Traditions We Hope Not to Repeat

What do you do between General Conference sessions? Eat a big meal? Head to the park? Play games? Take another nap? All good things. The one thing I don't recommend is taking your daughter to the emergency room because she swallowed a battery.

Yes, that is an Xray of Munchkin's body. That round white dot near the stomach is the button battery that she swallowed.

We were getting shoes and coats on to head to Grandma's house for a big family meal between sessions. Munchkin started pointing at her tummy--which could mean anything from, "I'm hungry, Mommy," to, "See! I put my shirt back on!" So, thinking I was being a great Mom (and also because I'm tired of the mute pointing), I said, "I'm sorry honey, I can't understand you unless you use your words. When you're ready to use your words, let me know."

That's when she said, "I swallowed a battery." Just matter-of-fact. I lost it. I think I may have even scared her a little. Suddenly, Mommy's volume has turned way up, and her eyes are bugging out of her head. Hmmmm, what's wrong Mommy?

So, we went to the hospital instead of Grandma's house. The whole way there, Munchkin was very quiet. Finally, as we're pulling into the parking lot, she quietly says, "Are they gonna cut my tummy open?" Oh heavens, my dear little girl. I reasurred her they would do no such thing. I didn't, however, mention that I had no idea if they would have to pump her stomach. Neither of us needed to think about that. Thankfully, Grandpa met us at the hospital and took Zippy and Little Man home with him so we wouldn't have to worry about them.

When we were done with paperwork and waiting behind our very own curtains, Munchkin looked around and asked, "Where are the cutters?" I guess I didn't do a very good job of reassuring her.

After a remarkably short time, we were assured that the only danger from these small button batteries comes if they get caught in your esophagus. That's where they are likely to disintegrate. But Munchkin's was already past her stomach, and will pass naturally. And, huge thanks here, we don't even have to watch for it to pass!!! Yeah!!!

While we were at the hospital, Munchkin managed to charm everyone around us. She assured the nurse very seriously that she is not allergic to butterflies. She was very brave and followed the Xray techs directions perfectly. She took really good, deep breaths. The only problem was convincing her to let out the air. They kept saying, "She's just so cute!"

Munchkin has spent the last 24 hours telling everyone she can about the whole experience. She carries our copy of the Xray picture around everywhere, even showing it to the carpool kids this morning. And her glow-in-the-dark sticker from the Xray tech may just be her new favorite posession.

This is not what I planned on doing between sessions yesterday, but I sure am grateful it turned out so well. And that it's over. Here's hoping your Conference Weekend was less eventful than mine.

Simple Pleasures--BOGO

I know I'm behind. But that just means there's two simple pleasures tonight.

I'm not offering much explanation for these two, becuase I don't think they need a lot. My simple pleasures for tonight are:

New Shoes and Chocolate.

Both relatively inexpensive, and both offering a rush of endorphins. What makes you feel better than new shoes or chocolate? Enough said.

Simple Pleasures--A Sleeping Child

There is something divine about a sleeping child. And I mean that in the most religious way possible. I think when a child is sleeping is when I can most clearly see them through the eyes of God's love. And not only because when they're asleep they aren't covering everything with jam, or wailing like howler monkeys, or asking for snacks they're never going to eat.

When my children sleep, I can see them without the distraction of my own reactions. I can see the hope and peace stored within them--a gift from Heavenly Father. I can see their personalities shine through too. Zippy always tangles himself in his blankets. He can't seem to be still even in sleep. Munchkin stretches her legs and arms out as far as they can go. She wants to be everywhere all at once. Little Man snuggles any blankets or toys that are in reach, and curls up onto his stomach--little bottom in the air. He's my lovey, snuggly child.

Right now, I'm especially grateful to have sleeping children. For the moment, they are all sleeping deeply and peacefully. After 3 weeks of sickness, that is a small miracle.

Simple Pleasures

There has been a lot of turmoil and chaos in my life in the past few months. Zippy was diagnosed with ADD/ADHD; Z-man's work schedule has undergone major changes; my depression has threatened to return; my grandfather passed away (requiring a quick and intense trip to the midwest); and I've been stuck in the house for the past 3 weeks with sick kids. I am discouraged.

So, in an effort to break myself out of this funk, I'm going to count my blessings.

Every day for the next 31 days, I'm going to list a simple pleasure that I am grateful for. Something that gives me joy or hope. Something that lifts my spirits.

This list will take me into Spring--which is a much more civilized season, if you ask me.

So here we go:

I am looking forward to one of my simple pleasures tonight. It won't happen until next week, but I'm already looking forward to it. After the kids are asleep and the house is quiet, I will change my clothes and slip out to play volleyball. I can hardly wait.

Volleyball is the only sport I enjoy without reservation. The jumping, running, diving, I just love it all. We play co-ed, so the net is high enough to present a challenge for me. And is there really anything better in sports than stuffing a powerful hitter who doesn't expect it?

Z-man laughts at my devotion to the weekly games. He understands my need for release, even if he doesn't participate in the outlet. He did, however put his foot down each time I got pregnant. I tend to end up on the floor multiple times in a game. But I wear any scrapes or bruises with pride. They mean that I've played hard.

There is a primal joy in such a physical activity. Sweating, breathing hard, making your body do what you want, laughing with friends, pounding out tension and frustration. An added benefit is the boost in confidence that comes from participating in something you're good at. I end the night relaxed, optimistic, and physically drained.

I can't wait.

Kitchen Doors

A good friend of mine dropped by a few days ago and we spent an hour chatting at my kitchen table. That was one of the best house I've had in weeks. I wasn't expecting her; my house wasn't clean; my kids weren't even dressed. But she didn't care about any of that, and I feel closer to her now. More comfortable and less inclined to hold myself back or hide imperfections.

In the past, these kinds of visits were much more common. Friends and neighbors came and went through the kitchen door. And family never would have thought to use any other door. The front door was for strangers and formal guests, not the people you love most. And those same family, friends, and neighbors used that kitchen door often. Visits were common, nearly daily events. You would stop in to see someone on your way somewhere else, or perhaps that was your destination. Or someone would come calling at your kitchen door. It opened right into the heart of your home. And no one thought twice about spending time chatting with one another. Lives were not so busy that a few minutes couldn't be found to spend with someone you love. Or even just someone who amuses you. And, if you were lucky, you had family and friends comfortable enough in your home to simply walk right in. No knocking required.

Some may think this is an idealized, romanticized, and possibly unrealistic view of the past. Lives have always been busy, and relationships sometimes have to take a back seat to the necessities of living. But I can tell you it's not unrealistic. When I was young, there were neighbors across the street that became family. If I wanted Tang for lunch, I walked across the street near lunchtime. If they wanted pickles, they came to our house. And the doors were completely open in either direction. No doorbells, no permission needed. We were home in either house.

Unfortunately, where I live, everyone seems so wrapped up in their own lives, that there's no time to share in another's life.

This isn't to indicate that I want ANYONE to just walk right into my house. There are still times and places for social niceties. And my literal kitchen door happens to be behind my fence--just where I like it to corral dogs and kids. Perhaps what I want, then, is a feeling of an open door. A guaranteed welcome from and for those I love. I would love to have friends that felt they could walk right into my house and be welcome. And I want my family to feel the same. I would love to feel confident enough in my reception to be able to walk into my close friend's houses the same way. The open doors of the past have by and large been lost. And I mourn that loss.

Dad and I were talking about this a few weeks ago, and the conversation wound its way around to Facebook, Twitter, and other forms of social media. Much of it was very interesting, and a lot of it was me trying to explain both to him and to myself why I resist most of this style of communication.

How does social media relate to my sense of loss? Today's world doesn't run to families living within a few steps of each other. No, now families and friends are separated by thousands of miles. And email, Facebook, blogs, etc. can all be useful for keeping in touch and feeling connected. But I think they're wonderful tools that are being misused. Obviously, I can't hate them all as this is posted on my very own blog. But they're used in place of the personal connection. No one writes letters or sends cards--both of which take more effort to prepare and encourage more thought as to the content included. Phone calls are even becoming rare--which is a shame too. Hearing the voice of a loved one is precious and worth far more than an announcement on someone's "wall." Visits in person are even more rare. How long has it been since someone just dropped in to see you? How long since you dropped in on a friend?

I realize that this is not going to be a popular opinion. I also know that by posting this on my own blog, I'm opening myself to the possibility of being seen as a hypocrite. I want to be sure that I clarify. I don't have anything against any of the social media tools. I like writing on my blog and reading others'. I text Z-man at least a couple times every week because he can't answer the phone at work. I use email every day, and my life would be very different without the internet. I met some of my very best friends through a website/forum. Most of my family and nearly all my friends have a Facebook page--even Z-man does. But lately I've been missing the personal communication that no longer seems important in the face of so many different forms of communication.

So, now you don't have to wonder why I'm not on Facebook. I probably will eventually make a page for myself. Simply because it is a good tool that can be used to keep in touch with people I love and want to stay close to. But don't expect a lot of time on there. I'd much rather have you over to visit. I can't promise my house will be clean, but I can promise you will be welcome.

Why I Love Romance Novels

I love to read.

That statement is quite a "Duh" moment for anyone who knows me. But what a lot of people may not know is this:
I love to read Romance Novels.

This may surprise some people. It may even dismay others--sorry Mom. But before any judgments are too ingrained, let me explain.

I'm not necessarily talking just about what I call "Bodice-Rippers." Those novels that go from one steamy scene to another with little to no plot in between. Novels where it's obvious the author writes with a thesaurus open next to her keyboard. How many synonyms are there for passionate anyway? Not to mention all the other, um, interesting synonyms they find. These books can be great for a laugh or to use as a guide on how not to seduce your spouse. But they don't exactly move my heart and soul the way a good book should. Plus there are too many pages that I need to skip over. :)

No, the books I love have more plot than steam. They have characters that face dilemmas. People I can understand and care about. Emotions I can connect with. Two people that are just as flawed as I am trying to make it to happily ever after.

And that, really, is the reason I read Romance. That guaranteed happy ending. The boy will get the girl (or vice-versa). The problems will be overcome. The misunderstandings resolved; the fears faced; and the hope, joy, and love embraced. There aren't many things better than a story with a happy ending.

There are a lot of books and authors that fit my definition of a Romance Novel. Jane Austen has never let me down. L. M. Montgomery, even Charlotte Bronte in Jane Eyre. And, of course, there's plenty to pick from in modern fiction. Almost too many to really appreciate. It's no secret that I love the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer (at least it really shouldn't be to anyone reading this blog). Enthusiasm is another of my favorites in the Young Adult category. I hesitate to start naming more books or authors for fear that I may never be able to stop. Although if any of you have either authors or books to suggest, I'm always open to that.

Suffice it to say that if it is well-written, involves characters that are well-developed, avoids obvious preaching, and ends with a boy and girl (or man and woman) getting together, it's probably on my list. There is enough bad news already in the world. I don't want to read a novel mired down in it.

Thank goodness for Romance Novels

Resolutions and the Ensuing Panic

Do you make resolutions for the New Year? I do. And this year, some of them scare me.

Most of them are pretty tame: get organized, get my budget in working order, lose weight, finish our 72 hour kits. The standard ones, for me at least.

But then there are a few that terrify me. Just before Little Man was born, I was working on a personal mission statement. I felt like I needed more direction to my life. Plus I was just days away from giving birth, so my hormones were making me certifiable. I was using some online prompts to formulate and idea of what I wanted and how to get there. One of the questions was "If time and money were not obstacles, and if success were guaranteed, what would you do?" Fun question, huh?

I wrote down my honest answers, and then there they were on my paper. OY. All of a sudden they terrified me. Out of my mind scared. I can hear myself screaming in my head whenever I think of it. Sometimes a whimper even escapes.

I'm not ready to share them here, but I can't ignore them. Answering that question honestly is going to change my life. And, while everything but survival took a back seat during Little Man's first year, I can't ignore those answers/goals any longer. I'm working on them, and I'm working on being brave enough to announce them to the world in general. Until then, I want to hear from you--anyone who reads this. What would your answer be? If time and money were no obstacles--if you had more than enough of both of them--if success were guaranteed to any degree you wanted--what would you do? Who would you be? What would you change? Be honest and brave. Maybe I can be too.