Thank God for friends

Ah, I started this blog with such good intentions.  I was so excited to start it, and used to post regularly.  Then came facebook (which was so much easier and so much faster), and then came baby #4 in my life.  Whoops!  There went even more of what little free time I had left at that point.

So, now my blog is pretty much DOA, and what few people WERE reading it have probably stopped since I haven't posted in over a year.  Sigh.  Oh well. 

I've meant to post sooooo many times.  I have ideas and thoughts coming into my head all the time.  But then nighttime comes (when I can actually sit down and think), and I've got bills to pay, or clothes to fold and/or iron, floors to sweep, a husband who wants some times with me - you get the idea. 

What do you want from me?!!

I've thought about posting about this topic probably 100 times at this point.

I have been thinking a lot lately about how glad I am that I have some good friends, and how important friends are in our lives.

I had a group of friends in high school that I loved.  We had all known each other since we were about eight years old, and I thought that we would have this group forever - through college, marriage, kids, etc.  We had a falling out the winter of our first semester of college. Well, to be clear, they had a falling out with me (which, I found out later, was the result of my at-the-time boyfriend, whom they didn't like, who just so happened to turn out to be my husband, Lou).  It's a long story, but basically, they decided over Christmas break that they had outgrown me, and that it was time for us to go our separate ways.  Again, to be clear, they wanted me to go my separate way, while they all remained best buddies.  One of them even called me on the phone to tell me that it was time to move along.  Ouch.

So, basically, they dumped me out of the group.  It was humiliating, heartbreaking, and overall just terrible.  I went from having a group of best friends that I had known since I was a kid to having NO ONE.  Oh, and this happened 2 weeks before I got married.  Yeah.

I have long since forgiven these girls, and have rekindled contact with them on some level in recent years (which has been nice), but the fact is, for YEARS after the "event" I couldn't bring myself to make friends with other women.  I just couldn't.  I didn't trust them anymore, and felt like it just wasn't even worth the risk or hassle.  I had developed a complex and was sure that other women wouldn't even want to be my friend.  Maybe I didn't deserve friends?  I decided that I had my husband - he could be my best friend.  He was all that I needed.

Or so I thought.

When I was in my mid-20's, a group of women moved into our church ward boundaries, and slowly but surely, about six months later, I suddenly found myself part of a group of friends again.  We talked about our kids, about being a Mom, about being a woman, about clothes, about recipes, about period woes, about birth control issues.  We talked about everything from makeup and movies to life's hardships and spirituality.  We had girls nights at each other's houses.  I had friends again.

And it was awesome.

I had no idea how much I had missing having female friends in my life until I had them again.

The fact is, no matter how much I love my husband, he is NOT an adequate substitute for having women friends.  That is a void that he JUST CAN'T FILL.

As women, we NEED each other.  We really do!  We can relate to each other in ways that our husbands never can with us.  It's not because they are stupid or inferior - they just don't get it because they AREN'T WOMEN.

I hope that I still have crazy girlfriends when I am old

I love Lou and can't imagine my life without him.  He is my #1 and my eternal companion.  And I could live without my female friends.  I could do it.  I just wouldn't want to.  They enrich my life in so many little ways, and I am so thankful for that.

Because good friends stick together like PB&J!

I am thankful for the phone calls that have happened at just the right time, when I needed to hear another women say to me - "I know, girl.  I've been there.  I'm going nuts over here sometimes, too.  Keep going - you're doing fine!!  I love you."

I am grateful for the girls nights that have helped me remember that youthful, spunky spirit inside of me that I NEVER want to go away.  Those nights help me to let all my Mommy and wife cares melt away for a few hours and I can JUST BE ME for a little while.  They remind me how fun it is to be a girl.  Oh, how I love those nights!

I treasure those moments with a good friend when you open up about hard times in your lives and you learn from each other by sharing.  You lift each other up and strengthen one another.  You find out that you are NOT the only one who has gone through it.  This amazing friend of yours has gone through it, too, and you can help each other through your shared experiences.  There is so much comfort in knowing that you are not alone in your struggles.  It makes all the difference.

CD - this is you and me! ;)

But that is not all these women have done for me.  The friends that I have made in my mid-20's and now 30's taught me so much about what it meant to be a friend, and that I did, in fact, deserve them.  They showed me that, given the chance to know me, that people actually DO like me.  Amazing!  They helped me get over my complex about making friends and realize once again how wonderful it is to have them in my life. 

My best friends live all over the country - Washington state, Texas, Virginia, etc.  I miss them so much and wish that we had more than just phone calls and cards, but if that's all I get right now, I'll take it!  I feel so blessed to have these women in my life, and true friendship is not lessened by geographical distance. 

And now, please indulge me in a few shoutouts:

I am thankful for my friend SC, whom I admire more than I could ever express in words.  I had her pegged completely wrong when I first met her.  I thought she was stuck up and shallow.  She is so far the opposite of these things, it's not even funny.  We are the same age, but she feels like the big sister that I always wanted because I feel like she is so much wiser than me!  She has messaged me on FB and/or called me at random times because she said she was thinking of me, and it's almost always been when I really needed to talk to someone.  We served together in YW (where I found out that we had more in common than I originally thought) and I learned so much from her.  We don't get to talk very much (four kids for each of us), but when we do, it's like no time has passed.  She is fun and funny and cute and creative, but so down to earth and REAL.  SC will tell you like it is and have no fear about doing so.  She has been through so much and still has her faith intact.  I hope that someday we will get to see each other again (she lives on the other side of the country) I feel lucky to know a woman like her.

I know - random.  Just a great female duo from back in the day

I am grateful for my friend LT.  We hung out plenty of times between 05 and 08, but shared a "moment" back in 2008, right before she moved away, in which...well, I can't really describe it.  But in that moment we got each other on a whole other level and just became good friends right then and there.  We both felt it and have commented on it since.  It was this kind of spark that lit in both of us and it became clear that we were meant to be good friends.  We have visited each other almost every year since she moved away six years ago (which is pretty impressive seeing as she lives about 10 hours away!), and each time it's as if no time has passed.  LT is beautiful and strong and fiesty as hell.  I love that about her.  She don't take no sh*t from nobody!  Like my long-lost sister. ;)  I love that I can go on and on with her about my love of exercise and what is the latest thing that I am trying, and not only will her eyes not glaze over, she'll talk my ear off about HER latest workout routines, too!  And she will never give me any of that "Oh please, like YOU need to exercise" (I HATE when people say stuff like that!).  We share that passion and total "get" each other when it comes to our slight obsession with fitness.  I also really admire her strong testimony, but also her candidness about her weaknesses (and boy, do we have some of those in common!  Seriously - long lost sister, folks)  Some of my favorite people in the world are those who don't pretend to be perfect in front of me, because those are the ones that I can relate to. 

I love my friend CD.  She is spunky and fun and just the GREATEST girlfriend that a girl could have.  She injected some youthful spunk into my life at a time when I REALLY needed it.  When she moved into town, all of my good friends had moved away, and I was feeling super lonely and abandoned and lazy about making new friends.  She wasn't havin' it.  She invited me to girls' nights over and over (and got me sucked into Twilight - now THAT took some talent, let me tell you!) and FORCED me to come out of my hole and embrace my inner girl.  And I thank God for her.  I needed that so badly at that point in my life and she was there to not take no for an answer.  She was just so fun and inviting that it felt impossible to say "no" to her.  CD is like me - moody and pissy at times, but loyal to a fault and deeply sensitive about things (and no, I don't mean the "crybaby" kind of sensitive).  We share a love of urban music (I love every CD that she has ever made me) and celebrity gossip (although she is probably way more informed on the latter than I am).  She is hands down the most stylish of all of my friends (girl ALWAYS looks so stinking cute and is always on top of the latest fashions), but just because she loves clothes doesn't mean that she's superficial - she's not.   She can get deep and she puts a lot of thought into things before throwing out an opinion.  She's smart.  And she's thoughtful - girl does random acts of kindness for people left and right.  But she's no saint and I LOVE that about her.  She will totally admit to freaking out on her kids (and boy, can I relate to that!), or about when she's having a b*tchy day and will turn around and listen to mine, too, if I need her to.   It doesn't matter if I talk to CD for 5 minutes or 50 - I always feel a little lighter in my heart after chatting with her.  And here is another one that I wish didn't live so far away.  Why do all of my best friends move across the flippin' country?!!

LOVE THESE TWO BUDDIES!

There are so many other women who came into my life and affected me in a personal way - CJ (so fun and spontaneous, and got Lou and I to do an awesome backpacking trip that we never would have done on our own), JD (who helped me through my molar pregnancy in a way that no one else ever could have), RB (so smart and sweet and genuine, but with a goofy side that you would never expect at first glance), CD (my good friend from BYU who got me through a very difficult and confusing time in my life), KF (grew up with her and feels more like family than just a friend), LB (so friendly, and so down to earth, and was my playgroup buddy when everyone else stopped coming), MS (has a fierce and unyielding testimony of the gospel.  She is childlike in the way that the scriptures teach us to be, and this girl is CRAZY!!  Love that about her), and others that I can't think of right now because I stayed up too late last night, again.

If you are wondering why I'm not mentioning sisters - they fall into a whole other category.  I am so glad that I have sisters!

Either way, I thank God for all of these women in my life, not only for my past experiences with them, but for our continued friendships.

I can only hope that I have been half the friend to them that they have been to me.  My life is better for having known them. :)

The Terrible Mother Story #2

[Warning:  This is kind of long - I'm a terrible editor]

So this is the second, yes, the SECOND time that I have been called a terrible mother.  I'm starting to get a little self-conscious here...

The first time was at Virginia Beach, when our family was on vacation 2 years ago.  I told the story in this blog post.

The second time was last fall, while I was at the farmer's market with my kids.  It was a typical fall day at the farmers market - wall to wall people, everyone shuffling along at a snails pace.  I had all four kids with me, Maria and Josephine at my side, Edward in our old beat up stroller that he lovingly calls "big blue", and Thomas on my chest, in the Beco.  We were in the first covered building, and I had stopped at one of my favorite stands (run by two adorable older ladies) to pick up the last of the peppers and cucumbers of the season.  The girls were further down the table, checking out the summer squash.  I couldn't reach the peppers very well, so I stepped a step away from Edward and the stroller and started picking out some red peppers.  Now, let me say this - he was within arms reach of me.  No further away then if he were in a grocery cart at Wegmans and I had moved two steps to grab a box of cereal.  I could still reach out and touch the handle of the stroller.  Why do I tell you all this?  You'll see.

So, I finished up purchasing all the fresh veggies, stepped back toward the stroller, put the food in the storage basket and we started slowing making our way down the aisle.  It was so packed that we were barely moving.  I had taken maybe three steps when a middle-aged woman in the center aisle called out to me:

"Excuse me".

"Yes?"  I responded.

"Are you aware that you left your son completely unattended over there?"

"What?"  I asked, confused.

"You left him all alone and were paying absolutely NO attention to him at all.  Someone could have easily just walked off with him and you never would have even noticed"

Now, at this point, I was not only confused about what she was saying, but a little miffed.  Because I hadn't left him alone - like I said, I was within arms reach of him.  No, I wasn't gripping the stroller handle to keep him in place, but I was RIGHT THERE.  I could see him.  I could reach him.  It's not as though I walked to the other side of the building or something.  And I was really wondering at this point what exactly she expected me to say in response.  Was I supposed to say I was sorry?  Well, caught off guard and not really sure how to respond, I said:

"Um, I'm sorry I worried you?"

And yes, I said it kind of like a question, because I was really weirded out by her judgmental comment, and I was trying to NOT say something like "Why don't you mind your own business, lady?"  I didn't want to set a bad example for my kids by responding to her rudeness with more rudeness on my part.   

Her response?

"Well, I think you're disgusting", with this look of repulsion on her face that said "you are a complete scumbag and don't deserve to be a mother".

Now, this whole thing took place while I was shuffling along.  My jaw kind of dropped at this one.  Had she REALLY just said that?  In front of my kids?!  The boys were of course completely oblivious, but both the girls had heard her loud and clear.  I didn't know what to say to that (well, I couldn't think of anything without profanity in it, anyway), and we just kept on walking.  The girls both had a concerned look on their faces, and Josephine looked up at me and asked "Mommy, why did that lady talk to you that way?"  Before I had a chance to answer, Maria, very angry, responded, "Because she's RUDE, Josephine, and doesn't know how to mind her own business!".  She was really upset by it, and I tried to explain to them that some people think they are helping by criticizing, and they don't realize how mean it can sound when they say it.

I said this in a calm voice, but inside, I was fuming.  How dare this woman say something so hateful to me, not only in public, but right in front of my children?  What the heck is wrong with people?  And why do I seem to attract these Nazi-type old bags who feel the need to not only judge me as a mother in just 30 seconds of observation, but also to tell me just how crappy they think I am as a human being?  I could feel my face getting all hot and the anger rising more and more, like I was about to explode (temper, temper, Robyn!).  I had tried to take the high road by just saying that I was sorry that I had worried her, but no, that wasn't enough.  She had to tell me that she thought I was disgusting?  Not that my behavior was bad, but that I, personally, was a disgusting mother.

I know it shouldn't have mattered, but it was all I could think about the rest of our trip at the market.  I was so upset, and bounced back and forth between wanting to cry, and wanting to go give that woman a piece of my mind.

Well, any of you who know me well know which option I chose...

I just couldn't leave it alone.

Now, this story would be great if it ended up that I got my two cents in and she felt soooo ashamed and I got to feel all sorts of vindicated.  That's not how it went down.

I went back there and said something to the effect of:

"What is wrong with you?  Why would you say something like that to someone?  I was right there, right next to him.  He wasn't in any danger.  I know how to take care of my children, and how dare you imply that I don't.  I'm disgusting?  I'm disgusting?  What kind of person insults someone that they don't even know?  What kind of a person calls a mother 'disgusting' right in front of her kids?!  The only thing 'disgusting' thing that happened here today was what you did - being judgmental, and being so disrespectful to a complete stranger, right in front of her young children.

The thing is, when you talk to people like this lady - they are not reasonable people.  They don't admit when they are wrong or feel bad for behaving poorly.  It never plays out like it does in your head or on TV.  It's not gratifying.  They don't sit there in stunned silence, giving you the satisfaction of having set things straight.  No matter what you say, they defend themselves and just keep insulting you even more.  And that's exactly what she did.  She responded with "Well, I still think you are disgusting, lady, and you don't belong having kids.  Get out of my face".

I knew I was wasting my time, so I just said "You ought to be a shamed of yourself, treating other people like that", and walked away.  

Ugh - the whole experience was just terrible, and I felt no better after I confronted her than I had after she initially insulted me.  And on top of the whole mess, I was disappointed in myself that I had allowed myself to be so rattled by a complete stranger.  What did I care what she thought?  Why did it bother me so much?

I think there are two answers to those questions.

#1)  Being a mother is so much a part of who I am.  And with all of my kids being so young, it takes up most of my time.  It's what I DO.  It's who I AM.  And we ALL have times when we think we are not doing it well enough.  We all experience those feelings of inadequacy from time to time.  So for someone to call you out and say you are horrible at it and don't deserve to even be one, it's hitting you where it really hurts.  I don't think there is any worse insult for any Mom than to be told that she is a bad Mother.

#2)  This all happened in front of my kids.  So they were hurt right along with me.  As mothers, we are our kids' heroes.  We just are.  And for the hero to get verbally smacked down, well - it's embarrassing.  That's why I went back and said something to her.  I felt like I needed to save face, not just for me, but on behalf of my upset children.  Yeah, didn't really work out so well., though.

 The whole experience just left such a black mark on what is usually one of the highlights of our week (the kids and I LOVE the farmer's market!), and it was quiet as we made our way back to the car.  Just as we reached the car, Maria kind of exploded.  "I can't believe she talked to you like that!  How could she be so mean?  She doesn't even know you!  Why did she say those things?!"  I kind of sighed, and tried to explain to her that there are people in this world who are unhappy, and that sometimes it makes them treat others badly.  I went on to tell her that I was wrong to try to confront that woman, and that I should have done as Jesus has taught and just walked away from it.  I told her that I knew that that woman was wrong, and that I am not a bad mother, and that I should have just ignored her and not let it bother me.  I went on to point out to Maria that my confronting that woman had done no good, and had only left me feeling even worse, and I that I knew that if this ever happened again (and good grief, let's hope it doesn't!), I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.  Maria nodded in agreement, and I felt better that at least I had been able to make a teaching moment out of this whole ugly experience. 

I'm sure that all of you out there have had your share of experience dealing with "less than pleasant" people.  I know that I have. 

But after BOTH of my "terrible mother" experiences, I have had to remind myself of the many wonderful experiences I have had with complete strangers: 

-The many times when people have smiled warmly at my very LOUD four children and me as we make our way through the grocery store. 

-The sweet people who come up to Tommy and fuss over how adorable he is while they tickle his feet and coo at him. 

-The multiple times that someone has stopped me to tell me what a wonderful family I have, and comment on how nicely behaved my children are (that one always stops me short - my kids?  Huh.  Who'da thought?).  the sweet ladies at the store, or at the park who tell me that they can tell that I am a great Mom, and that I have lovely children. 

-The cashier at Wegmans who told me that the employees there have a nickname for me:  "Mighty Mom", because of "how well" I wrangle my four kids at the store (sidenote:  Doesn't it always take you by surprise to find out how often people are watching you and you don't even know it?  I don't even think of our grocery trips as anything really noteworthy or impressive.  It's funny to think that other people do).  This last one was my personal favorite, because, while the incident with the lady at farmer's market left me feeling like I had been sucker-punched, the Mighty Mom nickname incident left me feeling so good inside, so lifted up in spirits, with a warm swelling in my heart that gave me a renewed desire to be a good Mom, to live up to deserve such a name.  To be the Mom that these employees thought I was.

The Mighty Mom nickname totally made me think of Mighty Mouse.  Kind of like me, right?  Small, but packs a punch? ;)

And you know what?  The positive encounters that I have had with others in public in regards to my family have far outweighed the negative ones.  By a ton.  By a freakin' landslide.  So I choose to focus on those.  I choose positivity, and when I look back on those "terrible mother" stories, I can laugh about them now, not only because of their absurdity (and they are absurd!), but also because I honestly feel pity for those women.  Like I told Maria, I truly believe that they are sad and lonely people who put others down to make themselves feel better (and if they treat everyone around them the way they treated me, I sure that they ARE very lonely!).  How sad it would be to live like that!  And thank goodness I don't have to.

As a final note - the world needs more kindness, and the positive experiences that I have had with others (the compliments, smile, etc.), have encouraged me to do that for others, too.  Because since the harsh reality is that there ARE sad and unkind people like those two women out there, we need to make sure that we are one of the ones who are balancing the scales on the other side - lifting others up and brightening their day, making them feel good about themselves, making them want to be even better.  


 

Cookies n' Cream Pancakes

Let me just start by saying that I hate chocolate chip pancakes.  And I do mean HATE them.  I think they are nasty.  The chocolate always gets burned (because of the high heat that it comes in contact with while the pancakes are being cooked) and dried out, and basically ruins the rest of the pancakes.  My kids love them, but there's no accounting for taste there. ;)

I came up with this recipe as a result of a mistake, funny enough.  I was making a Chocolate Truffle Torte for Maria's birthday last week, and I scorched the chocolate while making the Chocolate Truffle topping (whoops.).  I couldn't bring myself to throw it away - it was 2 cups of chocolate, after all.  I remade the topping, put the scorched chocolate into a container (with no clue as to how I would use it later on) and forgot about it. 

This morning, Maria asked for chocolate chip pancakes, and I came up with a genius idea - why not use the scorched chocolate, chop it up finely (it actually kind of crumbled, on account of being scorched), and see if it works better than chocolate chips? 

It did. :)

 

Here they are on the griddle - they looked like cookies n cream ice cream to me, and I was already pretty sure that they were going to be awesome, just by the way they looked.  

 And here they are all cooked up.  I'm not sure the picture does them justice - I hope they don't come off looking like a pancake filled with dirt.

 Those are chocolate speckles that you see there.  Oh, these babies are soooo yummy.

 Of course you do NOT put maple syrup on these - gross.  They only acceptable topping is whipped cream - freshly made, or from a can, or even Cool Whip, if you prefer it (I don't, but hey, whatever floats your boat). 

Even better if you layer it like this.  Oh, Cookies n Cream goondess...

Yeah, I know, this is more like dessert for breakfast, but people eat donuts for breakfast, so is this really worse than that?  

Here's the recipe, if you want to give it a try: (keep in mind that this is a BIG batch, b/c I am making it to feed 6 people - you can easily halve this recipe if needed)

2 1/2 cups flour

4 tsp baking powder

4 Tbsp sugar

2 cups milk (any kind will do, even skim is fine)

2 eggs

2 Tbsp canola oil

1 1/2 cups chocolate chips, very finely chopped by hand, or processed in the food processor until finely chopped, almost to a crumbly powdery consistency (I would recommend the second option, it is faster and MUCH easier than doing it by hand).  You can use semisweet or milk chocolate chips, depending on your family's feelings about dark chocolate (Lou hates it, and liked the milk chocolate much better)

Whipped cream

1.  Heat a non-stick griddle on the stove over medium-low heat (just a touch below the medium setting, because you don't want it too hot, or the pancakes will brown too quickly, before the inside gets cooked)

2.  Combine your dry ingredients with a wire whisk in a large bowl

3.  Combine the wet ingredients with a whisk in a medium bowl

4.  Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and whisk/beat until well blended and relatively smooth.

5.  Gently stir in the finely chopped chocolate (no need to beat the batter any more at this point)

6.   Using a 1/4 or 1/3 cup measuring cup (it depends on how big you want your pancakes), pour pancakes onto griddle.  Flip over when bubbles start appearing, and when the edges begin to appear a little dry.  Cook until second side is lightly browned (I'm a freak and always have to break one pancake open to make sure that they are cooked in the middle, but I'm neurotic, so don't feel the need to do that).

7.  Serve topped with whipped cream and eat immediately!  (the hot pancake makes the whipped cream melt pretty quickly).  

Enjoy!

Making the cut - the who, what, where and WHY?!

I have had long hair for the majority of my life.  There was a 2 year period in high school where I sported short hair (I chopped it really short after a breakup - how cliché), and then I went back to growing it out and kept it long for the next 14 years.

In January of 2012, I made a joint New Years Resolution with my sister to donate our hair before the end of the year.  It was something I had never done before, but had always wanted to.  I always thought my hair was too fine, but I called my hairdresser and she said my hair was plenty thick enough.  So I committed myself.

All year long, I grew out my hair, only trimming tiny bits to keep the ends healthy.  I was pregnant, and then nursing, and was enjoying my thicker-than-usual hair that always accompanies my pregnancies and postpartum periods.

Taken in June 2012, which explains the post-partum pooch I am sporting...

Then came the dreaded time when all your extra pregnancy locks start shedding...all at once...in frighteningly HUGE clumps in the shower. Ugh.  Hate that.

It was time to call the hairdresser and chop my hair before there wasn't enough to even make a decent donation.

Lou was a little annoyed that I was doing it in the first place.  He LOVES long hair, and kept telling me that I was going to look like a boy.  I reminded him that when he met me and fell in love with me, my hair was short - even shorter than it is now.  He had nothing to say after that. :) 

I found a haircut on Pinterest that I liked and made the appointment.  I thought I would be nervous, but I wasn't.  I was actually really excited - ready for change. 

My hairdresser put my hair into two ponytails to make the cut, and I will admit, I let out a small gasp as she snipped off the first ponytail.  "Too late now!", she said.  And forward we went!

It ended up being 10 inches of donated hair

What did I do?!

I planned on donating my hair to Locks of Love.  I mean, every time I heard about someone donating hair, it was always to Locks of Love.  I thought it was the only game in town.  And really, it sounds so heartwarming - wigs for children with cancer.

However,  my hairdresser suggested a different idea.  She told me that Locks of Love is so inundated with hair donations that they actually end up selling some of their hair (to wig makers, doll makers, etc).  Well, if I was going to have my hair sold, I would do it myself.  I'm not donating it so that someone else can make money off of it.  Also, she told me that they do not give the wigs they make to children who have cancer, but that the families of the children have to purchase them.  I researched all of this, and yes it is all true.  Not so heartwarming after all.

My hairdresser suggested instead that I donate to a program run by Pantene Pro V called Pantene Beautiful Lengths.  They do not sell off any of their hair, and do not charge for their wigs.  Their wigs are donated to survivors of breast cancer.  I researched their program, and found that I was much more impressed with how it is managed.  Oh, and another perk?  They will accept hair that is only 8 inches long, which means that you don't have to cut quite so much is you don't want to.  So that is wear I donated my hair.

In the weeks preceding my haircut, Lou kept asking me WHY I was donating it?  Why was it so important to me?  There are a few of answers to this question.


1)  I've always wanted to do it.  I don't know why, I just have

2) My grandmother is a breast cancer survivor of about 35 years, so I had a personal connection there, especially to the Pantene Program.

3)  Back in the end of 2007, when I had my Molar Pregnancy and had to go on light chemotherapy, I thought about the possibility of losing my hair and it terrified me.  It turned out that the type of drugs they put me on where very light and didn't cause hair loss, but just was I was finishing up my treatments and being declared Molar-free in the end of March 2008, they were changing over to a new drug, one that DID cause hair loss.  Luckily, I was all done before this new drug officially became the treatment of choice.  If my "cancer-like" condition had happened just six months later, I could have had to deal with hair loss on top of all the other hellishness that I went through during my ordeal.  The whole experience was terrible enough - I can't imagine having to become a human cue-ball on top of it.

So, I wanted to pay it forward.  I had been spared that part of the cancer experience, and I wanted to donate my hair to those who haven't been so lucky.  I have been complimented on my light blonde hair my entire life, and I kind of thought - why shouldn't someone else benefit from what I got to keep?  After all, I can always grow more!  My only regret is that I waited so long to donate, and that my hair wasn't at it's thickest when I cut it, so that I could have donated more.  Oh well.

All in all, it was a great experience.  A great moment to feel gratitude for what I had, for what I got to keep when others have had to lose so much (and in many cases, it is a loss of SO much more than hair..).

I'm so glad it did it.

Plus, I am loving having my hair short again.  Change is good. :)

"Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me?"

Do you recognize the quote from the title of this post?  It's from the movie Titanic, at the end, when they are searching for survivors.

It's kind of how I think of my blog right now.  Is anyone out there?  Does anyone hear me?  I don't post a lot.  Because I don't have a lot of free time.  Between four kids, a husband, a cat, dog, turtle (thanks a LOT for that one, Lou), serving in the Primary Presidency, trying to keep my exercise regime, doing all my motherly and wifely duties (oh, and let's not forget stupid Facebook) - I JUST DON'T have the time.  Besides, I don't want to post all the time.  I don't feel like documenting every mundane event of my life or posting pictures of my kids every time we go to the zoo.  That's not just me.

So when I DO make the time to post, it's because it's something that's important to me - important enough to share with my closest friends and family (because that's who this blog is for).

And yet...as of late, I find myself asking - is anyone even reading this anymore? (besides my sister, and my friends SC and CD - I know they do!).  I don't get many page views or comments lately. 

I don't know. 

I just wonder if it's even worth the bother.

There was a little boy who swallowed...a shoe?

Warning:  The following story, while humorous, is kind of gross.  Okay, really gross.  Not for the faint of heart.  Proceed with caution.  But yeah, it's funny, too.

A few weeks ago, I was downstairs with the kids eating breakfast, about to get ready to go to church.  I had put Thomas in his Aerosaucer to play around while we ate.  The saucer was next to the piano bench.  I checked the tray portion of the saucer like I always do to make sure that only Thomas’ toys were there and that the kids hadn’t put anything tiny or dangerous in it.  It was all okay.  Well, I had just finished up my cereal when I heard Thomas making these gagging sounds like he was choking.  I jumped up and went over to him to pick him up.  He was definitely making choking noises, but I was confused, because I hadn’t given him anything to eat, and there had only been his toys on the saucer – what in the world could he have been choking on?  

I patted him on the back a few times, but he kept gagging.  I knew that something was in his mouth, and was trying to look in and see, but he kept pulling away and gagging, and each time I got a good look in his mouth, all I could see was his tongue pulled up and back, obstructing my view of his throat.  The whole thing happened in a just a few seconds, but they were some of the longest seconds of my life because my 8 month old baby was choking on who knows what, it was not coming up, and I was starting to freak out.  Was it a piece of food?  A coin he found somewhere? 

I panicked and did something you are not supposed to do.  I just stuck my finger right in there and tried to feel for something (here's a First Aid tip for you:  you are never supposed to do a finger sweep in a person's mouth unless you can actually see something because there is a risk that you can push the object further in, thus further obstructing the airway and causing further harm).  Anyhow, just as I did this, I felt something on the tip of my finger – something sort of firm and tiny – and I felt my finger push it right down his throat. 

Oh. my. gosh.  “What the heck was that?!”, I yelled out loud in a panic.  What the heck did I just push down his throat?  Was it food?  Plastic?  Metal?  I had no idea, and now I would never know.  My mind was racing as I tried to figure out what he had just swallowed and what to do next.  I asked the kids if they had given him anything and they said they hadn’t. 

Meanwhile, I just kept looking in his mouth (as if somehow the answer would magically appear if I stared there long enough), and lo and behold, I saw something small and yellow in between his front bottom teeth and his lip.  I pulled it out – a tiny yellow Polly Pocket sized doll shoe – a high heel, to be exact.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed for the first time that he was holding a tiny Belle doll (again, the size of a Polly Pocket doll).  He was holding it up with the feet up, and sure enough, both shoes were missing.  One in my hand, and the other…presumably on it’s way down south inside my baby.  Well, at least I knew now what he had swallowed, right?!  Great. 

Here's a picture of the little troublemaker.  And oh my gosh, that is some bad skin - put some lotion on, girl!

A here is a shot of it next to a penny to give you an idea of how tiny it is

 
I realized at that moment that while I had checked his saucer to make sure it was safe, I hadn’t thought to check the piano bench that was clearly in his reach.  Dumb.  Really dumb.  Sigh.  Well, I went upstairs to tell Lou, still feeling rattled from the scary choking experience.  He kind of laughed and said that it was no big deal, that it would just pass through his system and end up in his diaper.  Meanwhile, Josephine was crying in the hallway, feeling massive guilt about “hurting Tommy” – her words, not mine.  I told her that we knew that it was a mistake and that she would just be more careful next time.  She walked away whimpering and then started to bemoan the loss of her shoe.  Lou shouted from the bathroom – “Don’t worry, Josephine – you’ll get it back in a few days when Tommy poops it out!”, and he chuckled as he finished the sentence.  You should have seen the look on Josephine’s face – she was not amused.

Well, I called the pediatrician’s office the next day just to be sure that there was nothing else we should be doing.  The nurse there told me that we just had to wait it out, but that we should be checking all his diapers so that we could confirm that it had passed and was not stuck.  I kind of figured that, and was glad to hear from her that this was really no big deal and that Tommy would be just fine. 

But let me tell you something that I would NEVER again want to do in my life.  Search through mounds (yes, mounds) of poop with a popsicle stick trying to find a tiny doll shoe that just so happens to be the exact same color as your son’s poop, making it even harder to see, forcing you to look that much harder to make sure that you don’t miss it.  Now, of course this had to happen after he already started solids so that his poop was thicker (which again, meant more searching) and way stinkier.  And do you know what makes poop smell even worse?!  Being six inches from it, digging around in it with a popsicle stick.  Disgusting.  And of course, my son, who nowadays usually only poops every other day, starting pooping every day during this time period.  In fact, for a few days he pooped 4-5 times a day just so that I could experience the poop excavation as much as humanely possible.  What the heck?!!  It was so gross. 

The nurse had told me that it could take up to 7-10 days to pass.  On day 5, I was so grossed out by all the diaper diving that I was ready to throw up.  We got to day seven and still no shoe.  I was starting to panic.

Well, wouldn't you know it - on the morning of day 9, Josephine comes into our bedroom and casually says “Oh, Mom, I found my other doll shoe”  “What are you talking about?”, I asked.  “My yellow high heel for Belle, I found it”  I told her that she had just found the one that was left, and reminded her that Thomas had swallowed the other one.  “No, Mommy, I found the other one in my drawer.  I have two now”  “WHAT?!”, I yelled.  “Bring them both here – let me see!”.  She disappeared to her room and returned with both tiny shoes.  I sat and stared at them in disbelief.  I just kept saying “This is impossible.  This is impossible.  How are they both here?  I know he swallowed one.  I felt my finger push it down his throat!”  Lou figured that Thomas must have quietly gagged it back up when I wasn’t looking or something.  I guess that could be it.  Maybe that’s the one I found in between his lip and teeth, and maybe the second one was never even on the doll in the first place (totally possible when it comes to my kids).  Really weird. 

Part of me was relieved that he had never swallowed it in the first place and that I could stop searching through poop, but part of me was REALLY ticked that I had gone through over 12 poopy diapers at this point for no reason at all.  Because c'mon - seriously?  She couldn't have discovered the shoe the next day?  It had to be NINE DAYS later?!!  So many diapers...So gross.  Ugh - makes me gag just to think about it.

Sigh.  What can I say?  Mama said there'd be days like this.

Oh, and here's a few recent pictures of the man himself, 8 1/2 months old.  

Because a nasal aspirator is totally an acceptable toy

Aw - he likes the Friend magazine as much as his sisters. ;)

Silly boy

He is obsessed with Daisy.  Loves petting and touching her all the time, and she's thankfully very patient with him.

Bright eyes!

6 months old 

I don't know...I think he's pretty darn cute. :)