Misty Mornings

I love mornings. I love having a chance to collect my thoughts (and read blogs) before everyone else gets up. I love listening for the pitter-pat of the boys feet as they search me out. The first hugs of the morning that are warm and strong. Funny conversations, cuddles on the couch, breakfast at a slow, leisurely pace - this is morning.

This morning I rose before everyone else. I wandered through the house. Put a blanket on Eric who had slept in the room with the boys. Tucked the boys back into their bedding, away from the cool morning air. Grabbed my robe and latest book and retreated to the couch.

In most ways this morning is no different than any other one. Tomorrow morning however will be the start of something new. A new out-of-the-home job for me - with hours early in the morning away from the boys.

Will paddled out first this morning. Saw me in the kitchen and ran to get up into my arms.
We cuddled on the couch and I started getting a little teary. He asked if they were "tears of love" which is usually what I tell him. This morning I was honest and said, no these tears were of sadness because I'll miss my morning time with him. He curled right up to me and said "It's not a big deal Mom."

He is right. I consider myself incredibly lucky to have the time with the boys that I do. I get to make a choice. I recognize the value, and cost, of me staying home with the kids...and the value and cost lost of me not working. So this new opportunity is perfect. It allows me to meet some of our family goals with little strain on the boys.

And yet, Will's wrong. Not because giving up my mornings is a big deal. That's not it. It's recognizing that the boys are growing up. They are at a place where who they are with during the day doesn't matter as much as it used to. Most of their basic needs, food, toilet, sleep - are things they can provide for themselves.

I'm not trying to devalue myself - or make it seem like they are past the point of mothering. Rather that as a mom one of the strangest parts of my jobs is that it is constantly evolving. Each new development and phase for them requires a new job description and skill set from me. And this new phase for me also marks a new phase for them. A more independent one.

Oh. I'm going to miss my mornings. What they are. What they signify.

But...for now...for this moment I am going to turn off the computer and tune into my son who just asked me to come play and qualified his request with "...because Mom, playing with me is your favorite thing in the world."

Yes it is.

Click, tick, whir.

Right now I can hear three things.

The tick of the clock.  Irregular because it needs new batteries.

The whir of the fan above me.

And the click of my fingers on the keyboard.

The boys, all three of mine, are biking to the store to get ice cream for a late night snack.  

We spent two hours in the pool this afternoon.  The heat had gotten to a temperature where moods, mine especially, were effected.  And it's only May.

The boys, minus E, were thrilled to splash around.  Their love of swimming came back almost immediately after going in for the first time last week.  And since that first time we've been back in every day.  And here it is, Friday.  A whole week has whirred past.

Dinner was spent on the back porch.  Or slab.  Whatever you want to call it.  I bought a table cloth and some cute summery plates.  A first for our family to have summerware - and our first time eating out on the slab.  Both boys spent most of the time worrying about the flies and when a grasshopper showed up on the wall their focus turned quickly from steak to insect.  

Tonight, with them gone, I've allowed myself time of quiet.  This is unusual for me because I tend to crave noise.  I'll turn on NPR, iTunes, or even a movie just to fill the void.  And it's because, like on nights like this, the tick of the clock and the whir of the fan remind me of how fast time is passing.  

If I don't hear it I don't have to think about it.  If I don't stop and stand still, I won't see it moving past me.  Faster than me.

The summer will go by fast.  I stared at my calendar last night and realized what fun we have planned.  Fun means fast.  Nights like this will come and go.  Soon, W1 will be in Kindergarten and nights like this will be harder to find.  

And I know that I will miss this.  That even on the days where I'm ready to be done with my children, I still know I will miss this.  Terribly. 

Ah.  Too much silence.  I'm wishing them back from the store already.   

Perky

Last night we returned from a quick family trip to San Diego.  Oh it was magical and stress-free.  And casual.  For someone like me who moves at a breakneck pace (except when running) it was glorious to have ideas rather than an agenda.  

The whole trip reminded me of some of the financial perks that we get through E's job that don't come in cold-hard-cash.  No IRS reportable illegal offenses or anything - but things we did not realize at the onset.  Company brand shirts which makes his paying for his wardrobe cheap. Trips around the continent that stimulate his mind and serve to remind me of the wonderful presence in our life.  Company dinners which give us a reasons to dress and eat well.  Seven days of paid "holiday" time which started last week.

The most relevant example, given the post, are the hotel points that he accumulated this year with all his travel. We walked into this gorgeous Marriott hotel and as I opened the door I realized that when my boys think of hotels this is what they know. We stayed as a family, when I was growing up, in Motel 6. Nothing wrong with Motel 6 - in fact we (my family of origin) considered it such a treat to stay in a motel that it didn't matter what it was. Plus we lived on a shoestring budget and for us, having the adventure, was more important than where we stayed in order to have it. My parents provided us with a ton of adventure for minor cost.

I'm not saying this to appear a braggart. It's just that, given our (granted, self-created) situation it is easy for me to find disappointment in things. Both E and I thought we would be at a different place at this time in our lives. Mostly I feel so secure in where I am and so aware of how I got here, how far we've come, the lessons we've learned and are learning, and what I am doing differently. But there are moments when that all fades away and the disappointment is evident.

So it's wonderful to pack up our bags, on our own shoestring budget, and set off for adventure.

What a perk.

His heart is a feather.

Notes from the wall near the spa. Grandpa's hand.

Most mornings at my grandparents house you'd find my Grandpa, Bob, enjoying the early morning in his spa. Built as an add-on to the house the spa room reminds me a lot of the house I lived in when I was a kid, if only because it has dark paneling. The lid to the spa itself is the covered in brown vinyl. It smells musty, and after the spa has been running it smells a little like a sauna. The spa came with the house and while I doubt it was a buying point for my Grandpa, it sure turned into a treat for him. Which made it a treat for all of us.

Some mornings, when I'd rise early enough, I'd find myself sitting in the kitchen eating Honeycomb, which was always on supply at their house, and listening to the soft sounds of my Grandpa singing from his spa. Now, you had to be careful. Grandpa sometimes treated himself to his spa time al fresco. Since the kitchen was adjacent to the spa room he'd come wandering in the room, still humming, with his towel around his waist. "You're lucky Shellgirl. I remembered my towel this morning." His skin was always so white and pruny. His gray-white hair would be swirled in different directions and it always made me wonder if he might have ben swimming out there, instead of soaking.

Then he'd walk through the house, finishing his song. He'd usually tease my Grandma by grabbing hold of her, twirl her around a little, and sing her a line. Always the same song. In the spa. In the hall. With her. Eddy Arnold's Cattle Call. Silly and simple song.

And my Grandpa thought himself a silly, simple man. At least in the years I knew him best. The truth is, as usual, much more complex. A devoutely religious man my Grandpa had a quick wit, an active mind, and a sharp tongue. He once chastised me publicly during a discussion about parades and then marched out of the room in a successful move to end the conversation. I still have a mix of emotions when I think back on that moment. It stung like a slap.

Yet I couldn't have asked for a better man to have in my life. Every child should be able to get love from whoever is willing to give it and my grandparents shared it with us in large doses. Mediated of course by smaller doses of life lessons and discipline. Some people are lucky enough to have two sets of grandparents who love and treasure them - at least in some version. My Dad's parents never played a large part in our life. Mostly because my Dad's Mom died when I was young. And because my Dad was never close to his Dad. It made us even more fortunate that my grandparents were willing to love us and share their life. Add to that the close proximity in which we lived for the first 14 years of my life, until they move out of state.

I realize that my relationship with my grandparents is not the same one that everyone has with their own grandparents. And that even within my own family there is disconnect and discontent. I cannot control that though, even though I've tried for years. Grandpa knew about it and it weighed heavily on his heart. In his own way he tried to love everyone. I know it wasn't easy for everyone to see past his expression of religion, or his stout opinions. Trust me, I know. Still, you knew what to expect.

You knew to expect the cattle call in the morning. You knew to expect that he'd offer you strange conglomerations of juice. You knew he'd offer a sharp retort to something you said but then always squeeze you extra tight when you left.

And you knew, at least I did, that when he left it would be life changing.

Happy Birthday Grandpa. I know you are happy wherever you are. Just wish you were here still.

Family Blog

We've changed a bit on our family blog - namely the blog host - and because of that several people who had our blog in their reader lost their feed.  Even though the name did not change, the RSS Feed did, so reenter our blog name to make sure it's feeding.

So if you read our family blog, make sure you update your blog so that you can catch-up on our family!  I have MUCH posting to catch up on but that won't occur until after San Fran!

Bennionland Adventures

And if you are reading my blog for the first time - you should be warned that it's like me. Sometimes a little random, sometimes a little long-winded, sometimes funny, and sometimes brutally honest.  Considered yourself welcomed - and warned :)

Tug-of-War

Last night was filled with random dream after dream after dream. And a little boy who decided that our bed was somehow better for sleeping than his. Unfortunately if my bed is good for his sleeping than it means it is bad for my own. The dreams weren't helping either. I've always been a vivid dreamer. One who can wake up to write down my dream or fall back asleep and will myself back into a dream Then, of course, there are the dreams that haunt me and I find myself crying when I wake up and unable to shake the emotion from the dream.

I am more inclined to believe that most of the dreams last night had more to do with my late night bowl of Cocoa Pebbles rather than deep-seeded issues. Still, one issue was prevalent in each dream last night.

The overall feeling of being in a tug-of-war game. On several issues. For example one of the longest dreams I had last night involved my extended family (on one side) having a huge family reunion. Now we usually don't have family reunions so this was strange in and of itself. Given that family members from both sides of the family read this, I am going to leave most of the details out to avoid identification.

We were all in a large hotel suite that, as can only happen in dreamland, had separate areas large enough for each family. My aunts and uncles arrived in chapter-like phases. My family, meaning my parents and my siblings, were the first to be there. Shortly after one of my aunts arrived, with one of her kids. What followed was as strange procession that I can only liken to an emotional reception line. As each person, or couple, arrived my mind, and often my behavior, mirrored the emotion I felt. I grew tense and self-conscious when one couple arrived, followed by giddiness and silly affection when another person arrived.

Usually I am a social butterfly, but like in real life, I found this situation to be emotionally taxing. Somehow our little hotel happened to be right at my favorite beach. Gotta love dreams for that stuff! Not only was it a surreal location but everyone was arriving before sunrise. Soon I found myself leaving the hotel, paddling out into the ocean in a kayak, and watching the sunrise.

It actually reminded me a lot of junior high days when part of the (or at least my) social skills were learned by flitting between groups of people in order to not only find and make friends, but figure out how I fit in.

In the light of day I realize that this dream, mixed with sugary cereal GI effects, stems from the fact that I've been sending out 'Save the Date' cards for my sister's upcoming wedding. In a sense, each person (family or not) that I have sent a card to I have had some response to. Positive, negative, apathetic. Then combining all of those people into one central location and feeling an overall sense of fatigue...and the party is still months away.

In truth, there is one invited guest who I have a keen fear of being around. Not that I am scared of this person but rather I am scared of how I will act in front of the person. Kind of like what was enacted in my dream. In fact my sister has actually asked my advice about this guest. And here is where this tug o' war begins. See, the mostly positive relationship that my sister has with this person supercedes the negative relationship that I have had. It is her wedding. So when I give advice I get tugged between being opportunistic and being neutral.

Not to mention the fact that my sister is having an incredibly small wedding - which is hard to do when you have a large family (I have 44 cousins not to mention spouses). So while I find myself trying to not to oust people she has already chosen I also have to be careful not to argue reasons for why someone should be there. Still, those are my reasons, not hers.

And this is just one tug-of-war that I find myself engaging in. There is also:
work v. school
work v. family
to the gym v. not to the gym
kid v. kid
being like my parents v. being like ourselves
etc....

We all engage in tug-of-wars. With our kids, with our parents, with friends, with foes, with people we don't even know. It's an active process. An active control process.

So how do we get out of the the tug-of-wars? First of all, for me I need to remember not to engage in tug-of-wars that I am not completely vested in. Then, if I remember back to the few times I actually played the live game, I remember that giving up some control (i.e letting the rope slide a little) ends up putting the control back in my hands.

Vote for Paul!

Caught by a surprise fall storm.
Copyright, Paul Ekstrand

As many of you know my Dad is a photographer - he'd say that he's an amateur photographer but some of his work is more than mere 'dabbling'.

He recently entered a contest through Outdoor Photographer. The contest is in the People Choice voting period...so come on people, let's vote!

Click here to see his picture (which is also above). Below it is a link to vote for his picture. Look around at the others too!

(If the above link doesn't work, go to: www.outdoorphotographer.com, scroll to the bottom of the page where you''ll see 'Winter Photo Contest', follow that link. His photo is on page 216 of the Winter Photo Contest Gallery.)

It's just my personality...

One of my high school friends, Carrie, has her son in preschool with mine. It has been fun to catch up with her after their school gets out as we walk around and try to make our way to the car. She and I were never best friends but we were close through most of the time we were in school together. I have some great memories with both Carrie and her sister.

Yesterday she mentioned that one of our other friends from the good ole' days is getting married. And then she said something that I have been chewing on since: 'I never thought she'd get married. You know, she's just so independent.'

Hum. Now I realize what Carrie meant and what I'm chewing over are two very different things. I walked away, though not offended, challenged by the notion that I might not be considered independent. In fact, being labeled as dependent for any reason, but let alone because I chose to marry someone I adored. I realize, again, that this was not Carrie's implication...but is it society's?

Our friend, we'll call her Marie, was the one in high school to be incredibly selective about boys, rather than boy crazy. Rather than head to every dance or party on the weekends, she was selective about how she spent her time. She still works for the same company that she did in high school. More importantly she was (or at least seemed) comfortable with herself and in high school, well that's like the Holy Grail.

Hearing Carrie say this has really challenged my notion of independence. Was I not independent because I always knew I was the marrying kind? I have always thought of myself as an independent person, but is that really true?

What is independence in a person?

Is it based off of romantic relationships? In high school I dated the same guy off and on from the time I was 15 until early college. We broke up several times but it was usually because I wanted to date someone else. And I rarely wasn't dating someone. I am not saying this to sound proud - trust me, some of the 'men' I dated are not ones to be proud of. Regardless I was never long without a love interest or a boyfriend. Is this dependence?

Is it based off a person's awareness of his or herself? And if so, how do you define that? At various times in each phase of my life (high school, early 20's, now) I have felt very aware of myself and very comfortable with myself. Something usually happens in each phase of life that shakes that awareness up, both positive and negative, and forces me to reevaluate myself.

This question I find myself thinking about was then further challenged last night when my cute cousin Ann stopped by. We got talking about family dynamics, in particular, 'yapping'. Ann recently returned from serving an LDS mission and is staying at home until school starts at the end of this month. She got home in October - which as a young adult means a long time back with the 'rents. She commented that she forgot how much 'yapping' occurs in her house. Which led us to discuss who in our family 'yaps' the most.

Who won doesn't matter - oh ok, it's Ann's mom. My ultra-white-personality Mom made the comment that it was hard to make 'yapping' sound like a negative when, for my aunt, it is part of her energy. Like most extroverts my Aunt gets some serious energy from people. In fact she gets more energy from interactions with other people than anyone I know - except for the pre-mommy me. Pre-kids I had a greater need to be fed energy by people through interaction and conversation.

So...playing into my earlier question of what is independence - can only an introvert be independent?

This post has been rather convoluted and random which mirrors my thoughts about the subject the last 24 hours.

I'm wondering for my blogger friends and family out there - are you independent? If so, what are the criteria that you measure your independence by? What about other people? How do you determine, from the outside looking in, whether someone is independent? Does marriage change your feelings? Does having children change your criteria?

And in case you are wondering, I am an ENFX (a mix between J&P). If you have never done the Meyers/Briggs personality test - google it and find yourself out. Check and see how closely you feel it resembles your personality. I love (love, love, love!) personality testing!!

Discuss amongst yourselves....

2:20am

At 2:20am this morning my Grandpa, Robert 'Bob' Walker, passed away.

Many of you know that 'Pa Bob' (that's what the boys call him) has struggled with his health over the last two months. I've blogged about it a lot on this site. We thought he had reached a major positive turning point when he was able to come home this past Tuesday.

His body just wasn't ready for the move from the hospital and on Thursday my Grandma called 9-1-1 and he was readmitted to the ICU. My Mom and Aunt Patti flew up on Friday to be with my Grandma. The Doctor was cautiously optimistic that he would, again, turn things around. They even took out the ventilator they had put him on.

This morning my Grandma received a call from the hospital saying that they needed to intubate him again, but that he was refusing. This was his wish and my Grandma relayed that to them. The nurse then suggested that she come down to the hospital. She woke my Mom and Patti up and they joined her at the hospital.

My Grandpa was awake and very coherent. He and my Grandma shared their quiet goodbyes. He said 'Things are taken care of Joyce". She said, "Yes they are Bob. You know that. We've been through everything." He nodded. He told Mom and Patti that he loved them and that he loves his family. He asked Patti to say a prayer. After the prayer he slowed his breathing, closed his eyes, shuddered, and was gone.

My Mom said that it was very peaceful and about as good as you could want a passing to be.

I absolutely adore my Grandparents. My Grandpa has been like a 2nd Father to me - coming to events in my life, teaching me lessons about love and spirit, and showing me love at every moment. I cannot even say how much I will miss him or how my heart feels with this loss.

Yet at the same time I am so glad he is done with the fight and done with the pain.

We will be going to Utah sometime this week for the funeral on Saturday - and it will be great to have time with my family to celebrate my Grandpa.

My Many Colored Days

I think it is the nature of being human that we have days that range in emotion and mood. I tend to be more emotional than the average Jane. I realize that and accept it. Dr. Seuss hit it right on the head when he wrote "You'd be surprised how many ways you change on different colored days".

Lei has a really good blog called 'my many colored days' - and it helps to remind me that I am not alone in my emotions in this world of ours. Not to mention that most of my friends, especially those that are moms or dads, share stories from the days they label with all colors of the rainbow.

Today though, at least at this moment, feels very blue. In fact, I feel much like this:



Now I know we all prefer it when our friends, loved ones, or bloggers are 'pretty and witty and gay' - and on most days sunshine yellow is the crayon I'd color my day with.

Today started out optimistically enough. E and I awoke early. E headed to work and I got the boys ready for a visit to their Aunt P's. E and I were meeting later at the DMV. Now right there you can probably guess why my day went from a blank canvas to a blue day. However, despite the long line to get into the building, my initial two hours at the DMV went really well. We had our two vehicles inspected - not at the same time but by the same wonderful employee*. E and I both got our personal license plates ordered. (At one point in time I would have thought personalized plates were for rich folks...but they are only $8 more than the standard)

It really wasn't until I was informed, by the incredibly nice desk worker*, that we would need to pay the state 'use tax'. Granted this was posted on the website, right on the checklist I was working from (though I am loathe to admit it) and I should have realized this.

Needless to say after a move, a summer of trips, expenses we did not plan for (life!), and the purchase of a was-at-one-point-new car...the $1300 'use tax' was not in our plans. Now, since they know we are here and need to register we are between a rock and a hard place. If we register late, we incur a fine.

ROCK - US - HARD PLACE



This, combined with the potty training we are attempting at home, has made me reach into Crayola land. The only real question is whether the day will be cornflower, aquamarine, denim, or midnight.

Capone, Monet, and me...

Oh all things holy and good, I am tired!

My sister and I arrived back into LA at 9:00am from our adventures in Chicago. My cousin lives in the Edgewater/Andersonville district of Chicago (see the picture below) and she was the hostess for the trip.

This is Edgewater, and yes I have walked down this street and know my way around...sort of...


There is so much to tell and so many hilarious stories to share. Still, given that my sister and I decided to try and sleep at the airport rather than at my cousin's, you can imagine that I am a little pooped. Plus the boys both have colds and I think mine is right around the corner.

However, I know you are all dying to hear some news so I'll share with you a few highlights:

- Being propositioned (yes, that kind of proposition) by a crazy sixty-year-old crackhead on the way to the airport.

- Standing in the amazing spaces that Frank Lloyd Wright imagined and created.

- Watching the fireworks and decorated boats during the Venetian Night celebration.

- Trying to sleep in the airport with a towel as a blanket because it was freezing!

- Taking the time to just sit and experience the energy of the city.

- Having enough time to stare intently at each version of Haystacks by Claude Monet and being able to finally decide which was my favorite.

- Realizing the simple truth that people raise their children everywhere, finding adventures for their family, the same way I do, in wherever they may be.

- Riding down the Chicago River, wind in my hair, sun in my face, and the spirit and brilliance of great minds who built the city around me.

- Drinks and jazz at the Green Mill (Al Capone's joint) with Patricia Barber & Quartet.

- Time with my sister that was never boring, bothersome, or stressful. It was time that we gave each other to continue strengthening our relationship.

I could easily put Chicago, cold weather and all, on my list of places to call home at some point. If you have not been there, I highly suggest it as a place you spend some time in.

And now it's time for a nap...

Actions speak louder...

Today I was unloading and then reloading the dishwasher. This isn't anything abnormal, I do it every day, and sometimes twice a day. However today my sister-in-law is in town and was talking to me as I was unloading. I made a comment about how funny it was to me that I live with three other adults and yet no one else loads their own dishes. Let me be clear: they will load their own dishes IF the dishwasher is empty. However everyone will stack their dishes in the sink if the dishwasher is full. I realize that this is pretty common - but what is funny to me is the amount of lectures I endured as a child about chores and chore-sharing, including making sure we put our own dishes into the dishwasher every time we used it.

Somehow we got talking about things in her family. She made the comment that her mom expected them to load the dishes as well. Since my experience with the family has been very different, I commented that I never thought her mom expected them to do chores, of any kind. I remember vividly my first dinner there: my mother-in-law had worked in the kitchen all day to make a Thanksgiving-esque dinner and then afterwards cleaned it all up with the help of one child and myself. The others made no effort - even my husband. But I digress...

My sister-in-law continued by saying that even though her mom expected everyone to do chores, she never enforced it. In fact it is commonly known that my mother-in-law will take the dishes out of the dishwasher and reload them in order to get the most loaded in. So, if you do try to be helpful by loading the dishwasher, she'll undo it. Now the kids stopped doing stuff because she'll always go back and redo it.

I've known this for a long about her...but it really made me think yesterday. Here she is, desirous to have her children help, but undermining their every effort. Why would it be a surprise that her kids stop helping?

How often do we do this? We want something to happen or we expect help, yet we bite the hand that helps us? I know for myself this has been an issue. My mode of operation is quite different than my husband's and when I ask him to do something I often end up upset that it did not get done the way I wanted it to be - even though it gone done.

I heard something on NPR today after we were driving in the car. This woman was talking about how she nags - and how she came to feel that nagging is really an expression of superiority. The person nagging feels that whatever they think and/or do is better than that of the other(s).

Have you ever heard something that initially feels so dead-wrong...but the more that you think about it you realize that it feels so wrong only because it is so true of you? This was that statement for me. Yeah, I often think that however I do something makes more sense than how others might choose to do it.

Now I am looking around at all of the things that I reorganize, re-plan, redo - or the things that I undermine by not allowing the person to do what I ask...

I want people to feel that they can do their roles in life as well as I know they can - and often times better than I can do it. And I want to be able to let go and let them do their own thing.