in our hurried state to get to the hospital we hadn't eaten dinner. Baby G and I got to share the crackers the nurse gave us.

After a long wait the doctor came in and jubilantly exclaimed, "I have some great news! Your baby does NOT have leukemia!" I guess you could say we were relieved, but the truth is, aside from that brief moment of worry right after I hung up with the pediatrician, I had felt an extreme sense of peace and calm. I felt like everything would be okay, and even though I was fully expecting the doctor to return with good news, if it had been bad, I was feeling peaceful about it all. This experience has caused me to spend many hours in deep thought over the past week. I wake up each morning and in the still quietness of our bedroom my mind churns over the events of the past week. These are some of the thoughts in my heart:

As we were driving to the hospital J and I were calmly discussing the Worst Case Scenario. "Would you regret anything?" he asked. I very sincerely and honestly said, "Absolutely nothing." I feel so blessed to be Baby G's mama, and have loved every moment of taking care of him up to this point. I am so grateful I have been able to devote so much of myself to ensuring that he is safe, growing, loved, and happy. Of course, that's not to say that I am perfect and that I haven't needed a break here and there. But this experience has made me so enormously grateful for the things I have done right, and the overwhelming feeling that I have done the best I can up to this point.

One of the first thoughts I had was that I was so grateful that I am still nursing Baby G. He is almost 14 months old, and he still lays down in my arms at least 3 times a day to nurse and cuddle with me. He still sometimes falls asleep in my arms, and I still get to rock him while he sleeps. Oh how grateful I am for those sweet moments! I have wrestled with the question of when I should stop nursing him, and though I still don't know when the time will be right for us, I feel deep gratitude that it hasn't happened yet.

One of the themes for the past few months in our family has been experiencing calm while loved ones around us are passing through some extreme difficulties. Our home has been a haven, and the three of us have felt much happiness. This experience has reminded me that one day the tides will change, that the beautiful peace of soft ocean waves against the shores will at some point be replaced with turbulent seas that our family will have difficulty negotiating. I am so grateful for the calm right now, but feel motivated to fortify myself and my family so that when the winds and storms come we will be prepared.

And lastly, sort of on that note, I can't seem to shake the thought that this experience was a trial run for the real thing one day in the future. I am not sure what that means, or if it is just me being slightly paranoid. But it doesn't feel irrational, and it doesn't feel scary. It just feels like a quiet acknowledgement that something like this may be my cross to bear during mortality. I am not really sure how to articulate it, but nonetheless, I feel peaceful about all of these thoughts, and grateful for the experiences of the past week that have led me to such pondering.

For now, we will continue to enjoy our healthy boy and the calm of this time.