NOYB

Isn't it time for another one?
You need to have a little girl.
When is the next one coming?
He needs a brother or sister.

I just don't understand why other people think they know what I, my child, and my family need. I don't question your decision to have no kids, two, or ten, at least to your face, so please leave mine and my husband's choice in our hands. It is so nosey, so rude, and so annoying to hear this over
and over
and over again lately.

Not even my mom asks, nor my sisters, not to mention my closest friends.

Maybe we had trouble conceiving the first time, and our child is a miracle. Perhaps we have been told we can't have more children. It may be that we have received confirmation from above that we are a complete family. There is always the possibility of the snip-snip already being performed. Or we just want one kid.

Whatever the reason or reasons, how insensitive for those not in our shoes to ask.

Mind your own, please, and I will mind mine.

Fall in St. Johns

This scene in my backyard made me smile: a living, blooming flower amidst the snow.

Only in St. Johns can you get such different ends of the weather spectrum within days. I love it. It keeps me guessing and on my toes. Flip flops or my winter coat? Turn on the AC or build a fire? Lemonade or hot chocolate?

Like Forrest Gump said, "You never know what you're gonna get."

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blog

Sigh.

I have nothing about which to blog. I'm not saying my life isn't full of experiences - the good, the bad, and the ugly. In fact, my existence offers moments upon moments of joy, sadness, anger, and amusement. I just don't see most of these times as blog-worthy. Perhaps I am just uninspired by my current goings-on.

Or - Oh, perish the thought! - am I just BLAH?

I mean, does anyone really care what I ate for lunch? I wolfed down, and I mean w.o.l.f.e.d. down, two of the best-ever wheat rolls, made by my bread-making friend who would win a yellow fair ribbon easily with these.

Does anyone care that the football teams for whom I fervently cheer are not doing all that well right now? I need more Tums to get through this season.

Does anyone care that I made up a great recipe for crab quesadillas last night? They were yummy.

Does anyone care that I am quite enjoying creating and delivering sugar cookies? The looks on the recipients' embarrassed faces entertain me to no end.

I am busy. I have a wonderful life. My days are full of love and laughter. I don't need to blog, or tweet tweet tweet, or put my face in a "book" to know that, nor to tell others that. Still, I eagerly await that time when something happens - something major, something that causes a pensive mood, something heart-wrenching or gut-busting - that time which will bring me out of this blah blah blah blah blog funk.

Until then...

What Comes Around ...

I have to apologize to all the stay-at-home moms out there. I used to think you did nothing all day. I bought into the stereotype of bon-bon eating and soap-opera watching. I would think to myself, "She has the time to take a meal to so-and-so or bake bread or paint her nails. I work. I don't have the leisure time to do all that."

Oh, was I wrong. Very very wrong.

I have had a to-do list for over a year now. Some of it is accomplished; some is not. I am hoping not another whole year will pass with unchecked items. I now know how much time the kiddos take out of a day. I eagerly await naptime, when I can sit down and finish a task without interruption, when I can clean or do laundry or cook without chasing Mr. Busyman from another possible danger or disaster.

I am so extremely sorry for thinking you had all the time in the world. We don't. This is my karmic slap in the face. I get a lot of them lately.

The worst part of it all is that I judged my fellow women, my sistas out there who are doing the best they can. Aren't we all? We really can't win. We stay home with our kids, and there are those who think we are lazy bums that aren't contributing to our family's finances. We go to work, and there are those who wonder why we aren't home with our kids, nurturing and guiding them as we mothers should.

What is the answer? I really wish I knew, but I think it is different for everyone, and not one of us should question another's choice. I know this is the right choice for me, to have quit my job and stay home with this sweet boy of mine.

Even though I know this is what I am supposed to be doing, that doesn't make it easy. It is back-to-school time. I'm not going back. I have had a couple of the nightmares that always accompanied this time of year for me - students running awry, lessons unplanned, etc., but I am no longer a teacher.

I miss planning a new lesson.
I miss seeing a kid understanding a concept.
I miss being called Ms. Baca/Mrs. Hancock every day.
I miss my friends. A lot.
I miss decorating my classroom.
I miss the butterflies of a new year and the possibilities that await.
I miss complaining about the administration.
I miss Chinese food Thursdays.

I have read about the allergy to work that is going around, and I marvel how I am experiencing the opposite.

I guess the grass is always greener, right?

However much I miss teaching, though, I will keep my grass. My grass with some yellow spots, some weeds, but a whole bunch of green. My green grass of my husband, who would work five jobs to keep me at home with our little guy. My green grass of awaking each morning to exercise, not to hurry off to the middle school. My green grass of having a little extra time to make those cookies for my friends. And my pure green grass of seeing curiosity in my son's eyes, satisfaction when he figures out how to put those colored doughnuts on the yellow stand, and joy as he drags a book to me to read to him.

I suppose I am still a teacher, after all, but this time my lessons are for a class of one.

Cough cough sputter sputter

I hate smokers.



Okay. I should correct that. I hate rude smokers. You know, the ones who think that they have the right to MAKE me inhale the poison they CHOOSE to inhale. I would rather not have lung cancer, thank you. Plus, I have mild asthma, and smoke of any kind will bring on an attack or worsen my ability to breathe. Once I got older and grew a partial spine, I have coughed with much emotion, held my breath in an obvious manner, and occasionally said something loudly to whomever I am with, so that the offender would notice that I didn't approve of his/her puffing around me.



Now I have a child. Gloves off. Spine complete.



I have the Arizona anti-smoking reporting line programmed into my cell phone, and I am not afraid to use it. It is listed under NO SMOKING!. I laugh every time I scroll down and see it. I have already gone into two businesses and informed them that there were smokers outside their stores breaking the law. Businesses are required to take care of it, or they may be reported and eventually fined. Both times, the employees were clueless. I didn't care. I proceeded to tell them the laws of which they were ignorant. They looked at me like I am a crazy woman. Better crazy than chemo, I say. Better crazy than my sweet baby having to walk through a cloud of tobacco dust.



My latest experience with rudeness took place this past Saturday night. I was with my husband at a hotel in Phoenix, where we were celebrating his birthday with a weekend getaway (fun times!). We had a little pool all to ourselves for awhile, which gave me time to practice the only skill, the clam shell, I remember from my synchronized swimming lessons one summer in high school. I would do the clam shell, and he would give me a score from one to ten, like in gymnastics. My highest was a 9, my lowest a 2. Oh yes. Do we ever really grow up? I can't wait to earn a ten!Come to think of it, I only took ballet for one year, as well. I didn't really want to stick with these things, I guess. They taught me some great skills for entertaining, though, I tell you.



Back on track ... a woman and her two cute little boys joined us in the pool. We were all swimming, swimming, having a nice time. I smelled smoke, so I asked my eternal companion if he did. I didn't have my contacts in, so I had no idea from where it came. I asked loudly, by the way. He said, much more quietly, that he saw it. Once I knew it was the mom of the boys, who had exited the pool, we decided to adjourn to our room. As we walked out of the area, past the cancer-spreader, I plugged my nose and coughed. Only part of my backbone was working then, I suppose. Why didn't I say something? I kick myself.



I don't know the law for smoking at pools, so I didn't really have any firm ground on which to stand. I will learn it, however, mark my words, and next time, watch out!

Baby Steps

My son took his first steps tonight (sniffle, smile, sniffle, smile), which put me in a contemplative mood.

He stumbled, leaned too far forward to keep his balance, tried to go too fast, and needed his dad and me to be there to catch him. He went back and forth, back and forth, his face a smile, our excitement contagious. We all clapped, we all laughed, we all cheered. I wish I could bottle those five minutes and drink it up every day.

Isn't this how we all are throughout life?

We try something new, a career, marriage, a baby!, a friendship, opening our hearts, forgiving someone, embracing who we are.

It is hard. We stumble, we try too hard, we go too fast, but we keep trying. If we don't, we never learn to walk on our own, with our own confidence, our own faith, our own destiny.

We need others to catch us and stand us back up. Without our cheering sections, our successes are mere footnotes rather than headlines.

May we all take the steps that allow us to grow, but more importantly, may we applaud each other's efforts, even calling for an encore.

Small Acts of Kindness

You know those times when you just need to hear something nice about yourself or have something good happen? It is amazing to me that when that pick-me-up is just what the doctor ordered,

my mom emails me,

my friend sends a text,

a ward member gives me a hug,

my husband says I love you,

a friend blogs something nice,

or my Heavenly Father sends a beautiful evening to sit on the porch swing with my family.