23

Stephen texted, again. [For the thousandth time] “Will you please check the balance in my account? I have to buy a bear license for tomorrow and want to make sure I have enough in there.”

Oh my good heck! You are 23 years old. Can you just learn how to check your own account? [I didn't say this out loud.]

He said, “If you aren’t near a computer I could just drive into town and go to the bank and figure it out.”

I said, “No, I’ll check. But if you would just write down two numbers you could call the bank anytime, day or night, and figure it out for yourself.” I mean, seriously, I go to bed around 8 p.m. and sometimes he calls at nine to ask his balance! For Pete’s sake!

But then I realized it’s really a wonderful thing that he calls or texts me every single day. I get to hear his voice and know what he’s doing and where he’s going and how he’s feeling.

It’s pretty hard to get anything else out of this busy, social, hard-working 23-year old son. So I’ll count my blessings where they are.

I’m tearing up the two numbers he needs to learn in order to get that information himself.

number 5

My youngest, Mikelle is upstairs sleeping on the couch. It’s still early, a little past six a.m. She’s got the country music station on the TV and it’s playing quiet cowboy songs, dripping with regrets and lost love. She must have come in well-past midnight after spending the evening at her brother, Stephen’s. Then she was off to find her friends, Mary, Jordan and Hope, who all came home from college just to spend some time together.

Good friends.

[I told her not to sleep on the couch. Why can't my kids just listen to me? Don't they know that's the last couch I will ever have and it is getting all slouchy and droopy from their constant sleeping on it? We even had to turn the cushions around, for Pete's sake! --with the zippers in the front-- to try and get them back to their original shape.]

[We have a perfectly good bed in the back bedroom with Mother's mattress and a brand new memory foam from Sam's. And a cute bedspread and pillows!]

[But my kids come here and sleep on my new couch.]

[No matter how I nag.]

Mikelle. With her cute little bump showing. Mikelle with her white teeth and beauty-school hair. Hair of many colors. With her long strong nails from all her pre-natal vitamins. Mikelle all grown up with a husband, her own friends, a red car that is spotless to match her spotless apartment. [She actually said to me this morning, "Mom, I really think if you would just dust and vacuum every single day, you'd be so much happier!] Mikelle, with her checking account she keeps balanced to the penny every single day. Take-charge, Mikelle, who is self-assured and competent and confident.

Where the heck did all that come from?

This life has been too much for me, sometimes. And it’s been not enough.

How did she ever survive growing up with all my criticism?

Each time I pass through the living room I think I’ll ask if she would rather go into the bedroom, but she turns over and drapes her arm across her smudged mascara and I see, again, she’s all grown up. She makes her own choices. She’s cleared her own path and miraculously found her way to a place remarkably close to what I have prayed for her entire life. What I would have chosen for her if I had had even a smidgen of influence on her.

Thank you God. Thank you again.

She’s smarter than me in relationships. She’s more mature. She’s sure. She won’t spend thirty or forty years without meaningful conversation. She knows what she wants. She’s responsible and a good steward. She won’t care more about the couch than other things that are more important.

But yesterday she said, “It scares me, Mom, some of the things that come out of my mouth. Like Logan was in front of the microwave and I yelled at him — ‘What are you doing? Don’t you know microwaves cause cancer and you absolutely must push the off button and not just pull the door open. You have to count three seconds and then open it!’ ”

“And when Logan was putting the vacuum away I yelled, ‘What are you doing? Don’t you know you’ll pull the cord off the vacuum if you do that? You have to be more careful!’ ”

She said, “Oh my gosh! I’ve turned in to my mother!”

“And I’m always correcting his pronunciation and grammar and spelling and speech.”

Ouch!

I really wish I would have spent more time nurturing and loving and teaching and hugging. I wish I would have been less critical and less criticizing. Things have a way of being crystal clear later, when it’s too late. But if regrets count at all, I regret all the yelling and correcting and pushing and nagging and prompting.

Lesson learned. The timing’s off, but the lesson’s learned.

[But I still don't want anyone sleeping on my couch.]

dear grandma

We, (being me, mom, Keziah and Fisher) just took the ride of a lifetime in our new dream car! It is the coolest car I’ve ever driven in! It gets radio from basically anywhere, and it’s got a moon roof and the seats are so awesome! THANK YOU FOR HELPING US GET IT! I LOVE IT!

This, from granddaughter Blythe.

You’re welcome Blythie. I’m glad I could help. The big stuff is on you guys though. You will have all the hard work keeping it nice and clean and away from owls. You will have to carry in all the stuff and clean up the Great Harvest crusts and crumbs so the seats stay awesome! You will have to carry in the smoothie cups so they don’t tip over in the cracks and crevices. You guys will have to work hard to be thrifty and smart so you can make payments.

[I always ignore the opportunity to just keep my mouth shut. Instead, I always have to add my unsolicited two-cents-worth about being responsible.]

I actually remember so many times my own father helped me in this exact same way. I was pretty stranded in Pennsylvania without a car, with two small children and a husband who was inattentive [to me, anyway] and “worked” 15 hours a day. He isolated me and went on his merry way. I needed a car! I needed to be able to go somewhere and do something, even if only to the grocery store or the library. So my dad cashed in a bond from his mother, Grandma Smith, and sent the money for me to buy a used V Dub bug.

What a life safer.

My dad.

I’ve never felt particularly close or attached to him. I even have a hard time praying about him. I always thank the Lord for my Mother — that’s so easy — but I almost begrudgingly say, “Thank you for my dad, for all that he taught me about being thrifty and frugal and responsible and smart.” I just remember all that I didn’t love about him. He was distant and hard and immovable and cross and stiff and sore and cancerous and withholding and judgmental.

As it turns out I’m more like him than I am like Mom. That whole thing skipped a generation and ended up square in the lap of Tracy. She’s just like her: caring, nurturing, fun, teaching, forgiving, loving, friendly, a wonderful example, loyal, covenanted, dedicated.

I, right now, this morning, am working on next week’s RS lesson entitled Mothers and Daughters.

My opening statement:

What an honor it is to speak and teach today on this talk from Brother Ballard. I find myself both insufficient and unqualified in this area, but I’ll do my best to give to you the message he shared with all of us in April.

I knew I had to have a disclaimer in order to teach on this subject!

Oh, why does God always give me hard things to do? Why does he make me look inside and see where I need to improve, learn, do better? Why do I have to grow and stretch and feel? Why do I always have my regrets right in front of me?

I’d rather be hard and immovable and distant and cross. I’m not comfortable with gushy.

But I can help out financially, like my dad.

mother’s day

I actually think of my Mom on Mother’s Day. Instead of me. That’s only normal. Case in point. One year when Scott was in college the bishop called long distance and asked him to speak in our ward on Mother’s Day as a big surprise for me. But I drove to my own Mom’s in Ogden and Scott drove all the way from Laramie to Lyman, to speak to an empty bench. Lots of people told me he did a wonderful job! I’m sure he did. He usually does. But I wasn’t there. I forget sometimes that Mother’s Day is also for me.

My Mom, though, was the essence of the holiday. She is and always will be the biggest and most far-reaching inspiration to me. She will always be the one person who believed that even though I made huge mistakes, I could over come them and get back to where I needed to be. She never gave up on that goal. She never made me feel like I couldn’t/wouldn’t make it back.

And now, every once in a while I can feel her encouragement through all space and time from where she is. I can feel her wanting me to see the bigger goal. I can sense her wanting me to make it back . . to where she is. Where we all want to be. And it’s a mother’s love that makes me want that too. I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want to be the one who doesn’t make it. I don’t want to be the one who messes the whole plan up.

So, Mom, thank you for all you’ve done to show me it’s worth reaching for. And when I feel like I’ll never make it, thank you for the nudges and the reminders and the example and the boost. And thanks for always painting that silver lining. Guess you’re getting quite the opportunity from up there! Keep painting!

And I’ll keep trying.

Love you!

hb2usweetpea

This is such a special day to all of us. Mikelle’s birthday! She’s all grown up at 21! I wish I could have driven to Logan to surprise her but I was just there three days ago and gave her hugs and a little crafty gift from our favorite shop. We tried to talk her into going and getting a really good blender for this summer, smoothies, crushed ice, etc., but she said “I don’t really want a blender for my birthday!” [I had to italicize four words in that sentence to give an accurate sense of her emphatic statement.]

If I had to sum up all my feelings about her in one thought it would be this:

You are nothing short of our everything!

I wanted two more kids. I knew I had two more kids, but I had gone through a really nasty divorce [actually a really nasty marriage, too] and when I remarried, I had Stephen at age 36 and then Mikelle 18 months later at age 38. These two have been such a joy [a teensy bit of heartache along the way] and such a blessing.

They are both grown up and I’m proud to be their Mom. I have no clue where the time went! It’s seems very recently they were both in diapers, both in elementary school, both in middle school and then both in high school. I have loved every minute of raising Stephen and Mikelle.

Here she is in a beautiful blessing dress Yvonne Warnick made for her.

Several other granddaughters have been blessed in this very same dress. I’m not sure where it is now. I hope it is being taken care of, wherever it is so that other baby girls can wear it.

BTW! Breaking news! Mikelle and Logan are preggers!

My favorite of all her school pics!

Such a cute kid. I just went through a bunch of albums and enjoyed all the memories that went along with the pictures. I remember Lisa Bradshaw fixed Mikelle’s hair that morning. Being a working Mom all through their lives, I wasn’t home most morning when they got up and went to school. Lisa was a very good neighbor and did many motherly things for both these two.

This might not be her favorite picture. Before braces. Still cute!

I know exactly where this picture is taken. At our favorite fishing hole
at Green River Lakes!

Same place. Different guy. Different hole.
This is the only guy that matters now!

Same guy. Different place. No hole.

Graduation Day!

At age about 14, I think. It’s the year she absolutely had to have a guitar. I’m pretty sure she has carried it around for the past seven or so years but never learned to play it. Someday . . . there’s still time!

Total goofballs! But notice the very expensive teeth!

Love you!!!!! Happy Birthday Sweet Pea!

idahooo

I’d love to say so far, so good, but I’ll say so far, pretty good. I’ve tried to weigh on Tracy’s scale that she [seriously] keeps in the bottom drawer of the bathroom under a tote bag. I’ve weighed everywhere between 139 and 143 each time I stand on the scale one right after the other. To say the least, the scale is inconsistent. I can’t say for sure if any of those numbers were correct, but I’m guessing I’m around 142,  judging from the way my pants and ring fit.

There’s more food here than I want. Monday night Tracy’s friend brought over dinner. It was a pasta dish with pieces of breaded and fried eggplant. It also had diced tomatoes, something green and a divine seasoning I’ve yet to identify. We’ve also had it for left overs several times and it was as delish then as at first. This morning we had homemade strawberry syrup on top of apple whole wheat pancakes. I hurried and ate an apple and orange so that I wouldn’t be tempted to eat four pancakes in a row! So only two. But the really great thing is, I’ve been strong and been able to resist many other temptations that seem to suddenly be in front of me. For instance, the kids went into Great Harvest yesterday when we were in Idaho Falls. I love Great Harvest. Even when I get a slice of [healthy, 5-ingredient] honey whole wheat I know it’s more than I want to eat because they slice off a hunk the size of Rhode Island and then I usually add the real butter and honey. So it’s just better for me to stay out of there. [Last week when I ran to Utah I had a slice and then had a huge raspberry and white chocolate chip scone which set me off for two days.] When we were all starving we toyed with the idea of going to Subway or another far superior sandwich place in Rigby, Gator Jack’s, but instead decided to go home and eat something already there. On the way we stopped at Maverick for a frozen yogurt for Keziah and I somehow was able to walk out of there without one for myself. Yay!

Exercise: This morning I worked on legs, doing 5 sets of hydrants X 20, bridge push-ups, abs on the ball, Pilates for abs and 40 push ups. Yay, again. I hate when people say they don’t have time for exercise. Or worse, when they say they don’t have anything to exercise with. Seriously, exercise with the weight of your own body.

I was just looking for a picture of Jorge’s hydrant exercises for my niece, but found this cool picture instead, of two of my favorite people together. You can’t go wrong listening and living as these two promote. They practice what they preach and are both in fantastic shape and health.

Off to making a display for Tracy’s Baby and Pregnancy Fair. Last night she made four darling rice socks for give-aways and today she has lots of work and finishing touches on brochures and signs. So Fish and Annes and I are heading to Gator Jacks, today, for a turkey and avocado and sprout ensemble. Then off to the movies with the girls — Alice in Wonderland.

Off with her head!

right, again

Scott and Andie were here for the weekend. Since I worked 15 hours at our annual Alumni Basketball we didn’t actually spend a lot of time together. We did go to a movie Saturday night, which I dozed in a few times, only to receive a sweet little shake from Andie [wake up!] And we watched General Conference on Sunday and had chicken alfredo dinner.

Scott washed some of his clothes [from the cruise] but didn’t actually check the water level on the washer. I heard the commotion and the struggling washer from where I was at the computer and yelled up, “Did you check the water level?” He said, “What are you saying?” I ran to the washer and turned it up to Extra Large. He said “Do I have too many clothes in there?” “Yah!”

A few minutes later he was on the landing, just five steps up from where I have my computer. He started to mimic until I laughted outloud. Hands on hips and a higher voice, he pretended it was me, blogging about the whole thing. “I like it when the kids come home, except when they forget to check the water level on the washer. . . ”

And he’s right. I did blog about it!

Every time he is here he makes fun of me. Maybe I do blog about everything and anything and nothing, many senseless and needless topics . . . and some days, naught . . . just rambling. He gives me a clearer picture of how many hours I’ve spent talking about my weight struggles. He lets me know there are other important, fun, interesting, meaningful things I could post about. And he’s right.

As soon as I get this weight thing under control . . .

cancer

I’ve thought so much about my sister this past week. She finally said the C word. Before she was saying the T word and so I went with the T word. I didn’t know she had the C word.

Cancer scares me to death. I’ve thought philosophically about it many times. I’ve thought two things:

1.  Life causes Cancer

2.  We all have cancer, it’s just a matter of time.

The first close person I remember was my Dad. He had skin cancer when I was young and then, later, prostrate. I remember him joking about the size of his shrunken pe***.  He said with all the female hormones he had to take he couldn’t even p** in a cup. I surely had no idea what he was talking about! I was so embarrassed. Next was brother-in-law, John, then Mel, John D, Rick, Kevin, and now my sister.

I’m scared. Scared for her. Scared for me.

I have so many friends, too, who have fought this battle. Pat, Teena, Patty, Charlene, Anna, Dave, Tam. But now when I see the list. They are still here, living normal lives, leading normal lives.

That’s encouraging. That’s wonderful.

Mikelle asked me what she could do to not get cancer. I tried to tell her about broccoli and cauliflower. I’ve heard they are the body’s broom, sweeping out cancer-causing problems. I told her what I know about sugar, that it “feeds” cancer. But I realized, I honestly don’t know. Gary Poore’s wife, Karon, died of lung cancer and has never smoked a cigarette in her life!

It’s hideous!

Most of my prayers right now are for Louise. As I posted way back on November 8th, #22.  I give most of the credit to my sister, Louise, that I grew up safe and almost sane. She took care of me most of my young life! She’s a great example to me. She has been the rock in our family. She’s worked hard her whole life and given, given, given. Her own family [children and grandchildren . . . and great grandchildren!]  has been blessed by her devotion, her faith, and her generosity.

Love you sister! Take care. Blessings. Prayers!

cruise

Just to prove I can post about things other than the continual ups and downs of my weight, I decided to put into words something that has been going around in my head for a couple of days. I’ve been thinking about how interesting and surprising life is. I was telling my friend about the fact that my boys just returned home yesterday from a cruise. She said, “Scott and Stephen.” I said, “Scott, Stephen and Cameron!” She couldn’t believe it. I can’t believe it!

You have to know the background to realize how amazing it is that these three guys — men, now — spent a week together in the Caribbean. Cam moved away after his Freshman year. His father and I divorced and Cameron needed to be with his dad. He left one day while I was away from home and never came back. I thought he was going for one year, but he had something else in mind and has stayed for — 15 years? Something like that.

He came back for a few days when Blythe and Andie were born. He came another time. It may have been three times all together. But here is the amazing part. When my mother died last year, he came for her funeral. He stayed the better part of a week. Then six months later he came back to go camping with us for a week at Green River Lakes. Several weeks ago he went to Las Vegas with Scott, and then this past week he went on a cruise with Scott and Stephen. And now the awkwardness is gone.

My stoney, frozen, damaged heart healed. In a matter of a few months. It’s all stitched up. It’s back in one piece.

I’m not sure who to thank for this miracle.

I had passed the point where I thought we would never see each other again. I had passed the point where I believed we would never heal from the hurt. I had passed the point where I hoped my heart would ever have room for this son who left me.

But now, it’s like it never happened. He’s all grown up. I had remembered him all those years as the boy he was when he left. He’s very different than I had imagined. And yet he’s exactly the same.

And I’m so thrilled, so happy, so pleased, so relieved that a small measure of peace and comfort have filled my heart and blessed my life.

I am so blessed.

family letter

Last July 1, Scott initiated a family letter that would help us to keep up with each other. He emailed it to the other five of us. We all read and replied in kind. It’s been a great project. Call it Family History. Call it Catching Up. Call it Mom’s favorite part of the whole month!

Here’s how it started:

I have been thinking about doing a monthly letter to everyone for a long time now and I guess mom’s blog finally convinced me to do it. I remember getting something similar from Louise from everyone while I was in college but that was all hand written and mailed, I think email will be easier. Also I just want our family, mom and the 5 kids to participate. I hope everyone will join me and write maybe starting the end of July. I think this might be a good way to stay close and share upcoming plans. If no one else wants to join in then at least you will get a letter from me once a month.

I have loved every letter! I’ve loved every word. I look forward to the end of each month, knowing I will get at least two or three family emails from those I love the very most. For the past eight months I’ve saved each one in a special folder on my desktop and have been able to look back at them occasionally.

Just want to thank my children for participating in this venture and encourage you to continue to take the time to write to “us.” Someday I’ll print all of them and put them in a binder for us to reminisce with in our old age.

I love each of you so much
Love Mom!