Never before in my life have I experienced a more visceral moment of what I feel is the quintessential spirit of Christmas than I did just moments ago. With snow dancing downward from a deep, dark sky, my 4-year-old and I plowed through inches of new-fallen snow to deliver homemade cookies to our neighbors. Giggling as our feet plunged into the unknown depths of each step, we hurried from house to house bearing more than ginger cookies but also a sincere feeling of love, kindness and gratitude. Love for our fellow humans, love for each other and our family; gratitude for the welcoming community in which we find ourselves now living; gratitude for being warm during such a cold, cold night.
My heart pulsed with love for my dear child* whose hand I held and, who later, I carried on my back while singing Christmas carols as we plunged through the pure white powder which was often illuminated with the festive, warm colors of Christmas lights.
Although I am so very fortunate to give my children gifts this year for Christmas, I feel that, by moving here, I am raising them in a place of beauty where neighbors actually know each other and where our hearts sing as we drink it all in, grateful for each other and for the peace in our hearts.
May all of you find such peace. Merry Christmas and happy holidays.
* It was too cold for my 2-year-olds but they were in my heart as well.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tirade
In the grand scheme of things, the moment was trivial. Compared to the horrors being experienced by those in Mumbai and even ordinary folk struggling to live their lives anywhere on the globe, it was not even close to being a truly stressful situation; however, since I can only experience my own life (although I do empathize with others), I found myself baffled at how completely my 4-year-old could make me feel paralyzed and inept in front of countless witnesses. What a joy to behold perhaps but definitely not one to experience.
Before describing this special moment with my child, I'll preface it with a little history. The reason it was just he and I and not the whole family was due to two factors: money and maintaining our sanity. It already cost us $1000 to fly just the 2 of us so it would have been ridiculous for 5. Plus, who is seriously insane enough to fly with 3 kids 4 and under?
My son hadn't flown since he was 6 months old. He might as well never have as far as his memory was concerned. I was entering the realm of new and unknown experiences with my child which, in the past, hadn't always produced the best results. Being the "smart" parent, I thought of ways to prepare him for the trip. I made one big mistake. Thinking that going through security might be frightening for him, I thought it might be helpful for him to watch a video I found on the TSA's website regarding flying with children. It shows children happily going through security. It shows how they might use the wand to check for metals but it's all happy go lucky. No problemo.
Yeah, well. You can guess where this is heading. We get to security and he starts to panic. I manage to get his shoes off and his coat and put them in the buckets. I get his luggage up and mine. I pick up the now screaming child and walk through the metal detector. No beeps. Whew. Ok, the worst is over. . . except he runs off and down toward the guard at the end of the security area who tries to stop him which makes him even more scared so he turns back and runs BEHIND the security area where about 10 guards are standing completely baffled as this frantic, panicking, insane little 4-year old literally weaves in and out of the guards desperately trying to escape this frighteningly scary place while yelling, "no metal!"
So proud. So very proud.
Obviously, we get him out of there and we move along. We gave the guards a little something to chuckle about. It took a few minutes for my blood pressure to go down and to remind myself that patience is actually a virtue and that it is sort of in my grasp if I would stop feeling the need to strangle the little rascal.
This same child, who wove in and out of trained security guards screaming like a banshee, then boarded the plane and entertained (in a good way) the passengers nearby with his cute ways such as asking a nearby 12-year-old what he was thankful for. It was probably good that he didn't ask me that shortly after his tirade but, in the true spirit of a parent who understands the depth of a parents love, I'm thankful for that little rascal even if he can embarrass me like no other.
Before describing this special moment with my child, I'll preface it with a little history. The reason it was just he and I and not the whole family was due to two factors: money and maintaining our sanity. It already cost us $1000 to fly just the 2 of us so it would have been ridiculous for 5. Plus, who is seriously insane enough to fly with 3 kids 4 and under?
My son hadn't flown since he was 6 months old. He might as well never have as far as his memory was concerned. I was entering the realm of new and unknown experiences with my child which, in the past, hadn't always produced the best results. Being the "smart" parent, I thought of ways to prepare him for the trip. I made one big mistake. Thinking that going through security might be frightening for him, I thought it might be helpful for him to watch a video I found on the TSA's website regarding flying with children. It shows children happily going through security. It shows how they might use the wand to check for metals but it's all happy go lucky. No problemo.
Yeah, well. You can guess where this is heading. We get to security and he starts to panic. I manage to get his shoes off and his coat and put them in the buckets. I get his luggage up and mine. I pick up the now screaming child and walk through the metal detector. No beeps. Whew. Ok, the worst is over. . . except he runs off and down toward the guard at the end of the security area who tries to stop him which makes him even more scared so he turns back and runs BEHIND the security area where about 10 guards are standing completely baffled as this frantic, panicking, insane little 4-year old literally weaves in and out of the guards desperately trying to escape this frighteningly scary place while yelling, "no metal!"
So proud. So very proud.
Obviously, we get him out of there and we move along. We gave the guards a little something to chuckle about. It took a few minutes for my blood pressure to go down and to remind myself that patience is actually a virtue and that it is sort of in my grasp if I would stop feeling the need to strangle the little rascal.
This same child, who wove in and out of trained security guards screaming like a banshee, then boarded the plane and entertained (in a good way) the passengers nearby with his cute ways such as asking a nearby 12-year-old what he was thankful for. It was probably good that he didn't ask me that shortly after his tirade but, in the true spirit of a parent who understands the depth of a parents love, I'm thankful for that little rascal even if he can embarrass me like no other.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Ill prepared
How many times had I insisted that we have the Epi-pen handy even for the twins who may not have severe allergies? Despite my diligence, I panicked today as I looked for one of the many I thought I had around the house. One was supposed to be in my purse, one in the diaper bag but where the hell was it? The extra diaper bag. Why the hell do I have an extra one?
Where the hell are my keys? I just had them. Toys at my feet and babies crying in the car, what the hell did I do with my keys? He was getting worse.
Epi-pen found. Keys found. Unhesitatingly, yet recoiling emotionally, I plunged the Epi-pen into my darling son's leg despite his protests.
Which hospital to go to? The one that I took Dylan when he fell or the new, fancy one near the house? I'm not from these parts - which one is good? Thank you, Lord, my mother-in-law answered the phone. Going to the close hospital and she's meeting me there.
Husband informed and trying to not panic him as I speed to the ER.
Peanuts. Peanut butter on a cracker at a school he'd only been to 4 times. "Severe peanut allergy" listed on his applications. Epi-pen provided but I'm confusion about how well I had informed them of that and wondering why they didn't take it more seriously. How mad should I be that someone handed out the crackers provided by some parent with a child who obviously doesn't have a severe peanut allergy. Obviously.
Swollen, red and angry hives all over his little body. Bloody scratches from his itching. Crying because he's scared. Juggling three babies at the ER until my sweet mother-in-law arrives and takes the little ones - one of whom is missing a shoe because it wasn't important. Nothing was important except getting Neil to the ER.
Doctors, nurses, medicines, shots. Cries, giggles eventually and redness abating. He's going to be ok. Daddy comes and helps with the giggles and snuggles. My darling boy charming the nurses and amusing the doctors.
Instructions, relief and disbelief that everything is going to be ok. My little darling survived it and I can only humbly fall to my knees in thanks for everyone who helped my son survive the life-threatening exposure to the most innocent-seeming, childhood food of peanut butter.
Where the hell are my keys? I just had them. Toys at my feet and babies crying in the car, what the hell did I do with my keys? He was getting worse.
Epi-pen found. Keys found. Unhesitatingly, yet recoiling emotionally, I plunged the Epi-pen into my darling son's leg despite his protests.
Which hospital to go to? The one that I took Dylan when he fell or the new, fancy one near the house? I'm not from these parts - which one is good? Thank you, Lord, my mother-in-law answered the phone. Going to the close hospital and she's meeting me there.
Husband informed and trying to not panic him as I speed to the ER.
Peanuts. Peanut butter on a cracker at a school he'd only been to 4 times. "Severe peanut allergy" listed on his applications. Epi-pen provided but I'm confusion about how well I had informed them of that and wondering why they didn't take it more seriously. How mad should I be that someone handed out the crackers provided by some parent with a child who obviously doesn't have a severe peanut allergy. Obviously.
Swollen, red and angry hives all over his little body. Bloody scratches from his itching. Crying because he's scared. Juggling three babies at the ER until my sweet mother-in-law arrives and takes the little ones - one of whom is missing a shoe because it wasn't important. Nothing was important except getting Neil to the ER.
Doctors, nurses, medicines, shots. Cries, giggles eventually and redness abating. He's going to be ok. Daddy comes and helps with the giggles and snuggles. My darling boy charming the nurses and amusing the doctors.
Instructions, relief and disbelief that everything is going to be ok. My little darling survived it and I can only humbly fall to my knees in thanks for everyone who helped my son survive the life-threatening exposure to the most innocent-seeming, childhood food of peanut butter.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Old and new
Apparently, we weren't the only ones to journey across Texas, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah. Hidden among our enormous truckload of belongings, a small gecko held on for dear life. Hot, bumpy and long, our journey took 3 days to drive from Plano, Texas, to Salt Lake City, Utah. Since we were exhausted, I can only imagine how tired the little gecko was considering, unlike us, he didn't have the luxury of food or water.
Although we brought along many things from Texas and even Texans themselves, the discovery of our secret passenger made me ponder how far we were from Texas considering Utah probably isn't hospitable to a little lizard from Texas. Fortunately, the gecko was found by a groovy chica who doesn't flinch at the idea of caring for the little rascal. Armed with a background in science and a knack for caring for creatures, Nikki confidently assumed the role of caretaker. We should know in a few days whether the little creature adapts to his new home.
As for us, we are adapting quite well. It is absolutely gorgeous here and surprisingly comfortable. Oddly enough, I continue to find elements of my old home. For instance, as we crossed over the Utah border, we stopped at a groovy restaurant in Monticello, Utah, called the Peace Cafe or something hippy sounding like that. One minute I was feeling how far from home we were but then I walked into a room that sent me back. It's pretty remarkable how certain smells can trigger very distinct memories and something about one of the rooms of the restaurant smelled just like my grandmother's house. Perhaps it was the age of the house or a certain kind of soap but I had never found that scent anywhere but at her house. Now that she is no longer with us and I'm unable to visit her house, I was comforted that perhaps I'd still have opportunities to connect with memories of her despite how far away I am from Texas.
While I was touched by a sense of home then, I have experienced many things which are far from it, although most of them are quite pleasant. For instance, I have enjoyed being outside more often throughout the day due to the cooler temperatures. I have been able to be outside in the late afternoon and evening without being bitten by mosquitos. I took a 10 minute drive up into a beautiful canyon and saw mountain rivers rushing along the road.
Of course, not everything is so pleasant, although I can't say I have experienced anything truly negative either. The fact that my Texas accent stands out like a sore thumb does make me feel a bit conspicuous. I also feel that I have dried out due to the lack of humidity which causes me to drink gallons of water a day. I still don't know how to get around here, although I did successfully get out alone today and find my way around a bit. (I had to pat myself on the shoulder for that one but I have to hand it to the city planners though because the city is laid out in a pretty orderly fashion.)
So, as I sit and rock outside listening to beautiful mourning doves (who thankfully live here too), I feel a sense of tranquility that I haven't enjoyed for a very long time. I do miss home for sure and I especially miss my family but my heart is telling me that it really needed this and I'm thankful we did it and am grateful to those who helped us get here.
Although we brought along many things from Texas and even Texans themselves, the discovery of our secret passenger made me ponder how far we were from Texas considering Utah probably isn't hospitable to a little lizard from Texas. Fortunately, the gecko was found by a groovy chica who doesn't flinch at the idea of caring for the little rascal. Armed with a background in science and a knack for caring for creatures, Nikki confidently assumed the role of caretaker. We should know in a few days whether the little creature adapts to his new home.
As for us, we are adapting quite well. It is absolutely gorgeous here and surprisingly comfortable. Oddly enough, I continue to find elements of my old home. For instance, as we crossed over the Utah border, we stopped at a groovy restaurant in Monticello, Utah, called the Peace Cafe or something hippy sounding like that. One minute I was feeling how far from home we were but then I walked into a room that sent me back. It's pretty remarkable how certain smells can trigger very distinct memories and something about one of the rooms of the restaurant smelled just like my grandmother's house. Perhaps it was the age of the house or a certain kind of soap but I had never found that scent anywhere but at her house. Now that she is no longer with us and I'm unable to visit her house, I was comforted that perhaps I'd still have opportunities to connect with memories of her despite how far away I am from Texas.
While I was touched by a sense of home then, I have experienced many things which are far from it, although most of them are quite pleasant. For instance, I have enjoyed being outside more often throughout the day due to the cooler temperatures. I have been able to be outside in the late afternoon and evening without being bitten by mosquitos. I took a 10 minute drive up into a beautiful canyon and saw mountain rivers rushing along the road.
Of course, not everything is so pleasant, although I can't say I have experienced anything truly negative either. The fact that my Texas accent stands out like a sore thumb does make me feel a bit conspicuous. I also feel that I have dried out due to the lack of humidity which causes me to drink gallons of water a day. I still don't know how to get around here, although I did successfully get out alone today and find my way around a bit. (I had to pat myself on the shoulder for that one but I have to hand it to the city planners though because the city is laid out in a pretty orderly fashion.)
So, as I sit and rock outside listening to beautiful mourning doves (who thankfully live here too), I feel a sense of tranquility that I haven't enjoyed for a very long time. I do miss home for sure and I especially miss my family but my heart is telling me that it really needed this and I'm thankful we did it and am grateful to those who helped us get here.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tired giggles
Apparently, I'm the best at using the fancy box tape mechanism. If you need a box taped up, I'm the chic. Confident in my abilities, I expertly began taping the bubble wrap surrounding a huge mirror from our dresser which was being supported by my husband and my mother-in-law. As my father-in-law rolled out the wrap and I taped, we were in the flow and were feeling very proficient until I got the tape all tangled and half stuff to the wrap and myself and anything in its way. So much for being the tape diva. Tired to the bone, we all found ourselves giggling relentlessly at the ridiculous situation and the laughter felt great.
Today, within hours, I found out that I don't have breast cancer, the house sale went through and Chris had a good interview for a job. Not bad considering how much of a beating the last few days have been. So, as we hustled and bustled to pack up the remaining items, it was great to have a moment of silly, tired laughter as we shared in a moment of fun after a very long day which followed a very long trial of various hardships to get to this moment and we're here and it's nice.
Since we're moving I won't be posting for a few days. Until then, may everyone be happy and well. My next post will be from Salt Lake City, Utah.
Today, within hours, I found out that I don't have breast cancer, the house sale went through and Chris had a good interview for a job. Not bad considering how much of a beating the last few days have been. So, as we hustled and bustled to pack up the remaining items, it was great to have a moment of silly, tired laughter as we shared in a moment of fun after a very long day which followed a very long trial of various hardships to get to this moment and we're here and it's nice.
Since we're moving I won't be posting for a few days. Until then, may everyone be happy and well. My next post will be from Salt Lake City, Utah.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Drowning
When I was little, I had an aquarium. I spent countless hours sitting in front of it watching my fish live out their lives. Most of the time, it was peaceful to sit there and watch them swim from one glass wall to the next, chasing each other or idling in one spot staring vacantly at something I couldn't see. At other times, I learned important life lessons such as the cruelty of nature and the inevitability of death.
I remember being panicked when I would discover a fish who was ailing. If they had a disease called ick, I put some kind of medicine in the water but I don't recall whether it ever worked. Most of the time, I'd find myself witnessing the fish's struggle to live despite his or her body's efforts to die. As its body became more limp and its attempt to swim grew weaker and more infrequent, I would become enraged and horrified as its fellow fish took advantage of the ailing fish's weakness and would begin to peck at it in a cannibalistic fashion. As the fish flailed around, struggling with every move, the healthy fish swam by and pecked at it impassively, not seeming to recognize what it was they were eating.
Thankfully, I'm not the fish and I'm in good health as far as I know but I am struggling. I'll be completely honest: my life is incredibly hard right now and there are times when I feel I'm not up to the task despite my best efforts. Unfortunately, while dealing with the often overwhelming task of raising 3 boys 3 and under (not to mention moving, being concerned about breast cancer, and all the aggravations one typically experiences in life), I find that there are some who take jabs at me when I'm at my weakest but, thankfully, there are also those who lift me up to the surface.
So, as I flail around over the next weeks, I sincerely hope that I can keep the nibblers at bay and that I can rely on the sturdiness of those who selflessly can help me stay afloat.
I remember being panicked when I would discover a fish who was ailing. If they had a disease called ick, I put some kind of medicine in the water but I don't recall whether it ever worked. Most of the time, I'd find myself witnessing the fish's struggle to live despite his or her body's efforts to die. As its body became more limp and its attempt to swim grew weaker and more infrequent, I would become enraged and horrified as its fellow fish took advantage of the ailing fish's weakness and would begin to peck at it in a cannibalistic fashion. As the fish flailed around, struggling with every move, the healthy fish swam by and pecked at it impassively, not seeming to recognize what it was they were eating.
Thankfully, I'm not the fish and I'm in good health as far as I know but I am struggling. I'll be completely honest: my life is incredibly hard right now and there are times when I feel I'm not up to the task despite my best efforts. Unfortunately, while dealing with the often overwhelming task of raising 3 boys 3 and under (not to mention moving, being concerned about breast cancer, and all the aggravations one typically experiences in life), I find that there are some who take jabs at me when I'm at my weakest but, thankfully, there are also those who lift me up to the surface.
So, as I flail around over the next weeks, I sincerely hope that I can keep the nibblers at bay and that I can rely on the sturdiness of those who selflessly can help me stay afloat.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Choices
If you think about it, the act of making a choice is such a fundamental part of being a free spirit. Choices send us in a variety of directions, influencing our futures in ways we often can't grasp when making them. For some, choices are frightening. For others they're exciting. For many, choices are made without realization by a sleeping mind.
For those who chose to view the world in terms of good or bad, choices can be a frightening dilemma since there is the 50-50 risk of failure. If one strives to be perfect and unerring, it is essential to make only "safe" choices or those deemed to have the least risk factors. Although this perspective has its own validity, I find it stifling and limiting. I also feel that life is still too unpredictable for any life to truly be safe at all. Ultimately, the biggest fear (death) is awaiting all of us no matter how cautious we are.
On the other hand, there are those who take big risks and, speaking in cliche, throw caution to the wind. Blown from one whim to the next, their lives run the risk of being aimless and immature as they avoid being grounded in responsibility as they repeatedly make choices that help them escape themselves and their troubles.
I can't help but ask myself whether I'm more cautious or more whimsical with the choices I make but I find it hard to separate what it is I believe from what I think important people in my life believe about my choices. As I try to untangle the answer to this question, I can't help but feel I'm a mixture of both and that I often fluctuate back and forth between the two. I have noticed that I feel more calm about major decisions in the day when I'm fully rested and more insecure and cautious at night when I'm tired and trying to sleep. I'm not the first to notice that anxieties manifest themselves more dominantly at night. I believe it was the Navajos who had an expression along the lines of "even spotted leopards look black at night," or something along those lines.
Rather than viewing a choice in its simplest form, I can't help but ponder judgments regarding whether decisions are viewed as good or bad by ourselves and by others. Lately, I have listened to a variety of opinions about our moving to Salt Lake City. The more cautious a person is the more negatively they view our moving. The more adventurous they are the more they support it. However, we do have a few friends who I would neither characterize as overly cautious nor overly flighty who feel that, although there is risk involved in our move, we made the decision after very careful consideration. Perhaps I'm seeking support here but I would have to agree with them.
As the coming week unfolds out in front of us, I'm a bit intimidated by the many, many things we need to take care of. From packing, closing on the house, and moving to getting a biopsy (the mammogram was inconclusive) three days before we leave, I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. As much as Chris and I support each other and our decision, I can't help but desire support from those who are, at the least, ambivalent or, at the most, are unsupportive altogether. Ultimately, the choice has been made and we intend to follow through as long as it is meant to be. I guess I have to make the choice to trust myself and my husband and to know in my heart that we're not making a reckless choice by trying to provide a better life for ourselves and our children.
So, as the time approaches 11:00 p.m., I'm reaching for a peaceful mind that will not only allow me to have a restful sleep but one that accepts the misgivings of others without taking on their feelings as my own.
For those who chose to view the world in terms of good or bad, choices can be a frightening dilemma since there is the 50-50 risk of failure. If one strives to be perfect and unerring, it is essential to make only "safe" choices or those deemed to have the least risk factors. Although this perspective has its own validity, I find it stifling and limiting. I also feel that life is still too unpredictable for any life to truly be safe at all. Ultimately, the biggest fear (death) is awaiting all of us no matter how cautious we are.
On the other hand, there are those who take big risks and, speaking in cliche, throw caution to the wind. Blown from one whim to the next, their lives run the risk of being aimless and immature as they avoid being grounded in responsibility as they repeatedly make choices that help them escape themselves and their troubles.
I can't help but ask myself whether I'm more cautious or more whimsical with the choices I make but I find it hard to separate what it is I believe from what I think important people in my life believe about my choices. As I try to untangle the answer to this question, I can't help but feel I'm a mixture of both and that I often fluctuate back and forth between the two. I have noticed that I feel more calm about major decisions in the day when I'm fully rested and more insecure and cautious at night when I'm tired and trying to sleep. I'm not the first to notice that anxieties manifest themselves more dominantly at night. I believe it was the Navajos who had an expression along the lines of "even spotted leopards look black at night," or something along those lines.
Rather than viewing a choice in its simplest form, I can't help but ponder judgments regarding whether decisions are viewed as good or bad by ourselves and by others. Lately, I have listened to a variety of opinions about our moving to Salt Lake City. The more cautious a person is the more negatively they view our moving. The more adventurous they are the more they support it. However, we do have a few friends who I would neither characterize as overly cautious nor overly flighty who feel that, although there is risk involved in our move, we made the decision after very careful consideration. Perhaps I'm seeking support here but I would have to agree with them.
As the coming week unfolds out in front of us, I'm a bit intimidated by the many, many things we need to take care of. From packing, closing on the house, and moving to getting a biopsy (the mammogram was inconclusive) three days before we leave, I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. As much as Chris and I support each other and our decision, I can't help but desire support from those who are, at the least, ambivalent or, at the most, are unsupportive altogether. Ultimately, the choice has been made and we intend to follow through as long as it is meant to be. I guess I have to make the choice to trust myself and my husband and to know in my heart that we're not making a reckless choice by trying to provide a better life for ourselves and our children.
So, as the time approaches 11:00 p.m., I'm reaching for a peaceful mind that will not only allow me to have a restful sleep but one that accepts the misgivings of others without taking on their feelings as my own.
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