Pillow Talk

Craig finally returned from his mountain lion hunt a few days ago. I hate it when he's gone. It feels so wrong to go to bed without him. Almost eerie. I try to wear myself out completely so that when I finally do hit the sack I fall asleep quickly. Sometimes it works, others it doesn't. I just miss my chatty man. We always have great plans to go to bed early but as soon as the lights go out... the verbiage begins. "Wasn't it cute when Hallie ...?" "I wish I could turn back time to when..." There is never a shortage of conversation until either he or I start having slurred speech and half-sentences. It's all over from there until the next night. But when he's gone it surprises me how much I REALLY miss it. I'll be the first to admit that sometimes we drive each other crazy. But isn't it nice to know that at the end of the day all you want is to be beside the one you love. Happy Valentine's my love.

"Real Person?"

I love being a mother; wouldn't trade it for a million dollars but some days it would feel nice to be a "real person" for the day... A woman without snot smeared across her shirt or a gummy bear stuck to the bottom of her sock. How would it feel to wake up, get straight to work doing whatever task I set my mind to achieve that day and do it without 20 interruptions per minute? Not to mention trying to have a shower without someone opening the door every 30 seconds to tell me what someone else took from them, spilled on the floor or wrote on the wall. By now everyone reading this is thinking what a horrible mom. That's okay...I'm just saying what we are all thinking sometimes. Parenting is hard! Is this REALLY what we signed up for?

In light of the recent economy slump, I've begun looking for a job. At first the search was exciting. The prospect of someone paying me money for whatever talent I may have sounded very appealing. I could get up in the morning, be that "real person" for a few hours then come home again. Like a split-identity or something, right? So it seemed until the actual applying, interviewing and phone-calls began...

Suddenly I was overwhelmed with what I will have to sacrifice if I go to work. All the walks on sunny afternoons. Staying in bed till 10 am watching cartoons with kids piled all over me. Sticky kisses and scraped knees. This is what I dreamed of doing my entire life and when I think of leaving it behind everyday it absolutely breaks my heart. With every one of these messy little stinkers in my house I have given up another little piece of myself but in doing so have gained so much more. I have learned to love, to feel and to dream what someday might hold for each of them.

So while I may be out in the work force shortly, I've learned an important lesson for now: Cherish it...Every second of it! Cherish untangling Barbie's hair from the Matchbox car wheels. Cherish untying the socks wrapped around the big dinosaurs to hold on the baby dinos. Cherish the laughs and the tears and the fact that I can be here for ALL of it today....because we never know what tomorrow brings.

This IS what I signed up for. The hardest, most exhausting, messiest, most emotionally draining position in the world! And the most priceless...Motherhood.

APRONS

How many of you remember your Grandma's aprons? The following story was sent to me and brought back a flood of memories of my Grandma Mitchell who lived on the mountain in Alabama. On any given day at her home she could be seen wearing her apron as she ironed, washed, cooked, cleaned, sewed, or anything else for that matter. Boy, I miss her...

What do you remember about aprons as a child?

The History of APRONS
I don't think our kids know what an apron truly is. The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath. Because she only had a few, it was easier to wash aprons than dresses and they used less material, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven. It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears. From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids. And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms. Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove. Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron. From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls. In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees. When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds. When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner. It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that 'old-time apron' that served so many purposes.
REMEMBER: Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool. Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw. They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron. I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron ... but Love !!

Post-Holiday Blues

Has anyone else got 'em??? For the last month one of the first things I've done each morning is plug in the Christmas tree. The thought of not having that cozy tree-light feeling in our home everyday makes me so sad. Apparently it makes CJ sad, too. This afternoon while the girls were at school I went upstairs to the toy room to take down the little "tacky tree," I like to call it. It has been decorated in neon lights, bulbs and stars the past 3 Christmas Seasons. The kids love it. Anyway, I first took off the ornaments, then the lights and last began to disassemble the tree. CJ came running from across the room just sobbing. At first I thought "What happened? Is he hurt?" Then he laid down on top of the tree and hugged it. He kept trying to pick it up and pull the limbs back down on it. It absolutely broke my heart. I feel your pain, CJ.

Where is Your "Home"

A good friend of mine had this post on her blog that made me think about "home."

This will always be my "home." Northern Alabama...The cudzu, the cotton fields, the miles of green trees all speak peace to my mind. Strangers waving as they pass you on the road, making a new friend each time you wait in the check out line at the grocery store and the genuine people that may have little but are rich in happiness.

Many times when I am rude to a phone or door solicitor I come away feeling guilty. That wasn't the way I was raised. I was reminded of this last Christmas season at the mall with my dad. We were stopped by a salesman with a booth filled with wind chimes in the middle of the mall. Shiny, metal, tacky windchimes. Rather than blowing him off, my dad stopped, smiled, made eye contact and listened for what seemed like hours as this guy with a foreign accent rambled on about his wind chimes and how beautiful they were. After he'd finished the entire explanation, my dad politely told him that they were beautiful but that he would have to pass on them this time. As we walked away I tought to myself, "lesson learned."

I love Utah. It is a great place to raise a family. I am grateful to be here. But in my heart, my "home" will always be Alabama.

Where is your "home"??

Happy Birthday Liz-O!

I can't believe you are 7 already. It really isn't fair how quickly time passes. I feel like the craziness of the past two years with the twins has robbed me of watching you turn into the little lady that you are becoming. You love to set your alarm and get up in the mornings to do your reading and your hair. You can't wait to grab the babies out of their cribs when they wake up and you are always doing a perfomance of some kind for us (lately it is dancing and singing to Mama Mia or Natasha Beddingfield.) You are a very responsible, fun, loving and dramatic little girl. This year you wanted a little motor-scooter for your birthday. After we told you that we really couldn't afford one, you decided that you would save up to pay for half of it. You did chores every day for 3 months. When it came time to buy the scooter, you had a really hard time handing over your savings. You had to think about it for a few days before you knew for sure that it was worth giving up your loot. For your little party you invited over a few friends for cupcake decorating and games.


You are such a joy in our family. We would be lost without you!

Tribute to my mother

Tommorrow is Thanksgiving Day and my 31st birthday and all day I've been thinking of my mother. Probably a little because the twins have been extremely clingy today, a little because I'n always homesick at the holidays and a little because before Craig and the children... she was my life. Not to discredit my dad at all. He was a wonderful father, provider, teacher of wisdom, etc and I will always share a special bond with him. But it was my mother that I spent countless hours with every day. It was my mother that made me go back into the store to apologize for stealing bubble gum. It was my mother that sat beside me at teacher conferences and held my back my hair while I threw up with a stomach flu. It was my mother that learned to give me shots every night while I was going through in vitro (despite the fact that she almost passed out every time.)

Looking back at the two-thirds of my life spent in her prescence I can say she is the most unselfish person I've ever known. Whenever someone she loved was sick, she could be found caring for them, many times sacrificing her own sleep, interests and health. Whenever someone was lonely, she could be found sitting across from them on the couch, asking about their childhood, their families, their passions. Whenever someone was grieving, she could be found at their side, a shoulder to cry on with a chicken pot pie on the table.

I still call my mom every few days. Usually it is around midnight. No matter how late it is or how long she's been asleep, whenever I ask if I woke her she says, "Oh no. I was just resting my eyes." No matter how hard life seems, when I hear her voice on the other end of the line life suddenly isn't that bad. She has been my sounding board time after time. Sometimes sympathizing, other times telling me to be tough. "No matter how hard life seems...you WILL get through it, " she's told me many times.

Thank you, Mother. For 31 years of service to me. For singing me through months of the colic, saving my life with the blue bulb syringe, teaching me to love imagination and stories, showing me how to love others and think outside myself, and loving me despite what I may have said or done. I will forever be in debt to you.

Love Always, Lora