Our Texas Move

I have been feeling badly lately because of my lack of documenting our life.

So here I am.  I need to write things before they disappear into the abyss of my brain, never to be recalled again.  I thought that happened when you were older, but apparently not.

When we moved from Utah to Texas, the movers came to our little house the day (or maybe two days?) after Christmas of 2010.  We had taken all the Christmas decorations down.  And then we watched as a crew of men came and packed our little house completely up.  It was incredible.  And sad.  And really fast and exciting...all at the same time.

Anyway, we drove away the next day.  Our things would take about a week, they said.  We were to expect them about the 3rd or 4th of January.  Great.

I had arranged for all of our utilities to be turned on December 30.  So we pull up to our house, and discover we have no running water!  What?!  So I try calling, and calling, and calling...but to no avail.  The office is closed, and will not open until after the new year.

that is kind of a problem. :/

So after much frustration and getting nowhere, we ask some friends of ours here in Dallas if we can stay with them.  They say yes, which saves us.

So...we have a fun New Years Eve, and are having a great New Years Day relaxing and watching football, when Brian gets a phone call.  The movers have arrived!  uh---today?

We pack up the car and drive to our house (about 40 minutes north) to meet the movers.  Well, not really movers.  More like one guy and his skinny 16 year old son!!!

Ok.  Seriously, how many things are wrong with this situation?  They came early, which normally would be great, but arriving on New Years Day???  And then, surprisingly, the main guy can't get anyone to come help him.  Of course not.  So he brings his son to help.  His son.  Did I mention he was scrawny?

We open the front door...and the house alarm goes off.  The REALLY LOUD ALARM.  REALLY LOUD.  I immediately call the alarm company to get help.  But they cannot help because the contract is in the old house owners name, not mine.  And no matter how many times I try to explain how we just bought the house, it doesn't change the situation.  I must turn the alarm off myself, with the code I do not have.  Nice.

Meanwhile, man-mover and skinny son are moving stuff in as quickly as possible.  That, as it turned out, was not really quickly at all.  We have pounding headaches at this point...and hearing loss.  I decide to call my realtor and tell him to call the sellers to see if they can give us the code...but just then the alarm goes off.  I have no idea why.

As a side note, it does make me wonder about the value of a home alarm.  That thing had been going off for at least an hour, and no emergency vehicles of any kind came to our home.  No police.  Nothing.   hmmm...

We felt bad watching man-mover and skinny work alone, so Brian and I offered help, but it was refused.  We could not help.  Liability and all.

We watched them move.  S.L.O.W.L.Y.  Still no water.

When they were done, we went back to our friends' home, and stayed one more night.

The water was on the next day.  The utility company did call and apologize.  The reason our water had not been turned on was because the office was closed on December 30.  Oh.  Doesn't that seem like important information to share with someone when they ask to have it turned on ON the 30th??  It does to me. ;)

We arrived.
We live in Texas.

I sometimes cannot believe the life I am living.

A Day of Reflection

This week has been an emotional one.  We heard last week about a friend out here who had found a mass on her liver.  She was going in for surgery to remove it and see what was going on this Tuesday.

Tuesday night came, and we heard bad news.  She had liver cancer, stage 4.   It was a slow growing kind, so chemotherapy and radiation wouldn't be effective.  She was given approximately two years.  This woman has five children, four girls and a boy.  Her oldest is in high school, and her youngest is a 14 month old little girl.

I have thought so much about her, and what I would do if given such limited time on earth.  Then today, I hear the news that she suddenly passed away this morning.

My heart is broken for her and her family.  All those little kids.

I know that we will live again.  I know that Jesus Christ lives and that our very lives go on through his redeeming power.  However, this causes me to reflect on my own life.  Am I ready to go?  How much time do I spend on frivolous things that really don't matter at all?

Do my children know each night how much I love them?  Does Brian?  I've grown up knowing death is a part of life, but it is so hard anyway.  I have some changing to do.  We all do.  That is the purpose of our life....to change and become perfected in Christ.

A Story

   About 2 1/2 years ago, I was headed to the hospital with painful contractions.  One completely panic-y doctor later, I had myself an emergency C-section.  Norah had arrived.

   That is not the story today.  That is old news.

   So, in that day after Norah was born, I knew she was not my last baby.  I just felt like there was one more.  It was an unwelcome feeling, especially at that time.

   Fast forward to several months ago.  I kept feeling like I should have another baby, but had no desire.  NONE!!  Brian and I often had conversations about our family being complete, but I just didn't think so.  Frankly, neither did he.

   So we jumped one more time.  What?!  I know!  Even as I write it down, it feels crazy.  It has never NOT felt like a totally crazy move.   Anyway, so here I am, 21 weeks pregnant.  I'm due in May.

   But guess what?  I'm having a boy this time.  Landon is thrilled, and Annie is devastated.  I, on the other hand, feel weird.  I expected to be SO excited about getting another boy, and yet I just feel nervous.  I have a lot of girls, and I am a bit freaked out at the boy.  Plus, Brian wants to name him Brian Jr, which is not going to happen.    (I'm thinking of having a secret baby blessing given by my dad just so he won't change the name we REALLY pick ;))

   I wonder about this baby.  I wonder if this is how all women feel when it is their last.  Did they want it to be?  I feel too old, too tired, and am too mean all the time to have any more.  I want to be done.  I want to schedule some permanent procedures for myself as soon as this boy arrives.  Seriously, like same day stuff.

   "Yes, could you just take the whole uterus with the baby?  Really, I won't be needing it anymore." That's how I feel.  And feeling like that makes me feel guilty.  I try to get excited, and I'm sure I will eventually, but so far I'm not.

   19 weeks to go...and counting.

 

Mom and Dad

I am the youngest of five.  I also live the farthest away from my childhood home.  I wish I was closer.

About four weeks ago, I checked my phone after my class at the gym.  I had two missed calls from my mother....uh-oh.

My heart was racing and I could barely think as I dialed her back.  I knew it was something bad.  Sure enough, my dad was in the hospital in Pocatello having a heart attack.  All ended ok, my dad got a stint put in and was recovering quickly.  I was so grateful for that.

But I still dread THAT phone call.  You know the one.

I felt completely helpless stuck so far away.  My parents are definitely aging, and no one is around to just check in and make sure they are ok.  My mind always reverts to that old church video where the little old lady dies in her house and no one even knows?!!  AAHHH!!

My sister and two brothers live in Utah, but boys don't seem to really care or feel the same amount of concern and worry that girls do. :)  I don't know how to get back.

Anyway, just wanting to write it down.  There are so many people in my ward out here whose entire extended family lives within about an hour of each other.  I miss family close by.  I feel neglectful by hoping someone else takes care of my mom and dad.  Ugh.

It drives me crazy...I'm already crazy anyway.  Certifiably nuts.

A pebble in the water

    I must write this down so I don't forget.  It was kind of unbelievable.

    Ever since Landon got his retainer, it has become a toy for him.  I understand...he is 9.  But still, he flicks it up and down, up and down constantly.  Some of his teachers think he is chewing gum because of the flash of white they see.
    Last week about 8, I was picking Landon up from Tae Kwan Do.   I had Julie, Annie and Norah in the car with me.  He got in the back, and I started to drive.  Now it was dark...and the music was on. ( I am not a quiet music listener.  I like it loud.  Otherwise, what is the point?)

    Anyway,  I look back and Landon looks like he is...I don't really know....he looks funny and is moving around in his seat.  I ask, "Are you ok? "

     He puts his hands around his neck and squeaks out, "choking!"

    I stop the car and then hear a huge upchucking sound.  Uh-oh.  As I turn around to see what is happening, Landon (who is now teared up) says, "I was choking on my retainer!"

     He apparently had been flicking his retainer up and down like always, when he took a drink of water.  His retainer went to the back of his throat and got stuck.  Hence, the weird noises and thrashing around.  Landon said he remembered learning the heimlick maneuver from scouts,  so he tried doing it to himself, and that is when the retainer came out.

     I gave Landon a talking to about WHY WHY WHY we don't flick that dumb thing around in our mouth!  Honestly, choking was not the first reason I thought of, but it is now.  And guess what?  He still does it!  Probably less often, but still.

     The whole episode made me think about our choices.  Just like a pebble thrown into water, the ripples go on and on and on.  And so do our consequences.

   

Asthma

Anyone have kids with asthma?  I don't...at least I didn't think I did.

Last Monday, annie woke up coughing.  We went about our normal morning, and as we were driving to the gym, I noticed she was coughing a lot.  A LOT.

Being endowed with endless amounts of compassion, I was ticked.  Great, I thought.  They probably won't even let me finish my class.  But I shoved her in there anyway.  After the hour was up, I went to pick up the girls.  The teacher mentioned she was coughing...yeah, I know.

Whew.  Made it.  :)

We go home and mill about doing normal stuff.  Cleaning, playing, etc.  Her coughing continues.  Then around lunchtime, I have a primary meeting at my house.  Norah is napping, and Annie has fallen asleep on the couch.  She wakes up in about 30 minutes, so I get her lunch.

She is coughing so much, and can barely eat.  It appears she is too tired to eat, but her blood sugar is fine.  I continue on with my meeting.  I keep watching her though, and she lays her head on the counter between each little bite.  I seriously write this all off as part of the cold she has.

Annie manages to eat a little, then moves and watches a movie.  After a while, she comes and sits on my lap.  Then Marianne (one of the women in the meeting) says...is she asthmatic?

No.  I don't think so.

Marianne then tells me Annie is retracting.

She's what?  Lift up her shirt, she says.  Now watch her chest.

It completely gets sucked in under her rib cage as she struggles to breathe.  She needs a breathing treatment...ASAP.

It is time to pick up my other kids from school, so I go get them, then pick up a machine from Marianne to help Annie.  I already have leftover medicine from a difference cold she had, and was wheezing that time.  (Yes, I realize what I genius I am at this point.  The child has been wheezing before, but she always does with a cold, and it usually gets better quickly)

Annie has her breathing treatment as soon as we are home, and is instantly better.

I, however, am not.  I start researching asthma, and find that Annie was suffering from a serious asthma attack.  Falling asleep because she was having so much trouble getting air?  And I just kept going along like an idiot.

Frankly, I worry so much about her sugars that other things seem to just get ignored.  Who would think she would be asthmatic as well?  Could we not spread things out a bit??

Brian and I do not have favorite kids, but Annie just has her own spot in our hearts.  Her suffering becomes almost unbearable for us.  As she was hooked up to this machine with a mask over her face, Landon asked me, "does she have asthma, too?"

Seriously.  Really?

But on the bright side...Marianne is awesome.  She saved my little Annie.  And I am learning a little about compassion.

The worth of a woman

More specifically, mine.  I think I may have posted something like this before, but clearly this kind of thing troubles me.

I grew up in a house with a father who was bossy.  I love him, but he bossed us all around...except my mom.   They discussed, argued, fought...whatever.  Sometimes I will read something that says, "my parents never said a cross word to each other."  Liars.  I don't believe it.  Probably because that was absolutely not the case in our house.

Dad told Mom what to do, and she did her own thing.  Oftentimes she would be going along, then my dad would try telling her how to slice the tomato (on his sandwich SHE was making for him), and suddenly that sandwich was being hurled at his face.

In a nutshell. :)

In a conversation with my mother, she told me she didn't raise me to be a 'women's libber'.  Hahaha.  Maybe not intentionally, but she did.   For as long as I can remember, I wanted to prove something.  My own value, I suppose.

In the mile race in third grade, I wanted to be the fastest one.  I usually was in races.  But one kid was faster...a boy.  My motivation was solely to beat him.  And on the last little stretch, I passed him up.  I was thrilled, and he cried.  I ate that up.

In sixth grade, we had a arm-wrestling competition in my class.  I could beat everyone, boys included.  Well,  except for one boy.  But he was massive.

I became extremely competitive in all aspects of my life.  I wanted to be the best, the smartest, the funniest...you name it.   (I must say here, that my desire was great, but my execution was not.  I really did want to be the best one at everything, but never was.  )

And then I went to college.  I was still the same.  I figured when I got married and had children, I would stay home with them.  My mom did, and I wanted to as well.  Brian and I even had this huge fight (while engaged) about me working or not.  I was insistent that even when my kids went to school, I would be home...he wanted me to work.  It makes me laugh now to think of it.

So Brian and I got married.  We both had school and work to manage.  I liked it.  Loved it actually.  After my first year of grad school, we were all supposed to do an internship.  Brian was finishing his undergrad and applying to medical school.  Well, he got a good internship down in CA, and I had nothing....so I worked temp jobs.  Even now as I think of it, I felt like a loser.  Here my classmates were doing meaningful (at least related to our classes) work, and I was stocking shelves at Kmart, doing data entry for an online toy company, more data entry somewhere else.  It was awful.  I really was happy for Brian and his experience he was getting, but I resented him a bit.  Why had I worked so hard in school?  to work at Kmart?  It was difficult to say the least.  Continually trying to convince myself that I was smart and capable, but I just felt disappointed.

Back to school was great,  and I found we were pregnant with Samantha.  She was born just as I graduated, so I stayed home with her.  Those days were interesting.  Not quite what I had envisioned.  Newborns are boring.  so I watched a lot of Lifetime channel for a while.  But, after the 15th beaten woman who took her life back and got revenge on her old lover...blah blah blah.  I've seen that before.

So life continued on.  More children came, medical school, I stayed home but managed apartment buildings.  Then one day in 2007, I decided to get certified to teach aerobics.  I did, and I started teaching at the Y where I lived.  And I absolutely LOVED it.  seriously, loved it.

Why?  I do love to exercise, but I was getting a meager little check each time I taught.  People would tell me they liked my class.  I felt worthwhile.  Staying at home has been more difficult for me than I ever anticipated.  Who knew I wanted to work?  But not just a job, something I loved to do.   It was a real, tangible thing I could prepare for, execute, and then get instant feedback.  It was awesome!

Sadly, in 2009, I left CA and have not had a teaching job since.  My life has become even more hectic, but I yearn for that outlet.  I love it.  People will sometimes come to me and tell me how much they love Brian, what a wonderful doctor he is.  I know he is.  But let me tell you about the last time someone said what a wonderful mother I am................................

wait.  it never happened.  Probably because my kids just burped out loud and then pushed your kid down.  Oops.

Knowing how I have struggled with these ridiculous feelings of inadequacy, of not reaching my potential, of guilt for wanting to leave when I know I should stay...why would I have 4 girls?  I needed to have boys.  Boys I could push to be the best, to become whatever they would like to be.  Instead, I talk to my girls about picking a career that can possibly be flexible with a family later on.  It hurts my heart to even say it....be awesome, but not TOO awesome because that might prevent you from staying home and raising your kids.  Yuck.

Mostly, I guess I hope they can marry wonderful men who will understand that they really are equals in every way, and not less than their husband.  In this church, I find those men are few and far between.

Whew.  That is enough ranting for today.