November Gratitude: Finale

I have about 2 1/2 more hours to post my final November Gratitude. And because I'm feeling lazy, I'm doing it bullet-style. Here we go!

• We went to St. George, Utah for Thanksgiving to spend time with Shane's grandparents. It was such a good trip. We had a great hotel with a pool, a bunch of family to eat our yummy dinner with, and plenty of family time. Who knew that vacation meant you didn't have to worry about the laundry??? Oh, I guess all of you who regularly vacation. We are novices, apparently. It was fun being vacationers.
Ben and Thomas are excited to go.
See how excited my husband gets at pictures and leaving town?



• We spent a lot of time on Friday at Shane's grandparents house. His grandpa is a big talker, and we heard some awesome stories about him in World War II and his childhood that shouldn't be lost. We don't see them very often, so when we do, it is a big treat for all of us. I love having grandparents again.
This is a picture from 1955 of his grandparents. They are the ones in the light coats. I wish the picture was better, but it's a picture of a picture.
Here we are with Grandma & Grandpa. Grandma fell a few weeks ago and broke her elbow, poor lady.


• The highlight of the weekend was when we went swimming at our hotel the night we checked in. It was 9:30 at night, and the pool was outdoors. My kids had such a blast doing something so out of the ordinary. We played back and forth between the hot tub and pool, getting alternately warm and cold. All was well til Ben drank the hot tub water and ended up with a yucky stomach for the rest of the trip. How to teach them that we are bathing in it, not drinking it???!!!!
• I missed my family a lot. But I felt like I had them with me a little in that I brought our thanksgiving crescent roll dough down with us, which I made up on Thanksgiving morning. There are a few tastes in this world that embody holidays for me, and for Thanksgiving, I have to have crescent rolls and green bean casserole.
• Usually when I make Thanksgiving treats, I'm alone in my kitchen with my boys and husband off playing. It was fun to be at Shane's aunt's condo, rolling out the dough while his aunt started the turkey and his cousin put together a casserole. It is that part that I miss every year, the tradition of cooking with loved ones.
• I talked to my mom on Thanksgiving night. She was on her way to one of my sisters' houses for dessert with my dad. She put my dad on speaker phone and I talked to him for a few minutes. The only thing he could really say clearly to me was "I love you." It was enough, and yet so not enough. Where did he go?
• My mother-in-law drove down with us. It was fun visiting with her in the car about the family, and making such fun memories with her.
• I couldn't sleep the last night of the trip, so I got up and went to Old Navy at 6:15 by myself. I missed the huge rush of people, which was fine by me. I visited a few stores, and as I came out of one of them, I saw the sun rising through the clouds above the beautiful sandstone bluffs of St. George. I love the desert, and will never forget that moment of beauty.

It was a memorable year. I am so grateful that Grandma Mary was able to have her family together again for a special holiday. She was glowing with happiness, which made the whole trip worth it.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.

November Gratitude, Part 8.

So, I like to brag that I never get the stomach flu.

Seriously. I can't remember having it since 1997. I wasn't even married yet in 1997. I still lived at my mom's house in 1997. Not to say that I haven't thrown up since 1997; two pregnancies took care of that. But the whole laying in bed, fighting the impulse to upchuck, laying in bed with relief for a few hours before repeating the process, and then sleeping the whole day after?

Not me.

Well, not until today.

That was my day. I'm sitting here at 8:59, waiting for my duvet to dry so that all my clean bedding can be put in my freshly-lysoled bed and I can crawl into it's warm, clean, depths. Since there isn't an option for staying home again tomorrow, I HAVE to be better. I must be better.

But, since this is a gratitude post, I'm grateful for:

• the fact I'm done throwing up
• that my sweet husband went in late to work, got the kids ready for school, and went and bought me chicken noodle soup for dinner.
• my sweet Thomas who sat and kissed and hugged me and tried to make me feel better before he left for school today
• my sweet Ben for putting up with a mom who mostly laid around today and watched tv when she wasn't sleeping.
• that my awesome bff Shelly took Ben for over 4 hours today so that I could sleep.
• that I'm done throwing up.

I've lost my bragging rights for another decade, but man, I'm loved. My family rocks.

November Gratitudes, No. 7

When we built our house almost 9 years ago, we moved into a brand-new neighborhood. One of the first things we did in our yard was to plant trees.

My dad loved trees. Our house growing up had tons of trees. Each fall, leaves littered our driveways and sidewalks. My dad spent week after week after week cleaning up the debris that the trees left behind, but I never once heard him complain about it.

Now that our trees are maturing a little, we finally get a taste of autumn leaves littering our yard. I looked out my window today and saw our trees that line the street are finally shedding their summer foliage. A crunchy layer of brown, red and yellow is covering the still-green grass. Their bright glow in the late afternoon sun has brightened my day.

Today I am grateful for the beauty of leaves. And I wish that I could share that with my dad in a way that he would understand.

November Gratitude, Part Six

I'm not afraid to ask for help.

And I don't think that's necessarily a good thing.

I call people for everything. Roasting a turkey? Call up my mom or sister. Need a can of something to complete a meal? Call the neighbor(s) (as many as it takes, usually!). Don't know how to apply the adhesive to fabric when doing applique? Call the girl down the street who does.

And for some reason, they always step up and help. Over and over.

So today, I'm grateful to all the lovely people in my world who answer their phone when I call, and put up with my ineptitude at roasting turkeys and managing to buy ingredients and learning to applique.

Thanks to all of you for putting up with me. Because it means you are talented and smart and a lot more organized than me. I feel blessed that you willingly pass on your knowledge and talents. And answer the phone.

November Gratitude, part the fifth

Tonight Thomas and I had a piano recital. The whole piano thing is still a pretty new concept. I still get a little excited when I see ours sitting in the corner of the living room, taking up space. I think it's interesting that while Thomas, Shane and I will remember a time before we had the piano, Ben will grow up thinking that we always had one, that his mom and brother have just always played the piano.

It makes me think that we don't really know our loved ones as well as we think we do. But I'm getting off topic.

So tonight as I waited for my turn to play, I kept checking the door. I'd invited both my mom and my mother-in-law to come to watch. I knew that both of them would be late, so I kept checking the door and the spaces next to Shane to see if they were occupied. A few minutes after the recital started, I saw my mother-in-law sitting next to her son. I waved and felt warm that she had come.

But I kept watching the door. I was waiting for my mom.

I thought about it as I listened to the stream of adults and children playing music. I thought how even though I'm 33, I still am excited to have my mom come and see me. How that part of us doesn't go away, no matter the relationship we have or how old we are or what we are doing. We still get excited to see that special woman who gave us life clapping for us in the audience. Our hearts go a little soft knowing that she is there for us, again, watching our painful piano playing, and knowing she's proud of us for doing it.

I knew exactly when she came in. I heard her, but I could feel her a little too. Suddenly, there she was, sandwiched between my husband and my husband's mom. I knew I could stop watching the door then, that everything was okay.

Because my mom came to watch me play.

Thanks, Mom.

And just because...

I just finished this advent calendar I've been working on since Memorial Day (because there's nothing like doing your Christmas sewing in 90 degree weather, right?). I'm so excited that it's done!

The pictures aren't the greatest, but it's basically a wall hanging with pockets for each day in December. There was a lot of stitching, coloring, tracing, sewing, picking, resewing, and swearing involved. Dang that friend of mine who gets me involved in all these projects!!!

I just hope my kids like it. I'm planning to put a little treat in each pocket, along with a note that says something special we will do that day, or a thought about Christmas. I can't believe I got it done before November 30th. That's usually my style!!!

This is the whole wall hanging.

Detail of the top. This is all stitched. I was so sick of changing threads by the time I was done.

Detail of the pockets.

Unfortunately the pictures show how down hill some of the rows are. I'm not a enough of a perfectionist. I probably should have redone some of the pockets, but I didn't. Part of the charm, right?

November gratitude, part four

About 11 years ago on a brisk autumn night, Shane and I were invited to a dinner party at a friend's house. Although I knew the boy part of the couple pretty well, I didn't know the girl too well. I had met her a few times, once when swimming, I think, but other than that, they weren't people I knew well.

We gathered in the little apartment. I brought a loaf of store-bought garlic bread, which seemed appropriate until I sat down to eat the delicious made-from-scratch lasagna that Melanie, our hostess, had made. I looked around her apartment, which was cute and clean and housed a detail that endeared her to me: a cat.

That night, we watched the first DVD I'd ever seen. John, our host, had borrowed a projector and, after clearing a wall of its adornments, started up the movie. I remember sitting on the floor, laughing over the movie with this nice couple, eating yummy food and enjoying myself immensely.

I wish I could go back to that night. I wish I could tell myself how important John and Melanie would become in me and Shane's lives. I wish I could tell myself how many times over this exact sequence of events would repeat itself over the next decade. That eventually, they would be at our wedding, and we would be at theirs. That Mel would come and sub at my "wives of Shane's friends" bunko group, and I would be glad because I would know that I had one real friend in the room. That we would laugh at our significant others at numerous gatherings of John and Shane's friends. And that in time, me and Mel's friendship would rival John and Shane's, despite their having a 10 year head start on us.

Today Shane and I joined John and Melanie at their church to watch their new baby boy's blessing. Afterward we joined all their parents and grandparents and sisters and offspring for brunch. It may seem weird that we were the only non-family there, but it wasn't. Even though they didn't all know us, we knew who they were and felt right at home. We wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else.

I can't say how grateful I am to have them in my life, and in my family's life. We all understand one another in such a unique way. I am so glad that I went to that long-ago dinner party and fought through our mutual shyness to get to know one another. I'm glad we've developed this friendship.

Today, I am grateful for this great family. I know that they were meant to bless our life. I just hope we've somehow returned the favor.

November Gratitude, part trois

I'm making this so difficult in my head. Each day I think all day, "What can I write that will be different? What can I say in my gratitude post that will set me apart?"

"Why do I care so much?" is what I'm thinking today.

It shouldn't be hard to come up with something I'm grateful for. I have a billion objects, people, blessings, lessons at my disposal to put into an entry. Yay for me! I have a sewing machine and a blender. Hallelujah, my cats didn't throw up on my carpet today. Why am I making this so hard on myself?

I guess it's because of the writing. I want to write stuff that is good. Well-written. Thoughtful. Meaningful. But how often does that happen? There are so many writers out there that I envy; many with novels to their credit, many without. I read their blogs and their books and wish I had a voice like theirs.

But today, despite my misgivings, I'm going to write about, well, writing. And how grateful I am for it.

My dear friend Janna once told me I wrote really good letters. She would probably never remember giving such a compliment, but I remember it. A teacher in college once wrote, on the back page a paper I wrote that should have been full of analysis but wasn't, that "there isn't a lot of analysis here regarding folklore, but you write really well." I can barely remember what the paper was about, but I remember the compliment.

(Insert Becky-snark voice here, thinking that this post is sounding like a big ego trip. Not my intention!!)

But I love to write. I love the process of thinking something and being able to translate it into words that others can read. I love the process of putting events and moments and thoughts down so that one day, my children or grandchildren might know me a little better, that my voice might not die altogether when I die.

I remember my sister Amy telling me about an event after our Grandma Elsie died. For months after her death, my parent's basement was full of boxes from her home. Now, Grandma was a reader. She loved books, and especially books about cats. Many boxes were filled with these books, and Amy spent hours going through them with one intent: that one of the books would not be filled with mysteries of a feline nature, but an actual journal filled with Grandma's words. Her search was in vain. No journal was found to give voice to Grandma's life.

I don't want my life to end that way. So I write. And I know it isn't all amazing and noteworthy and all that, but it is my voice and hopefully it will mean something to someone later on.

I write. And I'm grateful for it.

November Gratitude, part deux

I'm thinking that my original edict (to be grateful for way's I've grown) feels to constricting, so I'm going to name things I'm grateful for, and if they've helped me grow, so much the better.

So, on to my second November gratitude: Thursdays.

More specifically, the last 3 Thursdays. With one to go.

Let me explain. Thomas has been off track for the past few weeks. Being off track means that we get to sleep in (something I love!!). It means no homework, lots of playdates, and twice as many kids to run errands with. But with Ben being in preschool this year, it also means that I have two hours a week to spend alone with Thomas.

I wrote previously how I missed the time that Thomas and I spent together before I had Benny. I've had years worth of weekdays spent driving Ben around to places. But I've never had cause to spend a significant amount of time alone with my eldest until now.

I've loved those hours. He can sit in the front seat (thank you, sensor in my front passenger seat that turns off the airbag!!). We fight over the radio, switching between my stations and radio Disney (can I just say how much I DREAD radio Disney!!). I get to chat with him, and hang out with him in a way I haven't for almost 4 years.

It has been sweet, sweet time with my tenderhearted son. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

November Gratitude

Last year, I posted a few gratitude blogs to usher in the Thanksgiving season. I only made it to 10 entries, which isn't too bad, considering most months I barely make 6 or 7 entries. Compared to how often I've been posting lately, that is a positive landslide.

Anyhow, I want to do it again this year. I think it made last year's Thanksgiving that much sweeter, realizing that I had many days of saying thanks rather than just one. I'd like to add a twist, though, and try to write about the ways I feel that I've grown in my many rolls as a mother, wife, and human being.

So I want to start this off with how grateful I am that I've grown in my faith. I was raised LDS, and I was very active through junior high and into high school. During junior high, my school friends were my church friends. I was transitioning from my years in gymnastics where I had few school friends due to a lack of time to spend with anyone who didn't flip upside down on a frequent basis. One night, a few weeks after I had broken an ankle, I stopped at a local pizza parlor with my mom to pick up a pizza. A group of girls from church were all eating and laughing together and invited me to join them for pizza and a movie. I joined them for the evening, and it changed my life. Suddenly I had friends that I was in church with, who were good girls and encouraged me to do things that kept me active in the church. One of them, Rebecca, would become my lifelong friend, my bridesmaid, my confidant.

As friends came in and out of our little group, Rebecca and I stayed friends. I slowly drifted away from church as the girls I was close to moved or changed wards. Finally I was the only girl in my Young Women's class. I refused to go to Young Women; in fact, I never set foot in YW during the entire time I would have been a Laurel. I kept going to Seminary until half way through my junior year, when I dropped out. I don't think it's much of a coincedence that I first smoked a cigarette within weeks of dropping seminary.

I look back at the next few years of my life as some of the best years, despite my inner conflicts with not going to church. I came back to church when I was 19, but I wouldn't be truly converted until after I had children. To come back, I truly had to DECIDE what I wanted. The first year that Shane and I were married, I went to church once, 10 months after we had been living in the ward, and 2 months before we would move out of it. Once I moved into my house, though, I had people who came to visit teach me, who were my age and who seemed to care whether I showed up on Sunday or not. They watched my baby steps back into activity: first, relief society, then an enrichment board member, later a primary teacher. It took me over 2 years to go to sacrament for the first time, and still another year and a half to go consistently, hiding in the back recesses of the building.

Now I sit on the front row. I never envisioned myself as a front-row sitter. I don't take pride or think it's in any way special to sit in the front row. It's just our seat. My kids can see who speaks and maybe hear a few of their words. I can listen a little better. Church is just what we do now.

But personally, for me, it has grown to be something that I cherish. Even the weeks that I sit by myself in Sunday School, hiding the words I scrawl into my journal. Even the weeks when my kids fight over toys and beg to go get a drink. And especially the weeks when I leave uplifted and grateful to have learned about the Savior.

I guess I'm most grateful that I know why I go every week. I no longer go to make sure that my visiting teacher sees me so she won't think I'm struggling. Or because I feel an obligation to pass on the tradition to my children. Or because I know it will make my mom happy. Or so that my husband can have some alone time to watch football and iron. I know it is where I want to be. It is where I choose to be.

I'm grateful that I was able to make that choice.