My Best Christmas Ever

This year marks the first Christmas since I have been a mother in which I had everything ready to go ahead of schedule. Usually, I get up in the dark on Christmas Eve to do Santa duty. While I am up, I wrap some last minute things. I have been known to put together the breakfast casserole, that I intended to make the day before, at this time as well. Last Christmas my house had the stomach flu. A year or two before that, I had bronchitis during Christmas. I remember a Christmas several years ago, before we had any savings, when we had several unexpected expenses just before the holidays. One of them was replacing the transmission in a vehicle. I remember sitting down and mapping out after which payday we could go Christmas shopping as I am generally opposed to credit cards. So we had about 6 days from payday to Christmas to go shopping, find gifts, and get everything wrapped. When it was all over, I felt as though I had been run over by a truck. As a kid I never thought holidays would be stressful, and I don't think they should be now. I have always loved Christmas, but I have not always been able to enjoy it like I hoped to.

With each passing year, I get a little better at planning ahead. I have to tell you, this year I think I nailed it. Everything was bought, wrapped, and assembled well in advance. I had a Ziploc bag in the closet for each of the kids with their stocking goodies ready to go weeks ahead of time. We did the school program. We did the church play. Everyone was blessedly healthy. When Christmas Eve arrived, the girls and I made cookies and cheese ball. Jaron went ice fishing with his dad. There was sledding. At night, we all slept. I got to see most of my favorite people in the world. And take pictures and video of them with my new Christmas gifts;). There were hugs. Video games were played and ringtones were exchanged. I think it was my best Christmas ever. I hope some of the people I shared it with can say the same!

The Tiniest Glimpse

Over the weekend, we paid our first visit to Colton's Steakhouse. It was the first time Megan used a booster seat at a restaurant instead of a high chair. My little family of five colored with crayons as we awaited our steak, shrimp, and chicken, and I kind of felt like it was a big deal. Life with a toddler is not predictable. They do not always cooperate with the best of plans. This particular night, though, Megan sat like a big girl and behaved beautifully. I felt like I was getting the tiniest glimpse into the next phase of our lives. The phase without the diaper bags or sippy cups. I thought it would make me more sad than it did. I thought that when my last baby started to outgrow babyhood I would dwell on that fact. I did not feel that way at all. Instead, I started considering some of the fun things I want to do as a family. Rafting and boating and Chiefs football and water parks. I love rocking Megan to sleep, and right now her head fits perfectly against my shoulder. I will miss that. I'm just saying that during my little glimpse into the future, I liked what I saw.

hunting is for girls

I know there are a lot of girls who do not hunt. I have friends and family who do not mind if deer are hunted, they just don't want to be the ones to pull the trigger or field dress the animal. Well, I don't field dress the animal. Kevin does that for me. When I was in my blind over the past weekend, it was cold and windy. By the time darkness fell I was beyond ready to go home and warm up. But I loved it. I was thinking about all the reasons hunting is for girls, and decided maybe I needed to blog about it.

1. Rest. I use to hunt in a tree stand. I have come to enjoy the blind on the ground these days. You can really get comfortable in there. My gun was sitting on the table. I got to lounge in a bag chair with my feet up. I could see all the ditches surrounding my blind from the windows. Maybe I dozed a little. Nobody needed a single thing from me. For three hours. When is the last time that happened in your house?

2. Reflection. I love to listen and watch as the world goes by. I am not talking about horns honking and people shouting. I am talking about rustling leaves and tall, waving grass and geese in flight. I usually see deer, squirrels, and various birds. Sometimes I see a turkey or fox or coyote. I like to think about the people who may have crossed this field before me. Indians or pioneers who may have gathered around a fire there as their children played barefoot in the grass. I like to consider the way things may have looked then. Without powerlines and blacktops and fences dividing everything into segments. A mind can wander when left alone!

3. Accessories. I remember being out in the yard with my dad and brother once when someone stopped in the driveway for a few minutes. I have no memory of who it was, or what he discussed with my dad, but as he left, he said, "Well, I'll leave you and your boys alone now." My brother and I were wearing dark green coveralls and stocking hats. He thought I was a boy. Until recently, a girl had to look a lot like a boy to hunt, but have you seen hunting clothes for women lately? I got all new camo this year. It comes with pink or purple accents now. Instead of wearing man styles and sizes and looking like I am wearing my husband's pajamas into the woods, I now have Realtree camoflauge head to to, trimmed in pink, that is very obviously made for a girl.

4. The Hunting Bag. I don't know if boys do this, but I always take my hunting bag. I probably should not bring this up after my ramblings about becoming one with nature. However, here are the staples in my hunting bag: deer tags and heritage card, cell phone(set to vibrate, of course), mp3 player(in case nature is being too quiet for too long), hot hands, beverage(hot chocolate is my fave), snacks, lip gloss, extra ammunition, binoculars, extra blanket, digital camera. Pondering the ways of our ancestors does not mean I plan to live exactly as they did or anything. I like my conveniences.

5. The Guy I Married. Hunting always means spending time with my husband. He delivers me to my blind or tree stand and we meet up afterward. We discuss strategy and everything we saw and heard (or texts we may have gotten) during our hunt. Sometimes we hunt together throughout midday. It is something that has always been ours and I look forward to it.

6. Shooting Guns. I like to shoot guns. When I have a gun to my shoulder and my eye on the crosshair, I feel like I am ready for anything. I don't care if I am bringing down a big buck or hitting an orange dot on a paper target. When I fire a gun, and I hit my mark...it feels really good. Everybody should try it at least once.

So maybe you are a great white hunter, or maybe you don't think it is for you. I am just saying it could be your thing. Hunting can be a great thing for girls.

Just Like Me

One of my favorite things about hunting has nothing to do with shooting a deer. When I go deer hunting, Kevin walks me to my blind or tree stand in total darkness before going off to his. I settle in as quietly as I can, close my eyes, and wait for sunrise. Everything is hushed and solemn and serene. Not silent, but hushed. In these moments it is easy to forget about laundry and dishes and trying to build up vacation time at work. There are no worries. There is only peace. And possibilities. And hope. Slowly the woods start to come to life, anticipating the dawn. Squirrels start to scurry from branch to branch. Birds start to chirp and sing. Turkeys gobble. Owls hoot. If you are in the right place, the deer slowly make their way to their feet, shake themselves off, and crunch through the fallen leaves to step out into range. I think most hunters will tell you similar versions of what they would consider to be the perfect hunt. For me, it would go something like this:

On October 30, 2010, Madison went on her very first deer hunt. Hunting is not something that happens spontaneously. Preparation is involved. Kevin is not one to take someone hunting before they are capable and ready, so Madison had practiced with her rifle, an AR 223, and proven herself to be accurate (by accurate I mean repeatedly hitting a target smaller than a baseball from 100 yards). Kevin and Madison worked together in the garage to build a table from plywood and 2X4s, and he asked his grandmother to sew up some denim so he could make sand bags. Now she would be able to have a sturdy place to rest her gun as she shot. Prior to opening morning, we set up the blind complete with the table, sand bags and seating, and everything was all set.

The morning of the hunt, we were all up by 5:30. We delivered the non-hunting kids to Grandma's house. We parked the truck and walked about 500 yards to our blind. We quietly took our seats and settled in to wait. Soon after we could see into the field of clover, a buck deer slowly approached our blind as he grazed. The angle out of our "window" was not exactly right, and we had to move Madison's table and her seat to let her get the best chance at a shot. Leaves rustled during this process, causing the deer to throw his head up and look in our direction more than once. Most deer, with more age and intelligence, would have ran away about three times in the 30 seconds it took us to get Madison adjusted. But he just stood there as Kevin asked, "Do you see him in the scope yet? Do you see him?" She said no a few times until the excited whisper, "Oh, Dad! I can see him!" He said, "You need to shoot him as soon as you are sure!" The words had barely escaped his mouth when she fired her gun. It was the exclamation point to his instruction. In his very next breath, he said, "Oh! Good shot, Madison!" Because that deer fell over like a sack of potatoes. We all but tore the door off of our blind getting out to go see him up close. And then there were pictures and high fives. And hugs. Madison and I are girls, after all. She ran all the way back to the truck at full speed. It was the perfect hunt. Big on antlers and excitement. Small on waiting and waiting to see anything, and small on suffering--for the deer. On my slower walk back to the truck, it became obvious to me that Madison is already irrevocably hooked on two things: hunting and her daddy. Just like me.

10-10-10

To commemorate October 10, 2010, which happens to be my mom's birthday, I thought I would compile a list of the top ten reasons she should be celebrated. TOP 10 REASONS TO CELEBRATE MY MOM ON HER BIRTHDAY

10. Without my mom, my whole family would be nonexistent. I mean the whole tribe. My brother, sister, and I, and all the kiddos involved. That has to make the list.

9. She can break into song in any situation. It's not just that she can, but that she often does.

8. She believes in telling the truth and following the rules. The Golden Rule, and the ones that keep you out of jail.

7. She chose a profession for all the right reasons, and is building her career doing work that she loves.

6. Grandma Judy's house is my kids' favorite place to go.

5. I can tell her anything. No judgments.

4. She made a bucket list. And she crosses things off of it.

3. She loves my dad. A lot.

2. She can say anything...good, bad, or indifferent...in the kindest possible way.

1. She makes the most awesome pancake shapes. Alphabet, smiley faces, butterflies, and tractors.

I don't have to tell you how much I love that!

I know some people do not particularly enjoy the fall. Many people prefer the blooms of spring to the dying leaves that are starting to accumulate, but I love this time of year. I always have, and I always will. I do not mean that I think the fall is kind of cool. I mean I love the fall like I love to hear a baby laugh or smell freshly cut grass or snuggle my squeaky clean children in their pajamas at night. Like I love accessories that coordinate perfectly with outfits or pictures that say a thousand words. It puts a smile on my face to wake up in the morning with a slight chill in the air. I love fall like I love unexpectedly bumping into a beloved friend or finding a pair of expensive jeans in my size for ten bucks.

This season quickly and completely takes me to my happy place. I love opening up the windows and flooding the house with fresh air. The back-to-school routine finds my spirit filled with peace and contentment. The bulletin and white boards are back in use, backpacks are checked daily, and bedtimes are enforced...most of the time. This is the time of year when I feel like everything is as it should be. Summer is such a busy time of year for my family, and when life slows down just a bit for us, I notice. And I enjoy it. I can smell the potential that only comes from new beginnings. New school years and holidays and football seasons. Add that to our favorite team opening their season with an impressive showing on Monday Night Football...and a win! As I said, life is as it should be. Now, I know we are still officially finishing up the summer. I know when fall actually begins because it is Kevin's birthday. But between school and football and this glorious weather, it so already feels like fall right now! And I don't have to tell you how much I love that!

Viva Las Vegas!

When we got married we said we would return to Las Vegas every five years or so. Well, five years went by like a holiday weekend, and in the meantime I had all but forgotten about those plans. I never even brought it up. I don't know if I have mentioned before that my husband is generally opposed to spending money in most situations. Relative to some of my purchases, he sometimes feels obligated to question the level of necessity involved. So Kevin came home from work one day and said, "I think we should go to Las Vegas." I laughed. I mean, usually when we take a trip, I plan everything and I calculate the cost and it usually takes some convincing. When Kevin mentions a trip involving airfare, hotel, and shows...the only explanation I can come up with is that he is joking with me. Except he wasn't. He began researching travel and airline websites. He chose the hotel we liked the most when we were there before. He planned this trip. My girlfriend said, "I think the fact that this is all his idea is just as big of a deal as the fact that you are going!" So true. I am not going to lie about it, I felt guilty for leaving the kids for five days. Excluding them from the fun and imposing on the family...almost like I should be hot lined. But after packing all of the bags and saying all of the goodbyes, the real excitement began to set in. I quickly reasoned that extra time with Grandma was hardly punishment for them and began to think about what this would mean for us. How strangely liberating it was to be able to travel and make decisions based solely on whatever we would like to do! We could eat anywhere without considering the kids' menu. We could be gone from our hotel all day without worrying about having enough diapers or extra changes of clothes. There were no worries about naptime or strollers.

We saw everything we could see. We saw the pirate show at Treasure Island and the dancing fountains at the Bellagio. We saw Criss Angel's "Believe" show up close and personal at the Luxor and went to Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay. We went on a tour of Hoover Dam. We visited Lake Mead. We shopped. We swam. We said hello to Pete Rose. The real person...not an impersonator. We ate when we were hungry, and we slept when we were tired. We talked about the things the kids would have enjoyed and the things they definitely would not have enjoyed. We walked a lot. We took the city bus and the monorail. We remembered our wedding trip and marvelled about all the changes that have taken place over the past decade. It was an awesome trip. Trust me, there are several scrapbook pages just waiting to happen right now.

Daddy Doesn't Read Books

I keep a book in my purse almost all the time. I read when I am waiting at the doctor or dentist, the license bureau, and during lunchtime at work. Just this week, I read a book on the plane to and from Las Vegas and while waiting at the airport. I love to read books. Kevin does not. His faithful reading includes some news websites for serious Kansas City Chiefs fans. He checks those sites every single day without fail. He knows which KC players had the fastest running times...and who is wearing out their shoes with their quickness...and who caught how many balls in training camp...and who did not. Every day he knows this. However, he seldom reads a book.

Megan is starting to love books. I love how she seems to show preference and choose her favorite ones. Number one on the list is "Eight Silly Monkeys." She takes this book to everyone in the house, regardless of what they might be doing, and hands it to them over and over again until someone reads it to her. Madison and Jaron are usually close by and cooperative when she wants to read. They were outside one day when Megan discovered that Daddy will read to her as well. I was cooking in the kitchen when I heard Kevin say, "Megan, Daddy doesn't read books." Shortly after that I heard, "Eight silly monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head." Well, this quickly became the pattern, and she was hooked. Now, when Daddy is in the house, she takes the book to him. He can be snoozing in his recliner, and she will climb up onto his lap, open the book, and wait expectantly for him to wake up and read. He always begins by saying, "Daddy doesn't read books." And then he does. The thing is, when our kids want a little bit of time with their daddy, he can't help but give it to them. It's one of my favorite things...the fact that Daddy does read books.

All She Ever Wanted

This is the first picture taken of us as a married couple, outside of our wedding photos. I handed my camera to a stranger on top of the Stratosphere in Las Vegas the day after we got married. We have been married eleven years today. Our wedding was a compromise. He truly wanted to be married all by ourselves, such as at the courthouse. I wanted my grandma to make my wedding dress, and I wanted pictures. We both got our wishes. I got my other wish as well. You know, the one where you marry the person you love. The one where eleven years, two homes, and three kids later you still like each other most of the time. The girl in this picture had no idea what marriage would really be like. She thought she loved her new husband, but she had no idea that the sad times and scary moments would be the ones to strengthen their relationship the most. She had no idea how thoroughly bringing children into the world together could multiply her feelings for him. She had yet to hold his hand at a loved one's funeral or watch him approach her carrying their daughter, with both little arms encircling his neck and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She had yet to watch him playing baseball with the big kids in the yard after a long, hot day at work. The last eleven years have found her richly blessed with love, laughter, and family. I am confident those are all of the things the girl in this picture ever wanted.

I Like Him Handsome

In one of my favorite books, New Moon, Stephenie Meyer gives us a beautiful description of Jacob. It has always stood out to me. She writes, "Jacob was simply a perpetually happy person, and he carried that happiness with him like an aura, sharing it with whoever was near him. Like an earthbound sun, whenever someone was within his gravitational pull, Jacob warmed them. It was natural, a part of who he was"(p. 145).

Every time I read that, I think about Jaron. Jaron is a perpetually happy person. His periods of discontent are rare and brief. I love that about his personality. His positive nature brightens and blesses our family on a regular basis. He is the kind of kid who brings home a gift for his sister when he gets to choose something out of the treasure box for his good behavior at school. He is the kind of kid who forgives in a heartbeat. He loves his family and is not too embarrassed to give out hugs and kisses. Yet. He loves transformers, Lego's, swimming, and ball games. He loves pancakes, chocolate, hamburgers, fish, and hushpuppies. He radiates happiness and contentment. He laughs easily. As much as he tries to be a serious big boy, he cannot hold back a smile. Ever.

Recently, my mom was cutting Jaron's hair when he was spending the night with her. She said, "I forgot to ask your mom how she wanted me to cut your hair." He said, "Handsome. She likes it handsome." I do like him handsome. But I also like him sweet, caring, and happy. I can't help but think he is going to be a good man someday. I can't help but think he will be a thoughtful husband and a devoted father someday. But today he is my favorite little boy who lights up when I walk into the room. And he is six years old. Happy Birthday, Jaron!

there's a good chance I have a problem

I am a mostly rational person. I am not prone to random, crazy behavior. I will never bungee jump or pierce a part of myself covered by clothing. I have never tried any illegal drugs. I do not have any tattoos. I have been married almost eleven years to my junior high boyfriend. Almost every evening this month, I have been hauling my three children in my minivan to softball and tee ball games and eating cook shack hamburgers for supper. I have lived in one school district for my entire life, and I have been at the same job for seven and a half years. I have always rooted for the Atlanta Hornets, the St. Louis Cardinals, and the Kansas City Chiefs. All of these above behaviors make me feel like I am the epitome of normalcy. I don't mind that...although there are probably people out there that would equate normalcy with BORING.

So on one hand, I am this totally predictable soccer mom type with a pony tail. But on the other hand, I am totally and completely, over the top and embarrassingly, obsessively and compulsively in love with The Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer. As Eclipse is heading into theatres this week, I should confess that I have read the series, in its entirety, four times. In the last year and a half. Four times. There are very few books I have ever read more than once. There are no other books I have ever read four times. They are by far my all time favorites. I have convinced people to read these books against their better judgement. People who do not read fantasy or people who do not read in general. Every one of them loved the series. They thanked me later. I am not exactly sure how I can relate so thoroughly to this girl who is in love with a vampire, but I do. These books are not dark, freaky fantasies. The Twilight Saga is romance, morality, chivalry, and love overcoming obstacles. It is an imperfect girl finding love and her place in the world. There just happen to be vampires and wolves involved. So people say I am kind of a crazy fan. I don't think I am crazy just because of charms on my bracelet. Or because I know the movie release dates as soon as they go public and begin my countdown. Or because I am planning on taking a few vacation hours to see Eclipse on opening day. Or because in preparation for this movie, I read the book again, along with the new novella that accompanies it. And I watched Twilight and New Moon. Again. Or because, along with the first two soundtracks, my iPod already has the Eclipse soundtrack on it...and I can sing along. Or because of my new Collectors Edition People...

I guess maybe I can't help myself. So there's a good chance I have a problem. I might be crazy after all.

Happy Father's Day

My dad has never been a very mushy kind of guy. He has never been the kind of guy who says, "I love you" every day. As a rule, he is not overly affectionate. Usually when puckered lips are coming his way, he sticks his cheek out to meet them. Even so, I have never wondered if he loved me. The thing about my dad is, he has always been more of a doer than a talker. So while he does not spend a lot of time professing his feelings for his favorite people on a regular basis, he does spend a lot of time loving them. I remember waking up as a teenager to my mom saying, "Your car had a flat tire this morning, but your dad fixed it." Before I was even out of bed, People. My oil was changed every three thousand miles, but I never looked at the mileage. He fixed whatever was broken. He still does that for me. He works on my vehicle when I need it. He patiently answers my mechanically challenged questions. Just recently he brought my dishwasher back to life. And to a working mom of three kids in the middle of baseball season--that's a pretty big deal. He is the most dependable person I know.

I could write about the best advice he has given me, or all the things he has fixed for me, or all the teeth he has pulled for me, or the time he took me for a spin on my first bike before I knew how to ride it. I really think it would take more than one post to cover it. I remember it all, and I am grateful. My favorite thing about my dad these days is the kind of Grandpa he is to my kids. He lights up when he sees them, even when they misbehave...or sometimes especially when they misbehave. They have learned quickly that they can depend on him, too. Among other things, they can depend on him for applause and the hide the pen game, chocolate treats, fireworks and fishing in the summer, good ham and cheese snacks, and rides in the tractor.

I hope someday my kids feel like they can count on me like I have always counted on my dad. So Happy Father's Day to the dads who tell their families they love them every day. And Happy Father's Day to dads like mine. The ones who show their families they love them by taking really good care of them, and the ones who become the kind of grandpa that every kid hopes to have.

because one blog just isn't enough anymore

So I was the girl that hesitated to start my own blog. Because I was not sure anybody would care what I had to say. And I was nervous at the thought that maybe they would. Or that they may not agree or approve of my writing. A couple of years into blogging, I am still not sure if I entertain, inspire, uplift, or offend anybody. The biggest surprise is that I really like it. I like writing. I like sharing my opinions and getting things off my chest. I like knowing somebody is reading what I write. And I love being able to look back on forgotten moments with a fresh perspective and appreciation when I compare it to what life is like today.

So I decided to start another one. One blog just isn't enough anymore. I have been spending so much time with my new camera that I am finally starting to feel like a photographer instead of a girl who loves taking pictures. I have asked some family and close friends for some practice opportunities and they are coming up soon. I would like to introduce you to my photography blog. Feel free to provide feedback on pictures. I know I am not a professional and I want to improve and learn as much as I possibly can!

Moments Like That

When my kids became old enough to participate in small musical productions, I may have had some unrealistic expectations. I envisioned things like angelic smiles to bookend flawless performances. And it bothered me when things did not go that way. Don’t get me wrong, because I have had moments like that. Where my throat tightens and my eyes sting and my heart just…aches with the beauty of it. I have also experienced the opposite of that. Like my kid, frozen like a deer in the headlights, too scared to utter a sound or move a muscle. Or my kid saying something inappropriate at the most silent moment possible. Or my kid trying to portray to me, via sign language, that the glitter from her dress is all over her--which looks more like “I might pee my pants” to me and everyone I have ever met in my entire life (aka the "audience"), when she should be singing with her classmates. I have learned to lower my expectations just a little. If they do a great job, I am excited. That's great. If not, nobody’s perfect. Life goes on, and we’ll be doing this again before long. There will be plenty of opportunity for redemption.

Jaron has never been much of a talker. He scored low on his kindergarten screening. I knew his score was more about him being too shy to talk to strangers, and less about his lack of knowledge, but I worried about him. I worried about him being scared of all of the new people and unfamiliar surroundings that came with going to big school. I worried they would underestimate his potential because he was too shy to let them know the answers in his head. I worried that his bashful nature would hold him back forever. That he would always struggle and lack the confidence to express himself. I wished I had done more to try to bring him out of his shell.

We had kindergarten graduation last week. The bleachers are packed for kindergarten graduation. The whole student body is in attendance. And parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. The little kindergartners come out, alone, as their name is called, to receive their diplomas. Then they perform. They sing songs with actions in front of almost everyone they know. And then they have individual awards with cake in the classroom. It's a big deal. My little boy? The one who has never been much of a talker? He had some big sighs between songs, but he sang his little heart out. He danced and performed all the actions at the appropriate time like a little rock star. My throat tightened. My eyes stung. And my heart just ached with the beauty of it. It ached a little more when the award he received in the classroom was the "Sharing Award." He is coming out of his shell all on his own. I think he is going to be just fine. I realized that he may have some big sighs along the way, but he will also sing big, dance big, and dream big. Which happens to be exactly what he was singing about. It was the perfect song for kindergarten graduation. While I don't expect every school program to be absolutely perfect anymore, I love it when that happens. I hope you have moments like that.

the first baby I ever watched be born

This is the first baby I ever watched be born. I was seventeen. I remember a lot of things that are not really that important about the labor. Like Stan finally having the good sense to stop complaining about how much his thumb hurt when things started getting a little intense. I remember CMT (Country Music Television) on TV. I confessed my lack of enthusiasm for Dwight Yoakam...which somehow led to us singing lines from all of his songs we could think of. Not that Vanita participated in that. I was the coach. I took the classes with her and I had my coaching bag and instructions. I had a tennis ball in a sock to help with her back labor. I remember my sister, who was without good drugs, literally saying in the same breath, "I can't do this anymore!! Hello, Precious." And there was the first baby I ever watched be born. Everyone was so relieved and excited that it was over.

I abandoned my sister at that point to get acquainted with my nephew. Mom and I were watching him through the nursery window. I remember the hospital staff started surrounding Lance's little bed. I could barely see him because of all the hands covering him. I realized they were working on him and he was starting to look blue. Vanita was calling family and friends from her room to tell them the good news of his birth. She was talking about weight and length and the nurse was coming over to close the window blind so we could not see them working on the baby anymore. We went to get Stan. In the hallway, Mom told Stan they were working on our baby in the nursery. It did not register at first. He said, "Oh, they are working on a baby in there?" I can see her placing a hand on his arm, as she told him, again, "They are working on our baby." And he was gone to find out what was going on. We went back to Vanita's room. She felt like moms feel after giving birth. Exhausted. Sore. Relieved. Happy. Content. We did not say a word until Stan came back to let us know what was happening. He was the one who had to break the news. How do you say to a mother that her baby is fighting for his life down the hall?

Lance was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. They said a small percentage of babies with this condition survive. They said of the survivors, most children have learning and physical disabilities. And then they put him in a helicopter and he flew away, leaving a trail of tears behind him. Vanita went straight from the delivery room to a two-hour car ride to Columbia. His recovery was a difficult time for his parents. There was the NICU and the Ronald McDonald house and home health nurses when he got to come home. But God had big plans for Lance. He did survive. He has survived spinal meningitis and asthma and multiple injuries to date (he seems to be excessively accident prone). He gets good grades and he loves sports. He is the reason doctors should not bombard terrified families with sad statistics. He is the reason I learned that family matters more than state championships. And he is an eighth grade graduate. I am glad he is the kind of guy that beats the odds.

Dear Madison,

Madison wrote a letter to me for Mother's Day.

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Dear Mom,

Happy Mother's Day. I pledge to make Mother's Day special. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for feeding me. Thank you for loving me. I love you. You are always standing up for me. Thank you for cheering me up when I am sad. You are the best mom in the world. You are the best mom a child could have. I love you more than anything.

Love,

Madison

What more could I possibly need from life beyond letters like this one? Today is the anniversary of the day I became a mother. Not that long ago, I was snuggling this beautiful, tiny baby with lots of curly, black hair. And now she is eight years old. She loves baking, fishing, iCarly, and Big Time Rush. She is trying to decide if she wants to be an artist or a chef when she grows up. She loves to read and play outside. She loves her brother and sister with a loyalty that I treasure. I watch her developing her own tastes and opinions and interests and friendships. My excitement soars with hers and my feelings get hurt right along with hers. She clings to her daddy and I until the next moment inspires her to demonstrate her independence. The journey from one birthday to the next is bittersweet for a mom. At bedtime last night, Madison said, "Mom, you better say goodbye to seven-year-old Madison!" So I did. I asked her what she thought about being seven. She said, "It was pretty good, but you have to grow up sometime." I have always felt like this kid was wise beyond her years.

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Dear Madison,

Happy Birthday. I pledge to make your birthday special. Thank you for helping me around the house and for keeping your room clean. Thank you for being such a kind and devoted big sister. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for cheering me up when I am sad. Thank you for always standing up for me. Thank you for always believing the best of me. You are a beautiful little girl, inside and out. You bring lots of love, caring, and spunk to our family. We all love you very much. I look forward to hearing what you have to say about being eight.

Love,

Mom

when losers become winners

You may be on the right track, but you are going to get run over if you just sit there. -Unknown

I am just going to say it. Sometimes I do things for purely selfish reasons. I once bought my mom the latest Jodi Picoult novel for her birthday...and I fully intended on reading it as well. When I outgrew all of my pajamas as I carried Jaron, I generously got Kevin two new pairs of pajama pants. He did not actually get custody of them for a few more months. It is with this selfish attitude that I came to the decision to start up a Biggest Loser competition at work.

If you keep thinking about what you want to do or what you hope will happen, you don’t do it, and it won’t happen. -Joe DiMaggio
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When I started planning Megan's first birthday party, it occurred to me that my list of excuses for carrying around extra pounds was getting shorter. I didn't feel right anymore about telling the sales girl in the plus-sized section of Maurice's, "I just had a baby." I knew I needed motivation and competition and team members depending on me. I knew it would not be easy finding time to exercise. I knew it would not be easy to resist taking home pizza so I could spend more time catching up on housework and homework without having to fix dinner. I knew I would not be able to do it on my own, or I would have done it already.
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Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do. -John Wooden
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So we kicked off the Biggest Loser competition. We had 29 participants. There were five teams including the Bootie Busters, the Supa Slim Sistas (+ Eric), the Working Out Women (WOW), the Misfits, and the Meltaways. Everyone paid ten dollars to sign up. The winning team members would each receive $20 gift cards to Subway, and the winning individual would receive the remainder of the entry fee cash. So while being selfish is usually a pretty bad thing, there was some good to come from it this time. And as the competition unfolded, there were some interesting developments to add variety to my workday. And success that I could never have anticipated.

1.) I became a priest in the confessional booth. The only place I have seen this take place is on TV, so I am no expert, but this is the only way I can describe the way people confessed to me on weigh days. People whispered to me about eating too much dessert or eating out on the weekends, whether or not they made time to exercise, drinking high calorie alcoholic drinks, and the stages of their monthly cycles and levels of water retention. In the beginning, I had to read some name badges in order to sign a few people up, but by the end of these ten weeks I got to know people in a very personal way.

2.) Competition got fierce. People ran around the hospital passing out coupons for free Big Macs at McDonald's (to members of other teams, of course). At an employee retirement party, as a team member and I were taking care of the cake table, we may have tried to over serve the competition with big corner pieces with excess frosting. One of the dietary competitors started giving the stink eye to anyone on her team making bad food choices in the dining room.

3.) I did not win the title of The Biggest Loser. The girl with that title lost 34 pounds. I can tell you that my team, which happened to win the Subway cards, by the way, lost 105 pounds. And I can't wait any longer to tell you. In ten weeks, our group of 29 people lost 284 pounds. Two HUNDRED and eighty-four pounds! I expected other people to lose weight along with me, but I never dreamed everyone would be so successful!
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You never really lose until you stop trying. -Mike Ditka

I did lose weight. I lost seventeen pounds. I am officially back to my pre-pregnancy weight(*before Megan...I have more to lose to reach my pre-pregnancy weights before Jaron, and then before Madison;) and those are my next goals). I hated not being able to wear any of my regular clothes. I hated feeling like I had helplessly lost this battle. Plenty of weight has been lifted from me right along with the pounds that I walked away. My fat clothes are too big now, and the smaller sizes are getting more roomy all the time. I do have more weight that I want to lose, but when I compare the beginning of this challenge to right now, I feel better. I feel more energetic and capable. I feel like I matter more. Not because I look better and the number on the tag of my jeans is smaller, but because I am making my health and well-being a priority. I am making the health and well-being of my family a more important priority as well. I am absolutely doing the best that I can. I have watched Jamie Oliver's food revolution and listened to an awesome life coach and a motivating dietitian at a cardiac rehab conference and I am absolutely inspired. I am making almost everything from scratch. I no longer buy frozen pizza for busy weekends or Little Debbie snack cakes for the snack bucket. With only a few exceptions, I have given up pop and artificial sweeteners and caffeine. Yes, I have. Because losers can become winners. And it feels better than even a Diet Mountain Dew could ever taste.

Success is peace of mind in knowing that you did your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming. -John Wooden

Impresty

I use to be a really good aunt. My mom and sister thought it might traumatize me, at fourteen, to be in the delivery room, so I was standing in the hall when my first nephew was born. I listened for his first cry. I will never forget it. As a toddler, when Logan thought something was impressive, he would say it was "impresty." Now he says, "Sweet." When he first started talking, I taught him that when asked who loves Logan, he should answer, "Aunt Val." I was a really good aunt. I remember reading him books, going fishing, playing ball outside, going to his little baseball games, and taking his werewolf picture at his Halloween parade. I fixed him his favorite snacks. I remember calling my sister to bring him over on the weekends and then casting frequent glances out the window as I wondered what in the world could be taking her so long to get there.

As he got older, I got older. I got a job and got married and had kids. My kids started having ball games and programs and Halloween parades. Now Logan fishes, hunts, drives trucks and tractors, and brings us loads of firewood in the winter. And I don't feel like I am such a great aunt anymore. He still hugs me on occasion, but I can't pick him up anymore. He has been taller than me for a long time. I don't think I was paying enough attention. Somehow when I was changing diapers and going on preschool field trips my nephew became a young man. A handsome young man, as you can see from this picture from the grand march. Yes, he is old enough to go to prom. I still get to see him at all of our family gatherings, but not as often as I once did. I hope he always knows his Aunt Val loves him. And I think he is impresty.

Longing

Last week I visited an Amish greenhouse. Twice. I went with Kevin one evening during the week, and we were so impressed I had to share it with some friends and my mom again on Saturday. I got some plants for the garden and some flowers to set out. Then I got some more flowers to set out. When I leave the Amish people, it is always with a longing for a simpler life. I said "simple." I did not say "easy." I am not so naive that I think their lives are easy. I may not know how difficult their lives are with their lack of modern conveniences, but I do know a little bit about some of the things they do. And I am not scared of those things. I mean, while we do have an electric saw and grinder, we butcher our own beef and pork at home. For the past few years we have raised chickens to dress for the freezer. And then there is the garden. I can tomatoes and potatoes and green beans. We make salsa and sour kraut. We freeze corn and peppers. It is a lot of work, but I always feel glad when it is done.
I love working together to be productive. The whole family is involved in planting the garden. When we butcher, Kevin does the jobs involving cutting and causing live things to be dead. I do more of the wrapping and labelling type jobs. Jaron helps me tape packages for the freezer, or hands me things, and Madison has become expert label writer (If a package winds up saying T-bone Stake, you still know what is in there!). I love the warm security that comes from looking into our freezer and pantry and not having to worry about what to feed my family. It is a blessing that counts.

When I think about myself trying to survive in the past, or living as the Amish do, I realize there are things I would definitely miss. I would miss phones. I would miss vehicles and electricity and iPods and Internet. I would miss air conditioning. I would miss birth control options. I am not going to lie about it. And I would miss pants. A lot. I am sure there are many other things I am failing to mention, but regardless of them all, I have to admit there are a few things I long for that I think they are getting right.

Like how they have work that is conducive to their family life. Next to this wonderful and productive greenhouse, a swing was swaying in the breeze. There was an adjacent sandbox with toys and shovels poking out of it. A little boy ran away and came back with a young chicken to show to Megan, and she patted its little head and squealed with delight, bringing a dimpled smile to the boy's adorably freckled face. I mean, these people don't drop their babies off at a sitter and drive off to work five days a week. I visited with the young mother who lived there. She was fascinated with my children and their ages. Her children were close in age to mine. Although she had seven children, total. She marveled at how "steady on her feet" Megan is. What impressed me was the fact that instead of her being inside pulling her hair out, elbow deep in housework, she was working in the greenhouse on a Saturday with the children scattered about. She had a smile on her face and mud on her shoes. She was the most friendly and talkative Amish woman I have ever met. I wanted to pull her aside and ask her about all of her secrets and challenges. I wanted her to teach me how to be more like her. With regular hot showers. And my favorite shows recorded on my DVR. And snuggle time with my kids at night, which feels like the softest pajamas and smells of lavender baby wash and Gain--Mango Tango laundry detergent. It could happen.

Doing Easter Right

This year still feels relatively new to me. I feel like all the things I wanted to do remain within my reach and I am trying hard to grab them. I am trying hard to live better. Period. Traditions tend to take me to my happy place. I love them. We have an Easter Egg Hunt we always attend, but this year I was feeling more festive than that. Not only did I decide that one Easter egg hunt was not enough, I decided that 3 kids were not enough to take along. So this year, I got my niece, Molly, Madison's friend, Zoe, Madison, Jaron, and Megan, and we started our Saturday at 11:00 with the Church WOW (WithOut Walls). They worked hard to provide us with an age appropriate Easter lesson, a 5000 egg hunt, prizes, and hot dogs for dinner. Let me tell you, there were lots of chattering, squealing, and happy kids over there. My mom came for the festivities as well, and Grandma Time always cranks up the funometer for my guys.

The kids got out their gloves and played some catch at home afterwards while I fed Megan her lunch(as I have yet to feed her hot dogs). The sunshine was beautiful. Soon it was time to load up again and head to Elmer at 2:00. Elmer always has the Easter Bunny. And the other Grandma. Megan slept through it all last year, and while she may not have loved the bunny, she did not miss a moment. We capped off the weekend on Sunday with Sunrise Service at 6:00 am. The kids were sleepy and snuggly and I did not even have to remind them to be still or quiet. We spent the rest of our Sunday playing outside and cooking on the grill...Oh! And we had a wonderful nap! I just had to blog it out before I forgot what an awesome weekend that was. I had many things I needed to be working on around home, but they waited for me. This year I think we did Easter right!

Backslidden

A friend told me the summer that I was baptized that I should journal about the experience. She told me that your relationship with God is like your relationship with all of the important people in your life. Sometimes you are in perfect harmony and sometimes you drift apart. And there are many areas in between. I was all, "Whatever, Crazy Lady! No turning back!" I valued her wisdom, but I was going to be different so it did not apply to me.

Somewhere about mid-pregnancy with Megan I stopped going most places other than work. That included church. I was exhausted and I looked even worse than I felt. The more Sundays you spend at home...the more easily the decision is made to continue doing it. Staying close to home for a few months somehow ended up lasting over a year and a half. I recently decided to stop making excuses and adjust my priorities. Finding a church to attend in a small community is not always easy. I know I shouldn't, but I find myself thinking about what a church can do for me and my growth instead of considering what I might be able to do for a church. So, long story short, I decided to commit to our tiny church. Again. That was about a month and a half ago. The kids are enjoying their classes and they do a memory verse each week. There are puppets. Madison was presented with a Bible for her faithful Sunday School attendance, and Jaron will soon follow. That wise friend I mentioned before? She was right. Making time for God is not always easy. Church attendance is like GPA. It is so much easier to let it slide than take the initiative and bring it back up! Easter's Sunrise service came early. I couldn't help but wonder if my new commitment really counted at 6am when there were three hairdo's to fix. I decided it did.

As Kevin and I sat in the pew with our sleepy children's heads on our shoulders, I let the peace and contentment wash over me. I thought about everything that matters. I was glad I decided my commitment mattered. Again.

Published

About once a year my boss' boss asks me to write an article for the local newspaper. OK, the call actually comes from my boss' boss' secretary. The hospital has a monthly column and the CEO chooses the authors he would like to fill it. I have written four of these articles previously, and each one reads like a research paper. Facts and statistics and diagnosis qualifications and phone numbers. They are articles that make me yawn, but in my little mind that is what "news" is. Facts and figures. My mom is not into numbers, but I usually saved a copy for her anyway. Just the very mention of the word "published" lights her up. This time I decided to do something different. I decided to be more personal. Partially because they only gave me a few days notice that my article had to be moved up a month to trade with someone, and partially because I think blogging is building my confidence as a writer and maybe I feel like I have my own ideas without having to constantly reference someone else. And Lord knows I always have 500 words to say. So, here goes:

Seven years ago, Pershing Memorial Hospital was faced with a decision. The cardiac rehab program could no longer be located in the Marceline facility. Hospital administrators had to decide whether to close the program or attempt to relocate. Thankfully the hospital chose to maintain its commitment to the community and continue providing cardiac rehab. The decision was made to move the program to Brookfield, to the west lobby of the hospital. Patients were able to get the care they needed without having to travel far from home. Directly following the move to Brookfield, I came to work for the hospital to coordinate the cardiac rehab program. Over time we were able to work with the respiratory department to initiate a pulmonary rehab program as well. We hoped to reach even more community members by providing this additional service locally.

Cardiac and pulmonary rehab involves supervised and monitored medical care that uses exercise and education to help people with cardiovascular and pulmonary illnesses. Anyone who has suffered from heart attack, angina, bypass surgery, stent placement, heart valve repair/replacement, or heart transplant is eligible for cardiac rehab. Candidates for the pulmonary program can include anyone whose activities are limited by lung disease and shortness of breath. Participants receive individual treatment plans to accommodate their specific goals. Monitored activity, along with support from patients with similar backgrounds, provides an experience that cannot be duplicated in your average gym.

Three years after our move to the west lobby, the hospital was on the brink of an exciting building renovation plan. The cardiac and pulmonary rehab programs were facing a new dilemma. Once again the programs would have to move or be closed. The programs were located where the new building was to be attached to the existing hospital. Between the continued commitment to community and a generous donation by Jessie Fay and Clifford Applegate, the hospital was able to purchase the Applegate Medical Building. The Applegate Medical Building was only a temporary location to help patients while we anticipated the completion of the hospital building project, but cardiac and pulmonary rehab remained intact.

Another three years went by until last February, when we completed our third and final move in time for Pershing Health System’s grand opening. You may be familiar with the new hospital lobby and all of the brand new departments and equipment that came with the building project. You may not realize that across the hospital you will find cardiac and pulmonary rehab. What was formerly the x-ray area has been completely renovated. The new, improved facility, with nearby patient parking, is the perfect location for our patients. The spacious exercise room offers a variety of exercise equipment, and we are within close proximity to ample medical personnel in case of emergencies. Our exercise physiologist and registered nurse supervise patient exercise sessions and provide education as needed.

I would like to thank all of our patients. Thank you for your gracious understanding and adaptability throughout our relocations over the years. I want you to know we have no intention of packing up our equipment again! Rest assured that cardiac and pulmonary rehab are here to stay.

all I have to say about that

These pictures were taken in my yard on the last day of winter. I barbequed while the kids played outside. It was beautiful. Beautiful sunshine. Beautiful smiles. Beautiful laughter drifting on the breeze.

This picture was taken the very next day, which happened to be the first day of spring. Jaron said, "You know when it's so, so hot and the leaves come out? That's what I want!" I agreed. That's really all I have to say about that.

Going Green

Last year I totally forgot about St. Patrick's Day. I was barely home from the hospital with Megan. I was sleep deprived and sore...and, well, I was a horrible mother. So little first grade Madison went to school without wearing green. Her cousin, Molly, gave her a headband or something, and Grandma Judy came through with a green necklace for her and saved the day. But I was a horrible mother. Madison, my mom, and Madison's teacher (who happened to be a childhood buddy of mine) all knew it. I felt like everyone at school would take one look at her and see how I had failed her and neglected her. I vowed to be better. Isn't that what we do? Isn't life just one continuous attempt to be better and do better?

So this year I was ready. It feels so much better to add to life's small pleasures instead of adding to life's little disappointments. I bought beads. I laid out their clothes the night before. My kids went to school today sporting green shirts AND pants AND necklaces. Jaron was topped off with a John Deere hat and Madison had a sparkly green hair accessory. Because I am an AWESOME mom. And everybody knows it!

TOOT, TOOT

I am not trying to toot my own horn. I feel compelled to blog about this because I have never been a glass half empty girl. I blog about things that are on the negative side sometimes. My faithful readers may remember my posts on things you should consider NOT saying to a pregnant woman and the diary of a mad fat woman. The moral of both stories is that I am not naturally thin, pregnancy and I do not get along, and many people have noticed and made hurtful and appallingly unintelligent comments about those facts.

Because I try not to dwell on the negative, I must share with you that today I have had four different coworkers comment to me that I am looking slimmer these days. I say four because I do not want you to be confused when I say a couple or a few...it was actually four. I started a biggest loser challenge at work for my own selfish reasons. I knew I needed the motivation to finally lose this weight. 28 employees signed up right along with me, and collectively we have lost over 150 pounds in 5 weeks. My team, the Supa Slim Sistas (+Eric), has lost over 75 pounds. So, I have been working out with cardio and weights and yoga and counting calories and Just Dancing with the kids on the Wii(The laughing from watching Jaron's dance moves alone is enough to burn some calories, I assure you!). I have lost 13 pounds and people are starting to notice! I cannot tell you how much more fun it is this way than the previously mentioned posts. So I do not work exclusively with over educated idiots, but share my workplace with many perceptive and intelligent people! Like I said, if I am going to complain about the mistreatment I have endured then I absolutely must mention the good stuff. And, well...TOOT-TOOT!

Before I was a Mother

Before I was a mother, I said, "I just don't understand
why people bribe their children to do what they command."

Before I was a mother, I said, "My kids won't watch TV
to occupy the precious time they should be spending with me."

Before I was a mother, I said, "I will not raise my voice."
I said, "When it comes to dinner, there will never be a choice."

Before I was a mother, I said, "Some moms are way too sappy!
When my kids do great things, I will be nothing but happy!"

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Before I was a mother, I said, "Every day I will say, 'I love you.'"

That may be the only thing I ever said about motherhood that stayed true.

Jaron will do anything I ask of him for a chocolate candy bar.
I may have yelled a little this morning as I loaded kids up in the car.

During just one episode of Dora, I can get mountains of housework done!
Sometimes I do make two kinds of dinner, when I swore I would only make one.

Sappy could be my middle name, as often as I am moved to tears.
I have cried for reasons I don't always understand in recent years.

Tears of joy and fear and always when they do great things to make me proud.
So now when I think of life I've yet to live, I don't voice my opinions out loud.

the blue in me

There was a time when March Madness was important to me. There was a time when Hornet Basketball was on my short list of priorities. Basketball is not a big part of our lives right now. At this stage, March is all about celebrating our baby's birthday. As far as sports go in our family, March is a time to scout for new football players for our team. My husband sets the DVR to record the college combines while he is gone to work so he can study the athletes in the evenings. He spends any TV time on the NFL channel. While I am confessing his addiction, I may as well tell you that he also he pores over http://www.arrowheadpride.com/ every night. And not just leading up to the draft but pretty much all year round. So, usually there is not much talk of basketball around my house yet.

This morning Jaron wanted to wear his Atlanta shirt. I noticed Megan's hornet shirt in the top of her drawer and could not pass up the opportunity to dress all three kids to match. Of course, since all of my kids matched, I could not pass up the opportunity to take their picture. Somehow this photo just floods my mind with memories. It makes me think of Hornet Pride and March Madness and work and sweat and tears and friends and hugs. What can I say? Maybe March brings out the blue in me after all.

A year goes by THAT fast!

A year ago, this day began at Boone Hospital with contractions coming every five minutes. They were not the kind of contractions that made me wonder what was going wrong because they just had to be more brutal than most women's. They were not the kind that made me wonder how I would survive what was coming next. I did feel compelled to close my eyes, place both hands on my tightening, super sized abdomen, and breathe deeply and slowly until it was over. They were significant enough for me to mark the passage of time by the minutes of rest I got between them. By the time I had convinced the nurse that my water had broken(actually she never did believe me but she tested to be sure...she kept telling me I had peed the bed!), and we determined the baby was definitely coming on this day, Kevin was already almost to Hannibal on his way to work. We thought I was going to be in bed watching TV for another week and we did not feel like I needed help doing that. My mom would have been with me, but we both knew it would help me most if she had the big kids with her so I would know they were in good hands, and she and Dad could bring them to meet their much anticipated baby sister. My sister was sick with a bad cold and was not coming to the hospital at all, in the best interest of the baby. So I was in labor. I was alone. I was a little scared. But my body was in such a state of misery I would have gladly rolled into the operating room by myself. I had reached the point where I was confident my baby would be safer out in the real world where we could monitor her more closely. My doctor said she could do my surgery at 8:00 am or at noon, and since Megan was not in distress, and Kevin was so far away, she opted for noon.

Nothing compares to the feeling a mother gets when she hears her baby cry for the first time. With a c-section, you have to listen for it to know the baby is doing okay. You cannot see your baby because of the drapes so all you can do is listen. It took longer than it normally would to hear Megan cry, and when I finally did, she sounded so much more quiet than Madison and Jaron had. I knew something didn't sound right. Kevin let me know it was because she was on oxygen. By the time they had weighed her and finished up with her apgars and everything, she was already done with the oxygen, and all 6 pounds, 2 ounces of her was crying at a very ticked off high volume! I was elated. She was tiny. She was precious. She was perfect.

A year ago today, my family became complete. Madison thought she could just take over Megan's care all by herself, and she would have. She loved her more than I thought possible. I worried about Jaron a little. He was freaked out by the hospital and did not want to come close to me or talk to me on the phone with all of my machines and everything "plugged in to me." But soon after we were home I realized he loved Megan just as much. I don't think he thought she would be quite that tiny. My life became hectic in ways I could never imagine or anticipate. My mom told me motherhood is like juggling, and you can't always keep all of the balls in the air. You have to drop the ones that don't matter. I have learned a lot over this year about letting a ball drop. About which balls don't matter. I have learned a lot about flexibility and being satisfied with doing my best, although my best often leaves many things undone. Because Madison was barely two when I had Jaron, I never felt like I got to enjoy him enough when he was a tiny baby. I am confident I have enjoyed my Megan. We all have. When she wants to play, someone jumps in to play with her. When she gets hungry, someone feeds her. When she gets sleepy, someone is always there to rock her. Her diapers are always changed promptly because I know if I don't do it, one of my "helpers" might and that could get ugly! We have enjoyed our baby. I think she has enjoyed us, too.

Megan has learned a lot this year as well. She is walking. If you ask her if it is snowing, she points at the window. If you say, "Oh, no, you didn't!" she shakes her head back and forth and shows some attitude. She says "Mama" and "Dada" and "tattoo"(thank you) and "bye-bye" and "kiss." When you call for her brother or sister she stops what she is doing and swivels her little head back and forth as fast as she can, looking for them to come into the room. She waves bye-bye and claps for patty cake and yay and she holds up a finger when you talk about how she is one! She eats anything I put in her mouth and acts like it is her favorite food. She has mastered the sippy cup and is off of the bottle. She never wears socks and shoes any longer than it takes her to get them off of her little feet. She gives many kisses and hugs to all of her favorite people every day. She cracks herself up a lot. She cracks us all up a lot. Our grand finale baby has brought immeasurable joy into our family. Happy Birthday, Megan Joleen! I don't know what we ever did without you. May all of your birthdays find you as happy as this one, with countless beautiful smiles and an abundance of hugs and kisses!

Inadequacy

This is the worst gingerbread house ever. Completed a good month after the holidays. Things kept coming up like the stomach flu and ear infections, and, well, gingerbread people need a place to live all year round, don't they? The roof was broken in many peices so we turned it into a patio. And it sort of went downhill from there. It looked nothing like the picture on the box when we were done with it. This gingerbread house is just one tiny reminder of many things that make me feel inadequate. There is a song from Grey's Anatomy that says, "Miss Almost, Miss Maybe, Miss Halfway." Sometimes, in moments of exhausted surrender, I feel like Anya Marina is singing about me.

The hardest thing for me about having a job that I have to go to on a regular basis is this overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. It is always creeping in, like a dense fog, and I am always trying to push it back so I can breathe. As jobs go, mine is flexible. Three days a week, I have patients coming in to be monitored as they exercise. Those are the days I try my best not to miss work. It is stressful for my nurse, who happens to be one of my best friends, to be left in the lurch on those days. She handles it well and never complains, but I try hard not to put her in that situation if I can help it. The remaining two office days are easily negotiable. These are the days I try to schedule things such as haircuts, dentists, doctors, class mom duties, and groceries. Of course, life does not always come in a neat little package wrapped up with a bow like that. There are many factors that do not always adhere to my schedule. The snow buries my van in the driveway or the ice makes the curves and hills of my crazy blacktop too treacherous to attempt the drive with my precious cargo. Kids throw up or spike a fever. Kevin gets an injection in his back. Sometimes there are places I feel like I need to be more than I need to be at work.

Sometimes I feel like I have a thousand strings tied all over my body and the only direction I can go is toward the string that is pulling me the hardest. When I do miss a work day for unexpected reasons, I feel inadequate at my job. I feel guilty for placing the extra burden on my nurse. I don't want my patients to consider me to be unreliable. When I forget to send the dollar so Madison can buy a drink at her class party at school that day, I feel inadequate as a mother. Or when the kids mention whose mom was at the class party. Sometimes I take kids to Grandma's house when they are sick instead of staying home with them myself...if it is a patient day at work. How wrong is that?

I am gone most days. As with most families, the evening shuffle includes dinner, dishes, laundry, homework, bath time, and bedtime(which includes quality time rocking a baby). Add to this the fact that the wood stove needs wood in it and the cows need checked as we had our first calf this week. Kevin has been having some bad days with his back so I am the one in the gum boots and snow, both up to my knees. He has been cooking some to balance things out, but all of this adds to more feelings of inadequacy as housework piles up and people are pulling their clothes out of laundry baskets instead of their dresser drawers. When I considered what I wanted to be when I grew up, I am confident that I never said I wanted to be half of a mom and half of a wife or half of an employee and a partial homemaker. I just wanted to be a wife and a mother and to work in a job that I enjoy and that helped people in some way.

I am a wife and I am a mother. I do like my job and I almost always feel like I am making a difference with my patients. But in trying to encompass every facet of my life to make me the person I want to be, I feel like most of the time I am inadequate on every side. Like I am doing everything half way so I cannot do a good job at anything. I see women who never miss work. I see women who never miss a function at school. I see women with immaculate homes. I do not see any of those women when I look in the mirror. I see a woman who loves her family. I see a woman who likes her job and feels abundantly blessed. Mostly I see a woman who has a long way to go in figuring the rest out.

Happy Birthday, Tabitha!

I consider a lifelong friend among life's greatest blessings. I am a person who thrives on the familiar. I have lived within a twenty mile radius my whole life. College years included. I married my junior high boyfriend. I have been working in the same job for seven years. I get excited about planning things out. When one of those plans works out like I imagined it would...it makes me happy in an almost unnatural and juvenile kind of way, like when a kid gets to have cake and ice cream for breakfast or something. I like to try new experiences, but when I am my most content and satisfied with my life, I am surrounded by the familiar. Every time. That is why I treasure my lifelong friends.

Take my friend, Tabitha, for instance. There is not a time in my life when I did not know her. Our first meetings were in diapers. There is very little we do not know about one another. I love that. For many reasons. I didn't have to explain the milestone event that was my taking a group of girls to the Princesses on Ice at the Sprint Center in Kansas City a couple of years back. She knew I had never even driven alone in Columbia until my doctor visits with Madison's pregnancy required it. She got it. And she was appropriately proud and encouraging. I don't have to tell her what wonderful and caring people my grandparents were. She knew them. And once in a while, she tells me. She knows the significance of LYLAS and blue shoes and Hoosiers and A League of Their Own. She was enlightened, as I was, that hindsight is 20/20 and some people don't know the difference between their butts and a hole in the ground. And of course she knows rule #3 in the Handbook of Life, "Life is not fair." She does not give me a strange look for saying things like, "I hear talking!" or "Riiiiiiiight" and she knows all of the songs that I know. And doesn't make fun of the ones I don't. We were born when we were born, people! There is a very significant and extended time in my life where you would be hard pressed to find any photos of one of us without the other. Because we were always together. Together we have worked, played, laughed, cried, prayed, yelled, sang...and it is not over yet. She is a lifelong friend.

I appreciate how she gets me, but I love how I get her, too. For instance, I am proud of the strong woman of faith she has become. I am not surprised, but I am proud. After all, I was there when she invited me to revival, and when she led our team in prayer before every game. Her beauty never surprises me, either. Or when I see her dazzling smile reflected in her sweet boys. After all, I watched her compete in Miss Missouri. I have always known it was there. When I look at her hard work and dedication to her family and her community, I am like a proud mama. But I am not surprised about that, either. After all, I was there at camp after camp and tournament after tournament and open gym after open gym where we learned all about hard work and dedication and commitment to each other and to our goals.

Somewhere along the way we stopped talking about sports, teachers, clothes, and boyfriends and started talking about husbands, potty training, doctor visits, low cal snacks and black coffee. I look forward to whatever we will be discussing next. As I think about Tabitha on her birthday, I know she has become the kind of wife and mother and friend that can really set an example for us all. She impresses me on a regular basis. Sometimes I seriously get the urge to get out a pen and paper and take notes. After all of the time I have known her, she inspires me that much. I am thankful for my forever friend. I am glad our children know each other. I hope they all grow up with lifelong friends that are as loving and loyal as mine! Happy Birthday, Tabitha! You will have to let me know what 32 feels like!

The Long Winter

I may have already mentioned that my mom use to read the Little House books to us every summer. She probably read to us during the other seasons, and she probably read to us in the house. But in my memory we are on a glider on the back porch of the town house. I hear her reading voice, which has always been fabulous, and I feel the dry breeze tickling my neck with stray hairs that have escaped from my pony tail.

The Long Winter was a perfect summer book to read. Howling blizzards and homes covered by snow sounds almost refreshing during those blazing and sticky days. I have been thinking about Megan's first year as we approach her birthday. I think I will remember her first winter as the long winter. The winter the stomach flu touched our entire family over the holidays...and hit the boys again shortly after. The winter Megan and I had to have two rounds of antibiotics to kick crazy ear infections. The winter Kevin broke his finger. The winter most of our free time was spent together at home. The winter there was snow aplenty for snow days and hot chocolate and homemade soups. And the winter I got to stay home from work on occasion and pretend that I was a stay-at-home mom. There is nothing more cozy and content than being snuggled up with your favorite people with nowhere to go while the snow comes down outside. And, seriously, this winter I have seen numerous breathtakingly beautiful snow scenes without leaving my yard. But I miss the sun. I am ready to trade the smell of firewood for the smell of freshly cut grass. I am ready to put the coats away and put on some flip flops. I am ready to trade lip gloss for sun block. Well, I am keeping the lip gloss, but you get the idea. I want to feel the sunshine on my shoulders and watch the big kids ride their bikes and teach Megan more about the outside world.

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We are not in danger of starving to death. We have meat in the freezer and canned goods lining the pantry. We do not have to spend all day melting snow for water and braiding hay for hay sticks to burn in the fire just to survive. We do not have to insist on someone selling us essentials against their will to make it through. We have doctors and medicine and stores in abundance. And we have play time. We have everything we need.

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Laura Ingalls Wilder ended The Long Winter by writing, "And as they sang, the fear and the suffering of the long winter seemed to rise like a dark cloud and float away on the music. Spring had come. The sun was shining warm, the winds were soft, and the grass was growing." All that I am saying is that when spring gets here this year, I just may have to sing a song of my own!