Vicious Cycle

This year one of my goals was to do a monthly self evaluation.  I haven't done great on the monthly part (and I record elsewhere), but I have become more aware of myself and hopefully bettering myself in the process.

Though this time I thought I'd put my thoughts out there on something that has weighed on my mind the past few days.

It's that monthly vicious cycle us women go through.  Some call it PMS but for me it's a whole other world.  It's difficult.  I know they have meds for these things, but I'm kind of stubborn.  I want to defeat the demon myself.

It is a demon.  The odd thing is that I don't ever recall it being as bad in the past as it has been the past year and half.

Ever since I had Bret and having that emergency C-section, I feel my hormones have never truly recovered.  They have remained forever off balance and my result is major insecurity.  Sure, I can get snappy and angry but the pit is self-worth.

Every month it haunts me, I cycle through the worries that Jarom doesn't love me, want me, or need me.  My senses are heightened to every move he makes.  Poor fellow.  It even comes to me in dreams of him cheating.  Recently, I woke up on the verge of tears.  Then I begin to feel frustration that we ever moved here.  I just want to go back to the way things were.  It seems to be a hole I just can't climb out of.  I hate it.

It' my mini-mode of depression, I guess.  I hear it's normal.  Doesn't mean I like it or want it.  It has been a great learning process for me.  I try to feel it coming and control it now that I am more aware, but I seem to just get through each time.

It worries me, to be honest.
It bothers me.
Then it get better.
I forget.
Then it happens, again.
I'm pretty regular.

It's a time, that I have to truly be dependent on the Lord.  That too has been a growing experience.  I get these downs and I immediately go to the scriptures, Ensign, prayer, anything that helps fill me with the Spirit, distracts my mind and gives me strength.

It doesn't go away but it helps.

That's when I really gained a testimony of the Atonement and the value it holds in my life. 

You see, right after I had Bret and for about 6 months, I pretty much faced the fact that I suffered from a form of post-partum depression.  At the time, I didn't know what was wrong, but I was on the verge of a meltdown.  I figured it had to do with just having a baby, having five kids, moving, then not moving, and I'm sure those were a factor, but there were still days that getting up to move required such effort.  I would sit and just cry for no reason.  I felt very alone.  I was embarrassed and afraid to talk to anyone.  I had no one to talk to. 

I'm a pretty positive person, I thought I might be immune to such a circumstance.   I believe that my personality probably did help me push through, but I needed help.  I was full of guilt.  In my mind I must be living a sinful life to have such a heavy burden.  I would think of everything I could have done bad or wrong...never gave back that CD to that kid in high school.  What was the last book I read?  Was it okay?  Did I say something that hurt Jarom's feelings?  Was I parenting all wrong?  It only made the feelings worse.  I knew I wasn't perfect, but I was trying.  At this point, I was afraid to miss a beat. 

Jarom doesn't handle these "feeling" issues very well and that made it even more difficult for me.   I think he really thought I was crazy.  At one point, he may have been right.  It had gotten so bad that that was the reasoning for the goal of a personal evaluation.  I needed Jarom to love me again.

I eventually healed and got over the every other day occurrence, but here it is, hitting me once a month.

I learned that depression is not always because of sin.  It's called the "dark and dreary" world.  As I rested on my porch today admiring the beautiful day and all the beauty around me, what could be dark and dreary?  It's in the mind.  It's the hormones.  They just seem to be wackier than others.  The Atonement helps make that burden lighter, bearable, and slowly heals so that it doesn't linger every day.  It has nothing to do with repentance.

I knew the Atonement was for many things, but this was my first "witness" of knowing that I needed now more than ever, to be healed and feel love and understanding.  I've come to really learn that depression, hormonal imbalance, they are very real. 

It was a new process to apply the Atonement in such a different way.  I can not fully explain or express what it has done for me.

I still struggle to talk about this to others, especially ones I'm close to because I don't want to be "one who has issues."  No one does, but denial can hold you down like a ton of bricks.

My Five Sons (Perspective part 2)

It's hard to believe I became a mother to my fifth child, my fifth son. 
With all my pregnancies I have managed to have something crazy happen that makes for a good story.  Bret's birth story however ranks at the top.

Once again, I have a new light, a greater perspective on life, revelation, eternity and really miracles.

I have always considered my self as one with strong faith.  I believe I have witnessed miracles because I have the faith that they happen.  The Lord has helped witness the true miracle of birth, the miracle of life.

It was hours after the story of Bret's situation was revealed to me.  It has been weeks and I still haven't fully processed the magnitude of what "could have happened."  Instead, I get to hold him in my arms, snuggle him, cherish him and fully love him.

After my first night in the hospital, early in the morning, I was preparing to feed Bret.  It was a peaceful feeling within me but a very special feeling as well that I can't describe.  It was a private moment for me to process that I could be waking up and preparing funeral arrangements.  The thought still seems so surreal.  I never felt that fear for the possible loss of my child.  I never worried for his life, maybe cause it all happened so fast.  I don't really know.  It just has never fully sunk in to my brain that my child was on the brink of death.  In some ways I feel guilty, almost shallow for not having these feelings of sadness, but I am also grateful that I haven't had to suffer through such sorrow.

What I can say has happened, my gratitude to the Lord has grown ten fold.  My testimony of knowing HE is real seems to have intensified, as if He is even more real.  If that is possible.

With the time being home bound, I have reflected on things/conversations that happened before Bret's arrival.  Small things to many but things I believe to be no consequence but the Lord preparing me for Bret's arrival.

First of all, Bret didn't have a name until after he was born.  Jarom and I tossed names back and forth but nothing seemed satisfying.  We finally got it narrowed down to Brett or Graham.  Jarom was for Brett and I was for Graham.  I was pretty sure we were going to go with Graham.  Than Jarom was talking with a black lady at work who said "Graham?  Like Graham Cracker?"  She thought that was hilarious. We did too! Considering it is pretty funny but also takes on a whole other meaning coming from a black person, Graham got thrown out the window the day of delivery.
Obviously, we went with Brett. . .no Bret, one "T."  We thought this would be nice to have so many "T's" but people have managed to spell his first name with two "T's" and Smartt with one.  Go figure.
Lorenzo, Jarom shut down the first time I mentioned it.  But this time I wasn't letting down.  I loved it!  As I was reading about Lorenzo Snow and some of his teachings during his time as prophet it just stayed with me.  it was kind of like his name stood out like a neon sign.
Finally, after Bret's birth we really had nothing solid other than the last names we had discussed, Bret and Lorenzo.  I am so glad we went with Lorenzo because the teachings Lorenzo Snow was known for was eternal families and life after death.  His messages I felt somehow resembled our whole situation.  I prayed to have a good name for this child and I believe that prayer was answered.

The other interesting thing I often think about was a conversation I had had with my mother just a few days before Bret was born.  I could feel him but contractions had pretty gone to zilch within the past two weeks.  My mom was worried and just told me to pay attention.  I had asked her as well if the baby could actually come back up into your womb from the birth canal, because the pressure in my pelvic area had changed and it felt like he had moved up into my rib cage.  We both kind of laughed and thought that was crazy and unlikely, but I still wondered.  Oddly enough, that was just what happened when Dr. Radpour broke my water.  It doesn't happen and shouldn't but it did.  I find it quite amazing how these things happen.

Children are a gift.  The Lord answers prayers and prepares us more than we think for the things that are to come.  I have witnessed myself. 

Perspective (Part 1)

Every now and then, things happen that seem to quickly put life into perspective.  I think these moments are little treasures of our life.  Little reminders to help us remember the great things we have in life.
My children, five sons, is one of those great things.
My husband is the other.
I'm sure there are many other things but these are definitely my top two.


Recently, when our newest addition came to our family, it was not without a fright.  Death never really crossed my mind, but my fear was simply being separated from my husband.

I remember once discussing with a friend I visit taught about whether we could choose between our husband and our kids if such a decision would have to be made.  I have never hesitated in knowing that I would choose my husband in a heartbeat.  Now as I've had more children and been a mother longer, I would say it would be more difficult to make this decision.  However, there is something about that companionship that I still reach for and would in the end always choose my husband.  Let's just hope I NEVER have to make such a choice.

I digress.

There is little I remember from this last delivery of our fifth child.  When I had to have an emergency C-section, when it was all happening, it still wasn't sinking in that my child was in danger.  I had no idea, nor did Jarom.  We both just knew that something was not right and had to be taken care of PRONTO.

I do remember being rushed down the hallway in my hospital bed, hearing the heavy breathing from the doctors and nurses rushing me to the operating room.  As I watched the lights on the ceiling, they were so bright and we were passing everything so quickly.  I was nervous.  I was afraid because I didn't know what was happening exactly.  I felt lost.  I can only imagine how my face looked.  I began to get scared and I could feel my eyes filling with water.  I didn't know what was happening! 

As I saw the OR room doors close and hearing them say my husband couldn't come in and I see him disappear from my sight behind the thick white doors, I cried silently. 

I tried to remain calm even when they put the oxygen mask on me.  I can't stand to have my face covered and my first instinct was to try to remove it from my face.  But I didn't.  It was as if I was paralyzed from confusion, fear, and feeling very much alone.  A large piece of me was standing on the other side of that door.  I was alone and needed him.

I am glad that I was put completely under for this surgery because I could not have been awake and gone through all that with Jarom not by my side.

I have still not heard all of Jarom's side of the story.  He had to stay awake during everything and was just as confused as me with what the emergency was about.  I have just heard little tidbits here and there.  He apparently doesn't like to talk about it and I have not pressed, despite my curiosity.  I just sense it scared him enough to not want to recall.

After all this, it has stayed with me for almost two weeks, that emptiness I felt as we were being separated.  A realization that I cannot live without this man.  I use to think how he couldn't survive without me but I know now I can't really survive without him.  I need him to need me.  I live to keep him alive and make him happy.  Not because I am some pitiful, submissive, low self-esteemed woman, but because I LOVE him. 

With the baby being upstairs and I'm still in recovery I have had to sleep upstairs as well.  It has been miserable.  Each night when I have to sleep in another bed it saddens me.  It hurts.  there have been a few nights that I have almost cried.  I know that my hormones are slightly wacko as well, but I still have this desire, this need to be close to Jarom always.  I feel so far away from him when I'm in another bed.  I can't wait until I can't start moving up and down the stairs regularly!

My love for Jarom is at another level.  Eternity doesn't even seem long enough.  It's a powerful thing to come to such a place in your heart, your soul.  We have been sealed together but now I think we have molded together, become one.  Each year of our marriage it has just gotten better.  I wish so many people could experience what I feel.  It takes love to a whole other meaning.

During my recovery I have seen Jarom do things that I have never seen him do our entire marriage!  I know it hasn't been easy for him but he has never complained or expected to do anything.  It has been like pulling a layer of film from my eyes and I see Jarom in another light.  ( It's sexy!) His service and patience has shown how he loves me which makes me love him even more. 

I feel blessed.  I feel tingly inside.  I feel the need to hold back tears as I think about it.  Who would have thought getting married at eighteen I would make such a good decision for a companion?  People doubted us but we were meant to be.  It makes me almost rethink the concept of soul mates.  One thing is for sure, love is much more than just an action.  It's almost like a living thing.  It can grow and develop on all different degrees and in the process weave a relationship together and make it stronger.

Love is a beautiful thing.

Need. Want. Gotta Have.

PINTEREST

Life right now seems to be all about Pinterest.  I don't know how many people have told me to check it out, I would love it. 
I'm sure that I would.
I've gotten virtual invites to join pinterest.
I'd have to keep turning it down.

I had set goal in 2011 to lessen my desires of things.  I had to give up HGTV to cut back on my project inspirations.  I didn't even renew my subscription to Southern Living magazine.  That about broke me.  I tried to shop less and browse less. 

This was not easy.  I didn't do really any projects this entire passed year. 

The nice thing was that I think it helped and even almost worked.  Sure I still like to have things but I can control it.  I don't have to HAVE it anymore.  And I'm not constantly thinking of how I can make some money to get those things.  I HAVE much.  Anything I add to my plate at this point is all dessert.  I learned to be satisfied with what I HAVE.  I don't NEED it.

I missed the projects in the sense that I love to do something with my hands and see the ended result.  I love the adventure of trying a new recipe or changing something in my house.  But so much of it was just unneccessary.  I don't think I was even try keep up with the Jones' persay but trying to out do them all together.

I feels good to say that I have accomplished my goal.  I've changed the way I look at things.  Allowing more time to focus on other things.

For 2012 I can now join Pinterest.  I can join it with confidence.  Hopefully I can pass my personal test and keep my focus in place.

Wish me luck.

Pinterest, here I come!

Pure Nothingness

I'm sitting here home alone.  Lonely.  OK, well not totally alone but my hubby is out of town so it's just me and the kids.  I dont' sleep when Jarom is gone.  I watch an amazing amount of TV (chick flicks), eat junk, and try to chat with whoever is desperate enough to chat with me on Facebook so I don't get freaked out.  I can't handle it.  I seem to hear every noise.  It's like I'm a little girl.  I feel like a little girl.  I do not get random things done that I wouldn't normally do because Jarom is home but even then it doesn't make too much of a difference.  I hate when he's gone.
In the meantime, while I try to type myself to sleep.  Can you do that?  I was reading this book that one of the teachers at the boys school recommended.  Sarah's Key.  I love a good historical fiction book.  This one had my emotions pulled in so many directions I wasn't sure how to feel.  It was during the Holocaust and one of the roundups in Paris, France.  I followed a child's story.  It wasn't the most uplifting book.  Kind of depressing no matter how much you wished and hoped. . . I didn't finish it.  Yes, it was depressing but somehow still captivating that I wanted to read it but I couldn't.
 It dropped the "F" word. 
Yep, I couldn't believe it. 
Not once. 
Twice. 
Now some have this ability to read right over it.  Not me.  The first time I read it I just has to stop all together.  That word was like stamped in my head.  But the next morning I wanted to find out what was going to happen.  I was half way thru!!!  So I pulled it out while eating breakfast.  I opened it up on top of my scriptures.  It wasn't long that the word popped up again.  Honestly, my conscience just couldn't bare looking at my scriptures I just read earlier that morning and proceed with this book. 
I finally stopped. 
That took a lot of effort . 
More than it should. 
I returned the book to the teacher today and told her how I felt.  We laughed and still discussed the story (she filled me in).  I'm glad I didn't read it.   There are so many great books out there that I shouldn't have to accept the language.  It doesn't make that book any better than a movie with bad language.  However, I will go rent the movie (since I have an editor).
You know it really bothered me how many people recommended "The Help" to me.  I heard how it was filled with "GD" throughout the whole book but yet tons of members of my faith read and recommended it still.  I'm glad I didn't read it.  I know how my mind works.  I'm sure I wouldn't start blurting out swear words but they would be in my mind.  I don't want that.  I already have enough weakness and do enough editing in my mind, so why add to it?

Visting Teaching

I have a strong testimony of visiting teaching.  I've been a not- so- hot one at times, but feel that I've come a long way and can say that "I get it" and know the importance of this calling.  I get frustrated when sisters don't do their visiting or make it complicated to be visited.  I've tried my best to take all challenges whether it was drive to a sister's house 40 minutes away to be there at 8:30 in the morning and only allowed 30 minutes to share a message.  OR sometime I will just show up to at least meet the person.  Anyway, I really want to be a great visiting teacher.  I want the sisters that I visit know that I believe they are a daughter of God and I will treat them as such.  That no one is too good or too bad to receive a spiritual message.  We all need God in our lives.  I want them to know that I truly visit them because I want to know them, help them, be there for them when they need me and because nothing is so important that I can't spare a few moments of my month to spend with them.  I don't see them as just a number or me trying to have a perfect record.  I really love them.  And I'm amazed at how the Lord blesses us with the ability to love those we don't even know when we truly try to serve others.
NOW WITH THAT SAID. . . this past month I didn't do my visiting teaching.  I had one sister.  ONE SISTER!!!  I didn't even have a companion to have to worry about coordinating schedules.  Just me and that sister.  The last day of the month while I was preparing for YW in Excellence it was all I thought about in my mind.  I had only texted her and just waited for her response about a week or so before.  Now here it was the last day I didn't send a letter or even call.  The disappointment I feel within myself, embarrassment, and lack of discipline.  I had a BIZARRE, crazy month but if I had just visited her I feel that somehow my month would have gone better.  Smoother.  I fight tears while I type because I literally have no excuse.  I cannot think of one good reason that I could not have done something.  Her birthday was even in November.  I have never had to report that I did NOTHING in I don't know how long, if ever.  I feel like I have truly disappointed the Lord.  I sincerely say that I feel shame.  It hurts.  And to that sister I don't know how I can say I'm sorry and know that it really is important to me to visit you.  I do care.
I do care.
http://lds.org/pa/display/0,17884,8776-1,00.html

The Scriptures Are True

Recently I had another light come on for me.  An "ahah" moment.  It was kind of amazing for me.  I have always believed the scriptures and often seen the truth in them.  They have helped me understand things or simply help keep my life out of utter chaos.  But this time, two Sundays ago, in Sunday School class it was just what I needed.
To back things up almost 3 years ago I had this dream.  I had this dream THREE times.  Each time it was the same but with a little more.  When that happens I figure it is something I should take a little more seriously.  It constantly weighed on my mind and I had my feelings of what I thought it probably meant.  Actually, I think I new exactly what it meant but I just didn't want to admit it.  However, there were some things that I didn't fully understand in the dream.  I'm not always great with symbolism.  But it was enough for me to get the hint and take care of the issue.
Then in this Sunday School class (that I almost missed because I was trying to get Marshall to sleep) about the last 15 minutes they were discussing Acts 20 in the New Testament.  A key word the teacher was discussing triggered my dream back into my mind.  It answered what I didn't understand about my dream.  It was like. . ."OMGoodness, I had no idea. I know what this means."  Sure I had taken care of the problem but now I know what the Lord was really trying to tell me.  I felt kind of foolish not knowing the New Testament as I should.  I guess if I would read and study it more often the Lord could have helped me better understand.
I am so grateful for this experience.  It strengthened me in knowing that there is a God and He does know me.  He doesn't want me to go astray and will warn me at all opportunity.  The scriptures really are here to help me and everyone.  They aren't just something to read.  Over and over in my mind I have thought that if I had known the Bible better I might have understood the warning and acted faster.  I might not have even had to have the dream but once.  Just a "tender mercy" as my mother-in-law would say.  No doubt.  I'm so glad I didn't miss all of that class.  Just think what I would have really missed. 

Write It Down

I look back and think of all the crazy stuff I would write in my journal.  I don't know that half even really counts.  My journal was great for venting.  Writing all the things that I was angry about or some type of drama.  There were very few things that were happy moments that I seemed to record.  Like my 16th birthday.  It was one of the best birthdays I had ever had and didn't document a single thing about it.  It was a brilliant scavenger hunt downtown Chattanooga, put together by my mom and Aunt Hilda.  I even think about the first years of marriage.  I wrote in my journal so little but what I did document was about Jarom and how he made mad or something of the sort.  Sheesh, if I died today and people used my journal just to learn about who I was, what kind of story would it tell?  Definitely not who I am....or should I say who I wanted to be.  Because most of the time I sounded like a whiny, ungrateful, little brat that no one would want to be around.  Maybe that's what I really am?  Let's hope not!  And according to all personality test I take I'm nothing like that.  Thank goodness I saved all those test to redeem my past because they MUST be true!
Today I turn 30.  Early in the morning I had a crazy, scary dream.  Rarely do I have one so terrifying that I wake up feeling completely freaked out.  But I woke up feeling so secure knowing that Jarom was there to take me in his arms.  On my way to church I thought about how I would love to just quickly go up on the stand and whisper in his ear that I love him.  It made me warm and fuzzy inside.  Then I came back to reality. 
It amazes me to think that I have almost been married for 13 years.  Thirteen years!  What makes that so amazing is that I didn't think that I could really love him more than I did those first years.  It's sooo much better than those years.  This love is deep and not just "cute" love, batting eyes, hot bodies.  It's love in all it's glory and truth. . . okay, and the hot bodies are still there, somewhere, deep within.  Like I said, "in truth."  But I believe now that I made the best decision EVER.  Jarom is an incredible man and is so good to me.
For my 30th he planned this getaway and just followed whatever I wanted to do.  It was awesome.  But it was the little things that made it so special.   Like listening to me ramble on about tree species and different plants/flowers as he patiently walked thru gardens with me.  Maybe he knew how much I would love the walk around the flowers but what I loved more that he just let me talk.  His kindness it just letting me browse the stores and gift shops with all theirs different items and my great indecisiveness to pick something. . . anything.  He took me out to some ridiculously, expensive fancy restaurant because he knows my "love languages" after all.  He helped me collect more Christmas ornaments and care for our little munchkin (whose nursing and had to tag along).  Caring for Marshall in itself was one of the best gifts he could have given me. 

To some this might sound pitiful or not so special or extraordinary.  But I know Jarom and I know the things that are easy for him and hard for him.  Just as he knows mine.  Like spending lots of money for random things, being bored to death while I shop, and listening to a baby scream for hours without end.  But he did it for me. 
It's funny.  I was kind of disappointed at first because I REALLY wanted some big party.  I wanted to be surrounded by all my friends and fam as I journeyed into another decade of life.  I was hesitant about going on the getaway not sure of how the baby would do.  But I went.  And it was the BEST trip I have ever been on.  Maybe turning 30 helped me mature a little and see all the little things that went into making this big idea of a trip.  Had I not gone on the trip, well, I'd be that whiny, bratty girl that didn't get her party.  I would have missed out on the things that could have only been exposed during that trip.  I'm so glad Jarom took me.  I saw him in another light, once again.  I fell in love all over again.

So You Think You Can Dance?

Well, honestly. . .I do.  Maybe not the quality the show is looking for but I think I got something.  I actually wanted to audition last year when they came to Atlanta.  I cried when I couldn't go.  Then I saw on the show the people that auditioned and made it. . .glad I didn't show up!  It would have been possibly more humiliating than I had prepared.
The other night I went to a ballet class.  I haven't been in a ballet class in ten years.  I was pretty nervous and sure I would make a fool of myself.  Thank goodness for some competitive drive.  Sometimes it makes you push yourself to do things. 
My posture was bad and my gut was larger than 10 years before.  I could see my age wearing those tights and leotard.  I managed through the first bar exercises and gradually got better by the end.  The floor exercises were fun and not so bad except for the chennes. . .spotting is important.  I was definitely off.  I only walked around like a drunk for a little bit.  By the end I was just getting relaxed and comfortable.  I could have gone for another hour.  Class was over.

It was nice to be in a dance class.  You know everyone has that place or thing that makes all their cares go away.  This is one of those places for me.  Those mirrors hold me accountable for my outward appearance.  The other dancers and teachers push me to be better.  The music puts me in another world.  I love it!

When the class ended the teacher didn't believe that it had been ten years.  It really has.  But boy did that make me feel good.  Technically I have only a year total of ballet studio experience.  To hear those words makes me remember that this is something I'm good at.  Not to brag but we have to believe in ourselves.

So Much To Say. . .

I have so much weighing on my mind from ideas running thru my head as soon as I hit the pillow to ways to be better in my life and just flat out random gibberish that constantly crosses my mind for one reason or another.

First, I am so grateful to be able to serve in Young Women's.  I probably shouldn't have a favorite but it's the one area that I just FEEL it.  I constantly think about the girls and it really makes me aware of my faults and weaknesses.  It keeps me on my toes and when I feel like I am challenged the most to be my best.  I love the relationships I build with the girls and working to help them have confidence in doing right each day.  It's a blessing.  As I have enjoyed all my callings, this is where my heart beats.

With that, it leads me to my little "soapbox."  OK, huge soapbox 'cause I've got an opinion towards just about everything.  And one of my biggest has to do with this billboard we pass every time we come home from traveling to Chattanooga (which is a few good times a year).  And for the past few years I see the billboard, get frustrated, forget about it eventually, then see it again and the cycle just continues. 

This is what it says:

"I can wait because my dreams won't."

Sounds harmless, yes?  Maybe "it's all in how you interpret it," as my husband would say.  Maybe my interpretation is wrong.  But the fact that there is room for interpretation is enough to irritate me!

So what is my interpretation exactly?. . .This is an add for abstinence.  I support that matter 100%.  But every time I read that ad the first thing that came and comes to my mind is that, "I can wait because if I get pregnant it will ruin everything."  It irritates me to my core.  Children are not a dream killer.  Some women actually dream of being mothers.  So what do you say to them?  I feel like even in accidental ways we portray kids as a nuisance and problem in our lives.  I wish people would be real about sex and the other consequences.  A child might actually be the only decent consequence out of it all.  But to say the children prevent dreams from happening breaks my heart.  I realize that it might make graduating from high school difficult and going to college seem near impossible.  But when you have children life is still very possible and sometimes other dreams come to light. Its the diseases and other lifestyles that follow casual sex that can kill dreams. 

I recently read an article by Elder Bruce D. Porter and he said this, "Many young people across our nation, who in the natural course of life should grow up, marry, and rear children, are instead trapped in a world where sexual intimacy is casual, responsibility and long-term commitments are denigrated, and children are viewed as a burden, a distraction from the pursuit of happiness and personal fulfillment."  When I read this it just hit me that this was exactly how I was feeling.

I know I had all kinds of dreams. . .being President of the United States possibly or at least a top person in some major company.  Be fluent in a foreign language and live in a different country for a while.  Go to New York and dance, dance, dance in hopes to make it to Broadway.  Seriously.  I knew at some point in time I wanted to be a mom and get married but I also knew my standards and just figured I would postpone both until I did what I wanted to do.

Long story short.  I got married at 18 had my first child when I was 21 and now I have four sons and been married for 12 years.  How's that for a plan!?  Maybe MY dreams weren't necessarily aimed at the right target.  And maybe I didn't even finish college.  But I LOVE my life and where it's taken me.  The Lord asked that I have faith in Him and I did.  He has now opened more doors for me than I could have imagined.  I've learned about things that really make me happy. 

My children have no doubt changed my life.  I drive a minivan and I'm not even 30, sheesh!  The roads they have taken me down I've never once considered them a distraction or burden.  I truly believe because I have accepted this path (even when it was hard for me) the Lord has helped and blessed me tenfold.  I hope I never make me kids think they were a mistake or burden to me.  I pray that I help the young women that I work with have the desire to be mothers and accept that calling. . .lawfully wedded. . . to brilliant young men.  It is better than a dream.  It's real.  It's a gift.

Crush

I don't know what happened to me this time around but after this baby it was like I got this huge crush on my own husband.

It's been kind of fun.

I feel like I've gone back to our dating days.

You know where there are boundaries but you can kiss and talk all you want.

I did just have a baby, there are definitely boundaries.

The time where you would get butterflies every time you would hold hands.

After 11 years of marriage I can say that the butterflies kind of faded away. Now they are back and it's like a whole new experience.

Does the fourth child do this to you?

I even found myself standing in the kitchen giggling to myself thinking,

"I love him! I love Jarom."

Crazy you might say.

Crazy in love.

Love can give you the crazies.

I'm willing to risk it.

I do love him! I've got a huge crush!

I'm blushing with love for my Jarom.

Jarom, I love you and I want everyone to know.

Service

For the past few weeks the message of service seems to be all around me. I feel like I'm starting to get it but I still stink at it. It's never been my strong point. A-matter-of-fact, I'm not a very compassionate person, period.
I try to give compliments regularly to people. I think about all kinds of things to do for others. But little ever comes of it. I keep telling myself, "It's the thought that counts, right?" Maybe that's the devil on my shoulder, because the very next thought that comes to me is, "Actions speak louder than words."
Sheesh, life can be tough on a person.
This past Sunday, Brother Cruze gave a talk based on Jeffrey R. Holland's talk. It guess it was based on gratitude but you find quickly service and gratitude almost go hand in hand. At least, that was what I felt. It also helped me realize that even though I'm terrible at serving others I'm not very good at accepting service either. I try to be independent and say that's not the church's responsibility or that person's job. It came to me that some people enjoy helping others, SERVING them. They get it. Sometimes saying, "no thanks" is taking away a piece of them.
The week before a sister also spoke on service. She talked how it's an addiction for her and it helps her in her everyday life. It helps fulfill her. She's also pregnant with her 7th child and due the same time as me. Well, she showed up at my house the other day to help clean when she found out I was already dilated and my cervix was softened. I'm thinking what's wrong with this picture!? I wanted to send her home. It seemed ridiculous. But I felt I shouldn't deny her the opportunity to do something that she loved, was of good, and helped her not just me. In the end it was wonderful. I didn't let her clean my whole house as she attempted but her boys played with Hyrum, who LOVED the company, and it gave me some company too. Because of her simple service I was grateful.
I also taught a lesson this past Sunday that touched base on service and how it helps us feel the Lord daily in our lives. That's what I need and probably what I've been missing. I try to do the everyday mechanical things but service is where I lack. I take my visiting teaching seriously and as a mother, in some ways, I automatically serve. I know I need to do more. Step out of my comfort zone. I'm going to try to do better this year. I don't know how to measure such a thing. Maybe it will just be something that I will feel within myself but hopefully will be felt by others around me.
I too often have been blessed by those who serve me. It's time that I do something back. Sincerely.

Ice chips

source

I can't seem to get enough ice during this pregnancy.

My dentist is going to love me.

I thought Sonic had the best ice.

Wrong.

Sam's Club beat them by a long shot.

I could use a huge mug of it right now.

Not gonna happen.

I'll have to continue with the attemped version of crushed ice my freezer.

It works.

Jarom doesn't complain.

He can be so patient with me.

My kids think it's weird.

They don't understand how some things just happen during pregnancy.

Funny thing. . .

I can't stand to hear people crunch their ice.

It's one of my hugest pep-peeves.

Along with people that smack their food or pick at their finger nails.

It's definitely in the top three.

It's almost embarrassing.

Yet, I can't live without it.

If it means I have to sit in my closet so it doesn't bother anyone.

I will do just about anything for some crushed ice.

The Joys of Pregnancy

A quick sum of things is that once again I have GD (gestational diabetes). After 5 glucose test (10 weeks-twice, 20 weeks, 28 weeks, and 30 weeks), did I mention I hate that drink, the doctor finally decided it was too close to call and start monitoring my sugar. Lovely.

To make things even better Jarom likes sweets even more than me BUT he can eat them. He ate a piece of cake tonight to finish it just to make another dessert now that it's gone. Oh and we still have cookies. Yummy cookies. Someone tell me how I'm suppose to watch my sugar with it sitting in my face. I have little self control.

Not only do I not have self control but major denial issues. I cannot praise my visiting teaching companion enough, who is my food expert, for helping me through this. I love you Lara. I cried for days. Denial is real. Being 29 and hearing you have diabetes (I know it's only temporary) plus they thought I might have gall bladder problems!? My instructions was "go to little or no fat diet" and then my OB says "no sugar." That's a lot for someone my age to take in when you consider yourself pretty healthy, not obese, and no family history of either health issue. Being in that rare 3% is very depressing. Having someone tell you you are "unhealthy" in my translation kills me. I just don't get it. But I'm coping. Can't you tell?

Despite the major mood swings this time around, another round of progesterone, being lactose intolerant (or possibly gall bladder, whatever), GD, and a varicose vein, I've even had to wear the mommy-belt, pregnancy hasn't been all that bad. Really.

Being huge isn't so bad. It's obvious I am pregnant just not so obvious with how many. People at this point think you're "cute." I think round people are cute too.

I still wear heels to church no matter what my doctor says. It's a must. I refuse to wear flats. Thankfully, my feet and ankles don't swell. Knock on wood.

Feeling the baby move is fascinating. It makes it real.

I know this doesn't last forever and I've never even made it 9 months.

I love hearing my boys talk about the baby, what they want to name it and what it will be like. They still have no concept of how the baby comes out but I'm in no hurry to rush to details on that matter. Hyrum can't wait for the baby. . . he thinks. He says he will "talk to it and pet it." I'm already at peace with my future helper.

It's always an excellent conversation starter and I'm never one to miss a little chat.

I love being a mom. Being pregnant humbles me and reminds of this little miracle I'm playing a role in. It is amazing.

I'm weird about babies and don't hold other people's newborns. I can't explain. It's weird. But I sure love holding my own. Even more I love watching Jarom hold our newborns. I makes me fall in love with him every time.

Now I'm down to the wire and just waiting for this little fella to join our family. Then I'm heading to Krispy Kreme.

Food

Ah, food can be such a personal thing to me and can get me really roused up when people start talking about it. Just a few weeks ago a friend of mine did a week of cooking with her to cook more healthy items. I love her passion and enthusiasm and agree with her in so many ways but the "devil's advocate" comes out in me and makes me want to rally for the mac n' cheese and hot dog lovers.
After many comments and pushing her buttons I decided I would write back with my own blog post. That was about two weeks ago. I had so much to say I didn't know how to say it all. Though I will quickly throw in that I am more educated on the matter than some might give me credit. I don't love to cook but I love the chemistry of food, and I was a lab tech for a few years in Bacteriology, Toxicology, and Pharmacology. I learned a lot.
Then after last night's Relief Society broadcast I felt humbled. I decided to just simply say that food is all about CHOICE. PERIOD.
And with that thought I thought I would share one of the yummiest chocolate chip cookie recipes I've made in a while! I stays soft for days. Eat up!

DOUBLE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES (makes about 7 dozen)
courtesy of Southern Living Magazine Nov/Dec. 2008

1 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cups creamy peanut butter
2 1/2 cups firmly packed brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 egg white
1/2 cup sour cream
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 1/2 cups bread flour (I just used plain all purpose and it seemed fine)
1 tablespoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups sweetened flaked coconut (I used much less b/c it makes me think of hair)
2 cups semisweet chocolate morsels
1 cup miniature semisweet chocolate morsels

Preheat oven to 350.
In a large bowl, beat butter and peanut butter at medium speed with an electric mixer until creamy. Add brown sugar, beating until creamy. Beat in eggs, egg white, sour cream, and vanilla until combined.
Combine your flour, baking soda and salt. Gradually add to butter mixture until combined. Add coconut chocolate morsels until combined.
Drop batter by heaping tablespoonfuls, 2 inches apart, onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake for 10-15 minutes, or until lightly browned. Let them cool. Store in airtight container for up to 1 week.
*With my oven the perfect time seemed to be around 9-10 minutes. Also I only made about 4 dozen cookies the first round so the rest I refrigerated. The cookie dough taste pretty yummy too and makes up well for later.

One Year

This day I knew would come and yet somehow my emotions have taken me by surprise. Thanks to pregnancy and the need to have to always get up in the middle of the night to go pee, I was up at four, 4:09am to be exact. I went back to bed and just lay there not being able to go back to sleep. Before I knew it I was crying. Trying not to wake my quiet house I just let the tears flow. My pillow was wet. My hair was wet. My eyes were pouring. I just wanted to go back to sleep I had a house to run in just a couple of hours. But I lay there and thought of my brother Doug. His love for life, friends, and family. His positive attitude. I just hoped to carry those things on too.
I thought about how I planned to do just that by planning my day cram packed full . . .like take my friend out for her birthday because I love her. He was good to his friends. Build a train track with Hyrum and even some DDR with the older boys. Doug loved his family. Teach a dance class because I never miss an opportunity to dance and share my passion. Doug was really passionate about his activities. Then go out with my husband tonight with friends and cherish how much I love them. The thoughts just overwhelmed me. It led to one thing after another.
My Stake President's wife asked me this summer, while we were at Philmont, how I was doing. She told me how she felt when she lost her father. When that first year came SO FAST and it was fairly difficult. She wasn't near the grave site or family. She didn't know if it was OK to move on or not and she just didn't want to forget. I know how she feels right now.
Thankfully, I still have my sweet husband (whom I probably woke up despite my efforts) and he put his hand to my arm and pulled me to his side of the bed and wrapped me up in his arms and just held me while I REALLY cried. . . for a long time. I was completely in love and loved at that moment and so glad that I still have this person to hold me and comfort me. Where would I be without him? Though I no doubt believe that our marriage is eternal, there are moments where that seems to far away for the here and now. Oh how my heart goes out to Mary this day!
And though I have the desire to hang up that black dress, for the year has come, I know that it's still alright to be sad. There will be times that I will have a memory of Doug come to my mind. But this day I will never forget. Never.

Problems with Prego

I'm not actually talking about the sauce. I don't even eat Prego spaghetti sauce. I'm more of a Ragu kind of girl. It's cheaper than making it myself and the Garden Combination taste pretty darn good. But that is beside the point, I'm getting distracted here!
Prego as in pregnant. Yeh, I'm putting it out there again for the world to know. It's risky but I'm finally passed the miscarriage stage and honestly my belly just won't let me keep it a secret anymore. It might look as if I had my fine share of Prego sauce with all the fixin's and dessert to go along. It's embarrassing. Too many women at this time are pregnant along with me and if we were in a race for who can get larger the fastest I would have already passed them up. . . even if they are all ahead of me in the actual pregnancy. I'm going for the walrus look.
Despite the fact that I am HUGE it's not all my fault. We all need to blame this stuff on something. Even though that goes against everything I teach my children. I had to do that progesterone stuff again. Just imagine me rolling my eyes and gagging while I'm writing this. That's how I feel about that cursed hormone. I had to take it for 8 weeks and gained a good bloated 8 pounds to show for it! I have pity for all women who have had to take this while pregnant. Heck, I have a great respect for all those women who even get sick during their pregnancies without any meds being the cause. This is my first experience.
It must be a girl. It's crossed my mind. I'm coping with the fact. But honestly, it's still a sour subject. I'd rather not talk about it.
Now I'm happily off the drug, slightly slowing down in weight gain (I've asked my doctor twice if I'm having twins) and slowly regaining my energy. I sit here and think of my amazing friend Noelle who just ran a half marathon at 7 months pregnant and I'm just trying to find the will-power to clean my bathrooms.
The other issue is gestational diabetes. They are words that make me nervous and want to cry at the thought. I'm pregnant and emotionally unstable so the tears are excused. I had it for the last 3 weeks with my last pregnancy causing me to be tested at 10 weeks this time around. Yuck is all I can say. I failed the 1 hour but gratefully passed the 3 hour. I actually did cry tears of happiness. I even bought a box of doughnuts to celebrate. I will pay for that, no doubt. I have to be re-tested at 20 weeks. The thought makes me want to go buy more doughnuts!
After all my complaining no wonder Jarom wants to be done. I tell him no way. But this time around I know it's been hard. My kids have seen me become worthless, sick, and grouchy to say it nicely. I've been an emotional nut. Maybe all those years of trying to control my moods from seven brothers each month is finally all coming out at once. My poor family. Like I said, it is getting better, I promise.
What do the scriptures say? And it came to pass. . .

Silverado

My time at Philmont was quite the surprising experience. All I could really think about was planning for the trek cross-country. Surviving the 22 hour drive and packing EVERYTHING. I didn't really think about much else. I knew that tents would be provided, food and activities. What more did I need to think about?
The Young Men General Presidency was there providing the training and there wives were there also. These women are amazing. Especially Sister Beck (young men president's wife). I was privileged to receive a few hugs from her. It sounds crazy but there is really something magical about her hugs. It's true. It's like she passes an energy between the two of you that just radiates inside you.
It was obvious that Sister Beck and the other counselors wives had gone out of there way to make all the Silverados happy to be there. . . because we all know this probably was not the ideal vacation for any of us wives.
Outside of the normal Philmont activities planned the sisters planned several other meetings of spiritual uplifting and counsel. One of the main focuses was supporting our husbands and sustaining them and also supporting one another. For whatever reason, I was just not prepared for this spiritual insight. I came to play and enjoy the southwestern world around me. But there really is nothing like taking the opportunity to get to know other sisters in so many areas who are trying to live the gospel just like you. It's fulfilling. I quickly attempted to meet as many women as possible. Some I will NEVER forget. There testimonies built mine.
I was kind of sad to leave. I really learned so much about myself, my testimony. Our drive home I had lots to think about.
Some of those things that came to me, some I already knew I just needed to be reminded, were:

• I have a great husband. He works hard for me and our family.
• He works hard in his calling and I simply take the blessing for his efforts.
• I hope I've never been a wife that didn't support my husband in his callings or became the "burden" of his calling. There are all ranges of areas for him to serve in the church and I would hate to think that I would be the one that kept him from serving because I'm (I've created the 3 N's) needy, nagging, or nosey. It seems selfish that I would take away opportunities for him to grow, help others grow and bless our family. Sure some callings are "time consuming" but they all have an end and I've never seen anyone regret those opportunities that have come. Besides there will come a time that I will be called to time consuming callings too and I will need his support all the same.
• It's not about me. . .I'll confess, this is a tough one.
• I have a great mom. I look back and think of what an amazing example she set for me. I never saw her complain about my Dad being away though now I know how hard it was sometimes.
• My parents are converts and they changed their lives to be apart of this Gospel. It must be important to give up so much and work so hard to learn and teach me at the same time. They thought it important enough to raise me in such a lifestyle. I am beyond grateful. I'm in debt.
• I am a daughter of God. My bishop just recently spoke about having bricks to build our testimonies. That there is always that one thing that is the main brick. (He explained it far more eloquently). But while I was at Philmont, one of the main focuses is the scouting program and building up good, strong young men. From the very first fireside on Sunday night with Brother and Sister Ochoa, for the rest of the week, it kept coming to my mind. I am a daughter of God. They need to know they are children of God. Not just that he loves you but that you are an heir to His throne. When the Spirit is with you you actual have a part of the Godhead with you. It's like royal blood. If every youth could fully understand this it's like all else falls into place. This was my brick as a youth and continues to be. It's the one thing I without a doubt KNOW.
• I am 100% Southern girl.

A long story short.

It took me 12 years to decide to grow it long.
8 months of patience.
Long hair is overrated.
Did I mention I have a phobia of hair?
I hate clogged drains.
I hate loose hair EVERYWHERE!
Excuse me while I gag.
I cut it.
Happy day.
Ignore what I'm wearing.
It was early.What makes things better?
Jarom says he likes it better.
I may never grow it long again.
The End.

Not to boast

I can't help but pat myself on the back. Sometimes it just feels good and we all know I suffer from being quite egotistical. But I love looking at color. Let me rephrase because that's looking at color is unavoidable. I love color and being surrounded by it, using it, and I even collect paint chips. Alright, I even own a color fan. It's out. I might need therapy. Isn't there color therapy? LOL!
My favorite thing is color consulting. I thought about putting my name on a paint store board but chickened out. I never felt qualified. After reading this book I feel a little more confident.
Now I know what you are thinking, who reads decorating books? We all know that we just look at the pictures and never actually READ what they say. I'm one of those nerds that does read the actual decorating book.
I've always tried to keep a list of thoughts of how to coordinate colors. I love it when people call me to ask a color/paint question. It inspires me. And I will think about their question for days possibly weeks. Anyway, some of the things that I had already "decided" for myself and made note of was this:
1) All colors are neutral. Now people think I'm crazy and even many designers would disagree with me but it's true. When you look at a rainbow does the orange look out of place? or the green? No. What about purple? You can't just put anything with blue. Sure you can. Blue looks brilliant with red, it looks beautiful with yellow, fun and even masculine with green, perfect compliment to orange, it's even nice with brown or black. It adds contrast to pink and looks calming with blue. Are you with me? All colors are neutral.
2) With that said, you can put any color together but they have to be the same tone. If not then your colors won't look so good.
3)Leading me to say, don't sweat. I've learned by just observing people's homes, style, and myself that we are naturally drawn to the same tones. Therefore, if you like green with blue undertones you will probably like the red, yellow or orange that has that same hue. So when you wonder if something matches. . . it probably does.
4)If you look good in a color use it in your house! I look good in turquoise. I painted my bathroom that color. Even on a bad day it makes me feel good.

After reading Elaine's book (which I just realize I've blogged about her book before) I noticed she said essentially the same thing. It made me feel great to think that I was already on target and I hadn't had any training compared to this designer. Maybe I do have some talent?

Lastly, I long ago created my own "color test." Don't know if anyone has ever used it but I try to use it when I'm helping friends. It has seemed to work almost every time for me. When I saw that the author had created essentially the same thing (just slightly more in detail) then I knew, "I'm good!" Just kidding. That ego is seeping through. Humble thoughts.

I have to admit. It feels good to know that I'm good at something and that I can finally say it with confidence.