Be Bold, and Beautiful, and Humble, and Healthy

I'm sitting at my desk.  The last business day of the year.  Accounting hell, normally.  But today was slow and steady and nearly done by 3:30.  Before I rush out the door to the busy that awaits me at home, the busy that does not expect me until 6pm, I decided to pause.  

I lingered through my Facebook feed during lunch today and so many posts about out with the old in with the new.  We all look forward to tearing off the page and looking at the hopeful blank canvas of the new one.  

The last few years, I chose a little motto and said it in my head when things got cloudy, out of focus.  

I am overwhelmed with the swirling thoughts of all I can do with my own blank canvas.  And when I become overwhelmed, I go back to things I've said to myself in years past, things that get me to good.  

Never wear your blessings like burdens
Do not let perfect be the enemy of good
Be where you are

Reminders that the things that haunt me are really of such little importance when I line them up against a simple sentence.  I find myself longing for another simple sentence to add to the list of wisdom.  

I saw some things that worked well for me this year

Bible Study
Early Rising 
Eating Well
Simplifying
Writing
Saving  
Running
Setting Goals
Creating 
Nature
Documenting
Connecting
Giving
Seek Beauty
Serve

You might read those words and thing they look like a pile of cliches, things people commit to doing, but to me, I see a loving list of works that make my heart sing, so I know they are MY things.  Hard things that I can do.  Things that will give me joy

Things I want to leave behind

Fear
Worry
Perfection
Waste

I want to pay attention to what is ruling me.

I want to be bold, and beautiful, and humble, and healthy.  I know what those words mean to me.

The stillness of this moment washes over me, and I am reminded beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am loved and blessed and cared for.  When moments are frenzied, if I can remember to be bold, and beautiful, and humble, and healthy, I can love better, both myself and my others.  

Thank you for beautiful lessons 2013, thank you for a beautiful life.  Joy awaits, I only need to be still and know.  My heart is open and ready for all the good as I turn my page and look at my blank canvas.    

Loads of back-to-school blessings

First things first.  After being pee-trained since April! Bryson started pooping on the potty on a consistent basis.  So after 8 years, 10 months, and weeks....I am finally DONE changing poopy diapers, once and for all (I hope!)!  Also, Uncle Matt can finally babysit all three of my kids at once without Heather, now that the possibility of poo is not in the mix.  Ha.

We saw our first movie in the theatre as a family of five!  Also Bryson and Lily's first movie in the theatre.  It was a great last day of summer!  

Remember how Lily didn't want to hold my hand at the Ice Cream Social?  Ouch.  Well on the first day of school, I took the day off work, and I walked them to their classrooms, and she held my hand most of the way.  She was a little bit weird when I dropped her off at her classroom, because we'd been in Addie's class too long, so I took a snap and bolted.  But after school, she held my hand the whole way to the car, and from the car to stores to look for a new dress and from the car to Red Robin to get root beer and recap the day.  The real blessing here was not that she held my hand, but that I paid attention.  I felt her hand in my heart, I savored it, I was grateful for as much time as she would let me hold.  My heart was so happy.  

In Addie's soccer game last Saturday she scored 5 goals.  She was awesome.  Or should I say Osum? She was also a little cocky confident, I heard that after her third goal she was holding up three fingers back down the field.  

Lawrence and I did the Warrior Dash together.  I was awesome.  I'm only sort of kidding, I really impressed myself.  After planning to sort of dial it in and skip obstacles I didn't want to do, I got going and pushed hard.  We ran the whole race together and I did every obstacle.  One I needed a little boost from Lawrence and one I fell off of.  But I did it, and it was a great time.

Lily set a goal for herself to read 75 books over the summer, she did that and more.  Now she has read up all the box car children books that I got at the library and is ready for number 30-40 to be reserved at the library.  I LOVE the teacher she got this year.

My company had a "summer party" on the second day of school.  That was not the blessing part.  It was at OMSI and while we didn't spend a whole lot of time connecting with work people it was a really fun family night.  Since I work downtown, Lawrence met me there with the kids.  As Lily and I were leaving, I looked across at our city.  It was so beautiful in the setting sun.  I made my girl go stand in front of the skyline to add to the beauty.

Actually I will make that it's own blessing.  I LOVE all the kid's teachers this year.  Teachers are so awesome.

This was our first week with no nanny.  I have had someone in my house, taking care of my kids, at least on a part time basis, since Addie was born.  This week went great.  Lawrence went in early and I was on my own.  I got up early, everyone got up and ready with happy hearts and on time.  I even left that house cleanish.  Did you hear that?  Happy. Hearts. And. On. Time.  Mamas of three know what a miracle this is.

On Monday, we pulled up to Bryson's new 2 day a week childcare provider, let's call her "SuperSitter". She helped us out earlier in the year when our nanny had her surgery.  Bryson announced as we pulled up, "I LOVE SuperSitter's house!!"  I LOVED hearing that.  And I already told you yesterday how well he did at Preschool.  This kid is loving that he isn't getting left at home anymore, he has places to be, things to do! Blessing!

I survived a grueling two day New York Sales Tax Audit this week.  Not a blessing per se, but I work with some great ladies who helped me pull FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY additional records from the last 4 years that the auditor requested last minute. It was not pretty, but...It's done!

A few days ago, Addie was excited to tell me that she played football at recess with her best friend C who isn't in her class this year.  The next day I asked her if she played football with the boys again, she said, 'They don't really pass to me, I just run all around and stuff".  Awesome.

In other news, Addie and Bryson both have their first recess this year, it is pretty much the best thing for each of them.  

The week before school started Addie had her oral challenge to test for Peanuts after having 2 negative skin tests and 2 negative blood tests, after 5 years of her allergy getting worse and worse, it is gone!  We had an ice cream party to celebrate, with lots of peanut toppings!

I have been a little off this week, as I mentioned yesterday.  I've been making things work, getting there on time, being proud of the little things, but jeez at the end of the day, I am spent.  Lawrence has been making up the difference.  Yesterday he coached Lily's soccer team of 10 girls alone with Bryson on the side lines (good friends who are parents of the other kids on the team - BLESSING!).  He has just been in a great mood.  I don't love it when one of us is feeling slumpy, but I love the way we work together as a team.  

Having Lawrence on my team, might not be the one I give them most attention to, but it's also my biggest blessing of all.  

The Rawness of Back to School

All the back to school busyness has left me kind of raw.  Very raw actually.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot, trying to figure out why.  Is this year different?  Is it because my baby is in preschool now, and Addie in full day?  Is it because we no longer have our nanny?

There is certainly the fact that my babies are getting bigger.  That’s great.  And hard.  And sad.  And awesome.  And fleeting.  But that alone is not at the heart the rawness that I feel.

Third grade.  Lily is a 3^rd grader.  That’s part of it.  Man, kids were mean to me in third grade.  As an adult, a successful, well-adjusted adult, I have had multiple people come to me as adults to apologize for how they treated me as a kid.  I’ve always brushed it off as ‘kids are mean’, as that is what we said before bullying was a district-wide curriculum word.  But just the other day, I was thinking about this rawness.  And third grade was rough, they were mean.  Mean, mean.  The fact that adult men and women, who have lived 25+ years of life since that time still feel so sick and guilty inside for the way they treated me, the fact that they contact me on Facebook to apologize…well that’s how mean.   So, it’s okay if I have a little bit of scarring when I think about sending my kid off to grade 3. Don’t get me wrong.  I had friends, I didn’t walk around school with my head held low, my mama loved me like nobody’s business, I was the best big sister on the block, I was too smart for my own good…I didn’t let it ruin me.  But when my little girl walks out the door to third grade…it hurts.  The little Jenny inside of me feels afraid for how third grade feels.  The mama in me knows that she is different and wonderful, and the kids she hangs out with are different and wonderful.  But still, I’m scared.  Because kids are still mean.   

The next thing I’m noticing about back-to-school is the constant state of comparison I have going in my own head.  The tireless what if…what if I was that kind of mama?  what if I didn’t have to worry about this or that?  what if my kid didn’t have to ride the bus?  what if I volunteered more?  what if I got to work earlier?  what if we had less toys.  Seriously.  I’m reading blogs about it, validating blogs, articles about how we are all doing okay.  Things we all should read.  Your okay and my okay don’t look the same and that’s okay.  How liberating.  But why do I feel the need to read another mom’s articulation of what’s okay for her to make sure I’m doing alright?   I am an advocate of other moms and of myself.  I never want to be in any discussion that reeks of mom vs mom.  My ways barely work for me, so I certainly won’t push them on anyone else.  I can feel convicted about how I want things to be, regardless of how different my reality looks, I will even work hard for those things, but I won't judge others in order to see the value in myself.  It makes me sad that by the time I get this all figured out, it will be nearly over and re-do just isn’t an option.  My kids will be out there in the world with all the best and worst of how I've treated them and how they treated each other. 

Last week I go to preschool with Bryson and I feel nervous and awkward.  I’m the only working mom in the class, I’m the only one who has a youngest child in the class.  I’m not used to that.  My hands feel weirdly empty, like they should be busier soothing a baby or picking up a puzzle that my toddler spilled.  I’m not in yoga pants because my nanny will be meeting me in the parking lot after this little orientation so I can rush off and be late to work.  I’m not doting on him like a first child, and he doesn’t need me like the other kids in the class seem to need their moms.  He can't get enough of his new teacher.  Want's every minute of her time.  This feels awkward, like I’ve never felt before, and I leave feeling like I won't fit in with all the wonderfully nice moms I've just met, and that makes me sad.  But then 5 days later it is time to drop him off for his first real day of preschool.  The first day when the mamas leave.  What was awkward a few days ago, feels good now.  Some of these three-year-olds have never been left before.  They are crying out in pain and anguish.  Their mamas are crying too.  The pain in the family is palpable, and in one case, seeing it brings tears to my eyes, I’m hurting for how much they are hurting.  Bryson goes in happily, confidently, and there is not a doubt in my mind that he won’t.  He is all joy.  He has been waiting for this day as long as he can remember.  He got toted here in a car seat, lost here in the halls as a toddler, and waited for his sisters many times at the end of the hall in the parent area.  Now it is his turn to go into his classroom, and his heart could not be more full.  I look at him and I feel proud.  I look at the crying kids and I feel bad that my boy happily waves “ga-bye mama” after a quick hug.  I know I shouldn’t.  I’m happy because my boy is not sad.  Am I a better mama because my kid didn’t cry at preschool drop off?  No, of course not…

But I’m reminded for the millionth time in this parenting journey that there are more ways than one to do this well.  I'm getting validation from my child's happy face.  The one of three faces where I should be looking for it.  

So raw isn’t a sad word or a happy word.  It’s that my heart feels more on the outside that usual.  Which is, you know, saying a lot coming from me.  I’m noticing my failures and my successes a little more often.  I’m loving what I am, but mourning what I am not.  I can taste the tears and laughter of my own childhood.  And during this time I take a few vacation days to savor the time with them.  Then I work hard and efficiently to make the most of my time at the office.  Then I wake up early and stumble to the coffee pot to remember I am God’s child and spend time being still.  To feel that God is love.  And I am loved.  

And this raw life is beautiful and good, and it’s mine and I’m proud of it.  My kids will have their own kid hurts that make them raw, but it probably won’t be the third grade, or going to preschool for the first time.  It will be things that I can’t and do not want to anticipate.  There are beautiful blessings everywhere.  Tomorrow I will be careful to notice them.  

Be where you are, because where you are is pretty great!

Wordful Wednesday - Because words matter

Today at work, a friend was having a hard time.  We found 15 minutes to talk and I was so grateful.  At the end of our conversation I told her that she is a good wife.  Because she is.  She really needed to hear that today.  That's not why I said it, I said it because it is true.  

I got back to my desk and she wrote this to me:

You are such a blessing to me and all of your friends and family.

You rock as a wife and mother! And you are a good daughter and daughter-in-law too.

Most of all, you are a beautiful daughter of God! 

I think He must smile often when He thinks of you and your quest to be the best daughter of the King possible.

My friends, I can't think of anything nicer she could have said to me.  That anyone could have said to me.  This has been a tough week, and it's only Wednesday, and here this friend just whipped up what she thinks of me real quick in a gchat.  She whipped up in 30 seconds a few sentences that basically encompass what I want my whole life to be about.  And I'm in awe that someone I respect and think so highly of would say that about me.  Broken, messy, crazy, little, me.  To remind me that in all of my ugly places, God is smiling down on me, as His sweet little girl, and noticing how hard I'm trying.  My words mattered to her, and her words mattered to me.  Say nice things to people who...to people.  Because words matter.  

Wordless Wednesday - the view

Some days I wish I could hold my babies all day long and never go to work. Then I walk in my office to this view and it's like God is courting me, reminding me that He loves me, every minute of my life. Promises and goodness await me.

To see what I have missed

Today was a bittersweet day.  Our nanny had a death in the family and she needed to miss work today, so I got a surprise impromptu SAHM day.  For those of you out of the know in the so called "mommy wars", that stands for Stay at Home Mom.  


And I got to be one today, unexpectedly, and it was awesome.  Because it was not calendared as a day off with my kids, I didn't have any "plans".  No doctors or dentist or physical therapy appointments squeezed in, no grocery shopping or big chores to tackle.  Just step in and have the role of taking care of my children.  It's sad to admit how often I don't get to do that.  I spend a lot of time with them.  My working from home days, the weekends, vacation days, all the aforementioned appointments, I wake up with them, and go to sleep with them, I volunteer at school, and take them each on as many special outings as I can possibly squeeze in.  It's not exactly time that I'm missing, even though there is a fair amount of time I am at work.  It's something else.    


It was Lily's last day of first grade.  So first we took obligatory pictures.  Addie and Bryson even walked her to the bus with me since it was the last time this year.  Lily asked Addie to go, Bryson will always jump at the chance, but Addie usually rather hang back in the warm house with no shoes on and watch from the window.  To my surprise, she humored her sister and came along.  Addie has the best hair in the morning.  

Lily - last day of 1st grade - 4 baby teeth replace by bigs, a shoe size larger, and 3 inches taller

Lily's last day of first grade

Lily Addie Bryson (note to self- he'll sit if you don't put shoes on him when the ground is cold), Lily's last day of first grade.  

And for comparison's sake (because I must), here is the first day of First Grade: 

Lily first day of first grade 

Lily Addie Bryson - Lily first day of first grade

Lily's first day of first grade

The day today was just so great.  I finished my company's audit yesterday.  5 months of hard work was finished, my burden there was lifted.  So when Nanny asked for today off, it was a no brainer.    I was happy to have today with the kids.  Giddy actually.  It was the kind of day that, while I did check my work email on my phone to keep me off the computer, I didn't have to worry that there would be a pressing issue to address.  My boss is in Japan, my staff is competent.  I knew that there was not one thing that couldn't wait until tomorrow.  So I just got to be with kids.  I did go to the grocery store with them, at our leisure, I did get the dishes done and the house picked up, I did sit outside in the sun and watch them play for a few hours, I did pick Lily up from her last day of first grade, I did go through her school binder and decide what to save and what to toss, and I did turn the guest bedroom into a scrapbook room vs a homework room for the summer-together with Lily.  I did get to snap this picture with Lily and her teacher on their last day of school. 

Lily with Mrs M on the last day of First Grade - We LOVE you Mrs. M!!

There were so many parents there, you would have thought it was the first day of school.  We had to park blocks from the school.  I didn't have to worry about a stroller for Bryson, because we had all the time we needed, no rush, just walk at his pace all those blocks to the school.  Some moms had flowers, flowers, for their first graders last day of school.  Wow.  Flowers!  I was happy to just be there, but my hands were empty.  Or full, rather, of Addie and Bryson's hands.  I looked around at all the moms who were there, and I felt proud to be there, standing among them.  I couldn't help but look at all the moms who planned to be there, who knew they'd be there all week, who were not there due to a sad circumstance in their child care provider's life.  I was there, it shouldn't matter.  But it did a little.  It's just hard for me not to want that life.  


Today was a blessing, a wonderful amazing blessing.  Not because they didn't fight, and tattle, and make messes, and throw tantrums and get time outs.  Not because I never lost my patience repeatedly telling them to stay in or out of the hard to push car shaped shopping cart, not to climb in and out over and over and teach your little brother to do the same.  Not because I got a moment of time to myself.  Not because I didn't try to accomplish some organizing and other general cleaning, as they messed it up faster than I could beautify it.  Not because I'm not dead tired right now.  All of those things happened.  I don't pretend to think this life is easy or restful.  But I got to be there for it in a very relaxed, I have nothing else I need to be doing, this is my only job sort of way.  I never get that.  Not on vacation, not on the weekends.  This is not my only job.  It's hard to admit, because I'm afraid that mothers who read this and stay at home as their job, might pity me, or pity my kids, or think I'm less of a mother.  Maybe it's saying out loud that sometimes I think I'm less of a mother.    Especially today, when I see all the little things I miss.  While I'm living on the scraps of motherhood.


And the truth is, if they did, oh well.  I know I'm where I have to be right now.  I know that Lawrence and I have made the choice for our family that works.  We work together to make this work in a way that works for us.  We have an amazing young woman who fills in the gaps and takes care of our kids with incredible love and intention.  Maybe someday things will change, maybe they won't.  I pray that if it is God's will for me to have a different role in this family, that He will open doors for us to make that happen.  But as things stand right now, I am grateful, we are grateful.  Grateful for my late mornings and Lawrence's early ones, giving way to his early afternoons, which allows for home cooked meals and coaching opportunities and early bedtimes and lots of rest.  Grateful to have a daddy for my children that takes on his three blessings without wincing at how much work it will be.  Grateful for my work from home days that allow for even later mornings and volunteering in the class room during a lunch hour here and there and no commute time and putting kids down for naps and having lunch together.  


But a day like today leaves me aching for another full day with them, and another.  It's like I said, I get to see what I am missing.  And, even full of gratitude, when I'm completely honest with myself I do miss it.  I know staying at home with small children is not easy, but I hope that all the mamas who are living that life, enjoy the days that are given to them.  Because if I got to redo any day over and over again, it would be one like today.  


Today was a bittersweet day.  I can't believe some mothers get to wake up and be this kind of mother every day.  I hope they are able to see that amazing blessing for themselves.  Every day.  Even though I don't get to do today again tomorrow.  I did it well, today, and it gives me refocusing perspective that I needed after a season of hard.  I have a lifetime of good ahead of me.  

Sun Smiling

The sun is shining in my office window and it is SO warm in here.  I can see Mount Hood for the first time in quite a while.  Isn't it amazing what the sun on your back and capris on your legs can do for your soul?  It's easy to smile arriving at work when you walk into your office and it looks like this.  

Even with the auditors are here and a lot of work and a lot of stress.  I'm not working terribly long hours and I have been able to mostly keep it together, and haven't missed a bedtime yet in May.  Sure it's only the 7th, but it's May, so that is saying something.  One week of the audit is done.  I'm not sweating the small stuff.  Okay, I trying not to sweat the small stuff.  Paleo meals have been tough without as much time for meal planning, so I cooked and froze a lot on Saturday.  It felt good to plan ahead.  

Sure, I forgot it was teacher appreciation week until a girl at the bus stop acted annoyed at Lily for not having a flower for her teacher and ripped off one of her own for Lily to take to her teacher.  I told Addie we could stop at the store to grab one for her teacher, but Addie said it was not necessary, she wanted to get to school in time to play before class.  Dear Addie.  Don't worry, I'll overcompensate later in the week.    


On Friday our friend Meagan came with baby Taylor for a quick visit.  OZ couldn't come, but we were so happy to see Meg and Tay.  Taylor is so petite, weighing 12 pounds at 6 months old.  She is so easy to hold and I got to put her to sleep on Friday night.  It didn't make me want a baby of my own, but I sure did love loving on someone else's, giving Meg a short break, and snuggling with Taylor as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.  I love that moment when you feel them let go, and grow heavy in your arms.  I still love the rare occasion when that happens with my kiddos too!  

Anyway, Lily LOVED Taylor, Addie was indifferent, and Bryson was very curious.  He wasn't jealous at all when I held her, the way the other two were at this age with babies.  But I felt like I had to watch him and his unpredictibleness like Hawk.  I was impressed that he was as careful around her as he was.  


Anyway, just a glimpse of what another baby would look like in our house.  Don't start any rumors that we are going there, we are not.  And just as I would expect, Lily would like another baby the most and Addie would like another baby the least.  She and Bryson would duke it out for position of who I'd have to worry about more when alone with the baby.  

Saturday was another day filled with baseball and errands and cooking for the week.  We got the Toyota fixed but it is still making "the noise".  Sigh.  


Yesterday Lawrence ran his first HALF MARATHON.  We were so proud of him.  He did it in 2 hrs and 11 minutes.  He had to wait for a train two different times, so he thinks he could have shaved about 4 minutes off of that time if not.  He was hoping for 2 hrs, and then his adjusted goal after miles 5-8 being straight uphill (toward OHSU) he was hoping for 2 hrs and 10 minutes.  He was very sore last night, and realized his goal of a marathon before he turns 40, probably won't happen in June, more training is needed, but he still wants to accomplish it.  Hopefully that means a summer of running together as a family.  


Last weekend I went to a retreat at Cannon Beach with some wonderful women from my church.  Both mornings I got up and went for a run on the beach, I listened to uplifting music, focused on the incredible Haystack Rock, and it was all around amazing.  We talked a lot about taking quiet time.  The theme verse of the weekend was Psalms 46:10, 

Be still, and know that I am God...

I really needed that.  I can't remember the last time I was still, that my soul felt like it could just rest.  Just be, not do.  There were two built in quiet times during the weekend, where you weren't allowed to talk at all.  How great that quiet time of reflection and focus was.  

I've been eating great, taking a month long facebook fast, less TV, simplifying as much as possible, doing one minute of plank per day, going to bed earlier, waking up early to read my bible and have some quiet time everyday with God, and just generally feeling awesome and hopeful about things.  


I feel proud of all the work I'm doing to be in a better mental space, I'm thankful to God for bringing me there, it's amazing how starting off the day right each day gives me more than I need to get through an entire stressful day of demands.  


My kids and husband keep showing me my blessings right and left.  Even when I lose my patience with them, even when they don't listen, even when we are tired, even when none of us are perfect.  

Trying to get the words and the page together

More than a million things are swirling around in my head.  I compose the most brilliant and thought provoking masterpieces in my head.  In the shower, or while driving, or while laying there not falling asleep.  About perspective and change, about our trip to New York, about undocumented birthday parties, about cancer and life and morbid thoughts, about parenting and working and surviving, about living and experiencing and thriving.  


And then.  

I come here, and I also don't know where to start.  My blog has become a short and sweet (thankfully) commentary on the skin cancer that I had.  I say (thankfully) because it was removed so quickly, it is won and done.  Mixed with that is a lot of pictures of our family on Mount Hood this winter.  And we are basically in the same outfits in each picture.  Cancer, beautiful white mountain silhouette against a blue sky, eye bandage, same green snowpants, same blue coat, same gushing of gratefulness.  


This winter, like no other, being on the mountain, made me feel the most alive.  There and quiet moments alone are the places I felt closest to God, and I felt clarity.  Clarity of priorities and emotions.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was living a good life.  I can feel it when I breath in the frigid air and feel the burn of the cold wind on my face.  When I smile at my loved ones and when I use my muscles and power to move my strong body along in the snow.  


I am filled, consumed with emotions, and it's just swirling there inside of me.  


Let me see if I can start to explain, and not delete my post for fear of judgement.  I need to get something out.  A good friend told me to just try and process one emotion at a time.  I want to start to unravel the knots my thoughts are in.  So here I go, one thought.  


I think that I've always thought deep inside that if I had to guess how I would die, it would be from cancer.  I mean, I know it's morbid, but if we are honest, most have a hunch one way or another.  Or a hunch might even be too strong of a word.  We aren't supposed to talk about it, unless we are trying to be weird or creepy.  Anyway, Lawrence told me long ago that he thinks the way he will go is in a car accident, he's always had that feeling.  My guess is that a lot of people, if ask, think cancer.  Why not?  All we hear about these days is this or that has links to cancer.  I sure remember thinking as I baked to a crisp while running on the logs and flumes of Wallowa Lake summer after summer that of course I would probably get skin cancer, not that I even knew why that was bad.  Not that I imagined the good kind of skin cancer was THIS bad.  Not that I knew anything.  Except that if I got a really bad sunburn, it would eventually fade into a sort of tan after a few painful days.  If everything causes cancer, why even try to fight it?  


Well...that's not entirely true, but you get my point.  I don't live that way now.  We do a lot of things to fight it.  We eat organic fruits and vegetables when we can, we have a toxin free house, use make-up, soap, cleaners, and laundry soap that don't have harmful cancer-causing chemicals.  I breastfed all of my kids until they were a year.  I don't use deodorant with aluminum in it.  I mean, I do things, lots of things.  Now I'm eating a Paleo diet, and feeling great on that hoping the supposedly cancer reducing effects are also true. 


Before my real cancer experience, I've worked myself into tears imaging myself as the title character in "Tuesdays with Morrie", I've written my own "Last Lecture" stories in my head, recorded imaginary videos even.  Most of my imaginings are consumed with the great impact, what I must leave behind, documentation and advice for those that love me, for those who aren't old enough for the wisdom and teaching I must give them.  I've thought about how I would be at peace with going to Heaven, but then am filled with anguish about the pain of those left behind.  Now I know I am an extremely thoughtful person, with a big imagination, but I can't possibly be the only person who thinks about these things.  Or maybe I am, no one ever shares these thought with me if they have them.  And I'm am closer, close-close, with more people than anyone I know.  People who would share it.  


So when I heard the word cancer, it was like a confirmation of my worst fears!  My worst fears, that really weren't supposed to be true, those were just crazy fears that I'd conjured up.  "A little bit of skin cancer" she said, and I couldn't imagine what that meant.  But there was a plan, and I needed a plan in order to let her off the phone.  Then I waited a few weeks and prayed and had more faith than I ever have before, and that's saying a lot because I have loads of faith in my heart.  I felt love like I've never felt before, and again, I have more love in my life than I know what to do with, so it is saying something when I can pinpoint the time in which I was most loved, and I just experienced that time.  Then I had the surgery and it is all fine.  Fine.  Soreness near my eye, fullness in my heart.  


And, you know, that's not what you think of when you think of cancer, when your worst fear plays out as a true story.  When you think of cancer, you think of long term battles and treatment plans, you think of life changing perspective and bald heads.  And the thing is, some life changing perspective did come, and I was brave, and I am forever changed.  


I asked one of my friends why no one was commenting on my blog these last two weeks, while I wrote about my recover, when I know so many are reading.  She said, what is there to say?  It's awkward when you don't know what to say.  I guess.  Except that since I'm a blog writer, when I read a blog and I don't know what to say, I say "hugs", "thinking of you", "yay!".  Say something because nothing feels like, well, nothing.  


And now it is all over, and I'm not going to die, and I never was going to die.  There wasn't even a shadow of a doubt that in the end I would be cancer free and go on living.  I went through a battle and I was scared and I was strong.  Yay me!  My support network surprised and amazed me.  Yay loved ones! While I physically can see a scar, and a misshapen eye that every day looks and feels better, emotionally I feel changed in more ways than I can say.  I guess that is because I let myself go there, even if for a few minutes.  To the land of what if.  To the land of I need to be here no matter what.  To the land of ohmygoodness, what if I wasn't?  And my cancer that used to be a fear "out there", one that I was just imagining in my head, just like I am nervous when my great driving husband goes on a drive without me, just like I don't want my family to fly separately.  But now, it's in here.  In. My. Body.  It was in my body for 5 years and I didn't even know it.  and I looked at it in the mirror every day.  It reminds me of May 1994 when my fear of the dark changed from boogie man fear to real bad-things-happen-in-the-dark fear.  


What other cells could be malforming in my body?  I want to get my cervix checked and my breasts too.  I want to go BACK to the dermatologist, just to be sure there is nothing else.  I want to go right now, not in another year.  I want the same for everyone I know, get checked, all places.  I want some sort of guarantee that what I just went through is as bad as it's gonna get.  That was my life long bout with cancer, and man was I lucky.  But that's not the way it works.  And to be clear, I'm not living in fear, but with new prospective.  Easy to beat cancer or not, I am a cancer survivor, and a very blessed woman.  Those two things I know to be true right now.  


What then?  


How do I integrate back into the mundane chores and responsibilities of every day life?  I mean, every day life, do you know that I just beat cancer? How do I do it during the months of April and May, when I would typically live at the office, releasing my poor mommy-time-wanting-kids to the care of our nanny and my husband and their teachers?  I usually dig deep and just do what is needed of me, but work isn't the only or most important thing to succeed at, not in my new perspective.  In fact, I  want to go there do my best job, and be home for dinner most nights.  Every night.  I certainly wasn't able to do that last year, and I'm trying to figure out if that is even a choice I have, one I can make.  Am I pretending I don't have control over that, or do I really not have control over that.  I need to find a way to have control over that, to find out if that can be my choice.  I think it is, I think it can be.  A two inch scar on my eye tells me that I get to make every second count.  Every second of my only eight hours at work, and then every second of my nights and weekends at home.  


The thinker and planner and doer in me knows there has to be a way to make that possible.  To be more disciplined, to make a plan.  But how?  I can't think of a way to make it possible, but I know deep down that I must.  I must.  This cancer didn't threaten to take my life away like it could have, and it might have just reminded me to take it back.  I can't be the stay at home mom and wife I often dream of being.  But all or nothing isn't the goal here, finding a way to make the most of every second in a wise and present way...that's what I will set out to accomplish.  The tugging in my heart tells me to resolve to make some changes to celebrate living.  To celebrate the blessings I was given.  By God.  To me.  Whoa.  


This week I resolve to: 
-Look in the eyes of the person who is speaking to me and listen, especially my kids
-Spend more time holding my children, and less time directing them
-Say, "in a minute honey" 50x less per week
-Acknowledge the small stuff as small stuff and move past it
-Delegate the work
-Less time outs, more looking to the root of the matter
-Pray often, lift up the little stuff, the details, God's not just there for the catastrophes, draw close in the moments and listen
-Think about this moment at this moment
-Give less value to what others think or feel, give more value to what I think and feel, what Lawrence thinks, Lily thinks, Addie thinks, and Bryson thinks, and to what they each feel
-It's okay for others to disagree with me, it's okay for others to roll their eyes at me, they aren't where I am at.  That will not break me, nor should it change my feelings about myself.  Consider carefully at these moments who I am living for.  I am not living so that I won't ever disappoint others, so stop acting like I am  
-Eat dinner with my family every night M-F
-Look at the beautiful reflection staring back in the mirror, not the swollen eyelid, not the red scar that cannot yet tolerate make-up, not the wrinkles, but instead the truth, the youthful face of a big hearted, blessed, and healthy woman
-Memorize one verse which will uplift me when I forget Who's got this
-Sleep 8 hours a night.  Every night.  
-Count.My.Blessings: 

 -Laugh, laugh, laugh

Is that a lofty list?  Maybe, but my full heart is just getting started.

The scraps of motherhood

Hold on friends, this is a long journey deep into my heart.  Maybe it will touch you, maybe it will not.  But I feel some peace writing it down, and I even documented a few of my precious moments, so I can get to crossing that off the list.  

Every mother wishes there were more of herself to go around, and every working mother, has, at one time or another wondered how come she only get the worst part of the day with their children, the scraps.  The scraps of motherhood.  


Before I get into this, I should start be saying we have a fabulous nanny.  She adores our kids and our kids can't get enough of her.  And I love her too.  She is sweet and smart and fun.  She acts like a kid but is responsible and careful.  She works really hard, and is conscientious to make sure we think she is doing a good job.  She is a good communicator, and it is so easy if I ever ask her to do something differently, she isn't defensive or argumentative.  She is exactly the way you would want your nanny to be.  What I'm about to say about the way I feel about my scraps says nothing about her, and to some extent I've felt this way since that first day in January of 2005 when I returned to work after maternity leave after having Lily.  I've been through daycare centers, preschools, nannies, au pairs...it isn't about the care.  When the care is wonderful, the kids like it, and I do want that, and more importantly I have it.    Just so we are clear.  


Bryson told me he liked our nanny better than he likes me yesterday.


And while it stings, this should not come as a huge shock to me.  I get him up from his bed in the morning, give him his milk with little cuddle time, while I race Lily around feeding & grooming her, to get her out the door for the bus by early:29am.  Then I come back in to do the same for Addie.  I race upstairs when the nanny arrives to throw myself together, to get out the door to take Addie to preschool 30 minutes after the bus just came for her sister.  Sometimes, between directing him not to grab, touch, or break things, I get Bryson a second cup of milk, some breakfast if he is ready, then give him a few hugs and kisses on the way out of the door.  If he lets me. Sometimes, I have to push him back in the door because he wants to come.  Sometimes he cries, and sometimes he says "I need you not doe bah-bye", but more often, he walks away, unaffected.  Rarely do I read him the book that he has been carrying around all morning pulling on my leg while I braid hair, asking me "Weed dis book, weed dis book, tom on mama!"  - Our nanny will do it, honey.  That's the fun stuff, and I haven't time for the fun stuff.  


These days, I [hopefully] get home in time to say hello, change him into a night time diaper and then put him to bed.  Sometimes there is a little time before that to break up a fight between he and Addie, bark at him to stop throwing food from his highchair once he is done eating, or feel frustrated when he puts his toothbrush exploratorily down the gross drain or side sink hole, resulting in wet sleeves and him wrestling me to the death to put on a dry pajama shirt.  Lawrence wonders why it takes me a half an hour or more to go through the bedtime routine with him, when it takes him less than 5 minutes to put him quietly to bed.  It's because after I get him into his sleep sack, with his monk-monk under his chin, we rock & I sing to him as he savors every drop of milk in his cup.  Then, like a wonderful heavy exhale, he turns into me, belly to belly and gets his head comfy on my shoulder, and we sing and we rock.  And I collapse in that moment.  Sometimes I start to sing, and stops me, he chooses a new song.  Sometimes he says "Let me sing it", and I do, and I hold his hand and rub his soft baby fat fingers, and I listen, hanging on the way he sings every word.  I'm in awe of his ability to sing the song, and I could listen to it for much longer than the half an hour it takes me to put him down.  The moment we finish one song, he says, "what we sing now?" almost as if he thinks that if a moment of silence passes, our time together for the day will be over.  I always sing last as I am laying him down, "I love you Bry-y-son, oh yes I do (he chimes in "I do!"), I love you Bry-y-son, and will be true (he again says "I do"), when your not near me, I'm blue (he sings that line with me), I love you Bryson, I love you.  Then we sing I love you mama, same song.  Then I sing Bryson again as I leave the room.  Lately he has been stalling and fighting that song.  In my guilt-ridden mind, I know it's because he knows it's the end.  That's it for today buddy, same deal tomorrow, okay?  


Then I head into the girls room.  It's between 7:30-8pm, and so far the time I've spent with them today, is what I've described above.  On a good day, they get up and get themselves dressed in the laid-out-clothes from the night before, they eat, I make coffee or go get babbling Bryson.  Then I gently bark orders about eating a bit faster, and getting shoes on, teeth brushed, hair fixed, coat on, backpack packed.  I try to have a meaningful conversation with Lily while waiting for the bus, especially when I don't have to bring the younger two out with me, because our nanny has arrived.  It has been cold and raining so we huddle together under the umbrella and talk about the day ahead.  The devastation and failure I feel when I realize I've forgotten her library book on library day, or to put her in gym shoes on gym day (yesterday=gym in snow boots), a hat on a cold day, or left her packed lunch on the counter, is highly over-exaggerated and dramatic.  In my mind, I know this, but in my heart it feels like putting a hat on my kid's head on a subzero day is the least I could do, and it is directly correlated to my poor planning or bad mothering skills.  My mind knows that is not true.  My heart does not.  


Also, on a good day, I take Addie to school, and we get that time to talk.  It's 15 minutes I treasure with her.  So when I haven't gone over the logistics with Lawrence to make sure there are enough car seats for me to take her and Nanny to pick her up, Nanny has to take her and pick her up, and I lose that time.  And it again feels like a failure.  But at least I don't have to rush to be out the door, and I can spend a few extra minutes in the shower, but more often than not, I feel too guilty to enjoy it.  


After I have put Bryson down in the evening, Lawrence is usually already done with the girls.  During that time, they have brushed their teeth and gone potty, and are waiting with the small lamp on for me to come.  Sometimes they are both on Lily's top bunk with her reading lamp on and Lily reads to her little sister while they wait.  I "rock-a-bye" and "rock-a-hmm hmm" them individually, and I pray with them individually.  I try to make sure that during my "Thank you God for this day" prayer, I am not going through the generic schpeel of being thankful, I want them to truly feel cherished, I want them to feel my thankfulness about being their mother.  I intentionally think of one thing that is specific to them that I am thankful for.  I do not want them to think that this is a going through the motions type of deal.  This is a time to hold on tight to our bear bears because we are glad God gave us a bear bear to love so much and give us comfort, and to be thankful that Lily has an empathetic heart, and that she figured out how to talk through a problem with a friend today.  Lily always wants me to make sure to pray that she has no bad thoughts or dreams when she sleeps, and I do.  I also usually pray that she can feel my love and God's love wrapped around her while she sleeps.  That the One who created her and the one who gave birth to her think she is perfect, just as she is.  No matter how many times outs or scoldings about hurrying up there were today.  Because it is true.  


The 2 days a week that I work from home, those are the days that save me.  On those days I usually start at 9-9:30 and am done at 5.  On occasion I eat lunch with the kiddos and hear about their day so far.  I put Addie down for her naps, when she still takes them.  I get to be involved in dinner making, or at the very least eating it with the family.  I get to sit with Bryson and read a book or 7 in the morning, even if I end up putting a hat on my unwashed hair and taking Addie to school in my unwashed jeans with my jammie shirt hiding under my zipped up coat.   I can take an hour or two a month and help out in Lily's classroom, or go to doctor appointments.  Despite my very stressful job, after 10 years, I do have flexibility to take care of my family's needs when there is an illness or a big event.  More than most I'd say.  But the daily grind.  It can wear me out.  And more, it can wear me down.  Last week I missed one day of working from home due to an interview in the office, and the week before I continued to work upstairs during movie night because of a essential last minute deadline I was required to meet.  That one night and that one day threw off my whole balance last week.  Add in the fact that after missing bedtime entirely 2 nights that week, I drove from downtown to Hillsboro to make it on time for Addie's Karate because I hadn't seen one lesson yet, but I got there as Lawrence was strolling all three of them out of the building, and my heart swelled with pain and failure.  In that moment, I made a decision.  I could have drove home angry at myself and my bad eyes for getting lost on the way there, not correctly reading street signs in the dark.  Instead I decided to be glad that I'd come, let Lawr have a peaceful drive home while we traded cars, and I cheerfully chatted for 40 minutes with my kids about their day.  Until I had to yell at Bryson not to tear up the book he was holding.  :)  


When we just had Lily, I thought I had the scraps.  But it was just her, and there were two of us.  And every moment of scrap time was spent making her feel loved, in an environment she thrived in, so there was less no, and more yes.  Even when mild tempered Addie came along.  There were two, and it was often divide and conquer scrap time, but Addie didn't get into things and destroy things the way Bryson does, so I felt like I could manage that scrap time and it was mostly pleasant with a dash of drill sergeant.  


These days, with the addition of my Bryson-monster - who has truly entered the terrible twos, if I'm not careful I can quickly turn mostly drill sergeant, with a dash of pleasant.  If I'm lucky.  And that's not good because my mind says you are doing your best, you are doing good enough, even.  But you know that's not what my heart says.  It says I'm not enough.  Not good enough.  And those are the times that I can reach out and tangibly feel God's voice in my ear.  You. Are. Enough.  Just. As. You. Are.  Right. Now.  


And I'm reminded that I don't have to clean up my act and be "better" before God will love me, he just does.  As I am.  With my imperfections.  And sin.  And failures, both self-perceived, and culturally-perceived.  He loves me now, and He certainly knows me now.  After all, He created me to be this mess.  A beautiful big mess with a purpose and a voice.  Right now.  This is it.  It's scraps.  But if I wasn't living on scraps now, would I ever be able to fully appreciate more someday?  I don't know.  I do know that there is a lesson to be learned through every story.  And it takes patience to get there.  Perspective helps too.  Will there be a day that I would give anything for this normal?  For this daily grind? Maybe.


So I spend my weekends fitting in QT with my family, going to birthday parties, and occasionally letting that my friends know that I have not fallen off the face of the earth.  We are making fun memories, while also trying to make sure we have food in the house and clean underwear to put on for the week ahead.  I have calendars and to do lists as far as the eye can see.  There are big plans for an organized future and year ahead, no forgotten library books or lunches or hats in 2012, no sir.  Not to mention 8 hrs of sleep.  The house usually gets bare minimum treatment, plus a little love from our cleaning lady every few weeks.  Those toilets aren't going to clean themselves and God knows I'll never find time.  


So what's a girl to do?  If you know me, you know I can't end any blog being all, woe is me.  You also know that I'm not looking for pity.  Being a mom is hard, 1 kid, 2 kids, 3 kids, 4 kids, 5 kids, whether you work or stay at home with your children, it's hard.  So this isn't a discussion of what I should do.  Everyone looks at everyone and says, 'oh I could never do that'.  But we all could do that, if that's what we had to do.  We all do do that, that which someone else says they could not.


So, I just keep going, and keep appreciating, and keep loving.  Keep eating those scraps like they are the best meal I've ever had. Because they are the only meal that I have.  And on a day, like my birthday, when I took the day off work, to just be with them, to just play with them, no obligations, no appointment, no work...well, then, I enjoy it and savor it, and know that this is how it should be.  This is the good stuff.  And this good stuff is mine.  And for now that's enough.    

"Gratitude turns what we have into enough"

Well, I am grateful, that's for sure.  

And sometimes I do get a chance to sit down and read the book.