Big Sigh

I just got home from church. To adequately describe how light and free I feel now that my lesson is over is impossible. It's beyond words. Such a bizarre thing, to be so nervous... but I was. Like weird-dreams-about-catastrophic-things-happening-during-my-lesson nervous. The kind of dreams that stay with you and you're left tired from lack of restful sleep.

I mean...sheesh. I've long claimed that being a Relief Society teacher would be a dream calling. After today, I still think it would be but I was not thinking that last night.

Sam's birthday party was on Saturday, which kept competing with my lesson for my energy, thoughts and effort. Both went reasonably well. Sam's party was just fine for six year olds (which it would have been had everyone shown up and I gave them all a light saber and said, "Play!" but, no, I had to concoct five different games - none of which totally turned out the way they should have.

As I taught today, there were lots of comments, not nearly enough time to get through the massive amounts of information I had, but a good feeling at the end.

I taught on Agency. As I prepared, I wondered several times if I was preparing the right lesson or if I was merely giving the lesson I wanted to give. I love the ideas and principles of agency. I love how much more understanding there is about something so taken for granted when considered from a gospel perspective.

Here are some of my favorite quotes. Not all were read because there wasn't enough time.

• Teachings of David O. McKay: “There is a significant reference in the book of Revelation to a “war in Heaven” It is not only significant, but seemingly contradictory, for we think of heaven as a celestial abode of bliss, an impossible condition for war and contention to exist. The passage is significant because it implies a freedom of choice and of action in the spirit world. In the Pearl of Great Price we are given this account.“Wherefore, because that Satan rebelled against me, and sought to destroy the agency of man, which I the Lord God, had given him, and also, that I should give unto him mine own power, by the power of mine Only Begotten, I caused that he should be cast down.

• Teachings of Brigham Young: “Can the people understand that it is actually necessary for opposite principles to be placed before them, or this state of being would be no probation, and we should have no opportunity for exercising the agency given us? Can they understand that we cannot obtain eternal life unless we actually know and comprehend by our experience the principle of good and the principle of evil, the light and the darkness, truth, virtue and holiness and also vice, wickedness and corruption?”

• Boyd K. Packer: “During all of the taunting, the abuse, the scourging, and the final torture of crucifixion, the Lord remained silent and submissive. Except, that is, for one moment of intense drama which reveals the very essence of Christian doctrine (agency). That moment came during the trial. Pilate, now afraid, said to Jesus: “Speakest thou not unto me? Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee?” One can only imagine the quiet majesty when the Lord spoke, “Thou couldest have no power at all against me, except it were given thee from above.” What happened thereafter did not come because Pilate had power to impose it, but because the Lord had the will and agency to accept it. “I lay down my life,“the Lord said. “that I might take it again.No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.”

• L. Lionel Kendrick of the Seventy: Laws are given as a standard by which we exercise our moral agency and by which we will be judged. At death, our first judgment will be based upon our obedience to laws given in mortality. And in our final judgment, we will inherit the kingdom whose laws we prepared ourselves to receive. We cannot enter the celestial kingdom unless we have lived the celestial law.

• Robert D. Hales: Although the devil laughs, his power is limited. Some may remember the old adage: “The devil made me do it.” Today, I want to convey, in absolutely certain terms, that the adversary cannot make us do anything. He does lie at our door, as the scriptures say, and he follows us each day. Every time we go out, every decision we make, we are either choosing to move in his direction or in the direction of our Savior. But the adversary must depart if we tell him to depart. He cannot influence us unless we allow him to do so, and he knows that! The only time he can affect our minds and bodies – our very spirits- is when we allow him to do so. In other words, we do not have to succumb to his enticements. We have been given agency.

• Teachings of David O. McKay: “With agency, there comes responsibility. If a man is to be regarded for righteousness and punished for evil, then common justice demands that he be given the power of independent action. Knowledge of good and evil is essential to man’s progress on earth. If he were coerced to do right at all times, or were helplessly enticed to commit sin, he would merit neither a blessing for the first nor punishment for the second.

• Teachings of the Prophet Brigham Young: “The Lord does not compel any person to embrace the Gospel, and I do not think he will compel them to live it after they have embraced it. I am not going to drive a man or a woman to heaven. A great many think that they will be able to flog people into heaven, but this can never be done, for the intelligence in us is as independent as the Gods. People are not to be driven and you can put into a gnat’s eye all the souls of the children of men that are driven into heaven by preaching hell-fire. Does it follow that a man is deprived of his rights, because he lists in his heart to do the will of God? Must a man swear to prove that he has an agency? I contend there is no necessity for that, nor for stealing nor for doing any wrong. I can manifest to the heavens and to the inhabitants of the earth that I am free-born, and have my liberty before God, angels and men, when I kneel down to pray, certainly as much as if I were to go out and swear. I have the right to call my family together at certain hours for prayer, and I believe that this course proves that I am a free agent, as much as if I were to steal, swear, lie and get drunk.” (Gotta love the way Brother Brigham puts things:))

• Howard W. Hunter reminds us that, “When the children of Israel returned from Egypt and stood on the threshold of the promised land, they faced the clear choice of what was before them. Of the future that was about to be theirs. The Lord said to them: (Deuteronomy 11: 26-28) “Behold, I set before you this day a blessing and a curse; A blessing if ye obey the commandments of the Lord your God, which I command you this day and a curse, if ye will not obey the commandments of the Lord your God." That is the choice the Lord puts before us as we face our own promised lands and our own bright futures. We are given the knowledge, the help, the enticement and the freedom to choose the path of eternal safety and salvation. The choice to do so is ours. By divine decree before this world was, the actual choice is, and always has been, our own.

I actually had a lot more than this but these quote were my favorite. We ended by singing the hymn, "Know this that Every Soul is Free" and then had testimonies from three women who all talked about choice. I'm glad I've had this experience. Maybe next time, I won't be as nervous so that I will be able to conduct a normal life while preparing.

Book Review #32 - The Bell Jar

Written by poet Sylvia Plath, this book garnered a lot of attention after Plath committed suicide a month after its initial publication. Regarded widely as auto-biographical as well as controversial because her mother opposed its release, Plath describes a woman's descent into depression with a fascinating coolness.

As far as descriptive writing goes, this book does its job. Immediately, I was taken away into Esther's perspective...her fogginess...and her surrender to darkness.

Even in the book's beginning, when Esther was still a relatively high functioning intern for a magazine in New York City, the writing matched her experience with a lethargic pulse. The exhausting night life, the confusing introduction into an adult world and the cattiness between ambitious and talented women are all tiresomely laid out.

As Esther begins to doubt her qualifications for life beyond getting straight A's, that pulse slows even further as her inability to cope with the uncertainty following her internship sends her into a spiral of depression. The final step into her abyss seems to be the rejection letter she receives once home for a prestigious writing class taught by a world-famous author. Once that occurs, Esther stops sleeping and her mother unwillingly but with concern sends her daughter into the unfamiliar world of psychiatrists, mental institutions and controversial shock therapy treatments.

She describes her depression as experiencing life as if under a bell jar. Suffocating, her awareness of her situation as well as that of the outside world is distorted and separate. Again, Plath's description is all perfectly rhythmic - only this time it feels like a record being played at half speed...the words blurring together like Charlie Brown's teacher.

I loved the ending. I loved her recovery with the unknown ending. What happens after she opens that door?

Not a beach read, but one I think worth reading for most women.

Book Review #31 - Rebecca

"Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again."

Considered one of the most famous lines in literature, I confess I had never heard of it before. While I understand the emotion contained in the line, I think a more accurate first line would have been, "Last night, I dreamt of Rebecca again." This is, after all, a story about the people who obsess about Rebecca: Mrs. Danvers, Max de Winter and the narrator.

A woman narrator, who never acknowledges her own name (symbolically), withdraws into the shadow of her husband's first dynamic wife, the great Rebecca, who tragically drowned. Throughout the book, the second Mrs. de Winter interprets her husband's occasional melancholy and detachedness as somehow her fault - causing her to revert back into her own natural timidity and awkwardness in an environment where such qualities are regarded with disdain and impatience - particularly by Manderley's housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers.

I felt impatient with this second Mrs. de Winter too. What was her problem? "Just be yourself!" I wanted to shout while shaking her by the shoulders. After all, it was her own personality that shined when she met Max de Winters, the man she claimed to love, although I have to admit that I never personally felt their connection. To me, he was kind of a creepy, mysterious old guy.

He turned even more creepy and mysterious when he brought his young bride to his beloved Manderley. From day one, he left her out of his intimate world and somehow expected her to handle the dramatic change from being a hired companion to a wealthy woman to being mistress of a wealthy English estate all on her own. The unnamed character is thus left alone and uninformed to solve the clues left for her: What was Rebecca like? How did she die? Why did her husband marry her if she was clearly nothing like this great woman?

A-ha! A revelation I did not see coming makes sense of it all and then it turned into a book I didn't enjoy quite as much. I had liked the young woman's confusion and insecurity, even though I would find such behavior in real life irriating. I was enjoying du Maurier's depiction of the power of influence and the dangers of comparison.

Rebecca was the best developed character even though she was dead throughout the entire book. I knew what she looked like, how she acted, what her motivations were and her flaws and talents. I even knew what dresses were included in her wardrobe and the kinds of menus she planned. Max de Winter's character was poorly developed. The reason for his initial infatuation and subsequent behavior is rashly explained. As a result, when the novel needed the readers to care about protecting him and ultimately grieving over his great loss, I found myself unmoved. It seems to me that du Maurier counted on the drama being sensational enough so that we readers wouldn't notice the discrepancy between his cool and detached personality and his confusing and erratic behavior. Mrs Danvers, on the other hand, was satisfyingly scary.

An entertaining enough read, but the plot's collapse keeps it out of my own "great books" category.

SPT - I Resolve To Take More Self-Portraits Doing Things I Enjoy

I woke up this morning and my agenda was filled with things like laundry, volunteering at the school, and babysitting. All things that fill up my day and are necessary and good...but none I can say I really enjoy (sometimes I enjoy volunteering, but you never know how the day is going to go).

Seeing as I wasn't sure I was going to have any opportunities to snap a self-portrait doing something I love, I decided my SPT would be a picture of me exercising. I do enjoy exercise. I wish I loved it. I think I used to. But I definitely enjoy the feeling I have afterward.

(can you see Henry right next to me? That's one of the reasons I don't wholly enjoy the workout. It's hard to get a buzz when I'm constantly answering, "Right, Mommy?"

Once I looked at the pictures, however, I was left with a feeling of how the picture doesn't really radiate joy. So, I decided to sneak in something I would choose to do over most things almost all of the time if there were no such thing as consequences (i.e. messy house and hungry bellies). And that is read.

The boys played happily while I read a chapter of Death Comes For The Archbishop .

That's a girl enjoying herself!

Suddenly Six

Sam,

It's 12:30 and about an hour from the time I first met you face to face six short years ago. You were my easiest delivery even though it took you over an hour to respond to my pushing because you were facing the wrong way. As soon as you arrived, I felt like a mother. Before, I think I felt more like a woman with a child. But you made for two, which required all sorts of sacrifice and patience and balance. It felt right.

You have grown up so much this year. It's hard to remember that only six months ago, you were my constant companion. No pre-school, no activities. I had you all day to help me with Henry, and you know I needed that help!:)

Now, you're gone. All day. Sometimes, when I think of how I'll never get that time with you again, I feel empty. You're six, and you're big and you just keep growing. Now you read, and do math and write me lovely notes that prove with every line and curve that you are going to astound me.

You feel the pull too, I think. You love school and your new friends and the freedom and independence that comes from growing, but the other day, while annoying me with baby talk, you said, "Babies get more attention."

I'll try to do better, because I know that you still need me to recognize your youth. You are, after all, only six. Six is perfect for snuggles, kisses, creating and discovering. Six is still younger than seven...and twelve and twenty. Six is....

You. Right now. And I love every bit of you.

Happy Birthday, Sam. This isn't your best look, and I'm sure glad we got that hair cut, but you are adorable at any angle.

Enigmatic? Who me?

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you surely know that I am not usually vague. I love details and if something seems unclear...I offer further explanation. And then some more. And then even more...just to be sure.

However, that was not my intention with this last post. Eventually, I'll explain more (see above) about my vision for this 2009 year. But, in a nutshell, I've decided that I want to try new things - to stretch myself by doing things that don't come easily or naturally. To go places, develop skills, taste food and read books that are not currently a part of my repertoire.

When I hit a deer on Friday night, a tiny thought jabbed itself into my head. "Write a poem about it," the still un-traumatized new voice of try suggested. So...I did.

I do not love poetry. I do not enjoy the need to decipher code to understand what the poet actually means. I suppose that when it comes to words, I'm impatient. That being said, poetry is WAY more fun to write. Obviously, I'm not good. The last poems I wrote were for my seventh grade English class and they are still used for a good laugh every now and then.

I liked writing it. I liked trying something new. I liked thinking of this event and finding a different way to write about what happened. I doubt poetry will be a mainstay of blog posts, but I enjoyed doing something that made it to my "Try New Things" Sidebar list.

However, to clear things up, I will now offer a translation:


It's an expression
An idiom, even
That always reminds me of Dan Quayle

I was thinking of the expression, "Like a deer in the headlights." The first time I remember hearing and understanding it was when Quayle was our Vice President and he had no TV charm. Whenever I see a deer, I think of Dan Quayle.

But then
Real metallic eyes
Staring at the spotlight

This week was a doozy. My radio/tape/CD/clock stopped working in the van so on Friday morning, I dropped it off at the mechanic and then took Jay to work so that I would have a car to use all day. I was picking him up from work, in his car, when I saw the deer.


Too close
Too close

They were too close for me to avoid hitting.

I screech
I swerve
We impact

I slammed on the brakes and the car started skidding counter clockwise. As I was sliding sideways, I hit the deer along the passenger side of the car. Hitting the deer turned the car completely backwards and I skidded to a stop in the median of the highway.

I'm stunned but unhurt
I can't see Dan
Now the spotlights are on me
They blind me while I sit and stare at my past
Nothing moves
As the portable audience waits for my bow

The most traumatizing thing of this all was how narrowly I escaped a major accident. I was going fairly fast when I saw the deer - around 50 mph. I was in the far right lane and swerved into the passing lane while braking to try to avoid the unavoidable crash. Traffic was heavy as it was rush-hour-ish and the fact that I didn't side swipe a car right then is a miracle. As I was skidding, my brain was doing physics and I guessed that the car would keep on skidding into oncoming traffic. It was a steady stream of headlights and even though it was only about a second, I thought about how badly I was going to be hurt. How badly I was probably going to hurt someone else. If I was ready to die. I know it all sounds melodramatic, but I just saw all the motion predicting that end. When I stopped, I stopped perfectly backwards in the middle of the highway. All traffic came to a halt and I sat there shaking for probably 10 seconds, wondering if I should get out, wondering what in the world I should do.

I reverse off stage
A thousand distractions muffling the applause
The squash, the phone, the car
But not Dan
Should I cancel?

Eventually, I put the car in reverse and horseshoed my way back onto the side of the road, facing the right direction. I could see tufts of deer fur but no deer and still wondered if I should get out. I had spent the day getting Jay a new cell phone and so he didn't have one and I couldn't call him to tell him what happened. We were having friends over for dinner and I wondered if I could possibly spend the rest of the evening as if my life hadn't changed...because I felt so horribly mortal at that second.

I'm alone
He's alone
They're alone
Unwatched

The realization of leaving my kids at home, while I "quickly" went to pick up their dad crashed onto me. What if, what if, what if? I left the the instructions, "Don't answer the door. Don't pick up the phone." I put Seth in charge with the promise of cash if he kept the house clean and made sure Henry didn't make any messes. But, really, I knew they would just sit there and watch the movie and not move the entire time I was gone. But what if? Who would have figured out, if I had been badly hurt...or worse, that they were alone? Unwatched. It almost paralized me, except for knowing that Jay was waiting for me at the hospital, probably outside, and I had to get there.

I can't do this anymore
Be in the spotlight
And bungle
Bungle
Bungle all my lines

This is about my breakdown. It's been awhile since I have sobbed. That uncontrollable, whole body shake that just takes over. If I cry, I usually cry silently but I recall several moans and out loud lamentations during that last mile to the hospital. I can't explain everything that released at that time, but it was definitely more than hitting that deer. It was the endless weight of being a parent, a wife...a woman. Let's just say I got it ALL out.

It feels horrible
It feels unlucky
Or
Perhaps a blessing
We're safe

By this time, I was beginning to realize the hidden blessing. The passenger side was hit hard, impacting the door, and no one was sitting on that side to get hurt. Henry's car seat was set up on that side too, so I felt relieved that they were safe at home. It was a bizarre feeling to have the guilt of leaving them at home directly conflict with the relief of having them not in the car.

I drive to him
To confess...sobbing
Sobbing

I've already covered this. Jay handled me perfectly. He drove home and I sat in the back seat because the passenger door no longer opens.

The show must go on
They say
My head hurts as the spotlight follows me again
Another scene
Happy this time
Serving squash soup

We did have our friends over for dinner. The meal was all liquid stuff, so Jay wouldn't feel left out. I thought several times throughout the night, "Everything is fine. But a few more inches, a few different variables and nothing would have been."

So, I apologize for the confusion. This week is already shaping up to be considerably better than last. I was just trying something....different.

In The Spotlight

It's an expression
An idiom, even
That always reminds me of Dan Quayle
But then
Real metallic eyes
Staring at the spotlight
Too close
Too close
I screech
I swerve
We impact
I'm stunned but unhurt
I can't see Dan
Now the spotlights are on me
They blind me while I sit and stare at my past
Nothing moves
As the portable audience waits for my bow
I reverse off stage
A thousand distractions muffling the applause
The squash, the phone, the car
But not Dan
Should I cancel?
I'm alone
He's alone
They're alone
Unwatched
I can't do this anymore
Be in the spotlight
And bungle
Bungle
Bungle all my lines
It feels horrible
It feels unlucky
Or
Perhaps a blessing
We're safe
I drive to him
To confess...sobbing
Sobbing
The show must go on
They say
My head hurts as the spotlight follows me again
Another scene
Happy this time
Serving squash soup

Overwhelmed

I may have several posts with this same title but it's the most appropriate adjective when thinking about my life right now.

I'm not sure when it happened. School started back up after Christmas...and shortly thereafter piano. Then twice a week speech therapy. Then volunteering in Seth's classroom on Tuesday in addition to Sam's class on Wednesday. Then came the surgery. Then Seth started basketball. Then the post-operative week when Jay was home and in pain...followed by a few days when he wasn't in as much pain...and then today when he boldly went back to work and was out of the house before any of the rest of us. There are things I need to take care of for Relief Society, thank-you notes I need to mail, Sam's birthday on Monday to shop and plan for and a little six-year old birthday party to organize.

Stuffing into that an attempt to fit in daily exercise, chores, errands and car repairs (both cars have issues) and my me-time hobbies...blogging and reading...have fallen by the wayside.

With that unnecessarily long introduction (see? This is why blogging takes so much of my time. I'm too wordy), I tentatively declare Jay's surgery a success. His food, while still thin and liquidy, hasn't become stuck in his esophagus even once and the time it takes him to eat has been reduced to a fraction. Nights are hardest for him because he's been having quite a bit of heartburn. It keeps him up quite a bit at night and I am really hoping that he didn't exchange one chronic ailment for another.

The day we left for Salt Lake City, Jay was working in a small town about an hour west of us on. To make the trip shorter, my parents drove me to that town's hospital and Jay and I drove the rest of the way Monday evening after he was finished with work. When I arrived, Jay met me outside and said, "I haven't told anyone here that I'm having surgery so don't say anything." Typical of Jay to keep information contained, I inquired, "Do any of the other radiologists know you are having surgery?"

"No. They don't need to know."

Of course, I ruin his perfectly private life by being a big blabber mouth, so I grimaced knowing I had already blogged about it. Thankfully, I don't think he minds me talking about it as much as he simply doesn't want to. So, you...even some of you perfect strangers...know more than his co-workers that Jay is back to work, operating without any pain management, a week after undergoing major gastrointestinal surgery and general anesthesia. It's not like I think he needs more time off. He seemed strong yesterday and this morning. But...it worries me that they don't know that he needs TLC! I want to call them and say, "Don't have Jay do any procedures that keep him on his feet for too long. And makes sure he takes the time to get something in his stomach." But I won't. I'll just tell you, for all the good that will do.

Anyways, it was awkward hanging out with him at work and having people come up to me wondering what I was there for, what we were going to do on our big "vacation" and how lucky we were to be going without kids (which was totally true. It was very fortunate). I just smiled and said things like, "Yeah...we have some family in Salt Lake and we're planning on skiing," as if that was the reason for our visit.

My friend, Michelle, generously, graciously and kindly offered us her parent's condo to use during our week's stay. The privacy it afforded, not to mention the low, low price tag were indeed a blessing. Although we were really hardly ever there, the time we did spend was comfortable, relaxing and quiet. Plus, we had a kitchen to use to heat up broth and a place we didn't have to worry about a check-out time for Jay to recover in after he was discharged. I was able to come and go as I pleased without feeling rude or unappreciative to any host. So, yeah...it was perfect.

Jay having some broth at the condo.

Tuedsay we ran errands. Jay had his pre-op appointment that afternoon so we met with the surgeon and asked him any questions that we had. We also shopped a bit and went to see the movie Doubt. I got my hair colored and cut that night while Jay relaxed in the condo by himself.

Wednesday we skiied. Well...I skiied. Jay snowboarded. We decided to go to Park City because they have so many blue runs and neither of us wanted to kill ourselves on Snowbird's blacks. It was the perfect day. It really was. Jay and I were having such a good time together without the boys. At one point, I told him, "I've forgotten how much fun you are to hang out with!" He got a kick out of that but it's true. It's been awhile since things have been fun and easy. The last two years have included the intense studying for oral boards during his last year of residency, the development of both his achalasia and celiac diseases and two interstate moves. Stressful, but, thankfully, nothing a Heller Myotomy, fundoplication and day of skiing can't fix:)

Me taking pictures of Jay snowboarding back to the parking lot using the camera's continuous shot feature.

Jay's picture of me skiing that I asked him to take. We have different philosophies about the quantity of necessary pictures to ensure a good one:) But, I swear the speck is me.

Thursday was the big day. We got to the hospital at about 8:30 and Jay was in his gown and IV'd by 10:00. A few nurses came in and out of his room, as well as his surgeon and the anesthesiologists and by 11:30, they rolled Jay away. I wasn't nervous, exactly, but I knew I wasn't relaxed either. I couldn't read. I couldn't relax enough to get caught up in the thick book I was carrying around and instead just sort of floated around. I went to the Huntsman Center restaurant to eat, walked around, but mostly sat in the waiting area listening to the family-awaiting-surgery-results conversations that we all seemed to be having with our phones. I watched different surgeons parade in and out telling those of us waiting how "great" the surgery had gone...how pleased with the results they were. When my turn came, I nodded up and down as the doctor showed me each picture he took of Jay's insides and smiled as he told me how aggressive he cut down Jay's esophagus to make sure he'd never have to come back for another surgery.

A much more typical Jay-face before surgery.

They told me he'd be moved to a room in about 45 minutes but that turned into three hours. Apparently, he woke up nauseated and to ensure that he didn't vomit and possibly rupture his incisions, they gave him a bunch of drugs that make him super sleepy. When he finally got to his room, it was after 5:00 pm and he was still too sleepy to talk. He shared his room with a Bosnian man who had a large family and my patience became too thin to stay in there until close. I kissed Jay goodnight and left the hospital around 7:15.

As I drove away from the hospital, I hit an enormous pot-hole. Not necessarily wide but deep. The thud created from impact was enough for me to pull over to inspect for damage. I didn't see any and kicked the tire to check for a flat but convinced myself all was well and continued to drive. The steering wheel was shaking back and forth and when I got a couple miles down the road, I pulled over again and discovered a flat tire. I called our Road Side Assistance number (I have totally gotten my money's worth from that 10 dollar-every-six-months-charge) and waited for someone with ability to come and change my tire. Amy M. came to meet me and we had a late dinner at the Red Butte Cafe which gave me something to do while waiting.

The tire change wasn't as simple as I hoped it would be seeing as I had ruined the wheel from driving on a flat. The spare was full-size but also slightly flat so I was instructed to drive slowly to a gas station and fill the tire up before anything else. By the time Amy and I were done visiting, it was late and I felt nervous driving home. I filled the tire up with air and drove slowly home, annoying many impatient Utah drivers along the way.

I woke up early the next day to see if I could fix the tire situation before heading to the hospital. I knew the goal was for Jay to be discharged that day and the last thing we needed to be dealing with was a tire problem. Big O opened at 7:00 and I was there stalking them out by 6:45. They made the usual grunts (I interpret them as "stupid woman driver") when they saw the bent rim and an hour later, they came and told me that my wheel couldn't be fixed so they put the good tire on the spare rim and sent me on my way. They were nice about it and didn't charge me anything.

When I got to the hospital, Jay was awake and more alert than he had been at any time post-surgery so we talked for a bit as his raspy voice would allow. He asked how my night had been and when I told him, "Um...kind of bad," he immediately asked, "Did you wreck the car?"

I don't know if him asking that question was a good thing or a bad thing. Why would he think that? Anyways, it made telling him that I had only ruined the tire not seem quite so bad. At about 10:00, he got sleepy again and I had called Melanie and Becky to see if they could meet me close by the hospital for brunch. It was a good use of time. I had a great visit with great friends and he had a nap before being discharged.

Melanie, me and Becky. We ate at Eggs in the City in Sugarhouse. Thanks for taking the time to come see me:)

Jay before being discharged. He looks a lot better than he feels right here.

We stayed another day to make sure he didn't have a bad reaction to medication or something even more severe requiring close proximity to the hospital and left the following day. The drive home was pretty grueling. He couldn't get comfortable and I was tired and bored. Not bored with him but just...I don't know...ready to be home.

When we arrived, the house was sparkling clean thanks to my parents, my van was completely clean (even those nasty groves where the seats attach into the floors), the boys had been given haircuts, the laundry was done and dinner was waiting. It was such a blessing to have been so well taken care of while I was taking care of Jay. Believe me, I have missed them this week!

This week has been hard. I've tried my best to take care of Jay, take care of the boys and get things done. But lots and lots of things haven't gotten done. I am grateful for modern medicine, skilled surgeons and a good husband who has born his trials with grace and humility.

Jay's liquid diet. It sure is easy to make him dinner!

Mostly, I'm glad to have good friends and a loving and patient family who seem to like me in spite of my flaws.

SPT - I Resolve To Take More Self-Portraits With People I Love

I missed posting on Tuesday but Thursday starts with a "T" too so I'm going to count it.

Jay and I are in Salt Lake this week and I've been distracted, but I have managed to take a few self-portraits with people I love for this week's challenge. I think once you try to fit more than one face in a self-portrait, the chances for a flattering angle decreases, but perhaps the purpose of the picture changes once you add someone else - making things like chins, necks and noses take a back seat to friendship, love and mutual memories.

Let's hope so!

My sister Sarah and I taking turns getting our hair done by Sarah's friend, Alli, who did my hair all last year. It had been six months since I had any color and boy did I need these foils!

The day before Jay's confinement, we headed to Park City for a day of sun and skiing. The entire day was perfect. We had no lift lines, the sky was bright, the wind nonexistant and plenty of time for giggles and quivering quad muscles.

Just before they rolled him away for surgery.

I'll give a better update on Jay when I get home but, in the meantime, know we both appreciate all of the love and support sent our way. We'll know more later but from the spoonfuls of broth, sips of juice, and bold swallows of jell-o, we are both pretty excited about the future.

Ode to A Three Year-Old

Henry:

When your brothers were turning three, they each had a distracted mom and a new baby brother. Today, it feels...different somehow to hear you answer, "Thee" in response to my favorite question of the day - "How old are you?" I know I considered your brothers "big" but, now, three seem so young. Why is that?

It might be because you're small. The jeans you were wearing yesterday were ready for a flood but they were also size 18-24 months. Your size six shoes seem snug - but you've been wearing them for nearly a year so I guess it's about time for a new pair. Oh, I think you must be growing.

It might be because you're "delayed". Your speech therapist told me to stop expecting three year old language because your speech is at a two year-old level. Sometimes, that mentality carries over into other areas and you get more leeway than you probably should. Eating...picking up...discipline.

It might be because you aren't even close to being potty trained. I'm hoping when you open your new fancy potty all dressed up in wrapping and bows that your standard answer to, "Do you want to sit on the potty?" will change from, "No. Not yet" to, "Absolutely!" or at least, "O.K." (And, yes, I realize a potty chair is no gift at all even if it a fancy schmancy Baby Bjorn brand . That's why you are getting other stuff too).

It might be because you still sleep in your crib. You are terrified to climb over the side. In fact, the two times you tried, you tried climbing over the side against the wall and got painfully stuck between the wall and your crib. Those ghastly results keep you securely within its rails. Thankfully, your brothers love climbing in and keeping you company. And if you aren't being too choosy, you'll allow Seth to heft you out.

It might be that you are still in nursery for another year. I know all your nursery buddies moved on to Sunbeams, but I think both of us are glad that you get to avoid the small, folding chair for another year and get to push a firetruck around instead. Not to mention...snack time!

Mostly, it's because you are my baby. Even if you have grown up so much this year.

How can you seem so young when you build Lego's right alongside your brothers? And you hold a pencil perfectly. So perfect that you can't resist scribbling all over the homework Seth haphazardly left on the table. You grab a remote control and pretend you are playing the wii and I know it's just a matter of time before you figure out how to work one for real.

You, my sweet, are a glorious handful. As many messes as you make, and as many things you somehow manage to ruin, you balance out the work with the love. It lights up your entire being. It's in your eyes, your strong hugs...it even shows in your teeth. Those who know you can't help but love you.

I know I can't.

Joyeux Anniversaire! Alles Gute zum Geburtstag! Buon Compleanno! Feliz Cumplea–os!

Happy Birthday!

Still my baby.

SPT - I Resolve To Take More Self-Portraits

Lelly has some interesting SPT challenges in January. If you are looking for an interesting addition to your blogging routine...feel free to join in the fun.

This week, the challenge is "I Resolve to Take More Self-Portrait." Taking self-portraits is not my favorite thing. My first attempt is rarely the money shot and if I'm anywhere but home, taking picture after picture can turn into quite a spectacle.

So, most of the time, I don't do it. However, after looking through my picture folders to illustrate my new year's post, I realized that because I don't, I'm not present in most pictures.


So, I've decided enough whining about how anyone would hardly know I am part of this family due to the lack of pictures with me included. I'm going to stop worrying about vanity. I'm going to stop fretting about what others think (or at least sincerely try to). Truth is...I do exist. And this year - I'm going to prove it.

Seth and Sam had their first piano lesson yesterday and today was the first day of practicing.

Winter Break

The first day of snowmobiling. Cold, but fun.

Getting Henry back to the house after his snowmobile ride. The snow was too deep for him to walk through.

Same day. Crazy, huh? Seth is helping create a new sledding track.

What a trail blazer.

When Henry got too cold, he was able to go sit in the van and watch a movie. That's the perk of being able to snowmobile around the house instead of hitching them up to the truck and taking them to the mountains.

A final ride for Henry. Zonked out.

Grandpa got home from the temple and needed to plow the circle drive. Lucky Henry got to help him in the big John Deere.

More Snowmobiling

Taking down the tree. It was quite dead and left a trail of pine needles through the house.

Kelly, Jerry and family came for a quick visit which meant more sledding and more snowmobiling.

Seth braved driving a snowmobile by himself. He's in front and his cousin Derek right behind to make sure he's o.k.

Henry getting read to lose another pair of mittens. Notice these two don't even match.

Sam is definitely the daredevil sledder. He was never content to go face first on his bum. Each time down was a new and riskier position.

Seth looking pretty grown up to me. Sigh.

Sam. Again.

Matt was warm enough to go without his coat

Delanie sledding with a coat but without sleeves or gloves either. Crazy girl.

Derek after a run.

I was there too.

Sara in her pink glory.

Building a snowman.

Grandpa shoveling off the deck in his furry (and most assuredly warm) hat.

Almost done.

Just a cute picture of Henry

Matt took old sled with a steering wheel out for a run and hit his face pretty hard on the wheel. He lost a tooth (that was already loose) which made all the pain somehow o.k.

Henry admiring the snowman.

It's not a party at the in-laws if there isn't a pinata involved. I had forgotten how much fun new years eve was over there. Tamales and posole soup. Good times.

An action shot of Sammy taking a swing

Seth broke it open after some help from his cousins

Everyone in for the loot

Smiles....smiles....

But wait. Not Sammy. Just like after the last pinata...he was upset over something. This time, I don't think he wanted chocolate. I don't even know where he came from.

Sad Sam.

Henry ruined Matt's K'Nex truck so Jerry and Jay had to put it back together. I thought the picture of the two of them on the floor "playing" was funny.

Uncle Jay holding Sara. Such a cute girl!

Matt spent the night and he and Sammy built a fort (threw a blanket from the top bunk down) and Jay told them a silly story before bed.

Seth listening outside the fort.

Last night before Kelly's family went home. Grandma has the best toys and they make it out...every time.

Derek and Seth playing ping pong. I like how Seth's eye is on the ball.

...unless the ball comes too fast.

Jay wore his warm, green PJs. And you all thought he was being a good sport by putting them on. He loves them.

Kate started entertaining us with a musical performance.

Like all good performers, she accepted our praise with a humble bow.

Then Henry had to try it out.

He's got some work to do on the bow.

Then came the duet.

Then the trio.

Matt kept to the Legos during the fine arts performance. The boy is a Lego genius.

That's it! Of course, there were things I didn't get pictures of like going to the movies (Benjamin Button, Despereux) or playing on the Wii (DDR, NCAA 09 football, Mario Galaxy), but I think you get the gist. The break was nice and come Monday, we are all in for a rude jolt back to reality. Piano lessons start, basketball practice and scouts and twice a week speech therapy and Jay's surgery in a week and a half. It's going to get busy, real soon, but we are so glad for all the fun we've had with no school.