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This morning I took Liv for an early morning jog. The dew of summer is gone and has been replaced with the crispness that assures me that fall is near. I have more eagerly anticipated the seasons changing this last year. They approached with the promise of new milestones, growth, potential, changes, the chance to move forward; all things I so desperately need and crave right now in life. However, this year has been hard. Just really, really hard. All the changes new seasons have promised have failed me. Many doors have closed in our faces, health compromised, frustrations have been all-consuming, promises made to us only to be broken, and there is the feeling of being completely cemented in place.

This morning felt different. I feel something is going to change. Call it inspiration, call it blind hope, call it denial. But I feel it. I am hesitant to believe it, mostly because I want it so badly. Each time my foot hit the pavement I thought, "This doesn't define me. This doesn't define our lives. My frustrations do not define me. This will end. It will. " There is a quote by Pres. Gordon B. Hinckley that has been running through my mind the last few days:

Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot f time running around shouting that he has been robbed. Most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old-time journey-- delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.

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I do not expect bliss, I never have. I know how to work hard in my life to make things work. B and I have a good marriage because we know how to work at it, how to communicate. I know how to get through days when motherhood has reduced me to tears. I know how to carry my friendships because I know how to love and appreciate. I am capable and strong, and I think some how I have forgotten this. I need to remember.

I am not less eager about fall and winter. There is good there. There has to be. I will wait, right here, ready to embrace it.

11 Months

My army-crawling, 8 toothed, happy, curly-haired, sqeaky baby is 11 months old. I can hardly believe it.

On Mattering

A few weeks ago, I started a job doing legal transcription. I was excited by the idea of it being a step away from medical, something interesting and different. When my editor sent me my second case, I was intrigued by the idea of it being a murder case and set straight to work.

I loaded my files and was surprised when the first one opened as a video. Generally, the files come only in audio form. I pressed play and the image of a black man in an orange jump suit came to life. He was so big, so tough looking, the scowl on his face revealing nothing. I listened intently and worked my way through the first few hours of the video.

Tough, a gang member, robbery, murder, drugs, guns, money; all things I would expect to hear in a case like his.

I was amazed at the way the cops unraveled his story, how every lie he told fell apart. His world fell apart at his feet, right before my eyes. It was only a matter of time before the truth began pouring out....and my heart began to ache for him.

As the truth began to reveal itself, the young man retreated to the corner of the room, hugging his knees against his chest, sobs racking his enormous body. He sobbed about his involvement (he had not actually been the murderer), he cried about his future, and he sobbed about the deceit by his so-called friend and brother that had landed him there in the first place. Most devastatingly of all, he cried for his mother. Rocking back and forth on in the corner of the dingy interrogation room, he pleaded with the detectives that he would tell them the truth if they, in turn, promised that he could give his mother a hug. (Much to my relief, the detectives vowed to make that happen.) The rough exterior gone, the vulgar language melted into tears; this hard, rough, man wanted not his freedom, not his friends, not his girlfriend, but his mother.

Tears began to pour down my cheeks as I listened to his pleading. I felt his tears in every inch of my being. His sobs spoke to the mother in me and I felt the familiar fierceness I often feel when I think about my own child and how intensely and wholly I love her. While his actions were inexcusable, I couldn't shake the actual physical pain I felt in my heart for him. I felt his longing, and it will haunt me forever.

I know many mother's, including myself, that worry unceasingly that what we are doing actually matters. Does my child need me? Am I ever doing enough? Does what I'm doing actually make a difference? In that young man's tears, I understood that, yes, I am and yes, it makes all the difference.

Confessions: Part 7

** I don't know how many times a day my internal monologue says, "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just the mom," when encountering strangers, non-strangers, and really, no one necessarily particular.

**Girls Camp? Honestly, not the best experience I've ever had. Being unprepared, short on information, having a lack of general knowledge and know-how, and a girl breaking her arm did little to enhance the experience. End result? Me, a sobbing, blubbering mess by the end of the week. (But that had more to do with a little bit of "Bishop Inspiration (or intuition)" than it did a bad camp experience. That is another blog for another time, but I digress.)

**Because of said "Bishop Inspiration," I have spent much of the last week in tears. The jury is still out as to if this is actually a bad thing.

**I have a job (!) and so far I am really loving it! First case? Child abuse- So sad. Seconds case? A murder trial- sad and interesting.

**Said job makes me feel very voyeuristic and nosy. It's strange to be paid to hear someones secrets and confessions.

**I'm struggling with self-image right now, in a big, ugly way. It needs to stop.

**I have a lot on my mind that I want to talk about, that I have a need to verbalize, but I can't seem to make my mouth say the words.

**My eyes started going bad during pregnancy and have never recovered. The day I would need glasses again has come too soon.

**Lately, I have been so tired, my head starts to tilt sideways without my even realizing it until my head is touching my shoulder. Problem?

Tired, So Tired

This week is basically over and I'm not sure I have entirely recovered from last weekend and I'm still gearing up for Girl's Camp next week. Yeah, Girl's Camp. Did I not mention I got called to be the Assistant Director? Well, I did....last Sunday.

Last weekend started with Livi's ENT appointment to check her laryngomalacia, hearing, and evaluate her for tubes. While her larynx is doing well (still squeaky, but she is thriving), her hearing tested on the very lowest level of "normal," and the ENT wanted to wait and see if she got anymore ear infections over the summer (as if having 7 since March was not a big deal, but I digress). Sigh. At the doctor, she seemed her happy, healthy, normal self.

Fast forward 9 hours....I had just returned home from a night out with a friend to discover Liv had a fever of 103.8 and began projectile vomiting all over me over and over again. After the 6th time she vomits on me, I set her down to grab a towel to clean us off and I can see she pushing something around in her mouth. I stick my finger in her mouth to extract the offending object only to discover.....it's a penny. A PENNY. I stood there horrified at the thought that not only did she swallow a penny and not choke, but she threw it back up and didn't choke either. Tears flooded my eyes as I realized that someone is watching over my baby, keeping her safe, and was immediately overwhelmed with gratitude. Shortly after, I was rushing her to the ER with fears of more swallowed coins and dehydration consuming my mind. Six and a half hours, 1 catheter, 1 x-ray, a few test, and an IV to hydrate her we were home again. I had been awake for 26 hours and was completely exhausted. I had been sick for a few days and this seemed to only exaggerate the problem.

Sunday morning rolled around and I had every intention of staying home with Liv to help in our recovery, but that didn't happen. An hour before church, the Bishop called and asked if B and I would come in and meet with him. We obliged and 30 minutes later we were sitting across from him. He seemed a little antsy as he asked if I would accept the calling as assistant camp director.
Sure! I said, to which he replied, "Oh good, camp is the 19th -23rd, next week."

My jaw hit the floor. And a flurry or camp meetings, phone calls, and projects later I am now "unofficially" the DIRECTOR and in charge of everything.

Holy. Crap.

B had to leave town for training and luckily Haley had arranged to come visit for a few days. As always, she saved me. Thank goodness for good sleezas.

Liv is now sick again. I'm exhausted and ready to face plant. Ugh.

10 Months

Teeth: 6
Weight: 21 lbs 1 oz
Ear Infections: 7
Sleeping: Through the night for the last week and a half!
Naps: Usually 2, sometimes just 1.
Words: Mama, Dada, Ba, Ga, Ta, Wa, Fa, Sss, Rah, Puh, Yeh, and a series of different combinations of those. (She has inadvertently said "Yeah" and "Hot" but I am positive those were not intentional.)
Happy: Practically always.
Sad: Rare and brief.
New Likes: Enchanted, Lady GaGa (My child? Really?) Ray LaMontagne (Definitely my child.), pancakes, sleeping with her bum in the air, Dr. Ello (her pediatrician) , waving, being SUPER flexible (I swear to you, she can do the splits).
New Dislikes: Most food, when I leave the room, napping at church, goose eggs, helmets, motorcycles, spherical things in general, cold things.
Signs: Milk......but nothing else. We are working on many, but she is having some "sensory" issues we are working through.
Favorite People: Dad and Mom. In that order.
Friends: Sydney D., Gavin D., Gavinn O., Dallace W.
Loved: By basically everyone.

Silverwood, Silver Cars, and Clark Bars

The husband and I haven't had a lot down/alone/together time in the last few months so a few days ago we found a sitter for Liv and made our way to Silverwood, a theme park in Idaho. I know what you're thinking....a theme park? In Idaho? I know, not exactly what comes to mind when one thinks of Idaho but I was pleasantly surprised. I was eager for a break (we were gone 15 and 1/2 hours and it was officially the longest I have been away from Olivia), and even more eager for a break with my hubs. After we rode the roller coasters, we spent many hours at their water park soaking up the gorgeous weather. Disneyland its not, but it has a few more than decent roller coasters and a water park. It was a fun day, and I wasn't disappointed. Even though I was so grateful for a break, it didn't stop us from coming home and waking Livi up just so we could see her....we REALLY missed her. (By the way, we were dopes and didn't take a single picture. Sad, eh?)

While there, we meandered into a candy shop and I found this.....A Clark Bar. I have wanted to try one of these foreeeeeever. They are impossible to find, so I was more than delighted to find one. It didn't disappoint, either.

So where do silver cars fit into this equation? Well, that's how we got to said theme park....in our newly purchased......

Mazda 3! Since we no longer reside in a state that requires serious 4 wheel drive (glory hallelujah!), we down-sized from the Escalade and got this lovely. I am soooo beyond thrilled.I love it. LOVE it.

Thank you husband for a good week. Thank you Tasha for babysitting. Thank you Idaho for not being as lame as I had thought.