Witches and Indians

Fall Break was full of fun for the kiddos this past weekend.
I love when they are all home with me...

We get to sleep in together, relax and do fun things that don't involve working or doctors/therapists.

We went to Gardner Village for the Witch Festival for our first time this year. I thought it was the absolute cutest Halloween"y" event that I have ever been to. Abby had a blast, and Deak had fun after he had eaten 14 meals at Archibald's Restaurant. (I seriously cannot believe what he can fit into that 22 lb body of his at times).

In the Petting Zoo...

Abby was fine walking around with pigs and billy goats, but had to leave when she thought a dog was going to be let loose.

Go Figure.

Abby and one of the "Witches."

We HAD to take a picture by the witches playing baseball.

I gave up trying to get a good picture of all the kids - so this is what you get.

Overall - a fun day with good food and good friends.

Now, onto the Indians...or should I say, UTES.

We dragged Abby with us to another U Game, and she so pleasantly complied:) So well, in fact, that she recieved another bribery tour through the giftshop and scored a cheerleader outfit. Blair and I really do love taking her and letting her grab all the attention for an afternoon. I think she secretly likes it too.

(Game #1 -Evidence of Bribery Below)

(Game #2)

It was beautiful weather; more like a summer game actually...and the Utes won, of course. Now, they just need to keep the win streak going or "Crazy Hair Man" (as Blair and I like to call him - let's just say he comes alone to the games, and with more "U" paraphernalia on than Abby could ever buy at the store) on the end of our row may end up needing to find another past time/life. And...that might be difficult.

Thank Goodness Fall has stuck around a little longer...We are not taking it for granted and soaking it up while we can.

Tag

So, I became curious when my friend Tami tagged me for this one and decided to see what was the fourth picture in the fourth folder. I happen to be using Blair's log in at the moment and his pictures are organized somewhat differently than mine are, but I was shocked to find out what picture I found....

My little blue Deak.

I spent a few moments last night sending an email to a family I don't know. Their unborn son has been given a similar prognosis as we were given about Deak, and they are not expecting him to live. My heart ached for them, and naturally, my mind flashed back to the moments and feelings I experienced when I was told about Deak; and I still cannot process how I made it through those weeks.

This picture was taken right after he was born. It is the only one we have. They took him away from me without allowing me to touch him; when I needed from the depths of my being to touch this baby boy whom I thought I would never meet. This picture has always been something that has been tough for me to look at. I had so much hope for Deakon, but I was also filled with such a tremendous amount of panic.

I remember seeing him and wondering why he was blue. He didn't cry, and I needed so badly for him to cry.

I remember asking, "Why isn't he crying?" and the nurses giving me hesitant answers of, "He's fine...don't worry."

I remember my doctor trying to privately tell the nurse that I was having a "handicapped baby." After which I thought, "No. He's just my baby."

I remember the sense of peace I felt when the nurse told me in my recovery room that his Apgar scores were "9's." That was the first time I let myself feel...and the tears began to stream.

I remember the joy I felt after my doctor fought his way into the NICU and demanded I be allowed to see and hold my son.

I remember touching his body and understanding that he was breathing on his own and relatively healthy. I knew I was now entrusted with this boy who had been one of God's best.

I remember hoping I could do it.

Sorry Folks. Who knew a "tag" could be so emotional for me?

I tag whoever.

"The Very Most"

Christmas never really ends at our house, at least in the list-making department. Abby is continually adding items to her never-ending list and is pretty certain she will always get all of them. Over the past couple of weeks, I have heard her say that she wants a Nintendo DS, a Motor Scooter, and a new American Girl Doll. Needless to say, an elimination process had to be initiated. Santa and the economy are not that great of friends at the moment.

So, the other night, the conversation of "what do you want the most?" began between Abby and I as we were eating dinner.

I asked her to think about what she wanted the VERY Most...and explained the whole spill of Santa has to give presents to all the other kids too...(blah blah blah.) Abby went through the above mentioned items and said she wanted them, but then she said something that surprised me.

"Actually mom, the thing I want very most for Christmas is for Deakon to walk."

I smiled and said, "Me too."

I believe.

Santa is a pretty powerful guy - especially when he has my Abby's heart on his side.

Fall.

Where do you think you're going?

If it's a joke, it's not very funny.

It takes the entire three months of fall for me to gather up enough mental strength to make it through the wet jean bottoms and coat wearing.

I do have to say, there is one person in our house happy about your vacation. She is pretty cute, but even we readily admit, her reasoning and judgement leave much to be desired at times. So, I wouldn't quite call her a "valid sample."

Abby ran around this morning in her new snow clothes shouting, "It's like having two seasons in one."

Like I said, Not funny.

The one and only benefit that I could find about your sudden disappearance had to do with my daughter and her attitude towards going to church. You might wonder how the absence of Fall could affect this - so did I, until I heard her reasoning. Abby stated on the way home from church, that she would grace us with her positive rays (okay maybe not in that way) on church days, as long as there was snow... because she can "hit her teacher with a snowball" (which she did) and "that makes church fun."

Now, if that's not a reason to go to church, then I don't know what is.

We enjoyed you, Fall, last week when we went on our sunset hayride.

There were smiles and waves' of "Bye-Bye" and "Hi!" for all.

We did have mixed feelings about the prices and carrying our pumpkins so far "that Abby could no longer feel her arms." Hence, the appearance of a slight attitude problem in the picture below.

But, all in all - we like having you, and would like to experience what you have to offer in its' entirety.

So, I beg you Fall, come back.

But, winter, could you possibly make a Sunday appearance around 11:00 each week so I don't have to drag my 6 year old to the car?

I would really appreciate that. Thanks.

Age

Is "old" relative?
I don't know. Most people would probably consider me "young" at the decrepit age of 29, but I am not sure I would agree. I found myself repeating the phrase, "It's because I am young, right?" to my mom and husband yesterday when referencing the fact that I had gone to the gym for the first time in four months, and kept up with my mother who is a gym superstar. I was kind-of embarrassed when I looked back at those conversations and realized I had actually tried to use my age as a sign of my strength and endurance, when we all know that age is never a steady predictor of those abilities. I was a much weaker person both in the literal and non-literal sense 10 years ago; the years, and sometimes even months seem to grant us strength and wisdom. Wisdom, of which I choose to use sometimes, but mostly I let sit in the back of my mind waiting for its' special moment to make a one minute appearance. This morning as I woke up with a back ache from the gym and heart pains (which may have been due to my breakfast of sprinkled donuts and diet pepsi), I realized that I was the person who needed to be convinced of my vitality and strength - not my mom or Blair. I feel old, and trust me, there are reasons...

-Some of my favorite music is now considered the "Alternative Hits of Yesterday" on local radio stations.

-I use face cream religiously as of 6 months ago. Abby now slathers on lotion all over her face in an attempt to be like me; it would be cute except for the fact that most of it ends up in her mouth and all over the clean towels in the bathroom.

-I wear blush. I NEVER used to wear blush...just had my young little "glow" (Ha.) I also spent $10 (which I think is a lot) on "line-reducing" cover up. It is supposed to "minimize the affects of aging and lesson the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles." (Pretty impressive, I know.) Now, I can't stop myself from buying and wearing more makeup than ever. So, don't be surprised if I look like Joan Rivers the next time you see me; please just pretend you don't notice.

-I liked listening to conference. I think it might've even been the first time that I can remember really looking forward to the talks, without needing the added incentive of candy bingo (Not that I didn't partake of the M&M's used to bribe Abby to stick around and pretend to listen). As the concept of "getting old" has been on my mind recently, this newfound love of conference really startled me. So, I asked a group of teachers I work with if this was one of those "signs" that I was getting old, and they all said "Yes" in an overwhelmingly convincing tone. Crap.

-The whole skinny jean phenom is beyond my taste level. Sure, it might look cute on those little girls who weigh 105 - but, not the boys. I am not sure how they can consider those pants that show everything their parents gave them, (if you know what I mean) - attractive attire to wear out of the house, or inside the house for that matter. I remember my dad telling some girlfriends and I as we looked at pictures of my parents in bell-bottoms, that we would see the day when we too would wear flared jeans. My girlfriends and I gagged and swore that would never happen, and rolled our Girbauds tighter to show off our LA Gear high top sneakers. Now, in my old age - I have seen this jean cycle go full circle.

-I feel very politcal; not necesarilly "smart" political, but more "interested" political. I didn't give a rip about the economy and energy and "foreign policy" eight, or even four years ago. I just liked it when the government gave me free money in the mail. Now, I have "Tivo'd" the debates, and recently spent the wee hours (like 2:00am) on a weekend watching one - and enjoying myself. Now, that is definetly what I call "letting it all hang out" on a Friday night.

-As recently noted on a friend's blog; thinking some not-to-be-named (maybe Zac Efron...)"Pop" Stars are nice-looking at my age, could also be potentially called - child molestation.


So, I may not be "old" in years - but I am sure the evidence I presented above is enough to prove I am getting up there in relative age. I need to work on this "embracing the thirties" project and not be so fearful of what lies ahead. So, in that spirit, here's to enjoying the new wrinkle on my forehead, age spots on my shoulders, and love of teenage hearthrobs. (Please do not turn me in.)

Bored.

I am a little bit antsy today.

Maybe it's the weather change.

Maybe it's because I don't want to clean.

Maybe it's because there is nothing good on TV in the middle of the day, and I find it really difficult to lie on the couch without guilt.

Whatever the reason, I've discovered that I kind-of suck at being a housewife. Sure, there are plenty of things to be done:

*Curtain making

*Closet organizing

*Fruit canning

*Ironing

*Or perhaps, getting rid of the lake that has made itself a home in the southeast corner of my backyard.

But, those things just aren't hitting the spot for me at the moment. I know, I know, ... I should bottle up this new found peace and enjoy it while it lasts, but for right now...

I want fun.

I want spontaneity.

I want tropical drinks.

Okay, so I do have Deaky around for entertainment, but let's face it...he is even bored. This is what I found after he had finished his lunch.

(Notice...there is absolutely no food left on his tray - apparently his tired "spell" hit him after licking his tray clean.)

So, now I guess I will aimlessly search on the Internet for a vacation that I feel I am in need of, but can't afford - and possibly make a run to a gas station for diet coke (but not gas - it costs too freaking much, and I hate pumping it - even though I need it.)

Fear.

I am afraid of many things, and I always have been. My little sister was always much braver, and I kind-of vicariously lived through some of the things she did; wishing so badly I could do them, but not able to take control of my own thoughts.

I vividly remember being afraid of nuclear attacks during the cold war in elementary school. Afraid to the point that I wouldn't sleep at night; and began feeling sick at school during the day. I am deeply afraid of heights, so much so, that if I even see someone on TV doing something near a ledge, my knees shake. I am afraid of scary movies and never watch them. In fact, last night I debated whether or not to continue watching the Lost DVDs we rented, because the episodes were haunting me after they were over (I am also afraid of flying).

On a different level, I have other, more significant fears...

I fear rejection.

I fear failure.

I fear being a bad mother.

But, I don't think I am alone.

It is human nature to want acceptance and love; it is as basic of a need as food and shelter. We may survive with out it for a while, but not well. Professionally, I understand this concept - but personally, I have days where I allow my fears to take control. I have to make a conscious choice to change my thinking and make choices that are based on fact...not assumption or fear.

I watched today how incredible human nature can be when we allow our strength to overcome our fears.

I held my thumb and pointer finger in a circle around Deakon's tiny little arms, and I felt him shake from his core. He is trying so hard to stand without something in front of him, but he is terrified of falling. His sweet voice that usually radiates joy, quivered in uneasiness as I tried to get him to feel comfortable. He is unsure of his strength, and he doesn't want to fail.

It is human Nature.

As I gently touched his body, his body that is getting stronger, but not yet strong enough, I watched him take one step forward to the couch. His safe spot.

That sense of peace was motivation enough to move forward.

That was his first step...on his own, without prompting.

If fear is the antecedent to change...then I am hopeful I will too begin moving forward one day, like Deak, to my safe spot.