Jared turns 11.

This guy.  

He turned 11 a few weeks ago.  I am counting my blessings as I gather my thoughts for this post, that the weeks surrounding his birthday were complete chaos for me.  I may not have celebrated it.  I may have protested.  It can't be true. This boy who is filled with light, joy, sweetness, and fun cannot possibly have lived 11 years already.  Jared is disorganized, distractible, a major mess maker, and the most creative boy you'll ever find with a pile of junk.  If it isn't nailed down, and most people think it's useless, Jared wants it.  Last year as an incentive to bring his homework home, and to then, do it- I gathered a bin full of random supplies from zip ties to marbles, and a wood saw and random chunks of metal and wood to old handles and hinges.  He couldn't contain his excitement. (It didn't work. He loved the bin, but in my own chaos, I couldn't keep him away from it, even to do homework.)  

If a package arrives in the mail, you might as well toss the box it came in down the stairs toward Jared's room, because that is where it will eventually find its home.  Today I made my way to his classroom as the bell rang to help Jared give his desk a bit of attention.  As I knelt down to get comfortable at desk height, I started to giggle.  

This was the scene underneath his desk.  Medical tape so carefully strung from leg to leg.  You know that didn't happen so neatly on the first try.  Another gem about Jared.  He loves writing utensils, he always has.  He sort of collects them.  If you are missing a pen or pencil, chances are Jared has it.  

Although a rowdy and rambunctious boy, Jared has always had a gentle soul. He begged to play tackle football this season and after many months of consideration, we decided the positive's about football far outweighed the scary.  It has been a fun ride experiencing the world of football parents. (is there an emoji that conveys insanity? Insert here.)  Thankfully I can still coax him into a little snuggle time, he is quite affectionate, and though his emotions still play close to the surface, I will admit I am sad that the days of a sensitive little boy who cries too often, are numbered.  

I have sighed far more during this post, than most others.  Trying not to be too sad that this guy is growing up, up, up.  Claiming proudly that he is sprouting (albeit invisible) arm pit hair, is no deterrent for this mama who often needs a snuggle. 

Happiest birthday little buddy.  

I love you to the moon.

*** The day after I wrote this post,  I received a text from a friend with this picture and it read, "Found these determined souls down on Fiddlers Canyon by the retention basin. They have pushed it up 2 blocks so far!  I wished them good luck! Hands down my favorite thing I have seen yet this week!" 

If you have ever driven up in my neighborhood, it's a pretty steep climb to push an old built-in TV up two blocks.  They showed up at home empty handed.  When asked where the TV was, they replied, "we couldn't push it anymore, so we just left it by the round about, but we put a sign on it for $150!" When I asked them if for some reason someone wanted to pay them $150 for it, how would they know who to pay?  Oh, we put your cell number on the sign mom! 

Oh. My. Land. 

My sweet friend Amy helped me load that bad boy (and the sign!) into her truck and off to a dumpster, since even the DI wouldn't take it! 

The power of positive pants

Those people who always seem to be happy, to find joy in the journey, to look for the good... I want desperately to be one of those people.  Janna was so much that person.  She often referred to "putting on her positive pants" when she knew she had a hard thing ahead of her or she could feel herself starting to creep toward self pity.

I enjoy being happy, I love the feeling I get when I can look past an obstacle and see the good amidst the junk.  I'm not so great at putting on my positive pants when I'm tired, cranky, and overwhelmed.  I am really good at snapping at my children, and being short with my husband.  Today I shared those qualities, with my 15 year old son.  I love having a child that can problem solve, is mastering the art of sarcasm, and that I laugh with about stuff that would be lost on a younger kid.  But with those things, comes a kid who can call you on your crap, and knows when you're just having a bad day and taking it out on them. Jayce calls me on my crap, and my crap doesn't like it.  Today we spent a half an hour sitting in the car after we got home from church discussing the blessing of being positive.  He likes everything to be "fair." Which of course is relative when you're parenting 3 kids of different ages, differing personalities, and varying strengths and weaknesses.  He wants to talk though every situation where he gets treated differently than another sibling, so that he can be heard while he describes why his treatment is unfair.  Sorry dude, ain't nobody got time for that.  We all could spend our lives away trying to talk through why everything in everyone's lives are unfair.  It's exhausting just thinking about it!

Instead I challenged him for 24 hours to focus on nothing but the positive.  (He referenced a conference talk for last general conference, I was very impressed)  It took a few minutes of practicing.  How is that possible, he asked.  For example, I said, you walk outside and step in a pile of dog poop.  What's the positive?  He couldn't do it.  Thank goodness you had shoes on, and it didn't squish between your toes!  Thank heavens the dog pooped on the ground and not in your bed, and dog poop in the grass means we have our Flapjack, whom we love so much.  He started to catch on, but a thread of frustration was still intertwined with this new thought process.  His desire for fairness, for justice, and balance in treatment is strong.  I reminded him of Corrie and her reluctance to accept Betsy's gratitude for the fleas.  If these women, in the worst possible situation possibly ever, found things to grateful for, certainly we, as blessed as we are, can do the same.  (Corrie Ten Boom, The Hiding Place)

It's been 6 hours.  He has worked hard.  He grins sideways at me when he finds something especially difficult to find gratitude in, like at least Lainy gets to enjoy those Oreos, instead of them going to waste when he finds frustration at being gluten free.  

Maybe that's the answer.  If you desire and choose to be happy, and find joy, you will.  Eventually, if we try hard enough we will look around at the rain and realize that without trying we found beauty and gratitude for it.

Don't help!

I hadn't intended for the evening to turn toward a family council, but those are the best ones.  The ones that sort of just land in your lap and lay out seamlessly.  Well, with wrinkles, I mean they are my children after all.

My plate has been pretty full for a few months now.  Consistently full.  Sometimes when it spills over, I complain about the mess it's making.  And then I remember how lucky I am to have a plate with so much goodness a top.  Basketball, football, volleyball, scouts, piano, young women's, Color Run, baking, and everything else that this time of year brings to everyday life.  It's busy.  I mean, most days I don't stop moving until I hit the sheets.  So... you can imagine the state of my house.  It's less than pristine.  So, when your volleyball player comes in, drops her ball, knee pads and water bottle in the living room, followed shortly by your football player who drops his gear as he walks through the house toward the shower, where he leaves his clothes and towels behind,  backpacks unloaded and strewn across the counter,  peaches, pears, and tomatoes waiting patiently for their preservation, dust, dirt, fingerprints, and life all over the place!

Tonight I sat them down, and a story I had perused in the weeks prior popped into my brain.  It is titled "I don't help my wife," author unknown.   In it he talks about how he does housework not to help his wife, but because he lives there too.  He wears clothing that needs to be laundered, he uses dishes that need to be cleaned, he walks on the carpet that needs vacuuming, he pees in the throne that needs to be scrubbed.  As usual, Jayce is the kid who latched onto the idea, and understood my plight.  He may be a loose cannon with impulsivity, but that kid is dependable and aware of people and what they need help with.  To the core.  He reads situations faster than I do and leaps to aid.  So, I called the two youngers out on their crap.  I'm pretty sure my pleas fell on deaf ears.

We all get stuck in a habit of laziness.  Doing the minimum amount required to get by, muddling through.  So, look at your life, light a fire if you need to.  Shake things up, be better, try harder, and by all means pay attention to things and people around you, lend a hand, pick up trash someone left behind, talk to the lady in line next to you, wave to your neighbor, and don't forget to look at your kids or your spouse sometimes and see what an amazing human you have in your life!  I love my amazing humans.

Ragnars and Photo facials

The last two weeks have been nutso.  Let's go even farther and say that the last few months have been crazy all leading up to the last two weeks of chaos.  The last few months I had been training for yet another Ragnar.  My 6th Ragnar.  And my last.  At least for a while.

Colorado- Copper Mountain to Aspen.  It was incredible, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous.  I lucked out and had two 6.5 mile runs during the day and a 3.5 mile run at night.  I had high hopes of getting most of my running in while I breathed in the scenery.  With a van full of lovely women, we had a grand time.  Rivers, lakes, streams, mountains, meadows, sun  rises and sun sets were near perfection.  It was the night time isolation, bear sightings, and coming down with a massive cold during my last run that threw me.

Night running is a funny little game.  I find that if I can find someone who has about the same pace as I do, I will just stick close by so I feel a sense of support in case some crazy goes down.  Which is what happened with the bear.  Megen was part way through her night run and we were not too far from her along a mountain road, while she ran a little way down the mountain out of sight.  I was driving and what turned out to be a cat jumped out from the bushes startling all 5 of us left in the car.  So, when the animal a few yards ahead jumped out and started lumbering across the road we all took a second to register what we were seeing!  Sure enough, it was a good sized black bear.  Megen later told us that she had heard rustling in the bushes, likely in the same place we had seen him running up the mountain.

My last run was mid morning and the weather was perfect.  Running along side a beautiful lush lined river, I was prepared for a sweet spot. Turns out I was unprepared for all of it.  About a half a mile in I realized I was getting a cold, and it was happening fast.  I texted my team to find me along the route and have ibuprofen ready.  Unfortunately, I was too far into my run and had to take a turn off away from the road and along a path by the river.  Which was GORGEOUS.  By then I was two miles in and my face was throbbing.  My teeth hurt, my throat was on fire and raw, and my body was less than happy to be moving at all.  I texted Jason, filled him in and said I was finished.  I couldn't go any further.  I was going to call it.  He responded that he believed in me, that I had trained for this and that he knew I could do it.  I cried and ran, and cried and ran some more.  And I spit.  A lot.  At that point my head was full and mouth continued to fill with junk.  So now I'm crying, spitting and running.  It was then that I looked toward heaven and told Heavenly Father I was so tired and I couldn't finish.  I turned my head and started to spit again when I very clearly heard the Spirit say, "don't spit."  For a split second I questioned the command (response, gift, guidance).  But I didn't spit.  And wouldn't you know it, my raw throat dissipated,  my teeth and jaw stopped throbbing, and I had the ability to breath.  I put my head down and busted out the last 4 miles.  I lasted through the finish line when the last of our people came across, but once I hit the car I was down for the count.  I dragged myself up to the hotel, then back to the car the next morning.  I slept through dinner that last night, and through the 7 hour drive home.  And then I slept for 4 more days when I got home.

Don't spit.  I've thought a lot about that guidance over the last few weeks.  Never would I have come up with that plan on my own, and I still wonder why it worked.  But when the Spirit says not to spit, you don't spit!  What a gift.  It wasn't how I had intended to finish the race,  It wasn't my plan.  It wasn't what I was prepared for.  But it worked.  And when life doesn't go according to my plan, and it isn't what I am prepared for, I will always remember "not to spit."

Last week I finally pulled the trigger and got a photo facial at my local dermatologist's office.  IPL "intense pulsed light" is the proper description.  Thrilled to finally have all of my sun damaged skin removed from my face, I was pretty excited.  Nettie had had the procedure done a few months ago, filled me in on how it was done and the results were gorgeous.

My results are not gorgeous.  They had the light turned up too high and burned the living daylights out of my skin.  I asked about pain levels beforehand and the esthetician assured me it was nothing too painful.  Ooooooh that was not the case.  I teared under my little eyelid tapes, and flinched each time she shot me with light.  It has now been 5 days and I look a lot like a I would imagine a leper would have looked like long ago.  I have blisters and dark patchy burnt skin that is now peeling.  After a lot of research on IPL gone wrong, I made contact with Megen's sister who is an esthetician up north and after seeing my photos, hearing my experience, and consulting with her office- she confirmed that it was a botch job.  I met with the Dr. the following day who started off trying to convince me that this was normal and would heal beautifully.  My ammunition was already loaded... although I spent a good portion of my morning preparing my mind and emotions so that I didn't lose it when I went in.  Thankfully, it all came out without unleashing angrily or emotionally.  I called him on his crap, reminded him that I had already received a second opinion and that I was no fool.  He of course apologized and spent 45 min with me trying to do damage control.  He asked lots of questions aimed  at revealing just how much damage I could do to his reputation, which he mentioned was of utmost importance to him.  What did he want me to do? Crawl in a hole for 2 weeks?  I am a walking billboard of his negligence! His girls didn't even ask for my medical history! I am scheduled to return for a follow up on Tuesday and still am not sure what my game plan is.  He has not offered to refund my $200.  But if I don't heal well, I think I might need to press the matter.

Longwinded.  I know.  It felt long when I was living it all!  Signing off,  here's to hope for healing!