tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82647366530315942922024-03-04T20:18:10.355-08:00See Jac WriteIf I get it all down on paper, it's no longer
inside of me threatening the life it belongs to.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.comBlogger205125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-78520458106783201172017-03-13T15:03:00.001-07:002017-03-13T15:03:35.905-07:00Connecting the dots
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3J2iTRQM9BqIqb6ZoM_1HYt7od6yr9epm7Q3B7dC3vyJ19g2QNIsir9zO3e89E3BMB-PI0uvj91Tmk6CVORiXoL6T2UbaWS1ejwewfMnIHDH0XBkk5wdV-t7hNnpcGL9-Ob8WqPo-Ne4/s1600/014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3J2iTRQM9BqIqb6ZoM_1HYt7od6yr9epm7Q3B7dC3vyJ19g2QNIsir9zO3e89E3BMB-PI0uvj91Tmk6CVORiXoL6T2UbaWS1ejwewfMnIHDH0XBkk5wdV-t7hNnpcGL9-Ob8WqPo-Ne4/s320/014.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The canyon road where Grandma spent years herding cattle with her family. <br />
They had a small home near here where they stayed during the summer months.</td></tr>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333331; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">My grandma Rhoda is always on my mind this time of year. It
was 6 years ago in February the she died, and we share April for our birthday
month, so she’s in my thoughts lately. On Saturday we were driving south on
I-15 from Brigham City. I thought of how many times she must have driven on
that road between her family home in Portage and her home to the south. I like seeing
the untouched landscape, knowing that I am seeing exactly what she saw in the
sunset on the water or the jagged cuts in the skyline created by mountains
unchanged by time. I wondered how she felt driving south in December 1941. My
grandpa had a new job in St George. She was moving from the very northern
border of Utah to the very Southern border. She was about 6 months pregnant
with her first baby. I always imagined the move to be exciting, but last week I
realized how terrified she must have been, pregnant and leaving her family and
all she had known to live in a desert far from her green mountain home. I
wonder if she knew that her life path would never really bring her home again. Her
mom came to St. George a few months later to be there when the baby came, but
the due date came and went, and Great-Grandma left before the delivery. How
devastatingly lonely that must have felt watching Great-Grandma drive away with
such a huge life event literally looming in front of her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTRWIlBSfEpiT4NpP02kw_xgY_uRfQp2kdioZ9TWwbWAszu8Kc8x98qs15PvlkUfATjtvONlfd6Z3KF2CfvnoxHdW-Yn1dJaUEaco6RfwuwMkByjYEAiJSu75macNP2RB0eR_GxBVTes/s1600/40.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuTRWIlBSfEpiT4NpP02kw_xgY_uRfQp2kdioZ9TWwbWAszu8Kc8x98qs15PvlkUfATjtvONlfd6Z3KF2CfvnoxHdW-Yn1dJaUEaco6RfwuwMkByjYEAiJSu75macNP2RB0eR_GxBVTes/s320/40.39.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma (9 months pregnant and) hiding behind her mother who was visiting and waiting for the baby to arrive.</td></tr>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333331; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">Grandma and Grandpa moved a lot in St. George. They’d just
get settled somewhere in a rented house, and the owner would return from the
war, so they’d move to another home. 17 years later my grandpa was reassigned
to Lehi. Again, she had to leave her home where she had finally made friends
and fit into the community only to carve out a place in new town. So they began
again, moving all around their new town as needs and budgets and plans changed.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">If you haven’t
moved a lot, you can’t imagine how it feels to be somewhere completely new. While
fresh starts can be exciting, there is lot of not-exciting mixed in. There are
no familiar faces at church, you know no one at the library, no one at the
grocery store, no one at the elementary school, no one on your kid’s sports
teams, no one. The roads are unfamiliar, the stores are different, the climate
and the soil and the air and even the water---all unfamiliar and requiring an
adjustment. Usually you move into a place where people already have a routine
of life, and they flow around you. There you are, everyone else in their natural
rhythm going the places they usually go, while you turn in circles because you
really can’t get a feel for which way North is in this new terrain of earth and
people. Even when a few faces become familiar, they still gravitate to where
they have always been and not necessarily to you. It is HARD. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBE9G8kI1G3NGLVeXTMcdazwLjiXW9I25XjpMi7SBaDmr19XTZmnIdHSOdMdxnwj0agJqT1E9Mx5rJIkpkhjYg3CcLAPGV8wQx9s8OuF4JfSEtT_RUgOOmB1wQvzxNvElOkiKM5MYMGE/s1600/30.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBE9G8kI1G3NGLVeXTMcdazwLjiXW9I25XjpMi7SBaDmr19XTZmnIdHSOdMdxnwj0agJqT1E9Mx5rJIkpkhjYg3CcLAPGV8wQx9s8OuF4JfSEtT_RUgOOmB1wQvzxNvElOkiKM5MYMGE/s320/30.01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma with her father and all 7 sisters.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">I spent a few
days in 2003 interviewing my grandma and 4 of her sisters. It was the best time
ever. They are delightful together, each so beautiful and unique. They told a
story of one time when the sisters were traveling to visit a brother in
California. They had planned to stop in St. George for lunch with Grandma. The
only problem was when they got to her house, Grandma wasn’t home. They let
themselves in (who locked the doors in those days?). When grandma still didn’t
show for a while they made themselves some sandwiches and went on their way.
They didn’t call, after all they were sitting right next to her phone. However
they did call when they got to California. Grandma had been home after all. The
real problem was that Grandma had moved to a new home in town. Either the
sisters had forgotten or Grandma hadn’t told them. They laughed until they
cried as they remembered that day, thinking of the poor person at the old home
who must have wondered who in the world brought a half-dozen people into their
home and freely ate of all their food. I hope they at least cleaned up after
themselves. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">A quick
glance at my memory of that day show Grandma laughing with the rest of them,
just not nearly as much; she’s still touched with a sadness at the memory. How
she must have looked forward to their visit. Knowing her, I’m sure she thought
for at least a week about what to serve for lunch. Maybe she even saved a
little of the month’s grocery budget to make the afternoon extra special. I
imagine her setting the food out, glancing out the window, then sitting on the
porch for a while, waiting to wave at her siblings as they pulled up---familiar
faces and embraces in the unfamiliar landscape of her new home. She probably
called her mom to find out if they left home on time or what the holdup could
be. Then after a while she probably put the food back in the fridge, wondering
what happened, aching for what she imagined the afternoon would have been if
they had come. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">It IS a funny
story, but she never really told her side of the story. I don’t think 50 years had
managed to completely erase how she felt that afternoon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Google says that it would take more than five
and half hours to travel to St. George from Portage at today’s speeds on today’s
freeways and highways. I imagine back then it would have been close to a 7-hour
trip or more, so I don’t think visits with any family would have happened more
than once or twice a year. Phone calls were long-distance, and no one had money
to spare at the time. She must have been so lonely. That visit would have been
the highlight of her month, maybe even the year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">After Grandma
moved to Lehi she cut at least four hours off the drive time and saw her family
more. They came to her home, and she drove up to see her mom and siblings often.
But going home is never the same after you leave. Things change starting the day
you drive away. Your parents remodel or move, neighbors change, scenery
changes, and even if all of that doesn’t change, you change. You change so much
that the piece you carved out for yourself all of your early life somehow isn’t
the right shape or size for you now, even when it once fit so seamlessly. Suddenly
what once was all you knew, is somehow just a faded portion of a book you read
a few years ago---you recognize it, but it just isn’t the same. That disconnect
between what was and what is creates a hollowing feeling that deepens at a rate equal to the size of the ever-growing division of reality. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">When Grandma
couldn’t drive because of age and eyesight, we drove her to see her family. In her older
years it wasn’t as easy for her to travel, so she counted down the days until
they were coming to see her. When they were coming she told all of our family
of the expected visit, and we all looked forward to arrival. If the sisters
were ever late or left earlier than she had imagined they would leave, she was
visibly upset for a few days. We always thought it was strange that she was so affected
by their comings and goings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvvPg64kDDP34B8KqrlF0R3aSu1oqp_r6uDMDYw0ZQkhgewqCIVi5cdsN6JC20GXPjTBMS8msCXqtS44OmmQT-ZFaEMrvnZBwSgrivHj2YArDXzUxXdT1_93YuN16sNgJWU1ZYaw_rsI/s1600/50th+ann+with+sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvvPg64kDDP34B8KqrlF0R3aSu1oqp_r6uDMDYw0ZQkhgewqCIVi5cdsN6JC20GXPjTBMS8msCXqtS44OmmQT-ZFaEMrvnZBwSgrivHj2YArDXzUxXdT1_93YuN16sNgJWU1ZYaw_rsI/s320/50th+ann+with+sisters.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma and Grandpa with 5 of her sisters on their 50th wedding anniversary.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">When I
interviewed Grandma in 2003 I didn’t know that my life for the next 12 years
would match hers with lots of moves and lots of new people and lots of miles
between home and HOME. I think I get it now, why their visits affected her so
much. Grandma loved visiting her hometown, but even more, she loved it when her
family came to see her. When you move a lot, your life is divided in pieces of “when
we lived in this house” or “when we lived in that house.” You kind of live a
lot of different lives, almost becoming a different you each time you move
because you evolve somewhat depending on friends and circumstance and the
passing of time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">I remember
the day Kyle was baptized. We had moved four months earlier, and we had lunch
at our new home after the service. Our parents and most of our siblings and their
families were here. Some of our old friends from other cities came. I looked
around at each of their faces, and for the first time in months, I felt like I
was actually in my own home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;">Family is the
connecting piece. No matter where you live or which home you are in, it can
sometimes feel like a stop along the way. But when your parents and siblings
are with you in your home, they somehow connect the dots and make you whole.
They are the constant path of people who have always known you---all of the
yous from all of the places. Somehow they center you; they are evidence that life
actually has continued from place to place---the constant in a life that has lacked
familiar consistency: the true north we were seeking all along.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-69278827265211348872016-01-19T13:07:00.002-08:002016-01-20T11:45:06.315-08:00There are no words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Jlkj-muBbAtV6QIxSrQXKid24bPjLMWBaKY837usn0FJPa-7swXJPJlhrmi8s14Y0j4qu-HB7pv2qj8HZH8GpyRHP2-2Vf4C0tyvZqBhdcJs9aF5njTRmcsRWYIjtYydIK_LqFoWRZ0/s1600/babies+in+the+tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Jlkj-muBbAtV6QIxSrQXKid24bPjLMWBaKY837usn0FJPa-7swXJPJlhrmi8s14Y0j4qu-HB7pv2qj8HZH8GpyRHP2-2Vf4C0tyvZqBhdcJs9aF5njTRmcsRWYIjtYydIK_LqFoWRZ0/s320/babies+in+the+tub.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My last baby is 18
months old. The day he was born started a countdown to the end. His every first
is my every last. It is killing me. I am struggling with how to say
goodbye to this portion of my life. It is the part of my life that I
have lived my life to have. All of my life I have thought “One day
I'll grow up, get married, and have babies.” There was never
anything after that. Who am I if I'm not having babies?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sunday morning I was washing Jay's hair. He looked up at me,
hair full of suds, eyelashes gathered and dripping with water, eyes
bright with whatever puts the light in baby eyes. I pushed the hair
from his forehead up to join the rest of his hair and he looked right
at me. Time froze. He seemed to be every baby from my first to the last. The
scent of baby shampoo The big trusting eyes. The same straight brown
hair. I remembered his sister. How unsure I was of what to do with a
baby in the bath, but my heart was so full reveling in my new life that I
thought it could burst. His oldest brother came to me when
I needed him most---a devoted son to love and take care of during a
time in my life where I needed to focus on something wonderful while
my world swirled threateningly around me. His closest brother
came after years of heavenward pleading and his first year was
filled with constant prayers and tears of gratitude. And back to Jay.
This last baby. This gift to me from God Himself. A perfect package
of a baby who eats and sleeps and plays and loves. If ever there was
a grand finale, it is him. He blinked and I realized that these baths
are now numbered. What 11 years ago seemed to be a blissful and
endless number of baby baths ahead of me has now proved to be finite.
It's almost over.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
That thought
overwhelmed me. I was sobbing before I even knew I was crying. How to
let go? I sat on the floor and cried---my baby
blissfully unaware by my side playing with his belly button and bath
toys. These moments! These
precious moments with my precious babies. The joy has been in every
step of the journey.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I knew he was my
last. He's the last for so many reasons. I'm getting old. We have three others. I've lost too many pregnancies to dare try again---I need to save what is left of my sanity. The others are too old, so old that if we have more Claire's entire childhood will be encumbered with naps and the nausea of morning sickness. Most of all, Jay is enough. I held on to
every second since the moment I saw his heartbeat on ultrasound. I never wished away a night or a feeding or a day. I
kissed him twice every time that I kissed him once. I looked back over my shoulder as I left
the room every night and every nap. I held him tight and whispered
“my baby, my baby, my baby” wishing for those moments to etch
within my soul, never to be forgotten. And yet the sands of time
dropped even faster, slick within my palms as I clenched at them.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
We went to lunch
with Taylor's grandma yesterday. She is 92. Together we admired Jay, his beautiful baby
body, and his little voice that I am certain is the sweetest baby
voice that has ever been. “Are you just always sad that they grew
up? Do you always just want more babies? Even now?” I asked of her
while we were seated. She nodded. With tears in her eyes she looked away
and told me of the day when her daughter got married and moved her things
from the family home to begin her new life. “I looked out that window and
thought I couldn't make it through the day! How could I bear it? All
of those clothes, all...just gone.” Even while we had this conversation there was chaos next to me, my three-year-old sat
next to us taking a bite out of every roll in every basket. I
had to take a giant knife from his hand and straighten his chair a dozen times
so he wouldn't fall. But still these thoughts and tender emotions hung heavy in the
air. And although 60 years divide us, we sat without
words and only with feelings for a while---because who can find words to speak of this beautiful, beautiful heartbreak.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
With this on my
mind today, we played play doh and popped popcorn on the stove and in song and watched trucks
on youtube. And while I cleaned up after lunch this song, “Stand Still” by
Hilary Weeks came over Pandora. It seems to fit how I'm feeling. And
apparently how I'll be feeling for the next 60 years. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-74617048699910899192015-11-09T22:14:00.001-08:002015-11-09T22:14:32.081-08:00Lessons about God from parentingI've had a lot of thoughts about things going on in my church lately. Tonight while I was making dinner (for what seemed like hours), I came up with this comparison which I think makes sense. When I read what was going on I was alarmed, but when I read the reasons why, I understood. I realize that it isn't that way with a lot of people. I'm not one to push things on facebook or to engage in commentary where I know that neither side is really looking to budge. But if I were giving advice to a friend with questions, this is what I would say.:<br />
<br />
I think God wants us to be parents so that we can better understand Him and His role as God. So many situations of parenting can help us understand the choices He has to make and the role he plays in our lives. So, here goes.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Let's say you've had a really long day.
There was so much on your list to do and you had to haul your kids
through 3 counties to do it. Right before bedtime you hear your
youngest daughter scream. You turn around just in time to see your
oldest daughter hitting her sister on the back with a fly
swatter----for the second time! And then she winds up for a third
swing! You. Lose. It. This is the last thing you need. You yell at
your child, she tries to explain why she did it, but you'll hear none
of it. You saw what happened, no explanation is needed, and she has
to go to bed RIGHT NOW.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Later that night you're still mad. Why
would she hit her sister? You google it. You read articles on sibling
rivalry, articles written by people who were picked on by siblings,
articles about how to parent better, articles on why it's okay that
children fight, articles on why it's not okay for children to fight.
It's still hard to figure out what to do. You post it on your facebook page: Why do my kids fight all the time? Your friends all have their own theories. After a while you
check off your to-do list for the day and start to feel bad about
your reaction with your daughter. She was so good all day. She was patient while you ran
endless errands, she cleaned her room, and she did her homework
without being asked. Out of a hundred actions that day, this ONE was not okay, and you chose to focus on that instead of all the good. Before you go to bed you flip
through Instagram. You happen to look at your own personal pictures.
You see the last three or four years of the ways you celebrated your
daughter and her accomplishments. Your heart warms. SO many good
experiences and memories. She is good! She will turn out after all.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next morning, when you've both
slept on it, you ask her what was going on last night. Why in the
world was she hitting her sister? “Mom,” she explains, “there
was a spider on her back!” Well, that makes sense at least. You
respond that it's not what you would have personally chosen to do,
but you can see why she did it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maybe this decision is like that. You
don't get it. It caught you off guard. You were so angry and didn't
understand. But then you remembered all of the great experiences
you've had with the church. Prayers that were answered. Blessings
that healed and comforted. The feeling you have in the temple---the
really good one that doesn't happen every single time. The feeling
you had when you were sealed to your spouse. The day your baby was
blessed. The day grandma died or you miscarried your baby and you suddenly understood why
forever mattered so much. Scriptures that have changed you.
Your patriarchal blessing that has outlined your life in ways you
couldn't imagine when you were 14. The temple marriage that you want
for your children. The prayer you prayed all night long that was
answered miraculously. You knew it when you were 8. You knew it when
you were 18. You have 99 reasons to love the church, and this one
leaves you wondering. The answers aren't on google. They aren't in
dozens of bloggers or facebook comments. The answer is found simply
by asking The One who created all of this. He'll tell you why, and he's told you why through prophets. And
even if it's not what you would have personally chosen to do, His
answer does make sense. Go with that and love the 99 other reasons
because they are SO good.</div>
Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-69403901829963338432014-02-04T21:30:00.000-08:002014-02-04T21:30:09.878-08:00In response to the woman who looks down on young mothersA few of my Facebook friends posted a<a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/amy-glass/2014/01/i-look-down-on-young-women-with-husbands-and-kids-and-im-not-sorry/" target="_blank"> link to a post </a>by a woman who said she looks down on young mothers. She thought that she was much better off making a name for herself in her career. She felt like mothers who say it is hard to be a homemaker are making it up. There was more, but I skimmed.<br />
<br />
It made me angry for a bunch of reasons. I have done hard things in my life, but being a full-time mother and wife and homemaker definitely is the hardest thing I've ever done. The article mentions housework and laundry---and there is a lot of it. But it's not about the laundry---that's not the hard part. It's about people. I'm slowly building people every day, and there is no instruction manual. There is no time off. There is no way of ever feeling like you are ever doing enough. There is no paycheck or yearly bonus or raise to say you are on the right track. It is hard!<br />
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I loved having a career. I loved going to work every day---to put on nice clothes and jewelry and new(ish) shoes and to go somewhere abounding with adults. How nice it would be to have lunch with friends or [gasp!] alone. BUT having a career, especially one with aspirations of moving up the cooperate ladder, is only about YOU. Sure, your assignments may be challenging, your coworkers may be trying, your boss may even be unforgiving---but in the end you keep going, not for the good of anything else but YOU and the advancement of YOU. The article mentions getting a promotion, landing a dream job or backpacking through Asia. All about YOU. How <i>easy</i> to live in a world that is all about you. So really, I think she's the one lying about saying it's hard. What's so hard about living only for yourself?<br />
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I was thinking about this over lunch. I was angry that she would say what she said. I put the plates away, cleaned up the cooking mess, and went to clean Grayson up. Every day after lunch I wash his hands with a baby wipe. He loves it. He loves to be clean and crumb-free. He held out his hand, and I held it in mine.<br />
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"Washy hands, washy hands" I sing. But this time I really look at his hands. So small, so squishy, and so full of baby fat to the point that they almost burst. His knuckle dimples are still perfectly there at 18 months, but the once-tight roll around his wrist is loosening as he grows and thins with age. As I wash them, I tell him about his hands. How many good things they will do. How they will hold a pencil in kindergarten; how they will figure algebra equations in high school; how I hope they will type his life stories of adventures and faith; how they will one day wash the hands of a baby all his own. How lucky he will be if he gets to do that!<br />
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And suddenly, I am just sad for the woman who feels sorry for me. Sad that she will never wash the hands that pat her cheeks or [as gently as possible] stroke her hair; hands that clasp so tightly at the back of her neck that somehow it feels her heart could burst. Sad that she won't cherish pictures drawn by tiny hands. Sad that her fridge won't be adorned by carefully formed pre-school letters that spell only "M-O-M" but mean everything. Sad that she won't hear a one-year-old say the happiest words he knows, "Mom-Mom." Because it's not about me, even though I am his world, it's about him. And that is better than all of the paychecks, all of the lunches out, all of the ladder-climbing and glory-chasing. There is never an end to that. But Grayson, this boy---these hands---they are more than enough.<br />
<br />Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-63944416001588894422013-10-16T20:40:00.000-07:002013-10-16T20:42:25.774-07:00Potato SoupThis is certainly not a cooking blog. But I made a dairy-free potato soup that is probably worth sharing, and at the very least, worth keeping track of. I had a bunch of potatoes, and I couldn't find a recipe online that I was thrilled about, so I combined a few and made my own. I thought it was above average, definitely better than other potato soups I've tried. My kids, who cry about a lot of different foods, thought it was great. They even SAID it was great without being asked. Grayson had two servings. Anyway, here it is:<br />
<br />
<b>Dairy-free potato soup</b><br />
8 cups peeled and diced potatoes<br />
1 cup chopped celery<br />
1 cup chopped onion<br />
2 teaspoons dried parsley<br />
3.5 cups water<br />
2 chicken bouillon cubes<br />
1 Caldo de pollo cube <i>(yup, I don't know what they are, but I sure like them. They seem to be just a little different from regular bouillon cubes)</i><br />
1 teaspoon salt<br />
Pepper to taste<br />
Seasoning salt to taste (maybe that's redundant after regular salt?)<br />
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1 Tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon flour<br />
3 cups almond milk (not vanilla flavored! I used the kind with 60 calories per serving)<br />
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12 strips of bacon, cooked and crumbled.<br />
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<b>Directions:</b><br />
Put potatoes, celery, onion, parsley, water, bouillon cubes, caldo de pollo, salt, pepper and seasoning salt in a large pot and boil until potatoes are tender<br />
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Meanwhile combine almond milk and flour. I warmed the milk up in the microwave for 90 seconds. Not sure if that's necessary.<br />
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When vegetables are tender, add milk/flour mix and stir over heat until thickened to your liking. At this point I added more seasoning salt. Also, add the bacon while waiting for soup to thicken.<br />
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I added cheese to the bowls of those in my family who can have cheese, and it was delicious. Probably it would have been good with sour cream too.<br />
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This made enough for all of us to have a little less than 2 cups of soup with leftovers for tomorrow.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-66010386227334240502013-10-04T21:40:00.000-07:002013-10-04T21:40:14.769-07:00Sleep {yaaaawwwn}Everyone knows we've had problems with Grayson's sleep. "Problems" doesn't really describe the lack of sleep we've had for the last 14 months of our lives. Lots of people have asked how it has gone and what we have tried. I thought I'd document it here. Mostly because I know if I wrote down all of our secrets for future use, I would probably lose the paper.<br />
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The good news is he's sleeping again. During the last ten days he has slept past 7 am all but one night. We don't know what the secret is, but we've tried a few things. First, I quit nursing. I was upset about it. I quit nursing Claire at about 15 months because she was biting (but she quit the last few days and that made me regret quitting). I felt a lot of pressure to quit nursing Kyle when he was 12 months old because he was a boy and could walk. I didn't want to quit and neither did he, but I did. And he got an ear infection the next week. I regreted that. I was determined to nurse Gray until we were both comfortable moving on. But we did notice that he had a trend of waking at 5, nursing, then snuggling up to me in bed and going back to sleep. And it was obvious that he loved nursing. So we slowed down and he quit on the 23rd. He took it well. And I, despite sudafed and benadryl and peppermint oil, cannot quit producing milk. But that's TMI and irrelevant. Anyway, we quit nursing and he started sleeping two days later.<br />
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But that wasn't all. Concurrently we started giving him a peanut butter sandwich before bed every night. We put him in fleece pajamas and covered him with two blankets and left the ceiling fan on all night.<br />
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We also quit giving him dairy in any form. The sleep problems began two weeks before we gave him milk in a bottle, but as soon as we gave him a bottle of milk his nose was gross and solid and he had 2 blowout diapers every day. Within a week of quitting milk everything kind of got better, and then when we took the yogurt and cheese and butter out of his diet he was almost instantly better. This is also why I quit nursing. It stressed me out to watch MY diet and his for milk. I need chocolate and cheese. Since he's technically old enough to go without nursing, I just couldn't limit myself (I already go without Diet Coke. This was just too much.)<br />
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Anyway, we saw a sleep specialist in West Jordan (here: <a href="http://www.utsleep.com/">http://www.utsleep.com/</a>) She was super helpful, and even though he, ironically, was sleeping well 3-4 nights before the appointment, we thought it was worth our time and money. She said for our problem (which was 2 whole months of daily repeat awakening throughout the night where he would usually stay up for three or more hours after waking; or he would just wake up at 4 or 5 and be up for the day), that the <a href="http://www.mybabysleepguide.com/2009/01/sleep-training-ferber.html" target="_blank">Ferber progressive waiting technique</a> would be best. She said each time we check on him that we should repeat the same loving message each time, and take less than 60 seconds to do it. She said it would be bad the first night, awful the second night, then progressively better. She expected it to be better after 4 nights. So far he's slept, so we'll see what happens if (heaven forbid) he gets in a bad funk again. She also felt that weaning probably did the most good for him. Apparently just by spending a little bit of time with him, she felt like Gray was an emotionally intelligent baby and had learned to emotionally manipulate me to nurse him. (Not MY sweet boy! Gasp!) She also gave some general good advice:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Nightlights, if absolutely necessary, should be behind the head and below eye level.</li>
<li>Babies should never sleep after 4pm</li>
<li>Keep his room completely dark (like with light-blocking curtain panels) during naps and night. If using the Ferber method, then make sure that light doesn't enter from the hallway when you check on the baby. </li>
<li>Upon awakening, the room should be almost instantly flooded with light. This light/dark cycle will set circadian rhythms. </li>
<li>She stressed the importance of naps being scheduled. I realized that I just had him nap 4-5 hours after waking up. If he got up at 6, he napped at 10. If he got up at 8, he napped at noon. She said that he needs to learn to have a nap at a set time of day. This teaches him that there is a time to be awake and a time to be asleep, and you don't get to choose. He also has a strict bedtime.</li>
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So that's it. I can't say how glad I am that he's sleeping again. Strangely, I feel more tired than ever. It's like my body is saying, "I love this sleep thing. Let's do more of it." I expect to adjust soon, but I find myself just waking at night for no reason. I'm one of those people now! </div>
Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-46862526942374803972013-09-12T11:35:00.001-07:002013-09-12T11:35:12.619-07:00BraveThis morning I watched the video that Teresa Scanlan posted to YouTube about her depression and suicidal thoughts that started with being crowned Miss America.<br />
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I think many of us would have the initial thought, "You won Miss America! You don't get to be sad about that or about anything else for the rest of your life!" In fact, I am sure that there are hundreds (thousands?) of girls every year who are depressed because they did NOT win Miss America or another pageant title. I know many of them. I was sad. Maybe even very sad. And while we're being honest I'll admit this: Sometimes (usually just while watching the pageant) I'm still a little sad and wonder what it would have been like to walk that famous runway with a crown on my head. I may have cried most of the way home from Atlantic City. Just keepin' it real. Isn't it funny that the second someone else wins we're supposed to give up on a dream that we've devoted every waking hour to for years (and sometimes for a lifetime) and be happy that someone else gets to live that dream? And we're supposed to do that on live TV? Am I alone here?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtflsgxvP7tvI-hKGjAKOgxq76mHMJzpPPabd3uTIufBqbmF72oENydcjF5VLCGol9g9sNbMiyJHyy-FGJPWc7nIYIGjLVLZviOp-XXILVin-p_LFEaB9AW9Z2Q8ylkNgSSgYW-1mx8Vw/s1600/2013-09-12+09.38.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtflsgxvP7tvI-hKGjAKOgxq76mHMJzpPPabd3uTIufBqbmF72oENydcjF5VLCGol9g9sNbMiyJHyy-FGJPWc7nIYIGjLVLZviOp-XXILVin-p_LFEaB9AW9Z2Q8ylkNgSSgYW-1mx8Vw/s320/2013-09-12+09.38.29.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me leaving the Miss America stage after I didn't make the top five.<br />I remember feeling like a wrecking ball was sweeping me away.<br />BTW, I really just wanted a full-sequin dress. I didn't wear it during competition. Thank goodness.</td></tr>
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Anyway, I'm not writing this about that. It's about the video, which is heartbreaking. Teresa is my favorite Miss America in the last decade. I have always loved that she is Christian and is unapologetic of how often she speaks of Christ. She is gorgeous and gracious. I keep a signed picture of her in Claire's room. I'm a fan. How unfortunate that, in our electronic society, people can hide behind the anonymity of a screen name and call good people awful things because they are jealous and vicious and sad. I get that when you enter a pageant you are asking to be judged---but you are only asking to be judged BY THE JUDGES during the pageant.<br />
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Even twelve years ago when I won Miss Utah the very first comment on a news website was, "Looks like the new Miss Utah needs to go on a diet." I remember that, word for word, and not a single other comment. Although I do remember that Danielle White stood up for me. Thank you, Danielle! In that picture I weighed about 112 pounds and hardly had any fat in my body (thanks to something I ate in Mexico!). My dress was tight on my newly acquired abs and shined strangely in the picture while I was kind of squatting to be crowned. Someone sure felt it was their right to say that about me on the biggest night of my life. Classy. I knew it wasn't true, but I've never forgotten.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgD6zPY-zjMoy_LGtvuR-nDTe02bWMprY73e1dCqav8K8eM2evJY5CtDCaOW6V1ABWxujSrHzz-oC-m9NGz9GhRJo8nPKw5RQenutq5WjpEnYQ99kfQ_5GBjqJDjKgj23zvBUsTW5NAU/s1600/2013-09-12+09.36.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgD6zPY-zjMoy_LGtvuR-nDTe02bWMprY73e1dCqav8K8eM2evJY5CtDCaOW6V1ABWxujSrHzz-oC-m9NGz9GhRJo8nPKw5RQenutq5WjpEnYQ99kfQ_5GBjqJDjKgj23zvBUsTW5NAU/s320/2013-09-12+09.36.09.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the picture that inspired people to criticize my weight.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I hope this video can be a wake-up call to the Miss America Organization at a national and state level. I'm sure it's something that they are very aware of and probably are even addressing, but it seems like more can be done. I doubt that Teresa is alone in how she felt, and I'm sure she's joined by national and state titleholders who, like her, simply were overwhelmed by life in the spotlight and the rigorous schedule of a titleholder. We *think* we know what we're getting into, they certainly tell you what you're getting into, but you can't actually know until you've lived it day-in and day-out.<br />
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Maybe this is just because I'm married to a therapist, but I think MAO and state organizations should insist on and provide for regular preventative therapy for their titleholders. My year as Miss Utah was very stressful for many, many reasons. I want to be clear: I WANTED to be Miss Utah. I worked very hard and devoted two years of my life to become Miss Utah. I LOVED being Miss Utah. I wouldn't trade it for the world. But by the time the year was over and I had traveled to every corner of the state with nearly 800 appearances, I was done; my family was done. It is HARD to stay thin when everywhere you go everyone is taking you to the best restaurant for the best food. It is hard to keep a talent stage-ready when there just isn't time to devote to practice or when pianos simply aren't available. It is hard to ignore the nearly constant criticism, however well-intentioned, that you get from directors and travelling companions and random people on the street. You did great, BUT... You talk too fast. You wore the wrong shoes. Your lipstick is wrong. Your hair is wrong. Next time say this. Here's how to improve next time. Next time be someone else entirely. And social media, while thankfully not around when I was wearing a crown, must be brutal. I just can't even imagine.<br />
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Maybe with therapy---which offers a pair of listening, confidential ears and hopefully good advice---we'd have even better titleholders. My family and local directors were amazing at always being there and always listening, but I still felt pressure to please them. It would have been nice to talk to a disinterested party. Society isn't going to change. It's too bad. Those comments will always be made. But we need to be pro-active and help our girls before they reach the point that Teresa did. I have heard many state titleholders from Utah and around the country say that they were happy and felt loved every second. But I've also had heart-to-heart talks with other girls who felt the same or heard from others involved that things weren't well. I'm not blaming MAO or MUO. Pageants, by their very nature are a judged competition. When you compete you are saying "judge me." But when so much criticism comes from every single media outlet, and every single pageant person around you is telling you you were great but has a suggestion for next time, it is hard.<br />
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Again, I need to say that I loved being Miss Utah. It was life-changing and a privilege for which I will always be grateful. I am grateful for everyone who sacrificed for me and who devoted time to my year as Miss Utah. I will always be grateful to MAO for the experience and for the scholarships (I paid $25 for my entire education!). There are so many good things about pageants. Miss America contestants at every level offer so much good to the world through community service. I think there is absolutely a place for Miss America in today's world, and I hope that it never ends. But society is changing. Instead of embracing good, society discourages and downplays and questions everything lovely.<br />
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I admire Teresa for her courage in releasing this video during Miss America Week, and I hope that all of us in "Pageantland" can be supportive of her and not continue to be critical of her. I think she is very brave, and she is not alone. Most importantly, I hope that preventative measures can be taken so no one has to feel that way again.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Now part of me wants to delete this and never post it. I keep thinking that maybe I'm too critical and I'll never be asked to judge or emcee a pageant ever again. And probably like two people will read this anyway, so there's nothing to worry about. I also keep thinking that I should email it to my mom, my husband, my mother-in-law, and my sister to see what they think. How odd that when I'm writing that we should just let the titleholder be herself and not try to judge her so much, that I'm still looking for approval and critiques. So I'll post it. And I know I'll be criticized.</span>Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-65277941891152769462013-05-11T23:14:00.000-07:002013-05-11T23:14:20.586-07:00My "essay" on motherhood<br />
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I spoke in church last Mother's Day. Before I speak I write things down word-for-word and then paraphrase when I actually get up there. I thought it would be a good day to post what I said last year:</div>
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Claire was visibly upset one day last year. I sat down and
asked her what was wrong. She asked, “Do you think I'll be a good mom one day?”
I told her that she'd be great at being a mom. “But how?” she cried, “All you
ever do is clean all day, and I HATE cleaning!” I assured her that there is
more to being a mom than cleaning—although sometimes it doesn't seem like that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You probably already know this, but I am really, really good
at a lot of things. If I want to accomplish something, and I set my mind to it,
I can do it. Throughout my life I excelled in all of my schooling, I put in the
hours to be really good at playing the piano. I made the top ten at Miss
America. I even convinced my husband to marry me. I've been really good at
almost everything I've tried throughout my life, so when I became a mother I
thought I'd be really great at it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But it is hard. Sometimes it seems like there are days and
even months where my head is barely above water. The day-to-day
responsibilities of being a mother, the obligation that I have to teach them to
be good people, to help them get an education, even just to get them to be
reverent during Sacrament Meeting—it can all just be very overwhelming. Even
though it feels like I clean all day, I must not because I'm horrible at
keeping our home clutter-free. I've been known to get frustrated with my
kids—sometimes even to raise my voice. I'm not always patient with them, I
probably expect too much of them, and we may have even had cereal for dinner
last Sunday. Somehow I just thought it would be easier.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A quote I've loved lately is from a recent interview with
Sister Julie Beck. It was featured in LDS Living Magazine. It says, <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><i>“I’ve
learned that the world teaches us that we can have the dream now. They express
the dream as what Adam and Eve had in the garden—you don’t have to work for
anything and everything is peaceful and happy. That’s really where the
adversary still is. But we chose to have a mortal experience to prepare for the
real dream, and that dream is eternal life. Eve was willing to go through a
long, hard mortal experience in order to work toward the promise of the dream—I
don’t think most women realize that. They’re trying to make it be the dream
now. We don’t get that here. What we get here is the experience.”</i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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This “experience” stuff is hard! I know a lot of people
struggle with Mother's Day because they focus on all of their failings as a
mother, seeing only the successes of other mothers. As I was preparing for this
talk I saw all of the things that an “ideal mother” would be or do. I am not
the ideal mother, for sure. I don't think any of us are perfect in every
way—but we can strive to improve in small ways. And we need to realize that
there are small ways in which we are ideal. As we go throughout the day hearing
about mothers, maybe pick a few ways to improve, but also pat yourself on the
back for the great job you really are doing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In another talk, Sister Beck says,<i> </i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">“The responsibility mothers
have today has never required more vigilance. More than at any time in the
history of the world, we need mothers who know. Children are being born into a
world where they wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against
principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this
world, against spiritual wickedness in high places, however, mothers need not
fear. When mothers know who they are and who God is and have made covenants
with Him, they will have great power and influence for good on their children.</span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><i>Female roles did not begin on earth, and they do not end here. A woman
who treasures motherhood on earth will treasure motherhood in the world to
come, and 'where [her] treasure is, there will [her] heart be also.'”</i></span> </div>
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By
developing a mother heart, each girl and woman prepares for her divine, eternal
mission of motherhood.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My mom is really great. Looking back, I realize that she gave
me and my siblings two very important gifts. First, she taught me of my
Heavenly Father's love for me, of the truthfulness of the gospel, and she was a
great example of living the gospel. We saw first-hand that my parents were
committed to being active members of the church. As a family we attended
church together every single week no matter what—and we saw our parents
diligently fulfill whatever calling they had in the church—whether it be big or
small.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Second, my mother taught me to be a mother. This didn't start
when Claire was born—it was a lifetime of lessons given both by example and by
pointing out other mothers who also provided positive examples.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Because of this, it is my highest priority in raising my
children to teach them first to love the gospel, and then second to grow to be
caring parents and spouses. Kyle can already load and unload a dishwasher
better than probably half of the men in the audience. He is compassionate and
caring and empathetic and loving—and we consciously try to help him recognize
and improve these qualities which will help him to be a great husband and
father. Although he will tell you that he loves me so much that he wants to
live with me and take care of me until I die, I'm sure one day he'll leave, and
he'll be really great because we've prepared him to be great.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Claire wants to be a mom more than anything else in life. If
you ask her what she wants to be when she grows up, the answer has always been
“A mom.” Sometimes I wonder if that's because I make it look so great—or
because she just thinks she could do a much better job! She is a wonderful
sister and cousin, and it's so fun to see motherly qualities blossom in her as
she cares for her dolls and her brother and other children. She and I have
always referred to Kyle as “our” baby, and she takes that to heart. I don't
know that a sister has ever loved having a little brother as much as Claire
loves Kyle. She keeps a little scrapbook. In it she has a picture of Kyle when
he was one year old. She writes, <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><i>“I think that Kyle is cute here, but I like him just as much now that
he is 4.”</i></span> Her desire to nurture is so strong, that I can't help but
think of the proclamation on the family where it says, <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><i>“ALL HUMAN BEINGS—male and
female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or
daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and
destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal,
and eternal identity and purpose.” It later states, “<span style="background: white; color: #39362d;">THE FAMILY</span><span style="color: #39362d;"> is
ordained of God...By divine design...Mothers are primarily responsible for the
nurture of their children.”</span></i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
While we stress the
importance of education to Claire, and we do all that we can to help her learn
all that she can—she knows what she is preparing to become. Even though she is
just six years old, she already has a mother heart. She is growing to understand Harold B
Lee's counsel that<i> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">“The most important of the Lord's work you will ever do will be the work
you do within the walls of your own home.”</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Sister Beck also said,<i> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">“I was recently at a park where I met a group of
women with mother hearts. They were young, covenant-keeping women. They were
bright and had obtained advanced degrees from respected universities. Now they
were devoting their considerable gifts to planning dinner that evening and
sharing housekeeping ideas. They were teaching two-year-olds to be kind to one
another. They were soothing babies, kissing bruised knees, and wiping tears. I asked
one of those mothers how it came about that she could transfer her talents so
cheerfully into the role of motherhood. She replied, “I know who I am, and I
know what I am supposed to do. The rest just follows.” That young mother will
build faith and character in the next generation one family prayer at a time,
one scripture study session, one book read aloud, one song, one family meal
after another. She is involved in a great work. She knows that “children are an
heritage of the Lord” and “happy is the [woman] that hath [a] quiver full of
them.” She knows that the influence of righteous, conscientious, persistent,
daily mothering is far more lasting, far more powerful, far more influential
than any earthly position or institution invented by man. She has the vision
that, if worthy, she has the potential to be blessed as Rebekah of old to be
“the mother of thousands of millions.”</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Again, this paints a pretty picture of family prayer, family
scripture study, book reading, song singing and family meals. These things
collectively and individually are NOT easy! In our home we have certainly ended
a Family Home Evening or two with unhappy children and unhappy parents. We
often wrestle children in the middle of family prayer. Sometimes only the
person who reads the scriptures out loud at night hears what is said. But as
the quote says, raising children requires <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><i>“righteous, conscientious, persistent, daily
mothering.”</i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes that seems exhausting though. All of the family
meals, all of the scripture study, all of the persistent daily mothering. I
like to think of the saying, <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;"><i>“Life is hard by the yard, but by the inch, life's
a cinch.”</i></span> Some days are really hard. Some weeks are hard. Some months
are hard. But moments are usually pretty doable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
In my very best moments I like to take time to congratulate
myself. When my kids are happy and we're playing together and I get the feeling
that I'm doing the very best thing I could be doing at that moment, I'm so
happy, and I take it all in—especially if dinner is made and the house is
semi-clean. But those small moments are the grand rewards of motherhood. I'm
starting to understand what Mary felt in Luke 2:19 which reads,<i> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal;">“Mary kept
all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”</span></i> We're always told
that kids grow up fast, but you don't believe it until you realize that it's
your baby losing teeth and skipping to kindergarten.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
I think I've started to catalog moments to keep in my heart.
The moments they were born. Claire's smile and early attempts at humor. Kyle's
uninhibited nature and fierce devotion to me. The spontaneous moments when I
find myself with them at the piano and they sing along to a primary song. And
now the kicks and squirms of our new baby, growing inside me. In these tiny
moments, time slows down, life is perfect, and I know that I am doing what my
Heavenly Father wants me to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="Standard">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p>***So that was what I said. That last sentence is a thought I've had a lot lately. I don't know if at any other time in my life I've been as sure that I'm doing what God would have me be doing</o:p>—at least in the big picture—I am a mother to children. (In the small, detailed, daily picture of the things God would have me be doing, there is always work!) But I find so much comfort in knowing that I am where He wants me to be, doing what He wants me to do.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
And to make this even longer, here are a few more quotes about mothering that I really love.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Julie Beck: <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>“<span style="color: #2f393a;">Who will prepare this
righteous generation of sons and daughters? Latter-day Saint women will do
this—women who know and love the Lord and bear testimony of Him, women who are
strong and immovable and who do not give up during difficult and discouraging
times. We are led by an inspired prophet of God who has called upon the women
of the Church to “stand strong and immovable for that which is correct and
proper under the plan of the Lord.”</span><span style="background-color: #f9f6ed; color: #2f393a;"> </span><span style="color: #2f393a;">He has
asked us to 'begin in [our] own homes'</span><span style="background-color: #f9f6ed; color: #2f393a;"> </span><span style="color: #2f393a;">to teach
children the ways of truth. Latter-day Saint women should be the very best in
the world at upholding, nurturing, and protecting families. I have every
confidence that our women will do this.</span></i></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"Mothers who know honor sacred ordinances and covenants. I
have visited sacrament meetings in some of the poorest places on the earth
where mothers have dressed with great care in their Sunday best despite walking
for miles on dusty streets and using worn-out public transportation. They bring
daughters in clean and ironed dresses with hair brushed to perfection; their
sons wear white shirts and ties and have missionary haircuts. These mothers
know they are going to sacrament meeting, where covenants are renewed. These
mothers have made and honor temple covenants. They know that if they are not
pointing their children to the temple, they are not pointing them toward desired
eternal goals. These mothers have influence and power.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"Mothers who know are nurturers. This is their special
assignment and role under the plan of happiness. To nurture means to
cultivate, care for, and make grow. Therefore, mothers who know create a
climate for spiritual and temporal growth in their homes...Working beside
children in homemaking tasks creates opportunities to teach and model qualities
children should emulate.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"Mothers who know are leaders. In equal partnership with their
husbands, they lead a great and eternal organization. These mothers plan for
the future of their organization. They plan for missions, temple marriages, and
education. They plan for prayer, scripture study, and family home evening.
Mothers who know build children into future leaders and are the primary
examples of what leaders look like. They do not abandon their plan by
succumbing to social pressure and worldly models of parenting. These wise
mothers who know are selective about their own activities and involvement to
conserve their limited strength in order to maximize their influence where it
matters most.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"Mothers who know do less. They permit less of what will not
bear good fruit eternally. They allow less media in their homes, less
distraction, less activity that draws their children away from their home."</i></span></div>
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<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
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Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-83166459383813518972013-02-25T22:02:00.000-08:002013-02-25T22:02:07.240-08:00fix it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Claire came home from school in tears today. Unknown to me, Claire's carpool companion who does the afternoon drive didn't go to school today, but had planned on coming to school later in the day. She didn't, but her parents called the school and asked them to tell Claire that they would still be picking her up anyway. The office relayed to Claire that HER dad would be picking her up after dance club. This delighted Claire as her Daddy is always at work after school, and she anticipated some sort of a fun adventure. When school was over and her normal carpool showed up, she assured them that her dad was picking her up. The carpool called me to confirm this after school---it was the first time I had heard anything of it. I was pretty sure Taylor would have mentioned to me that he was picking Claire up, so I told them to take Claire home. She held it together all the way home, but teared up the second she made eye contact with me.<br />
<br />
I couldn't get her to tell me what was wrong. Through her tears she told me about the misunderstanding, but insisted that that wasn't the problem. I held her for a long time, but she would not tell me what the problem was. The longer we sat, the more tears fell. I prayed that she would tell me. I prayed to know how to ask her to get her to tell me. Finally I asked her if she could write down the problem. She agreed. I provided a pen and notebook, and she provided the answer:<br />
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<br />
"Somebody stole my cookie." She was clearly upset as she wrote that sentence because she usually does so much better at spelling. Apparently she unpacked her lunchbox at lunch, had a bite of cookie, started on her sandwich, chatted with a friend, and when time came to finish up her scrumptious, homemade peanut-butter-chocolate-chip/chocolate-chip cookie it was gone. She's certain it was stolen. I'm leaving room for eating without knowing or dropping it all together. It was devastating.<br />
<br />
This experience, however, represents two victories to me.<br />
<br />
First. I'm glad that she can write about what is bothering her. This, to me, is an invaluable skill. I can't tell you how many blog posts I have written and never posted because when I finished writing, I realized that I just needed to write it for ME, not for the world. Same with facebook posts and comments. I seriously erase half of what I write on facebook before I press enter. That's a skill I wish a lot more people could harness! I'm glad that Claire is brave enough to write when she cannot speak.<br />
<br />
Second. This was easy to fix. In ten minutes she had cookie dough. Fifteen more minutes and she was dunking a warm cookie in cold milk. Problem solved. Mom's the greatest. And now with the new batch of cookies, there will be another cookie tomorrow! [Some for me too!]<br />
<br />
I realize that all of her problems are not that easy to fix. She's already experienced quite a bit of friend drama in her 2-year stint in public school. In kindergarten she had a best friend, but there was a poor girl who always wanted to be the third wheel. Girl #3 wasn't nice in her antics (she had older sisters who no-doubt taught her some interesting tactics on friendship). This year, in a new school, while Claire has friends, she's yet to find anything as solid as she had last year when she knew that no matter what she would have Hannah there. I know this is common. It still hurts my heart a bit.<br />
<br />
I know that there are bound to be many more days that she walks through our door in tears. And her problems will get more complex as time goes by. But today I am the hero. And know what? I'm going to bet that writing and warm chocolate chip cookies will probably solve problems in the future.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-79503509273853298712013-02-13T22:38:00.000-08:002013-02-13T22:38:29.608-08:00And after that unscheduled break...You know how they had that long, unplanned half-hour break in the Super Bowl? My blog just had a long, unplanned break. It was mostly caused by pregnancy, and then a baby with colic. And then when the colic was gone he slept less during the day, and my life just kind of fell apart. The baby is obviously more of a priority than the blog. And getting dressed. And cleaning the house. And folding the laundry. And making more than one dish (if that) for dinner. Just keeping it real here, folks.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I hope to write more. I blog in my head all the time while I'm nursing the baby, but it hasn't quite ever made it to the computer---for above-mentioned reasons, and also because I'm just getting past that "I'm suddenly stupid" postpartum stage. Does that happen to you too? Words don't come, ideas don't make sense, and the only thing you really know for sure is when the baby needs to eat next.<br />
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<br />
Gray is 6 months old now (the above picture is today). He's a hard baby. I thought I'd had a hard baby before, but he's reached new heights on our measuring stick. He likes to be entertained. He likes to be held. He does not like to be put down to sleep at all. We do put him down though. Every time. He just doesn't like that. That said, he is my best eater. As long as you smile while you force "garden vegetables" into his mouth, he smiles back and hungrily eats whatever is offered. He's affectionate. I was showered (literally) with kissed for a good 30 minutes upon returning from Relief Society tonight. He is happy, happy, happy. He giggles just looking at Kyle. He'll contently watch cartoons with Claire. He'd happily chew on my hand all day. He's good natured and bright.<br />
<br />
I'm still grateful every day, even though he's hard and an awful sleeper. With the exception of maybe 5 days that I've been too busy to really think about it, I think I have had a moment or two every single day in the last six month where I have been in tears or near tears with gratitude for my baby. I think of the daily fear I felt last year at this time when we didn't know if the progesterone would actually stop my cycle of miscarriages. I think of the years before where my arms longed for a baby. I hold that baby and hear his breath and feel his warmth and my heart overflows. Every. Single. Day.<br />
<br />
Call me a sentimental fool. Or maybe a hormonal fool. But I do think about it every day. And it's not that I didn't love my other babies. I just appreciate that I get to have Gray a little more. Maybe it's that I'm older and wiser and know how quickly time will pass (and oh, how it has passed too quickly already!).<br />
<br />
Now that 6 months have passed, my house is finally coming back together. I've cooked a little bit more. I took the last Christmas wreath down today (and it really is a WINTER wreath), and we're ready for Valentine's day. I see the light at the end of the newborn tunnel. I've loved the tunnel, but I'm excited to get back to normal---or at least to discover our new normal with 3 kids.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-10672465548750559842012-11-14T21:36:00.001-08:002012-11-14T21:36:39.573-08:00I don't want to grow up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Growing up is hard. Some people just seem to know to cherish childhood while they are in it. My little brother, Dan, is one of those people. If ever there was a theme song for a person, the Toys R Us song, "I don't want to grow up, I'm a Toys R Us kid," belongs to my brother. He loved being little. He loved pajamas and cartoons and toys. Oh, how he loved toys---and continues to love toys. He still loves remote control airplanes and cars and other gadgets.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's genetic, because Kyle is one of those people. Kyle calls himself a kid. He LOVES being a kid. He tells me how great it is that he can play while I make his dinner. He tells Grayson how great it is to be a kid and play with toys. (Grayson is not a kid, by the way, he's still a baby.) Kyle knows that one day he will grow up, but he intends on loving every single day of his kid lifestyle while he's able to. This requires sugary cereal eaten in pajamas while watching cartoons every single day. Next he's on to playing cars or dinosaurs in his room. Hours can go by while he's in his own little world. Occasionally he'll come out to play a board game with me or to snuggle in a rare moment that I'm not wrestling Grayson. He dances when and how he pleases. He wears what he pleases whether it be color- or weather-appropriate (that is until Mom makes him change). He skips happily to preschool with his Toy Story backpack in tow. He laughs with his friends and lives in that glorious judgment-free mindset where the world loves you---and he loves his world.<br />
<br />
But things change. Starting soon after the new year I'm going to have to teach him to say his R's and L's. I'll have to tell him that an escalator is not an "alligator." That a theater is not a "thitier." That monsters are not "mustards." One cannot begin kindergarten still talking like a baby if it can be helped at all.<br />
<br />
Growing up is already sneaking up on him. He's taller, thinner, smarter, less round in the face. His feet are huge. Which leads us to today. He needs new shoes. I think he's worn at least four sizes this year. We are constantly buying shoes for him. He needs a 12, if not a 13. CLAIRE wears a 13. It blows her mind (and ours) that they have the same size of feet. The worst news of the century is that Walmart's light-up shoes stop at size 11. 11! Apparently you cannot have fun if you have big feet. This news was devastating to Kyle. It is fun to have cartoon characters on your shoes---and it is way fun if they light up. We looked at every single pair of shoes in all of Walmart before asking to verify that indeed there is no is 12 (or size one-two as we call it) in light-up shoes. He would not take any others, so he's been smashing his feet into whatever matching shoes he can find.<br />
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Today we went to Target in the continuation of our search. Lo and behold, there was a size 12 in Cars the lit up. It was $19.99. Maybe you think that is a good deal or at least acceptable. Not me. Walmart's $15 price tag is astronomical to me for kids shoes. I don't know that I like paying twenty bucks for MY shoes (remember, I'm cheap). But they lit up. And my 5-year-old son wants light-up shoes. And this was his last chance to have cool, cartoon-covered light up shoes. So I made a big (happy) deal about it, and he tried them on, and he did a happy dance in the aisle---shoes stuck together with elastic and all. We put them in the cart, picked up some salsa <a href="http://www.target.com/p/archer-farms-pineapple-peach-mild-thick-chunky-salsa-16-oz/-/A-13013192" target="_blank">(Target has the best salsa in the whole world),</a> and he plopped those shoes up on the checkout counter like he was the king of the world.<br />
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Kyle put his new shoes on in the car, elastic still connecting them, hobbled into the house, cut them apart, and made sure everyone saw them. He's so proud. And I'm so glad. I know that as long as the days may seem at times, his childhood is passing by quickly. I think he knows that too. So for now we'll savor the mustards and alligators. He'll sleep tucked up with Captain America. And he'll go everywhere in light-up shoes.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-73151596220338563512012-08-22T20:50:00.000-07:002012-08-22T20:50:22.226-07:00And now…a new post!However much I wish I could be, I have realized I am not one of those people who can regularly post on a blog---whether the post be thoughtful or just about a specific event---I just can't dedicate myself to it. I'd like to, but every time I think about blogging I realize that it would take me away from my kids. And whenever they are asleep or otherwise occupied, I realize that there are dishes to be done or things I would rather do (sew, think about napping, sit and do nothing but sip a diet coke, etc). <br />
Anyway, we had a baby. He kind of snuck up on us. My due date is this Thursday, the 23rd. I figured he probably wouldn't come more than a week early, but just to be safe we moved Claire's birthday party from Friday the 24th to Friday the 10th. It seemed far enough away when we planned it mid-July, but as the date got closer I got more and more nervous that I wouldn't be around for the party. <br />
In the last few days of July I got serious sciatic pain. Serious like I spent 3 days in bed because I literally couldn't move. I'd sweat from pain just going up the stairs. I used a step-stool to get in bed. I saw my doctor on day 3 for a regular appointment. My blood pressure was way up, I suspect just from the pain of having to crawl up on that stupid table. By the time I'd been there for a while the blood pressure was a little better. He gave me lidocaine patches to put over my nerve. They were a miracle! By the next day I could move around almost as if nothing happened. I was SO grateful because my nesting need was in full swing. I was a little crazy for the next week getting ready for baby and Claire's party. <br />
On Thursday the 9th we had a doctor appointment. I was at a 3 and 80% effaced. He said we would have the baby as soon as the weekend, but surely within the next week. This was scary and exciting. We had a VERY busy day with preparations for Claire's party. Kyle went down to Lehi with my mom for a sleepover, and Claire and I shopped for the last bits of fabric needed for a baby quilt. She helped me clean the house and was so pleasant. It was such a great day alone with her. I was exhausted by the time we went to bed. In fact, Taylor had to work hard to convince me that a day hadn't gone by between the doctor appointment and our well-past-midnight bedtime. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7718IxupV9cnR5PhS-vmkPV2iF5w02YsmbwUw4jA6HoAaZ9zt7Sfdc5i6PZJqC00-aEKEKC11rG5QXj5CazXgBWqqpSPtlpLaOxZngJFRHX2KReEQr6iGTTUmsjHVWrUvO-35GtgSk8/s1600/bIMG_7233.jpg"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7718IxupV9cnR5PhS-vmkPV2iF5w02YsmbwUw4jA6HoAaZ9zt7Sfdc5i6PZJqC00-aEKEKC11rG5QXj5CazXgBWqqpSPtlpLaOxZngJFRHX2KReEQr6iGTTUmsjHVWrUvO-35GtgSk8/s320/bIMG_7233.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<em>Gramine’s cake. I got the idea from pinterest. The colors could have been a bit closer to get the ombre effect, but I really liked it. It was really easy to make too.</em><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qe8EL7RslgBY_cXzH8x8rl0N5QIr4RRoD7qUmmZ71WbSia694C8MS_jwn3UxBhQ_hbat52mDnwnWLd3mjHQQdzj7iVydC6MjJiJG3SKxNmPVg7pN_G2FN5B7PIziTZkW5oYavcjMKfE/s1600/bIMG_7222.jpg"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qe8EL7RslgBY_cXzH8x8rl0N5QIr4RRoD7qUmmZ71WbSia694C8MS_jwn3UxBhQ_hbat52mDnwnWLd3mjHQQdzj7iVydC6MjJiJG3SKxNmPVg7pN_G2FN5B7PIziTZkW5oYavcjMKfE/s320/bIMG_7222.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>Claire’s party cupcake. Also idea from Pinterest. They are Rapunzel’s tower. I will not claim to be talented at all at decorating baked things---although the above cake was lovely, and it was about the best cake I’ve ever eaten.</em><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj74s-XjRDFRET-Y2O7uyw6owHZkhaYuxxpYl8wCoYpgWx3vTeEk_fvwhsD1a62kNdoct7rxxP4Bq2c1fd0LDScocgtVil177W8WmDgWFWoYbgrWCl6hx2yFHZBeI2NIV9R_5FXCgZEHc/s1600/bIMG_7225.jpg"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj74s-XjRDFRET-Y2O7uyw6owHZkhaYuxxpYl8wCoYpgWx3vTeEk_fvwhsD1a62kNdoct7rxxP4Bq2c1fd0LDScocgtVil177W8WmDgWFWoYbgrWCl6hx2yFHZBeI2NIV9R_5FXCgZEHc/s320/bIMG_7225.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>Cupcakes after I dumped them the first time. Fortunately only 4 landed on the floor and we didn’t need them to feed her guests. They survived quite well, not like the kids cared if the frosting was smudged.</em><br />
On Friday the 10th we got up early (6am, thanks to pregnancy insomnia), and started baking. We were making cupcakes for Claire's party and a cake for our family dinner. It was Taylor's Grandma's birthday that day, so she needed a cake too. Taylor worked until 2, and Claire and I worked hard to have everything ready for the party. We had to make a trip to Winco for drinks and powdered sugar and butter. On our way out there was a downpour. I ran to my car, 9 months pregnant and all. It must have looked pretty funny. (I had just done my hair, and was having a great hair day, so I wanted to avoid as much rain as possible.) When we got home I pulled into the garage to avoid more rain. We've been parking in the driveway because it's hard to squeeze my pregnant belly into the car within the constraints of the garage walls. I squeezed that poor baby out the door that day though. Perhaps the running and squeezing induced labor?<br />
Around noon I started to worry about the baby. He was a lot quieter than normal. He usually kicked strongly and very regularly, but that day he just wiggled a bit here and there. I also started to worry about me because I was SO clumsy. I spilled a lot of things while cooking---I even managed to knock over all of the decorated cupcakes TWO times! I kept thinking that if clumsy was a sign of impending labor, I was in trouble. Claire was awesome that day, so helpful and obedient. She even cleaned my room and made my bed while I was baking. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlQGFSJWeiNP_KGadYABCw9v8OpSxhvv780OGHBEV-oSg2h51ph-H7sGdhfq4StT5t7bE8e9xBh_OLQrWRc75Jz5EvRkDIn3Kcemd_eWFqzyYdv2Vm3N-Eeludo7RN6yeAnqnRIO7-b4/s1600/bIMG_7255.jpg"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlQGFSJWeiNP_KGadYABCw9v8OpSxhvv780OGHBEV-oSg2h51ph-H7sGdhfq4StT5t7bE8e9xBh_OLQrWRc75Jz5EvRkDIn3Kcemd_eWFqzyYdv2Vm3N-Eeludo7RN6yeAnqnRIO7-b4/s320/bIMG_7255.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>Another Pinterest idea. We made a water blob. The kids LOVED it.</em><br />
Our guests showed up at 3. The plan was to have her friends here until 4:30, then have all of our family stay for a barbecue afterward. The kids ate cupcakes, opened presents, then played outside on various water things. It was fun to see them having so much fun. Kyle was the life of the party and developed his own little Olympic "dive" into the 10 inches of water in our pool. It was hilarious. I had a nice time visiting with our family and sitting on a blanket under the tree with my siblings.<br />
The last kid left at about 4:45. I took Kyle into the house and got his shower started then headed upstairs to grab some shampoo for him. My sister-in-law Britten was upstairs with her daughter and Claire, and I started talking to her. A few sentences in I thought the baby must have kicked my bladder really hard, because I certainly felt a little pop and gush. I sat there wondering how to excuse myself without her seeing that I had had a little accident. I took two sideways steps into my bedroom, and it became absolutely obvious that my water had broken. I told Britten, and she went to get Taylor. I was shaking. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know that the water could be pink, and that terrified me that something was wrong. Taylor came up. He didn't know what to do either. My mom and sister came up, and they were equally clueless. So we called labor and delivery. They said pink was fine, and that I could eat dinner. I was starving, and I really did want to eat they food we'd planned. Kyle's shower ended up being super extended in all of the excitement we kind of forgot about him! I'm sure he didn't mind at all though. When he did get out he saw his baby cousin in our baby's crib and thought that I'd already had the baby and the baby was now resting in his crib. If only it was that easy!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tKYPHdUytXL0JV9hz91NAmNz3s4DJEpt6INKZV9fUF9SafTU5kdTAXvVxO4HVzkYCp091Yth0La1BJ8NDHR7YgD2wWpbK2CzbDHDTzwSqW0U2cGOYhmhXSj-3NYKepLIgEH72ERioyc/s1600/b2012-08-10_18-21-35_816.jpg"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tKYPHdUytXL0JV9hz91NAmNz3s4DJEpt6INKZV9fUF9SafTU5kdTAXvVxO4HVzkYCp091Yth0La1BJ8NDHR7YgD2wWpbK2CzbDHDTzwSqW0U2cGOYhmhXSj-3NYKepLIgEH72ERioyc/s320/b2012-08-10_18-21-35_816.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<em>Our last picture as a family of 4 right before I left for the hospital. Excuse the BYU pants---my water had broken <img alt="Smile" class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-smile" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2I6X_G3fn5I/UDWoFFESNgI/AAAAAAAACFE/cnY8M2E08uQ/wlEmoticon-smile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none;" /></em><br />
We haphazardly threw things into a suitcase ("Pack for the hospital" was the #1 item on my to-do list for the next day! #2 was "paint toenails.") I sat down and had dinner. Everyone around me was a little less calm. It was funny to have all of our family surrounding us, knowing that our baby would be born soon. Taylor's grandma, Maxine, was there and excited that the baby could possibly come on her birthday. We told her that if he was born before midnight we would have Max somewhere in his name. My contractions were pretty hard and pretty close together, so we started to prepare to leave. We took a picture with our kids. Our dads, Taylor, and my brother Jake gave me a blessing. My parents planned on taking the kids with them, and we left the party early around 6:30. I thought it was a tricky way to get out of cleaning up! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ84yNia5lYcjHBSXeRRmc19ytb8aRb1Yglnyo2YR-iFv_U_PP6UULEbVU91tdv_JH0Cacx6s-pjy92VRd_ae3HcIL4fyQelH_MrR8iHyqobsvdz9mSUWkVxWIN_dsO0nGSyHFkmUTMA8/s1600/bIMG_7263.jpg"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ84yNia5lYcjHBSXeRRmc19ytb8aRb1Yglnyo2YR-iFv_U_PP6UULEbVU91tdv_JH0Cacx6s-pjy92VRd_ae3HcIL4fyQelH_MrR8iHyqobsvdz9mSUWkVxWIN_dsO0nGSyHFkmUTMA8/s320/bIMG_7263.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>View of the sunset--the camera hardly managed to capture how beautiful it was.</em><br />
The contractions were pretty intense on the way to the hospital. By the time we got there I was having back labor so bad that I had Taylor drop me off at emergency so I could get a wheelchair (Maybe there was a better place to drop off, but "Take hospital tour" was still on our to-do list too!) When we got settled into our room we had a gorgeous view of an amazing sunset. It made me think of my grandma (we often enjoyed sunsets together), and that was a bitter-sweet moment. Grandma loved babies and had visited me in the hospital after both Kyle and Claire were born. I had to reassure myself that she had likely spent a lot of time with our baby in heaven before he came here. It had started to rain again, but the night was still beautiful. They said that storm brought in twice the amount of babies as usual.<br />
The first order of business was to get and IV in me. To make a long story short, it took 4 people, 6 tries, 4 blown veins, and over an hour to get the stupid thing in. I hate IVs, so this was not helpful. To get it in they had my bed tilted with my legs high in the air and blood pressure cuff on my arm. Let me just say, that is not the way to relax during labor! I had planned on trying to go without an epidural, but the IV problem was so aggravating that I couldn't relax enough to stay on top of the pain. The guy who finally got the IV in was the epidural man, and I figured I better use him before someone else got a hold of him. By the time they started the epidural I was at a 7. It took a long time to kick in, but I was feeling nothing by 9:00. <br />
We watched the Olympic track and field events, and around 10 they said the baby was almost coming. It all happened so fast. The doctor got there, I pushed for a little bit, and he was born at 10:30 on the dot. 7 pounds, 8 ounces, 20 inches of perfect baby boy. He cried as soon as they had him suctioned out. I remember wondering if babies cry because they are sad to leave the family they love in heaven. I would be sad to leave too! He has long, curly hair that puffed everywhere after they washed it. They got us both cleaned up, he nursed for a while, and we were off to our recovery room. He had a bath in my room, and we went through a number of instructions and other things that you don't listen to because you just had a baby. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwTA05A6J9nZg_boFh7pE56Z0AhOJOQ7x-dGeWmZzz7VwGY4ODkgzY8ytaMlH_dFpvkQT5ql5TBTv3L-Sq9dMCyqG2oX9WBroCjGTwH9AVw9Adw5TdVp_bQxc2OdC2Oy6CSfGBwSozII/s1600/b+one+hour+old.jpg"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwTA05A6J9nZg_boFh7pE56Z0AhOJOQ7x-dGeWmZzz7VwGY4ODkgzY8ytaMlH_dFpvkQT5ql5TBTv3L-Sq9dMCyqG2oX9WBroCjGTwH9AVw9Adw5TdVp_bQxc2OdC2Oy6CSfGBwSozII/s320/b+one+hour+old.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>One hour old.</em><br />
We spent time with him, and around 1:30 decided that we should probably sleep. We sent him to the nursery and settled in. Once the lights were off I noticed that I felt like something was missing. Obviously I wasn't pregnant anymore, and that was a huge thing missing. But I realized that I missed my baby---not necessarily this new creature who had just entered the world, but the baby whose spirit I had been feeling near me for 9 months. How strange to live entangled with someone for almost a year and have them suddenly leave the room. This reaffirmed to me that we have spirits, that we lived before we were born, and that our spirits can recognize each other.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSy8sHVVrYko17UY98UNKq9-nJayvqDddZ-AgDa0w7Om2CNEZIXdSygcgWt-y70GauaF8kXqJpe1ZLaOkaUf4P9nsSbP2l9YLi-g-2syGwkn6LgFpabow1ul9lymI5KbJXP2iogd0vBE/s1600/b2012-08-11_18-27-15_100.jpg"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSy8sHVVrYko17UY98UNKq9-nJayvqDddZ-AgDa0w7Om2CNEZIXdSygcgWt-y70GauaF8kXqJpe1ZLaOkaUf4P9nsSbP2l9YLi-g-2syGwkn6LgFpabow1ul9lymI5KbJXP2iogd0vBE/s320/b2012-08-11_18-27-15_100.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>This is how Grayson greeted us the morning after he was born. Cutest thing ever!</em><br />
The next day was full of recovery and nursing attempts and visitors. Toward the evening Taylor and I realized that we were kinda bored and ready to go home. I was fine. The baby was fine. We saw no reason to stay. So we checked out a little before ten that night. With my last two babies I never could have done this, but I really felt great, so we left.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhZLPpx6rZHqUtS3LAOlZcWlh16BW8ow7eAsGVm3cgOa0pSb4jiZ2SDCj9AJ6i-Ys7dbY1-nNv-z9fq7FoPb-DjSaPIm0UrCxE7g4MN8KMSQOiyguNxpwTuUw3QVlMolGMHGgCOGXeEY/s1600/bIMG_7330.jpg"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhZLPpx6rZHqUtS3LAOlZcWlh16BW8ow7eAsGVm3cgOa0pSb4jiZ2SDCj9AJ6i-Ys7dbY1-nNv-z9fq7FoPb-DjSaPIm0UrCxE7g4MN8KMSQOiyguNxpwTuUw3QVlMolGMHGgCOGXeEY/s320/bIMG_7330.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>Little halo hair.</em><br />
When the nurse wheeled me out I commented that it was a beautiful night. Looking back, I think I had fully expected the season to change when the baby was born. Nevermind that just 28 hours earlier I had arrived at the hospital in 90+ degree weather---I really thought it should be a cool, crisp, fall night. I think I just thought that with such a huge change in our lives that the world would somehow reflect change too. (I remember thinking things similar to this on the morning of my grandma's funeral---I saw people out about their daily business, jogging, shopping, whatever, and wondered HOW could they not feel the change, HOW could they do normal things on that day?)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBC82TpvBdOI_6hRdR_uKALK8RoipCro74rZhkul7tu6GKKL6aVINAqDD38Lavy2moFBToJQDhu9qYDXjYJ_DJznsnYswY22QVCd_UzopVdXrJlrWwwyowfRAbEUkYGSlkUCB6hXLq6sU/s1600/baby+no+name.jpg"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBC82TpvBdOI_6hRdR_uKALK8RoipCro74rZhkul7tu6GKKL6aVINAqDD38Lavy2moFBToJQDhu9qYDXjYJ_DJznsnYswY22QVCd_UzopVdXrJlrWwwyowfRAbEUkYGSlkUCB6hXLq6sU/s320/baby+no+name.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>Three days old.</em><br />
Grayson (who took a week to be named) is now 11 days old. It seems like forever AND like a blink of an eye since he was born. He is a wonderful baby. He's awake more every day and has truly smiled since he was about 5 days old. It's so fun to see his personality coming through even at such a young age. He's calm and chill and hardly ever cries. I even think he's got a little bit of goof-ball in him like his brother. People have asked who he looks like, and the answer is definitely Claire as a baby. His eyes are a little different, but you could slap a bow on his head and you'd never know the difference. It makes me a little sentimental for my baby girl. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxXJRzf-I2EwQJZuGFNx357HKpLMA-Awag6mZiXqngeqVxnuXRnUxLeorx58GjZix2DtZ7d4TyP5ZyyGoXP4cHngJ5CC9GOXFS54ZmvdWnaBmPOpsg846YXYg_UXcGh55p7dbTlItOe4/s1600/bIMG_8404-copy.jpg"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxXJRzf-I2EwQJZuGFNx357HKpLMA-Awag6mZiXqngeqVxnuXRnUxLeorx58GjZix2DtZ7d4TyP5ZyyGoXP4cHngJ5CC9GOXFS54ZmvdWnaBmPOpsg846YXYg_UXcGh55p7dbTlItOe4/s320/bIMG_8404-copy.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<em>One week old. Probably my favorite picture ever.</em><br />
I have never recovered this quickly from a birth. It has usually taken me 6 weeks to feel anything close to normal. With Gray I was fine by Monday. I've lost all but 3.5 pounds. I'm exhausted from not sleeping, but feeling really well otherwise. I'm not sure how this has happened or why, but I am very, very grateful. Grateful is the word that runs constantly through my head. Grateful for this little guy. Grateful for my health. Grateful for his health. Grateful for our family. Grateful for Kyle and Claire. Grateful for my awesome husband who is so willing to stay up at night with the baby and help in every way. Grateful for our moms who have been here to help. Grateful that my back doesn't hurt anymore! I feel so abundantly and undeservedly blessed. Every time I hold him I just can't believe that he is ours. We waited for so long, hoped for so long, prayed for so long. He is a little miracle, and I am so grateful.<br />
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Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-43457648955065179922012-05-10T15:20:00.001-07:002012-05-10T15:20:40.549-07:00Beauty products I'm liking latelyYesterday I posted on facebook about how much I like Walmart's <b>Equate brand Eye Lifting Serum</b>.<br />
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After reading a recommendation from my cousin I decided to buy it. Ten days into using it I found myself trying to get better light under my eyes in the mirror so I could cover up my dark circles---I couldn't find them! I realized, truly amazed, that they were mostly gone. I have never had noticeable results from an eye-care product. At $13 it is a steal compared to all of the other pricey creams on the market. I don't usually have puffiness under my eyes, but I'm pretty sure if I did that the bags would be gone too.</div>
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Another thing I'm liking is also <b>Equate brand's Naturally Beaming moisturizer. </b></div>
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It's the knock-off of Aveeno's Positively Radiant moisturizer that costs $15. I can't remember exactly what I paid for the Equate brand, but it was probably about $5. This is supposed to smooth, tone, and clarify. Probably it does that. The thing I like the best is that it has spf 15 in it. A ton of other products with spf in them have made me break out terribly---even my Mary Kay something or other made me break out. With this moisturizer I can put a bunch of it on, and my skin doesn't react at all. It works really well too, because I've been out a couple days already this year where my face was the only thing that didn't burn. My skin is soft all day, and it might have a more even tone, but I'm pregnant and that changes your skin, so I can't give a real great opinion on that right now.</div>
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I've mentioned it before, but I'm a big fan of <b>Oxy Clinical:</b></div>
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I used their entire system early last year to clear up some bad (bad in my opinion, probably just-past-mild in the real world) acne I'd had for 3 years. It cleared up pretty quickly and has basically stayed away. I use the foaming face wash in the shower and it seems to keep break-outs away. Again, it could be the pregnancy, but who knows. I sure like this stuff though. Too bad the Walmart near me doesn't carry it anymore. I ordered it on Amazon last week.</div>
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About a year ago I switched my mascara. I have used Lancome Definicils since 2001, but after more than a decade I've found a new love in <b>Mary Kay's Lash Love Mascara. </b></div>
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<a href="http://www.marykay.com/images/PWS_US/lashlove_hero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.marykay.com/images/PWS_US/lashlove_hero.jpg" /></a></div>
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I was hooked from the moment I first used it. It makes lashes thick, while not sticking together. It makes them long, while not being so long that you get that spider-leg look. It stays on all day, comes off easily, and doesn't flake. I'm super picky with eye stuff because of all my eye problems, so a switch from Lancome was a big deal for me. I've been through a few tubes and haven't paid full-price for one yet. At full price, it's $15. A bit much for makeup, but less than Lancome. Whenever a consultant has a sale on mascara I buy 2. Also, my prosthetic eye gets allergic reactions to stuff easily, and this hasn't bothered it at all. </div>
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Lastly I'm liking<b> L'Oreal's De-Crease Eye Shadow Base:</b></div>
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I'm on my third tube of this stuff. Now, the bad part is that the packaging has a serious flaw. The top unscrews and you use a little brush applicator. That stupid applicator can't reach all of the product in the bottle. I hate it when I can SEE the stuff in there and can't get it out. I may have resulted to using a Q-tip to dig around on Sunday mornings when I've suddenly run out of what the applicator can reach. And probably I do that on other mornings because I'm cheap. Anyway, despite that, I really like this stuff. I don't get creases in my shadow, and the shadow stays on all day unless I rub my eyes a lot (which happens with allergies). I know there are other products out there that do this, but what I like about this one is the color (others I've tried are clear). It's tinted just right to be the same color as eyelids, and my shadow goes on with a true color instead of an opaque color. More shadow sticks to it, so I feel like I'm using less because I'm going back to my compact less.</div>
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Oh, one more thing: I have a set of nice, <b>real, professional brushes</b> from Nu Skin (one of my fabulous gifts and prizes from winning Miss Utah). </div>
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I'm still using them, and happy with them, and it's been 12 years. As luck would have it my dad's cousin is one of the big-wigs at Nu Skin, and he scored me an extra set of them. I keep them, still bubble-wrapped, waiting for the day that these current brushes are done. I take good care of them though, so I don't think I'll need the new brushes for a few more years. I love using real brushes instead of included applicators for my blush and shadow and powder. I think they are worth the investment, and I just feel so fancy using professional stuff. My favorite brush, by far, is the eyeliner brush. I use a powder for eyeliner instead of a pencil, and I love the soft look you get from powder---plus it has to be so much better for my eyelids than rubbing a pencil along them every day.</div>
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I need to make myself buy AND USE a night cream now. From recommendations on facebook, it looks like Olay's Regenerist Cream or the Equate knock-off is the way to go. In the past I've loved the night cream that has come to me in my Lancome gift, but that's probably more than $10. I'll be picking this up at my next (daily) Walmart trip:</div>
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Do you have any favorites to share with me?</div>
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Oh, and where were my kids when I was typing this? Super busy with a couple of <a href="http://www.doverpublications.com/zb/samples/480356/children72b.htm" target="_blank">these:</a></div>
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<br />Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-49913280197136086802012-05-03T14:29:00.000-07:002012-05-03T14:29:03.009-07:00Grateful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbCQqwK6aCJ3g3cPt27yf9J5gLCCY4MwhzKCrjNYo9r0-2E9fV8VTJA3GQZmvf2gFsLJypDrhe9dcw3QkycfEVdlHMQeIA3VqkpXMCJzcajKhU7YWUq2ad-n9FlK-ho-QPfkVJJtTgE0/s1600/kyle's+neck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbCQqwK6aCJ3g3cPt27yf9J5gLCCY4MwhzKCrjNYo9r0-2E9fV8VTJA3GQZmvf2gFsLJypDrhe9dcw3QkycfEVdlHMQeIA3VqkpXMCJzcajKhU7YWUq2ad-n9FlK-ho-QPfkVJJtTgE0/s320/kyle's+neck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Yesterday Kyle was cleaning up his bedroom. Claire and I were cleaning the bathroom right next to his room. He came into the bathroom with a huge red mark around his neck, barely able to talk. He reports that he was trying to clean his window. He either jumped from the sill onto his bed or from his bed to the floor (it's hard to get a 4-year-old to correctly provide a detailed story). Either way, somehow he ended up with the cord from his blinds around his neck. He has rope burns and a raspy voice to prove it.<br />
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When I hung the blinds I was aware of the safety issues surrounding the cords. I made sure that the strings weren't looped and that they weren't excessively long. I cut them so that they are less than a foot long when the blinds are down. Of course this means that they still extend beyond the sill when the blinds are fully raised---which for some reason his were yesterday. Although the cords are hanging individually, they still managed to become tangled and choke him. When I inspected the cords they were still tangled, so I guess he somehow managed to get free.<br />
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I don't think I was being negligent. He's half-way to being five years old. He certainly spends some time every day without my supervision---especially if he's in his room playing where I thought there was nothing that could harm him.<br />
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I definitely had tears in my eyes when he told me what happened. And my heart broke this morning when I saw the real damage it caused. I'm very aware that this story could have ended very differently. I am so grateful that he has a couple (maybe a couple dozen) guardian angels watching out for him.<br />
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I was looking online this morning to solutions to the cord problem. Even if the cords remain untangled and hanging individually, apparently kids tend to twirl in them and get them wrapped around their throats. Most sites recommend using a cleat to wrap the cord around when the blinds are raised, like so:<br />
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<a href="http://www.homedepot.com/catalog/productImages/300/4c/4c44146b-afb0-4196-8cd5-802ca534a340_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.homedepot.com/catalog/productImages/300/4c/4c44146b-afb0-4196-8cd5-802ca534a340_300.jpg" /></a></div>
Honestly when I saw that I thought, "What a pain to have to wrap the cord around that EVERY time I put the blinds up." Plus, I doubt it's very possible to teach Kyle first NOT to put his blinds up, or if he does to make sure to properly wrap it up. And then it also looks like a great hook to catch an eye on (I worry about these things). But I think I'll pick up a couple because it's better than nothing. We use cleats for our Roman shades downstairs (they wouldn't stay up otherwise), and it's not really a big deal. (By the way, I just learned the official name "cleat" today.)<br />
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Anyway, I thought it was worth writing about to make sure other people realized that there is a danger there even with the "safe" individual cords. I'd love to hear if anyone else has better suggestions on how to solve the danger.<br />
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We'll definitely have this experience on our grateful list for a long time.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-88524949364939742712012-04-01T21:03:00.000-07:002012-04-01T21:03:06.176-07:00Change<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_NxagrycKvw/T3kikrov9QI/AAAAAAAACCs/9lPibcnida0/s1600-h/lds-general-conference-april-2012%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="lds-general-conference-april-2012" border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvwAs7osptE_CSXeaJuV6H5uYzrTCIefLC_k5sZd0hT0DDRO_bzTFKIgEjS9nfHG_WOsZS4MQWWYh6pP9TIGN1AR-Wj4H0hgN53BHN8mcXZj9KDriE-kpmhfHPvOxWHyyAAaQYmcXO5M/?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border: 0px currentColor; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="lds-general-conference-april-2012" width="644" /></a><br />
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I don’t love change. I think a huge part of my resistance is that I’m a very sentimental. Don’t believe me? I’ll give you a tour of my garage and my boxes (and boxes) of sentiments. <br />
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This past weekend was <a href="http://www.lds.org/general-conference?lang=eng">General Conference</a> for the LDS Church. Basically, we get a break from our regular Sunday meetings and watch our leaders speak from Salt Lake City. In Utah we are lucky enough to have it on our local NBC station. Members throughout the world watch it over the internet and in their meetinghouses where it is broadcast via satellite. How lucky are we in Utah that we get to watch church on TV in our pajamas? On Saturday and Sunday we watch two two-hour sessions of church each day. The men over age 12 get to (have to) watch 5 sessions. It’s lots of church crammed into a weekend twice a year, but it’s absolutely my time of the year. <br />
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Yesterday they changed the General Relief Society Presidency. The <a href="http://www.lds.org/pa/display/0,17884,4689-1,00.html">Relief Society</a> is the women’s organization within the church. I’ve been going to Relief Society for going on 13 years now, which means I’ve attended under 3, now 4, General Presidents. It seems like the change happens without much ado, with just a little excitement over whoever is called to replace the outgoing president. But today as Sister Beck gave her last General Conference talk I was a little emotional---which is unusual for me, and I can blame it on my pregnancy hormones entirely.<br />
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But I have loved Sister Beck.While I genuinely felt a part of and a full-member of Relief Society before I had children, it has meant so much more to me since I became a mother (or maybe it was just that I grew up?) Sister Beck was called a couple years after Claire was born, and I still remember one of her first General Conference addresses called <a href="http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2007/10/mothers-who-know?lang=eng">Mothers Who Know</a>. While it became a little controversial within the church (“What?!” some women cried. “You say we should HAVE children? You even suggest more than one!? You say should be ‘cooking, washing clothes and dishes, and keeping an orderly home’? You say I should have my children clean and presentable at church? WITH their hair brushed?” CRAZY ideas, right?). That talk was perfect for me as I was beginning my years as a mother and homemaker. It is one that I should refer to more often. Am I always perfect at the things she listed? Absolutely not. Is it an ideal I would love to achieve? Absolutely. I think we're all working toward that. Some people expected her to retract or clarify her message. She didn’t; and over the years she has continued to call upon women of the church to do more and be more. I like her more for it. I like her boldness and directness. I like that she said what needed to be said and didn’t tip-toe around it. <br />
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I became a part of my ward relief society presidency last year at this time. Seeing Relief Society from the leadership side has certainly given me a better understanding of and appreciation for the organization. We, as a presidency, were kind of attached to Sister Beck. As she gave her final address today I may have shed a couple tears. I appreciated that she was also emotional. What a happy day for her to have completed her very stressful and time-consuming assignment, but it must be sad to let go of something you would love so much.<br />
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In the same breath, it is fun to get to know and love someone else, and it will be fun to get to know the new presidency and to learn from them. In general, wasn’t Conference wonderful? I can’t wait to get the <a href="http://www.lds.org/ensign?lang=eng" target="_blank">Ensign magazine</a> in May and to read it cover to cover (I actually do read all of it! I read it while I eat breakfast every day. It takes a while, and the magazine always gets some milk-damage, but I usually get through it before the next sessions roll around. It’s a great beginning to every day. I don’t do a lot of things I should, but that’s one good habit that I treasure.)Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-16798074300891866642012-03-23T21:12:00.002-07:002012-03-23T21:38:52.410-07:00Oh Babies!<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UBTxgg58mYU/T21IWjyyu5I/AAAAAAAACCE/0_Xe1YcypOc/s1600-h/Three%252520days%252520old%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Three days old" border="0" height="260" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-M9SW00cRWvc/T21IXCqye6I/AAAAAAAACCM/P6lO6EVOfxg/Three%252520days%252520old_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border: 0px currentColor; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Three days old" width="200" /></a><br />
<em>Claire – 3 days old</em><br />
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KcanVakDaRs/T21IZPZJ9UI/AAAAAAAACCU/kYLNgm3bsPs/s1600-h/DSC03164%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSC03164" border="0" height="216" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dThhEHGk0z4/T21IZiCfB1I/AAAAAAAACCc/cYvmgfEcTx8/DSC03164_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border: 0px currentColor; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="DSC03164" width="260" /></a><br />
<em>Kyle – 2 days old</em><br />
My sister, Suzy, is set to have her first baby tomorrow morning. A boy! My first nephew on the Hunt side---and my brother’s wife is due with another little guy in June. I can’t wait! I was talking with Kyle about Suzy’s baby tonight. He wondered what its name would be. I told him they still weren’t sure. He said that he might not like the name they choose, but, “I guess that’s okay because it is their baby, and they get to choose.” As we’ve turned down his many made-up name suggestions for our baby, he’s starting to realize some things!<br />
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As she’s having her first, I can’t help but think back to expecting Claire. I was barely 24. Naïve, scared, excited, and had no idea what I was getting myself into. I had planned and wished and waited and timed things for a year before getting pregnant with Claire, so a year and 9 months had passed since I was bitten by that baby bug. Suzy got a bit of a surprise with this little guy, so we’re a little different in that aspect, but I doubt I was any better prepared---how can anyone really be prepared for your heart to suddenly go walking around outside your body for the rest of your life?<br />
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It’s also been funny to compare how I felt back then with how I feel being pregnant now. One thing that is nice is that this baby is due within days of when Claire was; so I know that I’ll be almost recovered from morning sickness by my birthday, that there is no way I can sit through the rodeo in June while 7 months pregnant, and that there will be just enough of summer left over for some good stroller walks before autumn becomes too cold for a newborn.<br />
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Yet it’s so very different. When I was 23 and wanted a baby I wanted what I read about, what I saw around me, and what everyone else had: a baby. I couldn’t know to want anything else. This time around, two kids and 7 years later, I want another child of my own. I want to do what God wants me to do, and if that’s means having another baby, that’s what I’m doing. I always say that the scary thing about having your first baby is not knowing what you’re getting into---the scariest thing about having another baby IS knowing what you’re getting into! Today at the park I giggled at the moms chasing toddlers and changing diapers. Kind of giggling at them and at me, because that stuff is really hard---and for some reason I’m going stepping back into that soon!<br />
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I’ve started to show lately. I haven’t felt the baby move for sure yet (I felt Claire and 17 and Kyle at 14 weeks, so this is new to wait this long). But my tummy is certainly changing shape, and as of last night normal jeans are hurting me. It feels different to be showing now. I was so thrilled with Claire, but this just feels different. More private, maybe? Maybe it’s because of all the loss we experienced in trying to get this baby. Showing is kind of an announcement that we’re committed and have our hopes up.<br />
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On Tuesday we’ll have another peek at this little one. With any luck we’ll get a look at it’s gender. It will be fun to see what we get. We have absolutely no preference as we already have one of each, and we like both of them pretty much <img alt="Smile" class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-smile" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-qP5Osty4pWQ/T21IaFxxczI/AAAAAAAACCk/xOQ0HPKfxCw/wlEmoticon-smile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800" /> It would be fun to round out the year with three little boy cousins born to our family, but wouldn’t a little girl look so cute in pictures surrounded by her little boy cousins? Either way will be great. But I really can’t wait until tomorrow when we get a chance to hold (and smell!) this cute new little baby cousin! (Did you notice that I wrote "little" about a hundred times this post?)Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-68993848565480849462012-03-13T17:04:00.002-07:002012-03-13T17:04:46.316-07:00Sticks and Stones<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ae8kKFsz6RA/T1_aaoDmISI/AAAAAAAACBo/3uKPNzzAB50/s1600-h/stacy%252520francis%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="stacy francis" border="0" height="139" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-h6m76i58Feg/T1_abC650yI/AAAAAAAACBs/tjgeQmIYV8M/stacy%252520francis_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border: 0px currentColor; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="stacy francis" width="244" /></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZkkEOzSPq_c/T1_abgM3UHI/AAAAAAAACBw/ggzDWq4GL6g/s1600-h/whitney%252520houston%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="whitney houston" border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26vsrhd-TDowhGFZWP_dpPaUKv2SyNxx3Nx_oxyQWsmIgKIY0EbX6y_D4QLfd3b9Jj6taYGULA0O02n1-vZF4rlN8HVFubU9B84_jmVjyoeb4WDsiEF5pRZfwld06cULCvLcH645sMcs/?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border: 0px currentColor; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="whitney houston" width="244" /></a><br />
A lot has been in the media lately about Whitney Houston and Stacy Francis. I’ve given their “fight” or whatever you call it a lot of thought since Whitney passed away. The thing that keeps coming to mind is that Stacy Francis is a NOBODY, and yet Whitney allowed whatever was said to really bug her. It would seem like Whitney should have brushed her aside, ignoring whatever this random lady (who is at about the 13.5 mark in her 15 minutes of fame) had to say. Yet she didn’t. We don’t know if the fight actually is what finally drove her over the edge, or really what happened in that hotel room at all, but one thing is for sure: Stacy Francis got to her.<br />
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I’ve come to two conclusions about this. <span style="font-size: large;">First of all:</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Words can hurt.</span> It doesn’t matter if it comes from friend or foe or stranger, words can hurt. Whitney Houston had every right to be super secure and superior feeling when compared to Stacy Francis, yet for whatever reason, she cared about what Stacy had to say and do. She should have brushed her off, laughed even. But it sounds like she took her pretty seriously---after all, everyone wants to be liked by everyone.<br />
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Going along with this, we always need to consider who is doing the talking when we are offended. Someone who is jealous of you or who feels that they must compete against you will not always have the truest advice or best of intentions with whatever communication they have with you. I saw this a few times in pageants, only a few times though. <span style="background-color: white;"> <span style="color: #3d85c6;">(I have to qualify this by saying that 98% of my interactions with other pageant girls were extremely positive. Those 2% just really stand out!)</span></span> Right before I went on stage to win my second local title, another contestant made a statement to me (definitely not in question tone), “This is probably your last pageant, huh?” I also heard her asking another girl if she could borrow her swimsuit to wear at Miss Utah the next year----implying that obviously that contestant wouldn’t be making a return trip. I was the (admittedly surprising) winner that night, and the swimsuit owner finished well ahead of the competitive girl. Isn’t it funny how people act when they feel inferior? Some will be super kind, some will be super rude. And even when we know their intentions, even when we know they are acting badly out of inferiority, whatever is said stays with us and hurts long past the day of the conversation.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Secondly, we need to watch what we say.</span> One quote I’ve liked lately (that I’m sure I saw on Pinterest) was the idea that we shouldn’t judge someone in a situation we’ve never been in. I bite my tongue (or in effect, hold back my hands when viewing social media) a lot, and could do it a lot more I’m sure. So often I want to comment on Facebook “You’re wasting your life and you know it.” Or in real life I have so many great solutions to so many people’s parenting skills, obviously flawed financial skills, and so many other things. Yet my friends don’t want my unsolicited advice, and neither do I want their advice (But don’t you wish there was a way to get advice on your life from others and not get offended?) I think especially when messages are delivered electronically we feel less inhibited and say things we’d never say to someone’s face.<br />
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Sometimes even when we think we’re being helpful it’s hurtful---like the other day when my 4-year-old son <span style="color: #3d85c6;">(<em>fortunately</em>)</span> told me of his plans to suggest exercise as a means of weight loss to a friend of ours. Certainly he had the best of intentions, he knows that it’s healthy to exercise and to be thinner, but no matter how he planned on saying it (even as a 4-year-old) the message would hurt.<br />
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Certainly Stacy Francis didn’t know that Whitney was teetering on the edge (if indeed she was). I’m sure had she known she would have done everything possible to build Whitney up and encourage her and only be positive in every interaction. In any situation we just don’t know the whole story, and kindness is always the best policy.<br />
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I’m not writing this to say I’m great at either of these things. I am not great at letting hurtful words bounce off me---I’m one to glue them to me and review them and review them until I’m sick about it. I am not great at not saying hurtful words---sometimes it seems they just flow right out of my mouth without checking with my brain first (but trust me, I also glue those to me and review them until I’m sick about them too!) Our interactions with others are something for all of us to consider. It was just so shocking to me that THE WHITNEY HOUSTON would care about what Little Stacy Francis had to say, that I really have thought a lot about it.<br />
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I love Whitney’s music. They played “I’ll Always Love You” when I danced with my 6th grade crush at the valentine’s dance that year. I recorded the song onto a tape (yes, a tape) over and over again and listened to it every night for the rest of the school year. Later my sister and I learned to play a fancy duet of “One Moment in Time,” and it became an anthem for a lot of my life’s moments. This is a good reminder that fame and infamy are different things, and Whitney will always be famous while Stacy Francis (who might actually be a really nice person) will be infamous for only this fight and a small mascara-smeared run on the X-factor. While most of us won’t be publically famous in any regard, we do stand the chance of being famous---for good things---in the lives of those around us.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/m46nvic8VIA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-48345931083172772612012-03-08T14:31:00.001-08:002012-03-08T14:31:30.366-08:00That was rough<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4D8A2g3_Q3D4n8IwDpSbXe4lqVuMSGmxTM8YAXcBlpdp3m91nKAZuGcHwLSqfn8TebIbJDRfh3vGnXBB-P5LRhZFnx2NHASkBiafCHfgR4NKzOXJL2LTB7Heh4Y5r3kfxR_0lA6GnDUY/s1600-h/Baby%252520at%25252011%252520weeks%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Baby at 11 weeks" border="0" alt="Baby at 11 weeks" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_m3B4h7PeodtQkoShmzgewG7kX-PBzied6h4mUobjhEQcinoCITURrxmykT2PDp7KA8PNGc8YrNALpozMOTwhWxNLDKZJEidFYrbL_JPYF0t-36Jjs1JXJeuWzVYvCuW6SrkkWeNaUy4/?imgmax=800" width="660" height="471"></a></p> <p><em>Baby at 11 Weeks</em></p> <p>I don’t really want to use this as a forum to complain about morning sickness. I know a lot of people who would love to have a baby and can’t for whatever reason. They would be happy to endure months of nausea for a baby.<strong> I</strong> am happy to endure months of nausea for a baby. But boy it was a rough couple months. </p> <p>I found out I was pregnant on December 11. I started to get nauseous the week of Christmas. The vomiting started before New Years. This is typical for me with pregnancy. With both Kyle and Claire I was sick until about 20-22 weeks. It was worse with Claire where I got so sick I was on IV’s. My doctor gave me Zofran the first week in January. It kind of helped, at least I was worse if I didn’t take it, but even with the meds it was bad. There were days that I could do nothing more than breathe. I had brief respites in the mornings where I could eat breakfast, do Claire’s hair, and help her practice the piano. But as soon as she was off to school it was back and got progressively worse throughout the day. For two months I sat in a chair or in bed. That was about it. I learned what I could eat, and only ate small amounts. I lost 4 or 5 pounds. The Zofran stopped a lot of the spontaneous vomiting that I had while pregnant with Claire, but most evenings were spent with my head in the toilet. Kyle got the flu during the peak of my sickness. I threw up when he threw up all day. Then when he got better he couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t better. But his small bout with the flu gave him great sympathy. He often rubs my arm and whispers “Poor Mommy” over and over. </p> <p>That was all of January and all of February. I don’t really remember much from those months. Taylor’s mom was great to bring dinner and help the kids clean their rooms and bathroom and other chores in the house. Taylor was pretty good to step up and do the laundry and dishes when needed. The interesting part of our day was from about 12-1:30 pm. I had to take progesterone to prevent miscarriage. After I took it I had to lay down for an hour or so---without getting up. That meant the kids had free-reign of the house. Some days were good. Some days were really bad! Their unsupervised messes did not help in our household upkeep. I happily finished that medicine at week 12, but I really miss that nap every day!</p> <p>Last week I was 15 weeks and started to feel hopeful. At 16 weeks now I’m having moments of being fine. Nights are still hard though, as well as a couple hours after lunch and dinner. But I think I might make it, folks! I’ve had two major realizations through all of this. First, I used to think I did NOTHING around the house. Then when I actually did ABSOLTELY NOTHING around the house and saw it pile up around me, I realized that I actually do quite a bit. It made me a little proud of myself. My second realization is that it really was that bad. While I sat in my chair and watched my family move around me, I kept wondering if I was just being a wimp and should have been able to do more. I wasn’t. Now that I’m still sick, but able to function more, I have realized that I was really that bad. And I don’t feel so bad for neglecting everything for a while. I still can’t eat meat (90% of the time when I try it I regret it), and I am SO TIRED---so much more than I remember ever being with the other two. Maybe it’s because I’m no longer a spring chicken though.</p> <p>Anyways, that explains my absence from blogging and from life in general. Baby is due mid to late-August. Claire is holding out to have a three-way birthday on the 24th, a birthday she already shares with her dad. She is hoping for a sister. Kyle is hoping for a brother, but he sees “all that blonde hair” in the ultrasound as is certain it’s a girl because of that. It’s good to know he won’t be disappointed either way. Taylor and I have absolutely no preference. Our next ultrasound is March 27th. Hopefully the baby will cooperate then!</p> Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-87918814700703471042012-01-01T14:07:00.000-08:002012-01-01T14:13:13.364-08:00Welcome, 2012!I don't know that anyone has ever been happier to welcome the new year than I am today. Actually, I think a whole lot of people were happy to say goodbye to 2011. No need to rehash it in this post (I think I mention the crappy year we had in every other post), but 2011 was kind of a bad year for us. Certainly there were many good things, but there were some overwhelmingly hard things too. We are so happy for 2012 to be here, that had I thought of it before just now, I would have created a banner for my porch to welcome the new year. This will have to do:<br />
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<span style="background-color: magenta; font-size: x-large;">Welcome, 2012!</span></div>
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Taylor and I actually went to sleep before midnight last night. I've done that once before in my entire life---ironically, it was on our honeymoon 9 years ago. We were in California, and on the morning of the 31st I woke up with a nasty cold/flu and spent the day chugging Dayquil. Then over dinner we had our first-ever (and last-ever) encounter with alcohol (<a href="http://lds.org/ensign/1983/05/a-principle-with-a-promise?lang=eng" target="_blank">remember, Mormons don't drink</a>) when we were accidentally served a half-coke, half-something. We drank the whole thing, with each sip trying to figure out what the questionable "half" was (it was supposed to be half-coke half-diet coke). Rootbeer? Orange soda? Dr. Pepper? We realized days later that it must have been rum. Anyway, there I was on my honeymoon, sick as a dog and accidentally buzzed; I went to bed around 10:00. Taylor watched the Times Square celebration on TV. He woke me up at midnight to wish me a happy new year. I glared at him, threatened "Touch me again and I'll throw up on you," and went back to sleep.<br />
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Every other year of my life we've celebrated in Lehi at my grandmother's house. At the stroke of midnight she'd hand us pots and pans and spoons, and we'd parade up and down her street annoying the neighbors. Some years we'd do fireworks. Last year in 2010 we were at a concert and got to Lehi at about ten to midnight. Grandma was exhausted and in a lot of pain from an injured spine and had already gone to bed. I was devastated that we missed her. I had found out that I was pregnant the day after Christmas, and as the (recorded from an earlier broadcast) New Year's ball dropped at Times Square I began to cramp and miscarry. Worst new year celebration ever. Grandma died less than two months later. How odd it was last night to ring in a new year without Grandma. I think that's why I was okay with going to bed last night without even watching a second of the Times Square broadcast. You can be certain I woke up with a smile on my face this morning. Welcome, 2012!<br />
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<br />Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-26883232454027576722011-11-26T13:24:00.001-08:002012-03-08T14:37:33.262-08:00GratitudeThis the season to post about gratitude. I may be a couple days later than the main event, but I was busy eating and shopping and sleeping (in that order).<br />
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I am always grateful for my family. But lately I've relished in that gratitude a little more than usual. On Wednesday my OB called with the results from 4 of almost a dozen blood tests I've had taken during the last week. Only 4 had come in, but they were all abnormal. We don't have all the results from all the tests yet, but three of the four received on Wednesday indicated problems. In fact, every one of the three abnormal results could individually end a pregnancy. Instead of one minor problem, like I was hoping to have, I have three possible problems. And we still have more than a handful of tests which we are waiting to hear about. All in all, it seems that the two children I already have are miracles. Certainly each child is a miracle, but apparently mine are more-so. It was tough news to hear, but we remain optimistically hopeful that things will turn out. I am so grateful for the healthy, wonderful children I do have.<br />
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I am also very grateful for my husband. Taylor was nearly perfect when I married him, but time seems to only make him better. My calling in the church has allowed me access to the life-stories and hearts of people who have experienced some very hard and trying times in their marriages. Maybe Taylor and I get along because we're extremely compatible, or because we're both non-combative, or even maybe it's because Taylor is a marriage therapist---whatever the reason, I am grateful. It means the world to me to know that regardless of what happens all around us, whatever trial we are called to face, he is there by my side. I have been blessed to have a faithful, loving, caring, thoughtful, and hard-working husband who is committed to me and to my children. He has worked so hard and made a lot of sacrifices so that I can stay home to be with our kids. It hasn't been easy (for both of us!), but we are certain it is for the best. I have a husband who is as perfect as they come, and I consider him my greatest blessing. I chose so very well when I insisted that he marry me :)<br />
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Taylor and I are also very fortunate to have wonderful parents and grandparents and siblings. As far back as we know, our progenitors were honest, good, and faithful people. They have provided us with remarkable examples of loyalty to family and of service to God and country. We and our siblings are blessed to follow in that tradition. I know few people are able to find the love, decency, stability, safety, and home that we are able to feel from all of our parents and grandparents. <br />
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I'm so excited for the Christmas season, and for the chance we'll have to be with family even more and to make so many wonderful memories.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-65922064410789044642011-11-20T19:39:00.001-08:002011-11-20T20:44:40.419-08:0017 Day Diet - My review<br />
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A lot of people have asked me about the diet I have been doing, so I thought that I'd post about it. My friend Alison mentioned that she was looking into this diet, the 17 Day Diet and had the book. She said that the husband of a friend of ours had done it an lost a significant amount of weight in a short period of time. This intrigued me. I borrowed her book and thought it was worth trying. I went to the store and bought enough food to get me through five days and figured I'd go for it on a trial basis. I did make one minor adjustment: the diet wants you to drink green tea with every meal. I am a member of the <a href="http://lds.org/?lang=eng" target="_blank">LDS Church</a>, and we follow <a href="http://mormon.org/commandments/#obey-the-word-of-wisdom" target="_blank">the word of wisdom</a> which prohibits the drinking of coffee and tea (and a few other things). So I did a little online research. I made sure the green tea was against the Word of Wisdom. It is. But herbal tea is not, fyi.<br />
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A little more research presented me with <a href="http://www.food.com/recipe/sassy-water-368368" target="_blank">Sassy Water.</a> I used that as my alternative to green tea. And I added prayer. I figured that it couldn't hurt to ask (and subsequently thank) God to help me in my diet. And with that I was off.<br />
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I started on October 25th. The first three days were pretty hard. Probably because of Halloween. Did I mention I gave up Diet Coke at the same time? So I went from a coke- and sugar-loaded diet to sassy water, salad and protein COLD TURKEY. The Coke withdrawal was practically unnoticed, but I did crave chocolate like crazy. (Maybe it's because I started the day after my son's birthday, and his chocolate birthday cake was glaring at me ALL week until I threw it out.)<br />
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After three days I was totally in to it. I lost pounds immediately. POUNDS. In the first week I lost five pounds. I could not believe how much less squishy my stomach area was. I don't know how much of that was because I gave up carbonation, but I loved it.<br />
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At 14 days I was down 8 pounds. At 17 I had lost 10.5 pounds. When I finished 17 I just decided to stay on cycle 1 (I'll explain that in a second). As of Saturday, day 26, I've lost 12.5 pounds. Keep in mind though, I thought I was pregnant all last week. I tried to keep up the salad and veggies and yogurt, but I did enjoy quite a few carbs. And two ice cream sandwiches :) I'm back to committed tomorrow.<br />
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I love this diet. It's the first thing that I have EVER been able to commit to. EVER. There are two things I love about it:<br />
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<li>1. 17 days. I love that there is a time limit to it. Whenever I've set out to lose weight in the past it was always about a number---pounds lost---and that seemed like it would take an indefinite amount of days which translates to dieting <i>forever</i>. For me it really worked to know that it wouldn't be <i>forever,</i> just 17 days. After 17 days the book offers another cycle, with more food options. There are four total cycles, each of them are 17 days.</li>
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<li>2. I love the daily menu and recipes. In the past it's been hard for me because I try to cut back on portion size, but then I always feel deprived. If I try to "eat healthy" I just don't know where to start, and I usually quit before I begin. This book tells you what to eat for ever meal, and it includes the recipes when needed. And it's NORMAL food. GOOD food. I haven't felt deprived (unless you count how sad I am about chocolate and cookie dough).</li>
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I love that I lose a little bit of weight every day. It's like magic when I weight myself in the morning and see a lower number. I've had a few days where I've gained a bit, but I lose that and more by the next day. I have noticed a difference in how I feel. I really think I have more energy and more motivation. For a couple weeks I thought I fatigued more easily, but I'm sure that's because I was pregnant. <br />
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My favorite recipes are the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/notes/the-17-day-diet/recipe-chicken-vegetable-soup/123965371009657" target="_blank">chicken vegetable soup</a>, <a href="http://www.the17daydiet.com/entree/lettuce-wraps/" target="_blank">the lettuce wraps</a>, and I mix dry ranch mix into yogurt cheese (try it before you say it sounds gross). I did veggies into the dip, and thin it out with milk to use as a salad dressing. (To make yogurt cheese, apparently you just cover a strainer with a paper towel and put non-fat plain yogurt into it. Cover the yogurt and put the strainer in a bowl. Put the whole thing in the fridge overnight and use what's left in the strainer)<br />
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I'm not about to put up a before and after picture. And I'm not counting on meeting my entire weight loss goal until after the holidays (I do plan on eating holiday food occasionally). But I am thrilled to fit into a number of my old jeans and skirts. I feel a lot better, and I'm very rarely hungry. Two thumbs up (and 12 pounds down!) on this diet for me.<br />
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<br />Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-85081999964488466592011-11-18T13:59:00.001-08:002011-11-18T15:55:04.647-08:00Fertility--again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had another miscarriage today. That's 3 this year and 6 total, if you're counting (I am). Sometimes people don't write or talk about these things. Some people don't tell even family members they have miscarried or even that they are pregnant until they are showing so much that it's become obvious to anyone. I don't know why that is. Tradition, I guess. In fact, on a lot of online pregnancy sites that follow a pregnancy week by week, they assign you a certain week (usually in the 2nd trimester) during which "you can start telling people that you are pregnant." Pregnancy loss and even infertility seem to continue to be taboo in our modern society. I understand that we shouldn't ask questions about when people will become or if people are pregnant, but it's strange that no one talks about it from a personal perspective.<br />
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We're almost 18 months into trying to add to our family. It hasn't been easy to get pregnant, it hasn't been easy to stay pregnant. I've talked about it (a lot, maybe too much) within my circle of friends from the beginning, and very recently with extended family members (whom I've seen a lot more lately because of the deaths of our grandparents). The surprising thing that I've heard from a lot of them is "Me too."<br />
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Why do we do this? Why do we keep heartache to ourselves? I understand that it's a private thing, but sharing can also be beneficial to everyone. Finding out what worked for my blood relatives may very easily help me. And even if it doesn't help, it's nice to know that I'm not alone. We share failures and tips for cooking, child-raising, and crafting, so it's funny that we keep this to ourselves. Again, I know it's a deeply personal thing, but I've been so surprised time and time again to hear how much people have struggled with fertility issues, and I never even knew.<br />
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Anyway, I'm going to share, because I know it helps me to know that other people are going through the same thing, and maybe it will help someone to read this. Skip it if you want.<br />
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I saw an OB this morning. It was shocking to me that they wanted me to come in. Every other time I've had a miscarriage the nurse has just said, "There's nothing you can do. Lie down if you want, but we can't stop it. It's not worth coming in." He saw us immediately after we got there, and after explaining my situation and that this was the 6th loss I've had, each time within ten days of getting a positive pregnancy test, he agreed that I have a problem. I've spoken to a number of doctors about this, and he was the very first one to affirm my belief that something is wrong. Every other doctor and nurse has given me the speech about how "these things happen...it's good that our bodies reject pregnancies that aren't perfect." He did an ultrasound even though there was nothing to see as I'm not even 5 weeks. He took almost 10 vials of blood to test and will take more on Monday. He said his initial guess is that I have a clotting disorder, but he'll call me Wednesday with the results. He was super nice and told me he'd make sure I knew before Thanksgiving so that I'd have answers before seeing everyone for the holiday. He seemed positive that we could find and fix the problem, and made sure we knew that we weren't technically "infertile" because I get pregnant, it's just likely a health problem preventing me from staying pregnant. It's kind of a relief, but makes me nervous to see what they find. <br />
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This year has obviously been a hard year for us. We lost a baby in January, grandma and grandpa in February, another grandpa in April, another baby in May, another grandpa in October, and now this. But we are learning a lot too. Our pain and loss has given us cause for some deep soul-searching and faith-finding. Our perspective of life and our priorities have slowly shifted and become more eternally focused. We have hopefully become more grateful, more empathetic, more compassionate, and more humble. Easy? No. Worth it? Painfully so, but Yes.<br />
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I find my mind constantly going to the quote I've seen on Pinterest lately that says, "Faith in God includes faith in His timing." I've been a huge proponent of this theory, especially when it comes to the timing of the birth of my other children, but it's hard to apply while in the situation of waiting for more children. But I'm choosing to believe in His timing. At our Regional Conference a few weeks ago Elder Jensen said something like, "We need to weigh out the reasons to believe and the reasons not to believe, then we need to choose to believe. If we do that the Holy Ghost can confirm the belief in our hearts." I'm choosing to believe because I want to believe, and because I'm clinging to that belief with all the hope I have.<br />
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In the meantime I've also learned to enjoy my kids even more. Sometimes as we go places or do things; and especially during the long, hot, fun- and roller-coaster-filled days at Lagoon during the summer and fall; I've felt the spirit whispering to me that these moments of pure joy wouldn't be happening in the exact same way if I were pregnant or if we had a newborn. I've been able to enjoy the freedom and fun of having a four- and six-year-old without having to pay attention to a baby. We are nap and diaper free. My kids feed themselves. They put their own pajamas on. They usually sleep through the night. Kyle gets me all to himself while Claire is at school. There are a lot of good things in my life right now without a baby. But still we hope.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-8091098625990278842011-11-11T14:41:00.000-08:002011-11-11T14:41:47.564-08:00Well-child checkupSometimes I think it's odd when people blog or facebook about their child's health stats. Like everyone is desperate to know their kid's ranking on the growth chart or something. I'm sure people do it for journaling. Anyway, when I sat down to blog about Kyle's well-child checkup, I had to do a little self check-up to make sure that I actually wanted to write about a boring old doctor visit, but it was a funny visit, so I figured it was worth chronicling. <br />
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Kyle had his 4-year-old well-child checkup today. It had highs and lows. It started with an vision check. He had to stand a distance away from a chart of shapes of different sizes and name them. Here is what he said: "heart, flag, moon, star, little earth." What? Little earth? Or one could call it a simple "circle." We got a big kick out of that one. On another line he referred to a circle as, "The whole moon together." Some may say he's creative and was grouping space objects, but me? I know he was probably just improvising because he always forgets the word "circle." Taylor says it's because he's left-handed, and lefties are often more creative but sometimes don't grasp "scholastic smarts" until age 7 or 9. Kyle certainly gets points for creativity though.<br />
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Next he had to put on a little tie-in-the-back robe (this was new to me, I've never had my kids in robes for check-ups, but he did look super cute). Kyle was not too sure about the robe. "I feel like my underwear is showing," he complained. "Don't they know that boys don't like nightgowns?" (I have plenty pictures of him dressed up in Claire's princess outfits to declare otherwise.)<br />
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The doctor came in and asked him to jump on one foot. He did. She requested the other foot. He started on the other, but immediately switched back to the first foot. She smiled and told him he did great. He snuck over and whispered to me that he had actually jumped on the same foot both times. <i>Yes, Son. She has a PhD, but you sure pulled one over on her.</i><br />
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I told the doctor about Kyle's propensity for putting everything in his mouth and then usually to swallow the item (money, small rocks, small plastic things). She was concerned about his iron and lead levels and wanted them tested. This required a finger poke and a couple miniscule sticks were filled with his blood. This apparently was too much for Kyle. Half-way through the stick-filling he started to gag. As soon as it was over he was really gagging, and both the nurse and I thought he was going to throw up. Then he lost all color and started sweating. He had to lie down with an apple juice for ten minutes before he could sit again. This is certain evidence that Taylor is his father (not that it was in question). Taylor passed out---cold out on the floor---while watching ME get my wisdom teeth out. I was fine, by the way. These funny wimpy boys in my life :)<br />
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Our visit concluded with a flu mist inoculation (which went fine) and Kyle's three kindergarten shots (KINDERGARTEN already?!?). During the shots he screamed and cried more than he or Claire ever has during shots. I was sad and teared up a bit for him, but it was a little over-the-top. After the nurse left, Kyle yelled at me, "We shouldn't have come here! It hurts so bad! I told you we shouldn't have come here!" He stopped crying the moment we got to the token reward machine, of course.<br />
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This made me so proud of Claire. I really think she was less than 2 the last time she cried for shots. She's super tough. When I told her about Kyle and commented on how brave she is, she said, "Just like you, Mom." Indeed. She and I triumph in having made it through stuff---for her it's her shots, for me it's my two-hour surgery while awake. We made it. These big girls don't cry. Our boys, on the other hand, need a few lessons.Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-74131560178419796412011-11-06T20:11:00.000-08:002011-11-06T20:11:13.776-08:00Christmas MUST be accompanied by the piano<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://assets.sheetmusicplus.com/product/190X400/3535097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://assets.sheetmusicplus.com/product/190X400/3535097.jpg" /></a></div><br />
So I took an unannounced and unplanned break from blogging. School started, stuff happened, my grandpa died (that's 4 grandparents this year if you're counting), and I didn't blog. I think I was overwhelmed. Anyway, I missed writing, so here I am. And I'm jumping right to a Christmas post. Gotta love that.<br />
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Days after (okay, maybe days before) Halloween I pulled out all of my Christmas piano music and began playing it daily. My students have been working on their recital pieces for more than a month, so it was high-time I began enjoying my favorite musical time of the year.<br />
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I have stacks of Christmas sheet music. Stacks. I practice and practice Jon Schmidt (LOVE his innovative counting), I do my best with Jim Brickman, I pound out Manheim Steamroller with the best of them (except for my favorite MS book is missing---I'm wondering if a former student has it, but I can't figure out who it would be.) Most of all I go time and time again to my two Jerry Ray Christmas with Style books. I love them. To me, the music in these books IS Christmas. Every year when I begin playing I'm amazed at how easily the music flows from my fingers, just like the alphabet song flows from Claire's mouth---effortlessly and perfectly. <br />
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The first collection was printed in 1986. That's about when my mom started playing from them. Every evening in December we drifted to sleep listening to her play Silent Night and What Child is This? In 4th grade at the age of 9 it was finally MY turn to play one of the songs from the "hard book." None of this baby skill-level stuff, I was going to take on a challenge. In my mind I played perfectly. I would like to see the video tape to verify it though. The next year I played Silent Night which to this day is my favorite arrangement in the books. I'm sure Hark! The Herald Angles Sing was up next. Last year I realized that I'd been playing What child is This? for TWENTY years! I played it at our recital and in church.<br />
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Tonight as I was playing through the books I could remember not only playing them myself, but each song is infused with memories of students whose lives I have shared. I've probably had 70-100 students over the past twelve years, and I loved every single one of them. Seeing someone once a week for years on end can do that to you. I miss so many of them. I wonder what their lives are like and if they are happy and if they still play the piano. I'm pretty sure they do for Christmas if nothing else. I'm friends with a bunch of them on facebook, and it's crazy to see them grow up and have kids of their own! <br />
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As I play I'm also reminded of all the places I've played these songs. Beyond the recitals, I've played them in church in nearly every ward we have lived in and I've been invited to play in other wards. I've played the background music at holiday parties, in libraries, and during Christmastime tours of the Utah Governor's mansion. I've played for my grandparents, for my parents, for my family, and mostly for myself.<br />
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Like I said, I've performed a lot of Christmas songs by a variety of composers in a number of venues, and it's amazing how always get more compliments on these songs than any others. Certainly other music is more technically advanced, and would be more impressive to hear, but I like the simple notes, the moving melodies, and the stillness provoked through each arrangement. I like that my students can play them at a young age and feel very accomplished (if only they would work as hard to master EVERY piece!). Most of all I love how their simplicity calls attention to the words of the song and the feeling of Christmas. <br />
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What are your favorite piano solos to play during the Christmas season?Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8264736653031594292.post-66297006805037811652011-09-08T14:28:00.000-07:002011-09-08T14:28:24.647-07:00I gave up TV. Me. Really I did.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY27CeZHXA3vYIl8tVbrnPsH-RW_bG7fsfbfTJAWqzo7BCGgwhXISKr9yrOgTUPXTT46jGpj2edOOW39ZY0DZVGSZoYQtMZAhUoVDBh48K0qPVgvQAXnB4Z8Ki7HE7J9crFqsEZY_O1YU/s1600/tv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY27CeZHXA3vYIl8tVbrnPsH-RW_bG7fsfbfTJAWqzo7BCGgwhXISKr9yrOgTUPXTT46jGpj2edOOW39ZY0DZVGSZoYQtMZAhUoVDBh48K0qPVgvQAXnB4Z8Ki7HE7J9crFqsEZY_O1YU/s400/tv.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I met my friend Marisa last summer (although it seems like I've known her family my whole life). I was editing her paperwork for a pageant. She had to list her favorite TV show; the only problem was that she didn't watch TV. "Like, ever?" I asked. "Never." Apparently she doesn't get a TV signal and they don't have cable. So she literally never watches TV. I couldn't believe it. I honestly thought the idea was a little crazy. And I may have wondered how pageant judges would react to hearing the "we don't watch TV" explanation---"Crazy Mormon from Utah" came to mind. As it was, last year at this time Taylor and I were already marking our calendars for the fall TV lineup, and we practically make chains of paper to count down until the beginning of American Idol.<br />
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While we haven't had cable since we moved to this house in 2009, we certainly have done our share of TV watching. So we started watching TV in the fall last year, 90210, American Idol, and CSI: Miami being on the top of our list---highlighted by random viewings of feel-good reality shows like Undercover Boss and Secret Millionaire. I wouldn't say we were TV obsessed, but we definitely had a schedule. Over time our interest for CSI: Miami waned (accentuated by our complete lack of a DVR or other reliable TV recording capable machine---go ahead and make fun of us now.) We watched 90210 online in spurts, and while we mostly committed to American Idol tryouts, our watching of the actual show was well below 50%---never including results shows.<br />
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And so it occurred to me early this spring that we had, in fact, given up TV entirely. Does that mean that my kids have? No. Does that meant that I can't hear PBS in the background while I type this? No. They watch TV here and there and especially during breakfast, but as for Taylor and me, we're over it.<br />
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Is this part of growing up? Part of being 30? Granted we are super busy with church callings and work and other stuff, so maybe that's part of it. And honestly I think a huge part of it is that we don't have a comfortable couch. Our couch is definitely not the type of couch that beckons you, <i>"Come, sit! Watch TV for hours! Bring a snack!"</i> It's one of those "maybe the floor is more comfortable" couches. I could change it, and I could get cable---but both of those definitely cost more than $10, so I guess we're stuck for a while.We do have TV in our bedroom where there is both a comfortable bed and comfortable couch, and sometimes we watch DVDs there. And once every 2-3 months I realize that Days of Our Lives is on while I'm folding laundry, so I watch a few segments to catch up on the plot. And we'll probably watch a few episodes of American Idol next winter. <br />
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We haven't thrown the TV out.We're not about to do that, but we do have a more-relaxed schedule now. (Well, I did until Pinterest came along!) We read at night, and I sew. Taylor plays video games, and I scrapbook. We have meetings 2-4 nights a week, so that keeps us busy. I love that we don't have to catch up on episodes and therefore miss sleep. I love that we don't have to hide what we watch from our kids. I love that we're not constantly worried if the VCR (yes, we're that fancy) is recording our shows or if we have blank tapes that work. Taylor doesn't love it as much as I do---he wistfully watches each Comcast van that passes our house. I guess he misses the sports that cable offers---but our friends and family have those channels, so it's not a total loss.<br />
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And I guess Marisa really isn't that crazy. Or maybe I've just joined her? Giving up TV was certainly not something I had planned on or ever even consciously tried to do---it just happened. And I'm glad. I just wish it could happen that easily with weight loss!Jackie Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16471305966459437204noreply@blogger.com4