Memorial Day 2011

I am enthusiastic about most holidays. I look forward to the anticipation of them almost as much as the holidays themselves. My Dad often pokes fun at me because, apparently, every holiday is my "favorite" or the "best ever." That may just be true. Memorial Day, however, encompasses all that is patriotic, traditional, and beautiful as far as holidays go, in my opinion.

For as long as I can remember, we have made Memorial Day special. I was lucky enough to grow up with a cemetery (more accurately a "memorial park") in my backyard, and I really mean that - I was lucky. Greenacres is beyond beautiful. It is scenic and picturesque, and absolutely does not disappoint for Memorial Day every year. The "Festival of Flags" is held every year - 1500 American (and some Canadian and perhaps others) flags donated by passed Veterans' families, in their honor, line the winding roads of the cemetery.

We enjoy sitting on the swinging bench on my parents' patio in their backyard and watching the flags go up every year - and then down the evening of Memorial Day. It is truly awe-inspiring. I drink in the patriotism and feeling of Americana that exists on those beautiful spring days in May. Every "I'm proud to be an American" that I hear on the radio brings me to tears, and, as cliche' as it may sound, I really am proud. There is something about Memorial Day that really gets me thinking about how many blessings and luxuries I enjoy. I love being able to see my little girls, mini-flag replicas in hand, run around my parents back yard, giggling - they are beautiful. And more importantly, they are safe. I owe that to those that have served and are serving our country overseas.

There are other "veterans" that I am grateful for on the home front - perhaps not even in the military at all. But, those that are willing to serve myself and my family and are willing to lay down their lives to create a legacy that I am able to enjoy living under. Namely, my family, and especially my grandparents, as well as my ancestors that have passed on. I am incredibly grateful to them as well - and most of them I have never "met" - although I have most definitely felt their presence.

The morning of Memorial Day, we strolled along through the cemetery in the crisp, dewy weather that precedes what is usually a fairly sunny, albeit windy, day. We visit the grave sites of those family members that have passed on, share memories, and hear stories from my wonderful Grandpa Pratt. He knows these stories inside and out, and no matter how many times I hear them, I find myself so grateful for the family that I have been blessed to belong to. These times are precious to me. My Grandma helps Reagan adorn the graves with fresh cut Rhododendron from her garden, and all is well.

It was a beautiful day.

Whit's Visit

Back in May (wow - I am behind) my best friend Whitney visited us with her beautiful little girl Sawyer. Who visits rainy Washington FROM Southern California? Best friends do, that's who. I am so lucky to know this girl. It's crazy how time flies. I didn't know her 6 years ago when she became my roommate at the lovely (read:ghetto) Liberty Square apartments in Provo. She was and is beautiful and I was intimidated, wondering how she could ever be friends with little old plain me.

We have now been best friends for years, and I secretly really do feel like we were meant to be sisters. She has been there for me through thick and thin, and I like to think that she would say the same. =) The weather was beautiful and in the 70's the whole time she was here, and then gave her a true taste of Pacific Northwest rain and gloom the day she left.

Truth is, I feel extremely lucky to call her my friend, and I hope she knows that. Her visit was timed perfectly because it was during the "thick" of Jason's finals and I had only been seeing him for a few hours a week. I was feeling really lonely and craved some good ol' fashion girl time. We talked and laughed into the wee hours of the night and probably cried a little bit too. Oh...and enjoyed a yummy Wendy's Oreo blended frosty (before they discontinued them! So sad) with fries one night at about midnight without even feeling guilty because calories don't count when you're having a blast with friends. Didn't you know?

It was a quick trip, but I am so glad it happened. I do not have many friends but the ones that I do are eternal ones. I am lucky.

An interview with my firstborn

Me: What's your name?
R: I'm Cinderella. (She's wearing her blue "Cinderella" dress)

Me: What are you doing?
R: Um...I'm juuuuuust....dancing because I'm Belle and you're Gaston and we take a walk and I'm reading and you say "Bell, why are you reading?" (all in one breath)

Me: Wow! That sounds like a lot of fun! How old are you, Reagan?
R: I'm two. I am!

Me: When's your next birthday?
R: June 2nd, right now! Mom, when is my birthday coming? I'm starting to turn three!

Me: Yes, you are! You're getting so big. What are you going to do when you turn three?
R: I need to do something like tell you a secret. (Whispers in my ear) I need to play and, um, I need to feed my fish because my fish is SO starving.

(we take a break to feed her fish "Flower" that I thought for sure would be dead a year ago.)

Me: What's your favorite thing to do, Reagan?
R: I really love playing playdoh and...I like singing and you and daddy listen.

(this is very true. Singing to an audience is her favorite thing to do right now. At home, in the grocery store, at church - during the sacrament, etc. She's not particular about the location as long as she has an audience. Her favorite thing to do is fake vibrato.)

Me: What's your sister's name?
R: My sister's name is Sissy and Ember. She's a baby.

Me: That's right! She's growing up. She loves to play with you!
R: Yeah...she does!

Me: What kinds of things do you and sissy like to play together?
R: She turns the music loud and I tell her to turn it down but she doesn't know how because she's a baby!

Me: So, do you help her?
R: Yeah, I say "Mommy, come turn it down!"

Me: Oh, really? And do you say please?
R: mmmmmm (humming - and then getting distracted with a long string attached to her dress...sounds about right. We're working on manners)

Me: Well, it was really great talking with you, Reagan!
R: I talk and I sing and let's read my book about Ariel and Prince Eric and she loses her voice just like YOU, mom!

(My voice is currently just a whisper due to an unpleasant virus, but Reagan thinks it's really great because Ariel loses her voice in the "Little Mermaid" movie...I tell ya, that girl lives in her imagination. I have to call her by whatever princess she happens to be pretending to be at the time, or else there are SERIOUS consequences.)

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into the wonderful world of Reagan!

Let it go

I am a hover-er. Some have called me over-protective. I don't know if there's such a thing as over protective, but either way, I am often the one parent on the playground or play place who is standing annoyingly close to her child, arms out like I am spotting a gymnast or cheerleader during a risky stunt - only it's my child and she's stepping over a 6" tall foam stethoscope. (Yes...a foam stethoscope...one of the "obstacles" to climb on at our mall's play place. And no, the rest of the place isn't doctor-themed. Am I the only one who thinks this is a little strange?)

I distinctly remember one instance from my youth. I was probably 14 or 15, which meant my younger brother Eli must have been about 7 or 8. My family was up visiting a "secret spot" of ours up at Mt. Baker. It is a beautiful rocky area, with a river running through it. Over this river (I am now thinking that it is probably just a large stream, but it was a river in my youthful perspective), are many nature-made bridges of sticks and logs, varying in width and sturdiness. Eli, being the adventurous and daring little guy that he was, decided to make his way across one of these, consciously or subconsciously choosing one of very little width, covered with a thick slimy blanket of moss.

At this point in the story, you may think that something tragic or even just a little bit scary happened that day, but it did not. I remember it so vividly because I nervously watched every little shuffle he took over that stick to get to the other side. He was careless and free. I was terrified. Equally mortifying to me were my parents, who sat back and let this accident waiting to happen take place. Smiling, even. I thought they were crazy. I questioned my dad - accusing him of willingly allowing Eli into a situation that could result in a broken leg or worse. My dad's words: "Relax, he is just fine." And he was.

I don't know why these situations are so hard for me. I have never been seriously injured - never even broken a major bone. I am thinking that it is just a lesson that I need to learn. With most situations in my life, the advice that Jason or other loved ones almost always offer me is: "Relax. Let it go." Does this tell you a little something about my personality?

I am slowly learning to back off just a little bit and let my children figure things out on their own. I am working on this because it is something that I want to do and feel is necessary. My children know they are loved and adored. They are well cared-for. I don't want to hinder their growth in any aspect because I am standing in front of them, intervening constantly. I want them to be confident little girls and eventually young women that know and trust themselves to make good decisions.

Just yesterday, I did something surprisingly difficult for me - I sent Reagan to a friend's for the first time in her almost three-year-old life, without me. It was uncomfortable. I spend so much time with Reagan and Ember, just us, that it felt as though I was leaving a really important body part behind when I dropped her off and drove slowly away, eyes fixed at her curly little head in the rear view mirror, praying that she would be fine and feeling the hot sting of tears well up in my eyelids, blurring my vision. She - of course - was more than okay. She is an extremely well-rounded and well-adjusted little girl, and I need to give her credit for that. Me? Well, I could probably learn a thing or two from her about that. I absolutely knew that she would be just fine, but I also knew that this meant she was growing up - something that maybe I subconsciously have been trying to avoid this whole time.

There is a balance - a happy medium in "letting go" that I have not yet found or grown comfortable with. In physical matters - on the playground, for example, I feel as though I can let up a bit. They are still my babies, but they are not babies - or at least they are becoming slowly less so. A scraped knee here and there is not going to hurt them in the long run.

What about in other matters? What are the repercussions of being a hover-er in emotional and spiritual matters? Again, I believe there is a happy medium. Although I will never give up on protecting my children from harm (and shouldn't), I have a feeling that I am going to need to remind myself often that making decisions for them will not benefit them. There is a growing process that needs to take place. I know that often I, when faced with difficult decisions, want someone (my husband, my parents, those I trust) to make them for me. But it is not until I make a decision on my own and feel confident in it, that I grow and progress. This is a lesson I am slowly learning.

Perhaps I am afraid of not being needed anymore. That is probably legitimately accurate. It is not easy for me to watch my children grow up and learn how to do things on their own. The day I stopped nursing Reagan was a very emotional time for me. I had stopped providing nourishment long before, but I was holding on to a relationship that had yet been tainted by the outside world. In those tender moments, I was her whole world, and I reveled in that. Weaning meant allowing others into her "circle of trust." I am having an equally difficult time with Ember.

Perhaps I am also fearful of not being in control. I like planning and being in control of every situation to avoid possible literal and figurative bumps and bruises, but I realize that I cannot live my life that way. In a recent episode of "Super Nanny" (shameless plug for an excellent show), Nanny Jo has a mother hold a dozen eggs in her hands and tells her to drop them onto their recently-mopped tile floor. She was struggling with some of the same issues of "letting go" that I am, and it was an exercise that, although seemingly simple, was excruciatingly difficult and painful for her to do. Not just because of the mess it would make, but because it meant her allowing mistakes to be made, pain to be had, and "messes" to be made.

Even more eye-opening than the mother eventually dropping the eggs (can you imagine doing that? Jason just laughed when I told him that I really do not think I could do that), was her daughter's reaction to it. As it was about the happen, the daughter screamed, plugged her ears, and with tears in her eyes exclaimed, "Don't do it!" She had been so accustomed to everything working out - no mishaps happening - that it was traumatic for her to think about her mom following through with a silly exercise like dropping eggs. I identified with this situation more than I would have liked to.

I have a sincere desire to teach my children that messes can be cleaned up, bruises can be healed, and broken hearts can be mended. I, of course, will protect them, but when accidents happen, there is growth in healing. I think it's so beautiful that I am able to learn these lessons alongside them. Because I have not mastered it yet does not mean I am not qualified to teach it to my children. I am grateful for that and I am learning to "let it go."

PROM

This is serious stuff, you guys.

"It's like the Olympics of High School."

"Graduation's for the parents. Prom's really just for us."

"It's not about a dance. It's about who you are...and who you're going to be."

These quotes are from a trailer I just saw on TV. A ridiculous new Disney movie called - you guessed it - "Prom." Way to get creative there, Disney. Totally out of the box. Seriously, new Disney? I bet old Disney is so disappointed in you.

Prom makes me laugh - just the idea of it. Having been a teenager once, I can't speak too harshly of it because I am sure at one point it was semi-important to me. Even the awkward "where do I put my arm" prom pictures have a special, albeit very tiny, place in my heart. In fact, a couple of my favorite prom dresses are still hung up in my parent's closet, which I am sure they appreciate, since they take up a quarter of their closet. Sorry, Mom and Dad.

One time, when I was a Sophomore and therefore wasn't officially "invited" to prom (so exclusive), a boy I was "dating" (aka passing notes to in the hall between classes) was asked to prom by an older girl I played soccer with. So scandalous! I must admit, my tender and overly-emotional 16-year-old heart was broken and extremely jealous.

However, lo and behold, a nice young man ended up asking me, and I consented. The week before Prom weekend, I hurt my foot pretty badly in a soccer game, and was on crutches.

Things I remember about that night:

I wore a white sequined dress which consisted of a corset with sleeves sewn onto it and a long skirt. I remember feeling kind of funny because another girl there had what I am pretty certain was the same exact dress, although her entire midriff was showing. I actually think that was the way the dress was supposed to be, but I had no idea. I remember thinking it fit me a little funny, but being the very-short torso-ed person that I am, I hadn't noticed what the dress was "supposed" to look like until that moment. It's probably a good thing.

There were bowls of goldfish on each table, for decoration. By the end of the night, most of these goldfish had met their fate either in the bowl, on the dance floor, or in the stomachs of teenage boys desperate to "show off" their mad goldfish-eating skills? to their dates. Not sure how impressive this was, but I digress. Don't tell PETA.

I was determined to not be using crutches by that night, thanks to a little friend we call Valium. Yes...Valium. Don't worry, it was prescribed by the doctor for my foot injury, but still...I guess I got the full "typical" prom experience, as I definitely was more than a little delirious the whole time. I just remember being really, really happy and sleepy. But no foot pain. Ha!

And that's pretty much all I can remember...can you blame me? I was not necessarily "myself."

Jason's prom story makes me laugh even more. He asked Girl #1 to prom. She had already been asked by someone via note (will you go to prom with me? Check yes or no.) This boy was out of town, so she had to wait until he was back in town to decline his offer and accept Jason's. Who can blame her? He's pretty smooth.

In comes Girl #2, ready to pounce (laaadddies man!). She asks him to prom. Like any high school boy that isn't aware of the serious ramifications of telling a girl "maybe," he told her he had to wait to hear from Girl #1 if they are going, but if not, "sure!" What a dilemma.

Meanwhile, Girl #2 gets anxious and two days later buys a wedding dress. And has it altered! Yes, as in a big, poofy, white, purchased from a bridal shop, wedding dress. Because, you know, if you're not sure whether or not you're going to prom, your best bet would be to buy a wedding dress just in case. Just to seal the deal. Right? Fairly logical. In her defense, Jason probably could have been more clear whether or not he could go with her, but a guy's gotta keep his options open, right?

Around this same time, Jason remembers going to Girl #2's (where he had never been before), and seeing a picture of himself clipped out of a newspaper tacked to her wall. Can you say creepy? Wedding dress + clipped-out newspaper picture on her wall = just plain creepy. There's just no getting around that. Well, really creepy or really flattering, I guess. If you're into that sort of thing.

Girl #1 ends up telling him she can go after all, and so Jason has to break it to Girl #2 that he's not going to be able to go with her, thinking it's not a big deal. Girl #2 goes berserk and chews him out on the phone for over an hour. She drops the wedding dress news, including price paid for it...bad move. My favorite part? She tells him that he just needs to follow his heart. Sounds straight out of a bad Disney movie called "Prom." Jason now realizes what he got himself into, and the newspaper clipping starts to make sense. A little bit flattering, a lotta bit creepy. It puts the lotion on its skin, anyone?

Jason makes it to prom with girl #1, but girl #2 is there, shooting him daggers all night. Girl #1 isn't feeling well and goes home early. Girl #2 (there by herself?) asks for a ride home. One of Jason's guy friends ends up having to leave early, so Jason has to take his date home, and turn down Girl #2's offer yet again. Jason learns his lesson and makes sure to lock his door that night.

I love prom stories. Although, I can't help but feel really bad for Girl #2. Maybe she wasn't so creepy after all. Maybe she just really liked him. I guess it's my motherly instincts, but I would hope that my girls wouldn't have their hearts broken like that. However, my girls will not be buying wedding dresses for their proms. That is kind of asking for it.

J

Since we have gone private, I don't think I have too many "readers" of this blog anymore. This is fine by me, since I really do just write here as a way to record my thoughts and feelings on my life and motherhood, etc. And I know that family near and far like to read updates and see pictures, mostly of the girls. I try hard not to sound too "braggadocios" (that is how spell check told me to spell it - it doesn't look right) on this blog because really, that's no fun for other people to read. We all love our husbands the most. They are all the best husbands in the world. Our kids are all geniuses and the most adorable babies that ever existed. We all make super awesome crafts and have adorably-decorated houses. We're all trim and stylish too, all while balancing a church calling, being the perfect mother and wife, and keeping a spotless house...right??! That being said, this is my blog. Jason, my number one, the love of my life, and my partner-in-crime (as we may occasionally go a few mph over the speed limit) doesn't make an appearance as often as he should. For those wondering, this is not because we don't love him - okay, Jason? This is not because we don't love you! You know we do. =) Right now, we are embarking on a "new chapter," if you will, in this little life of ours. Jason just about a month away from graduating. I can't believe I am even typing that. In our marriage thus far, a very HUGE part of our lives, almost like a third child (that's weird), has been school. We just kept pushing forward, knowing that "Just (such and such amount of time), and we'll be done." As Ember's due date approached (over a year ago...still can't believe that!), I got really nervous because Jason was on a break between quarters and school was starting up again right away. I struggled with a lot of feelings of self-doubt, as he was going to be immersed in school again immediately and I would have a new baby and a not-even-two-year-old to care for. We opted for an induction so that we could spend a couple days "transitioning" into this new life of ours before Jason started school up again. I was really nervous about being able to do it all. Lots of people I know had done it and had done just fine, but we all know those all-too-familiar feelings of inadequacy that one often experiences before a big life change. Sissy was born. Two days later, Jason started his last year of school. I remember thinking that another year seemed so far away. I still had a newborn - a whole year seemed like an eternity. Despite all of the changes and challenges that new life brings, life still managed to be very sweet. Sure, I had my fair share of "Am I really this stressed/mean/crazy, or is it just my hormones?" moments, I will admit. But, I never once felt like Jason wasn't "present" or that I didn't have his help. Looking back, I kind of still don't know how it all seemed to work out. At one point, he was taking 26 credits at two schools and working 60+ hours at night a week, but I never once felt like I was being put on the back burner or not at the very tip-top of his priority list. And I know the girls, if they could express that sentiment, would agree with me. It's been challenging for me - I'm just going to say it. Not harder than anyone else's life, but it has not been easy for me. It was never in our "initial plans" (does anyone follow those anyways?) that we would have two children before Jason finished school, but I absolutely would not have it any other way than the way we have gotten to partake of Heavenly Father's plans for our family. These times have been so sweet, and I have grown in ways that I never would have been able to any other way. Growing comes with growing pains, but I am so much stronger and more independent than I ever was (that being said, I will NEVER get used to going to bed, my myself, night after night, no matter how long it's been!) We were more than blessed with very easy-going children too (oops, bragging again - don't worry, yours are probably more easy-going) that have made this particular time in our lives one that I know we will look back on with tender feelings and fond memories. I am so unbelievably grateful for the sacrifices that Jason has made on behalf of our family. I can't even type this without tears of complete gratitude for him filling my eyes. In these past few years, I have seen him become the sweetest, most loving father, and he has continued to be the sweetheart and gentleman to me that I knew he was almost five years ago when I married him - better, in fact. He is just a good man. And, as cliche' as it sounds, one that really does treat me like a princess. The kind that I would want for my unmarried friends, my sisters, and my daughters someday. I know that his love for us is the motivation in everything that he does. That all being said - I AM SO RELIEVED AND READY FOR HIM TO BE DONE! (At least for a little while.) I know that with a new career, life is not going to just suddenly "let up". There are always ups and downs in life - and really, as hard as they are sometimes, thank goodness for those downs. They only help to make me stronger. We all know I can use all the help I can get. =) Mostly, I am just excited to have him home at night again! I am excited to have to make both sides of the bed, and not just the side that I sleep in alone, 6 nights a week! I am kind of nervous that my emotions will get the better of me at his graduation and that I will stand up and scream "Hallelujah" at the top of my lungs, all while doing a really awesome happy dance. If it happens - sorry Jason, I really just can't help it. This is as much a triumphant moment in my life as it is in yours. I have missed you - I am excited to have you back! I do not know where we are going to live or where life will take us in the next few months, but I am grateful that I get to experience this change alongside my truly wonderful husband (barf - mushy, I know) and sweet little girls. I am uncertain, sure. But not scared. I know that as long as I have them, everything will be fine.

Compliment

Reagan is a very sweet girl, and always full of compliments if she's in a good mood. She will grab your face, get really close and say, in a syrupy-sweet voice:

"You're the best!"

"You're so beauty-ull."

"I love you, mama."

"You're my best friend."

All of these things melt my heart, no matter how many times she says them to me, or what she's trying to butter me up for. Well, nothing beats the compliment she gave me today. As usual, she puts both her hands gently on my cheeks, leans in close, and whispers:

"Mama, I love your skin. It's so...dry."

Um, excuse me?!

I made a point to go look in the mirror to see if her accusation/compliment had any truth to it. I am proud to say it did not. I am left to think that she thought this really was a nice thing to say.