SUNDAY----BAKING DAY!

This is the type of Sunday that I LOVE! Nothing-else-to-do-but-bake, Sunday.

Normally, our families' ritual on Sunday, after church, is to get our warm pajamas on (since we live in Oregon and it is ALWAYS cold and rainy), then settle in with a blanket on the sofa, with a good movie, or Little House On The Prairie.

Sometimes we bake, like today. Often times I just can't handle the mess, but today I put all my anxiety aside and tried to watch from the kids'  perspective----I LOVED IT!

I don't like the mess that baking can create, but nearly every Sunday, after my 2 hour nap, I wake to the wonderful smell of homemade bread. Bill and Amber get the ingredients out, make sure that the island is packed with things they need (and some they don't), locate the Bosch mixer and magically make delightful bread that has "little fingers" dug into each loaf.

Today was a little different. Jake got involved and made his favorite zucchini bread by himself. He did a great job and wanted nothing to do with advice from me. The bread turned out delicious.

So, while Amber was busy with paste coated on her teeth and hands in the dough, I watched and smiled inside, as they made a mess, a HUGE mess. Because along with it, came two kids that I love and a wonderful daddy that helped.

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO!

That cold and rainy Monday in February, seemed so dreary.  The rain kept pouring down,  the wind was blowing and the pain in my back grew stronger every hour.  The drive to the hospital seemed endless, but the wait.........WORTH IT!

Sunday night, the 18th of February,  I lay sleepless in my mom's bed, tossing and turning with the knowledge that tomorrow, Loren would be traveling back home to Blanding, Utah to work and our plans of having our baby this weekend were spoiled.  She didn't want to come....at least not yet.

  

Three o'clock a.m. I woke up with swords in my spine and daggers in my side, but told myself that this was false labor, as it had always been before,  but this felt different somehow.  It just couldn't be time though, could it?  Was I ready?  Was Loren ready?  I attempted to endure the pain, as it only grew worse and more frequent.  I drew a hot bath to ease the pain, to no avail. This was it! I had Loren call his work and cancel the day........Madison was on her way!

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever and the pain grew worse as I tried to keep my composure during the hard contractions.  I remember gripping the door handle and twisting and turning in my seat to ease the pain, none of which worked.  I can still feel that physical pain that I endured that day.  We checked in at the Cottonwood hospital and waited. We waited and waited some more, until finally the nurse rolled me down the hall to the room where I would bring my first child into this world.

As the medicine began to kick in, I was relaxed, but I was quite scared of the realization to have a new person to take care of. Someone who relies on me, completely.  I knew that this was the beginning of a new life for me, as well as Loren.  How do we do this? Will we do everything right?  How can we survive this?  Will we be the examples that she needs?

After being in the hospital for 7 hours, I was so ready to have this baby. I had been a childless, married adult until exactly 10:59 p.m. on February 19, 1996.

Being a woman is wonderful. Being a woman who can give birth, is a miracle. 

  

  I frantically called to the nurses to get my newborn to breath, or cry. As they were flipping her feet and rubbing her frail body,  I heard only silence, for what seemed like an eternity.  Then, her cry.  Her wonderful, beautiful, soothing cry.  I burst out with tears of my own.  Call it pure love.  Love for that little angel that just entered into this world....innocent, harmless, beautiful, perfect.   Straight from heaven into my arms.  I could smell the scent of heaven on her tiny little head. I knew that there were angels hovering over her in that hospital room. I knew that she was a child of God!

  

To this very day, her tiny frame hasn't changed much.  Her brown hair still shimmers in the sun, like it did when she was little .  Her freckles still make me melt.  Her big eyes, I still envy.  Her olive skin I adore.  Her beautiful face makes me jealous.  Her beauty mark----I wish I could steal.  Her pretty hands remind me of her dad. Her personality, I wish I could emulate.  Her love, I wish I could capture. 

Happy Birthday to you Madison!  You are my princess, my love, my life, my example, my daughter, my friend, my little girl who grew up without asking to!  Be wise. Be kind. Be yourself.  I love you to the moon and back and over again.

  

Love,  MOM

SATURDAY SEWING

It has been so long since I have had the desire to sew.  I usually love to make things like hats, pj's, drapes and blankets, but I haven't felt good.  I actually forgot that I even owned a sewing machine!  Saturday was different. I got a strange hankerin' to make a blanket or two.  I got the sewing machine out and it turned into a sewing frenzy at our house.  The kids and I played 'musical chairs' around the table, trying to get to the sewing machine as soon as someone left their seat to get something else.  It was so fun to see my kids and their heightened interest to sew and create.

Here is the blanket that I made.  It turned out alright for a first attempt!  I planned to give it to one of my kids, but since my older sister,  Lisa has mine from my childhood, I figured that I need to replace it, right?   So this is my new nankie!  Lisa.....STAY AWAY! :) I like the colors and hope to make  another one soon.

Ashley wins the gold medal for sewing creativity!  She went from making handbags, to scarves, to                             pillows, then mittens. She did it WITHOUT the help of anyone!  Go Ash!
                Here are her 9 pillows that she made for her bed.  She was very determined!
Madison cleverly whipped out this little treat for her cell phone.  She even added a button!                                                                           
 Jacob made whatever came to his mind. This "sleeve" seemed to work for him. You go JD!                                                                      

34 YEARS AND COUNTING!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! :)  Today is MY day to remember the great things about my life, how I have changed, the trials that I have endured and the wonderful things that I have learned. My day to talk about ME!

I grew up in Sandy, Utah and still to this day, that is home to me. I have VERY fond childhood memories stashed away and every now and again, I let them resurface, as I dream of rewinding time. I loved Madrid Way and I still do! The neighbors, the schools, the ward(s), my friends....all of it was so.....HOME! Looking back now as I age, it's starting to blur like wet paint on a canvas that has been too watered down. It is still there, just not as vivid.

  

I always felt safe and I always knew that I was loved. I loved school.  I had a deep passion for sports.  I had an overflowing love for dogs that still remains in my blood today.  I had many moments of sorrow, hate, regret, pain, anxiety, fear, hope, laughter, excitement, calmness, joy and love.  They are chronologically ordered in my soul.  I hope to never forget them, for I have learned from them.  I have changed from them.

I am now a wife of one, mother of four and dog owner of two.  As I think of the road that I traveled down to get here, I am amazed at where the time has gone.  I know that along the way I had help. It was more divine than I can imagine.  Much of  the road along my path of life was muddy and swampy with a cliff on both sides.  Sometimes it was sandy and dry, without an end in sight. But somehow, with a lot of help from above, I had a desire to go on and persevere. 

I am thankful for every bit of my life.  I am thankful for what I have been blessed with.  I love my family and kids and wouldn't trade my life for anything.  The only thing I would change.......my age!  

CAN I TAKE IT BACK????

Shortly after posting my, 'why I hate christmas' spill, my mind began to wander....in a VERY different direction, from that which was previously said. I couldn't help, but sit down and let my fingertips tell the story of my childhood holidays and how I felt and what I knew deep inside my soul.

Growing up, as most kids are, I was VERY unaware of my family's financial status. I knew that we weren't rich and I refused to admit that there might be a chance that we were considered poor. After all, we never got the 'free or reduced meals' from school (at least not that I know of), and I knew that our needs were met and that seemed sufficient.

My mom, out of the graciousness of her heart and her love for us, stayed at home to attend to me and my siblings' needs. A mother that is willing and able to stay home for her kids' sake, is by far a stronger woman, than one who seeks out a career outside the home, in my opinion. However difficult that was for her at that time, I never knew and I was thankful that, when I walked through our door after school, she was home.

My dad, out of pure love and duty, consistently went to work. Not only did he work, he worked hard. He rarely took sick days. In fact, I don't recall him ever taking one. He rarely even took time to eat lunch. I have saved and compiled many images and memories of him, getting up before the sun rose and returning once it had already set. The thing that I remember most, is that he never complained, not once. Those long hours that he would spend at the office, during tax season, year after year, proved him impervious. I don't remember him ever complaining about what he had to do, he just did it. It reminds me of what he worked for; food, shelter, clothes, family and Christmas.

So, to redeem myself of my grinch-like qualities I must post on what I love(d) about Christmas. 

Christmas eve was ALWAYS spent at grandma and grandpa Taylor's house, with all the cousins, aunts, uncles and dear friends. We had dinner and the most delicious home-made Swedish cookies, that were sprinkled with sugar and so carefully shaped and placed. I remember having a hard time choosing what cookie I really wanted, when grandma would circle about the living room, carrying the shiny, Sterling Silver platter, of desserts. Of course, I always went back for seconds. The night seemed endless as we talked, laughed and played. Going home was the toughest part, as I knew that falling asleep was next to impossible, on a night like that.

Christmas mornings were early, very early. They were exciting and they were curious. All of us kids would sit on the stairs that led to the basement, where the tree was. We would position ourselves with our flannel blankets, wrapped tightly around us and wait for dad to stoke the fire. This always seemed like an eternity! Once dad was done, we all ran down the stairs as fast as we could to see what awaited us. The beautiful tree, with presents lovingly tucked beneath it.

The morning was grand to say the least! Once we had fully unwrapped every last gift, played a few games, tried on our clothes and fiddled with our over-stuffed stocking goods, it was time to have grandma and grandpa for breakfast. Bacon, eggs, grapefruit, pancakes, orange juice and milk, were always on the menu for Christmas morning. I loved it! For that day.....time stood still.

I miss those days, when 'Santa' remembered to stop at our house. He never once forgot! I miss knowing that he cared enough to provide gifts for me. I miss those mornings that seemed to bring him so much joy, seeing me happy. I miss having him there in the room with me, watching as I ripped the paper from my presents, anxious to see what was inside. I miss all of it! I will always miss that.

So, as I think of my younger years and reminisce on what was, please know that I am appreciative of what Mr. and Mrs. Clause were able to do for me. For their willingness to give and be generous about it. I will never forget it. The memories have been welded into my soul will forever remain.

I have come to the conclusion that making these same memories for my kids, is by far the most important thing to me. It isn't what they get, it is the feelings and the surroundings they live for. Although Christmas will never be my favorite holiday, I want it to be the best for my children, as I am now a replica of 'Santa', watching with love in my soul, as my kids do just what I did. I get to see it first hand and be a witness that 'Santa' IS still around!

I WONDER WHY

(I hate Christmas that is)

Give me a moment to spill myself and my emotions, about Christmas.  

I haven't always hated Christmas, I don't think.  But, without fail, every October I realize that the holidays are knocking at the door....and I don't want to answer it.  I don't even want to acknowledge that I heard it.

 I hate the clutter.   I hate the rich desserts that are given on those Christmas paper plates so carefully wrapped in colored Saran Wrap and sealed with curly ribbon tied at the top. It just gets thrown away because I can't palate it.  I hate the messy decorations strewn about the house, most of them broken(2 yr. old doings) with shards hidden in the carpet, only to be found by the barefoot that steps on it.   

I hate coming up with ideas for friends and family.  It's too stressful for me. It's too much expended mind power that gets me frustrated and frazzled.  I get worried that I will forget someone, so I just leave everyone out.  I hate cards...waste of money.  I'd rather pretend that this year  Christmas will be spent in bed.  With my eyes closed.

Is that sad?  Is this normal?  I just don't care really.  Presents can be given year-round for any occasion.  It bothers me to see people pushing and stressing to get a 'good deal' or to get the 'sale' items.  It just doesn't set well with me.  I guess that perhaps I have never been that way, so I can't understand it.  I don't want to understand it.

I am in no way degrading the life of our savior and the marvelous life he lived.  I'd just prefer to leave it at that and be non-commercial about it.  The stress.  The crowds.  The hustle.  And I believe the thing that I hate most about Christmas isn't really Christmas itself, but the month that it occurs in.  The COLD month of December.  

I hate cold!  I hate snow!  If Christmas were in July.......well.....I'd still dislike it. 

I LOVE IT...EVERY BIT OF IT!

                                      Every muscle of mine harbors jealousy as I watch my daughter do what I lived for 19 years ago...playing basketball.

My mind recalls the day of tryouts.  Close to 200 girls packed in the gym of Hillcrest high school in hopes to get their name written on the page to show up again the following day for another try at making the team.  I recall being very calm as I did what I knew how to do best and I wasn't surprised to find that I was chosen to come back the next day for the second round of cuts.  Because of the high volume of girls the process was long, but fun nonetheless.

On the final day of cuts I worried a bit, but was sure that the coaches would see my potential that even I couldn't see.  They did!  I was on the team.     Those first few years of ball were the best years of my life!  I'd go back to that anytime if I wasn't in my old-boned body now.  But....

Here's the thing.  My oldest daughter, Madison has decided to try basketball this year.  She likes it and is becoming very good.  She has HUGE potential and I am thrilled to see her take an adventure down a road that I once traveled.

Here's the problem.  She lacks the self-confidence that I, too, lacked.  As I watch her run about the court, it's almost as though I am watching myself play.

  

I was afraid to get the ball as to not fumble it and lose it.  I didn't want to shoot the ball...what if I missed? I didn't want to shoot a free-throw.... all eyes were on me!   My daughter has inherited these same flaws that I had and it drives me CRAZY!!!

I love Madison and hope that she doesn't make the same mistake that I did and hold herself back from lack of confidence.  I believe that she, too, can hold the school record for the highest amount of assists and the most steals in one year.  Not to mention her ability to shoot the ball.  I love her and hope that she is playing for HER love for the game and not for the passion that I had. Because to be honest, I can enjoy ball whether it be me playing, o to re-live it  through watching her. 

Good job Madison.

NINE YEARS AGO

The vivid memory of the wonderful day(Friday, November 23, 1999), when I gave birth to my boy, Jacob, still lingers fresh in my mind.  The last few weeks leading up to the greatest day of receiving him into my arms, were exhausting to say the least.  I never did have an appetite throughout this particular pregnancy,  I wondered how this little man was managing to survive within the womb receiving so little nourishment.  I just couldn't eat...the Prozac was to blame for this one.  I am assured that every calorie, carbohydrate, fiber or vitamin that DID go down my esophagus and into my stomach, Jake managed to rapidly consume before I could take in any of it for myself(which is what I prayed for).  I just became skinnier, more tired and was constantly nagged by a concerned father and husband for the well being for both of us.

Jacob hung in there until the very moment that he decided to make his grand appearance here on Earth.

It was a rather gloomy day, as is the Pacific Northwest in mid-November.  I recall being a bit nervous since it had been 4 and a half years since my previous birth and all the memory of pain and bleeding and hospital food was no longer in my library of memories.  I was ready.

Labor didn't seem bad, the pain was minimal and the anticipation couldn't have been greater!  My first boy.  Who would he resemble?  What would his personality be like?  Will he be healthy? These were just a few questions among others that raced through my mind, while waiting for that magical moment for a homemade person to really come to  Earth, through that thin veil that they so willingly slide through.

  

Labor began and I wanted him here now!  Not long after labor began, I beheld the most beautiful, precious boy.  I have never before seen such perfection!  He was well proportioned(except for his cone-shaped-head). He cried. I cried.  Bill cried. The moment that I had been awaiting, was now right at my fingertips.  I lovingly stroked his velvet cheeks, his wrinkled hands, his bright orange hair.  I thanked my Heavenly Father in my heart for every bit of that boy!  He was my love. My hope. My prayer. My Jake.

He is 9 today and I quiver at the thought of how time passes if you don't take a moment, or two to enjoy it. He is still that very boy that I delivered that rainy November morning.  He is full of love, compassion, knowledge, tenderness, giving and many more Christ-like qualities that I am thankful for. 

Happy birthday to you Jacob!  I love you with all of my heart.  To the moon and back.  You mean the world to me.  Thanks for being mine.  I couldn't live without you! mom

SIMPLY DIFFERENT

It seems that I have been unable to do what I love to do.....blog.  After a minor knee surgery, a painful recovery, a husband in the ER twice in one week,  studying for my two classes, kids & homework, young women's & basketball(maddy), scouts & soccer(Jake), getting to know my Ashley intimately again like I once did pre-Amber and the UNDIVIDED attention that Amber demands..... I am falling short on one of my favorite past times, blogging.

Normally, I can't stand dirty floors, stinky bathrooms, full garbage cans, pantry in complete disarray, carpet covered with wrappers, blankets, pillows, cushions from the sofas, pens & pencils, game pieces all over the front room, crumbs on the kitchen counter and everywhere else in the kitchen, toothpaste smeared in the drawer, laundry overflowing the hampers, dust settled in every crevice. 

Not to mention the reminders on the walls from last year when Amber discovered Sharpie pens, the smudges on windows left from halloween frosting hands and the sweatshirts that are thrown on the mud-room floor.  The countless pairs of shoes that are found in every place, but where they should be, and the bedrooms that are horrendous.  Needless to say, I am in love.

I am in love with today.  I am in love with my kids and their ability to feel comfortable at their home. I am in love with my husband who now has a 3" scar on his right arm and a cracked heel accompanied by a HUGE hematoma on his left foot.  I am in love with my environment and where I am today.  I am in love with my dogs. I am in live with love.

Tomorrow may bring something new and different, but as for now, my heart is swelling with love and comfort for life and living, family and friends.

SINGIN' IN THE BATH--RATED "G" (HIDDEN NUDITY)

Maddy is very good at bathing Amber to keep her busy when I am busy making dinner, folding laundry, running kids to soccer practice etc.  She was gingerly combing Amber's hair and having her sing some songs without knowing that daddy was recording her (and please notice the little scowl that Amber gives when she sees dad and the camera).  I just love this.  Not only because Amber sings so dang cute, but I love the way that Maddy loves Amber.  I am thankful for all the help that Maddy gives me.  Love you Mads. 

 Enjoy the unrecognizable tunes as they are impromptu :)

P.S. turn my music off to hear Amber's sweet voice.

DOCTORS ORDERS-(EXCUSE THE BLOOD)

 

Wednesday, October, 22 @ approximately 8:30 a.m. I had an arthroscopy done on my left knee.

Sometime this last June while visiting a lovely park with my kids and some friends of ours,  I had an accident and literally heard my knee "POP".   It hurt so bad and I was so embarrassed as to how I hurt it, that I quickly sat back down and proceeded to pretend as though I was still getting my bag put together so that we could all move into the shade.  After 3 attempts at standing up and failing, I knew something was wrong with my knee.  

I managed to hobble over to the shaded knoll where the others had taken their blankets,bags, towels & goodies unnoticed by others that my knee was in excruciating pain.  I quickly fell back down and tried to keep my kids rounded up as to not go too far(I knew I couldn't help them if they needed it.) We stayed a bit longer and I was glad to be going home when we did.

Days went by and my knee just wasn't the same.  I couldn't bend it like I used to.  I couldn't run like I wanted to.  I couldn't play with the kids like I had done before, so it was time to see the doctor(This is a whole other story in itself that I won't get into).

I went to the Slocum center and Dr. Straub ordered an MRI on my knee and the results came back not so reassuring.  I needed a little surgery to fix what I had done.  This was no surprise to me however.   

I am glad to have doctors who know what they are doing.  My knee was very sore for a while with the fluid surrounding my patella, but it is getting better daily!

  

Sorry about the blood for those of you who are faint at heart.  The chunk that you see at the bottom, right corner of the internal knee pictures was supposedly what was causing the pain.