Thanksgiving 2009

In 1998 I moved over a thousand miles away from my family. I don’t think about how very far away my family is until the holidays are knocking on the back door of fall, and I face the reality of being what might as well be light years from any relative I knew as a child. This year was no different. As Isabella feasted with her dad a few miles away, I was faced with making the most of the day and set out for the gym. We are all free to “Give Thanks” in our own personal way, and this Thanksgiving, I realized that finding happiness and gratitude comes from within ourselves and from nowhere else. Izzy and I walked down the street on Thursday evening and shared a dinner with our friends and I was thankful for all the good that is in my life.

The day I found the story in Izzy's backpack

Every Friday, Isabella brings home a stack of completed, graded homework in her backpack. This consists of a smattering of math, science, reading….the basics…and religion. I found a story in her bag today that I felt compelled to share.

“Once upon a time there was a ghost named Black and he was a
funny ghost. He would do flips. He was really funny. But the problem
was he had no friends. He wished he did. He is very very sad.
But one day he made a friend. His name is Bob.”

The story was prefaced with a word-search in the shape of a pumpkin and the “hidden” words were to be used in the story.

When Izzy started school, I picked up a few file boxes from IKEA - pretty green and black polka-dotted boxes that are marked for her corresponding years in school. This is a little nugget that I will file after making copies for the relatives.

I turned 34 yesterday. The year I proclaimed “I am not having a birthday.” I looked back at being 33 and realized 1. I ran a marathon in 45 degree pouring rain. 2. Became a better mommy. 3. Paid my mortgage on time. 4. Got promoted. 5. Cried some and laughed more 6. Helped my daughter with her homework and tucked her into bed at night. 7. Made plans for the future. 8. Loved others. 9. Served others. 10. Made goals for another year. Birthdays aren’t so bad. I woke up and started my day, realizing over coffee, that I had to make the day a good day, and only I can do such a remarkable task. Every year is an improvement on the year before. The best is yet to come.

Highlights of 2009

Isabella’s 7th birthday party was supposed to be filled with fun at a park today. I woke to this morning to my phone blaring and her dad asking me on the other end of the line “Do you think Mother Nature will cooperate?” Huh? Wha? Really? It’s raining? Not only raining, but a cold fall breeze was in the air and if I pulled the pillow over my head and listened close enough, I heard the thunder. A dozen phones calls later, her party was a huge success but in the club house of her grandparents apartment complex, where the walls echoed and their squeals were louder. For most of the morning, 15 of Isabella’s closest friends came together to celebrate her birthday.

For the last 4 summers her birthday has been the start of another school year. Second grade….really? We have the new uniforms and the school supplies. I cannot seem to wrap my head around the fact that I will need to start packing lunches and before you know it, I will be turning on the heat and putting fall decorations in my front lawn. Our summer has been here and now gone and all I remember were a couple of hot days and several trips to the pool. Our lives are quieter now than they were last summer, which were days I never want to see again. We “cuddled” and read to each other, and laughed, and Isabella had her first pedicure. She grows and I cannot seem to stop her. Drum roll…the top ten highlights for the summer 2009... not necessarily in this order.

1. The Cottonwood Heights pool more times than I can count
2. Swim and tennis lessons – she learned to swim when I was not looking
3. Pedicure #1 – Just us girls
4. Staying up late (while eating ice cream) when we should have been going to bed
5. Pillow fights in the bedroom
6. Listening to Isabella learn to read, practically in a weekend, and not need my help much anymore.
7. Girl Scout camp at Camp Blue Cloud, where Isabella led the hike to all of us less experienced campers. We cannoed together, too. That is by far at the top of my list.
8. Watching Isabella get her face painted, and then much to my chagrin, helping her wash the paint off.
9. The Bell Canyon hike. Isabella tried to just slide down the mountain on her bottom....it's just easier that way.
10. Cowabunga Bay x2

So now I am a mom to a second grader and she amazes me more than I ever thought possible.

It's Spring in Draper

When on my run this morning, I smelled spring. The air was full of a variety of different fragrances and I wanted to bottle it to last forever. I took deep breaths and closed my eyes and enjoyed the smell of new growth. This inspired me to take photos of the bird's nest in the back yard and the flowers that adorn my small lot of land. So in these sweaty endorphin-filled moments, I carried the ladder to the various places in my yard and took photos. The Nikon D40 did a fabulous job of saving the detail and making me smile.

Isabella and I are the mommies to baby birds. These birds are not even small enough to move, and the only reason I know they are alive is that I can watch their tiny bodies move up and down when they breathe. We are on a near-daily watch for their eyes to open and eventually make noise...we notice progress with this every day. The lilacs on the south west corner of my house fill the backyard with the great scent of spring, and the tree that is blooming in the backyard blooms gorgeous clumps of fuchsia-colored flowers. Home Depot is my friend. I have purchased perennials and annuals (lavender daisies are perfect for the space under my tree in the front yard.) I love this time of year....even if it does make me sneeze.

Operation Tremont in April 2009

Well we made it. The trip back to Illinois was not the same as any other trip “home” I have encountered. Isabella and I went out there on our own teamwork. The flight out was a bit more than I expected. I mean, of course, that the “transition times” with 2 large checked suitcases, a rental car shuttle, a delay at the gate, and over-priced airport food was enough for the expected hypertensive response.

My list of expectations from the trip was primarily based on food. Being somewhat of an athlete, most of my life expectations are surrounded by culinary requests. Food consumption is a hobby. My list included Gloria Jean’s Coffee, check; Venison “lion,” check; Kitchen Cooked potato chips, check (although I didn’t bring any home with me); Monical’s pizza, check (a total disappointment – what was the big deal when I was a kid?); La Gondola, no check there….time became critical….I had to make decisions; Avanti’s in East Peoria, check (and it just gets better, I might add); Steak –n-Shake, check (seriously the best Steakburger and Chilli I have had in my entire life). My list ends there, but Morton Dairy Queen was a last minute addition and I left unfulfilled. I realized during my stay that if I wanted a Starbucks, I had to travel to Pekin, which is separated by cornfields from Tremont…not on every corner like it is in The Valley. The Bonnie’s Café experience with my dad (twice), and two visits with Bill Hopkins made the trip complete. My only real indulgences were a trip to see Hannah Montana in the theater, and a new pair of sweatpants that read “Tremont” down the right leg.

My marathon aspirations were left in Illinois. I was intent on completing #8 in Champaign. The simple excuse of “my heart was not in it, therefore I just didn’t train,” was enough to keep me at home on Friday night and Saturday morning. Breaking the news to Mike Herrin was not the most enjoyable experience, but he understood, and he was nice enough to bring my shirt by my dad’s house….thanks again, Mike. I am setting my goal for Bear Lake in June…look out Dave Bell, I am coming to get you. I am down 10 pounds from a year ago, and motivated to train. Amelie Jane was born on Monday morning, and for a set of sad family circumstances, I sat home Monday night, was not impeccable with my word, and didn’t make it to Methodist to see the Amy’s baby. I was reminded Tremont is a small town when the Tremont Saving’s Bank marquee read “She’s here – Amelie Jane.”

Tuesday morning came and Isabella and I set out for St. Louis already behind schedule. Too much coffee, and not enough time, set in motion a series of events that were what I like to call “The Stress Puzzle.” The rental car shuttle in St. Louis was just not what it is in Denver, and to add insult to injury, I lost my contract. There was also the issue with the $25 coupon, which was too much for the lady at the counter to handle….again with a delay. Thankfully, checking two bags and the dash through security were uneventful. Among all of these pieces which added to the puzzle, my beautiful daughter held her Blankie, sucked her thumb, and her biggest request was “are we there yet?” I could handle that. She is such an easy child and loves her mama….I cannot complain. She pulled her little lavender suitcase behind her through Lambert, enjoyed the “high five” in security by the TSA employee, ate cheese pizza at CPK, and enjoyed her very first Sprite in her life. She sat contently on the journey airborne circling words in a Disney word search.

One thing I learned from all my experiences in the last 5 days is that you can never go home again, and even visiting the past can be a bit painful. I have been away from the cornfields and the flat terrain of the Midwest too long to even begin to appreciate the Midwest in a manner I used to. My house in Draper is home now and that is where most of my memories are stored.

My trip to Home

Tuesday morning I will leave Tremont and my family. I have done a lot of thinking (not always a good thing) during this trip home. In high school I thought Tremont, IL was the edge of the Earth. My perspective changed when I moved to Salt Lake City in 1998 after graduating from ISU. Even during college, I travelled to and from my house in the middle of the cornfields, and didn’t ever enjoy college in the typical fashion.

I drove around my hometown this afternoon with my Nikon D40. I drove slowly, stopped in the middle of 4-way stops, and took pictures. I reminisced and my head swarmed with memories. As I mentioned, I thought Tremont was the edge of the Earth and it was really only the beginning. On my photographic tour this morning, I snapped the picture of where my dad ate breakfast in the same small-town greasy spoon every morning for almost 30 years. My parents picked up packages of fresh ground beef from the local grocery store from the time prior to when I can remember. I actually stood in the middle of Main Street this morning to take the perfect picture of Main Street for the scrapbook. The fire station I passed is the same fire station where my dad was a volunteer during my childhood. The building where my dad worked for almost 30 years still stands and operates as it always has. The public park has not changed much, with the exception of a swimming pool remodel. The town has grown on the South side, but somehow the population remains at 2100. I drove by my grade school, and while the building has been remodeled, it is still the same school where I spent grades 1 through 5 of my education. Somehow the streets are narrower. Somehow the houses look smaller and the yards are greener and the flowers - prettier. Home never looks the same after a perspective changes.

My little brother

This visit back to my hometown this past week has been an opportunity to get to know my brother. As kids, we experienced childhood through very different perspectives and had our own “lenses” that we used to view our world. He was “the kid” I was not very nice to. That is how I remembered it. I vented silent rage from my head at him and all he wanted to do is have a relationship with his big sister. I was not the best big sister to my little brother. I was sad a lot and he was cracking jokes. I was the kid with my nose in the books and he was bribing the teacher to cut detention. I was the pleaser who wanted medical school so bad I missed most of my early twenties due to organic chemistry, and he was the student asking “Why should I?”

I saw Bill Friday afternoon and saw him for the man that he is. He is a loving man, a fantastic father, a wonderful husband and a funny little brother. I do not like to live my life looking back at regrets, but for a good portion of today, I wished I would have sat next to my brother in a class in high school and soaked up his sense of humor and his compassion for others. I had the pleasure of sitting with him for most of the day today and never stopped laughing. I never stopped smiling when I was in his presence. He is a great “little brother,” and finally as adults, we realize that we are way more alike than either of us ever realized.

My Very Tired Sleeping Daughter

We flew into St. Louis very late Thursday night. Isabella was so impressed I could pick up the phone, make one simple phone call from our hotel room at the Marriott and have dinner (room service) brought to our door. There we sat...eating grilled cheese and tomato bisque off of fine china. We began our voyage the following morning to Tremont. I like to refer to it as "the sticks."

Yesterday was filled with Mass Hysteria. 13 people - the children out-numbering the adults dominated our day yesterday. I sat in the middle of the quiet bedroom in my dad's house last night and soaked up the silence.

The dawn came this morning and Isabella was awake for it. We experienced Avanti's once again, followed by the Hannah Montana movie this afternoon. My trip to Peoria was capped off with the largest cup of coffee (chocolate raspberry truffle...mmm..), and I enjoyed every drop - I mean, come-on, you cannot get coffee like that back home. I write all this tonight because about 5:30 this evening, Isabella proceeded with Operation Meltdown. She walked around our tiny bedroom crying for no apparent reason. Large tears ran down her face and I knew without a doubt....she was finally tired. Now she sleeps. She sleeps now and I can hear her slumber. This quiet sleep began this evening and she will wake in the morning with a smile on her face and all the tears will be gone. The love I have for her continues to grow beyond measure, and I can snuggle her now and smell her hair and know the memories we are making will stay with us forever. Sometimes "coming home" is best experienced through the eyes of a child.

The Day Isabella Ran 2 Miles With Mommy!

So I have not posted anything in a while and am prompted and proud to tell the world about the memories I made with Isabella this morning. Last fall, we laced up our running shoes together, and "Ready, Set, Go." Isabella and I jogged and walked around the park across the street from our house. She has been asking me to do this almost daily since those few chilly mornings last fall. "Mom, when can I sign up for a marathon?" She sweetly asked on occassion. Last night, she inquired of this again, and I replied "How about in the morning?"

She woke me (as usual) at 6 am. "Mom - Can I wear these pants on our run this morning?" She held up a pair of sweat pants in front of my face - at 6 am, when I am only looking at the world with one eye open and had no time to even brew the coffee, let alone have any. "Isabella - we cannot go yet...it's too cold." So every 15 to 20 minutes thereafter she asked, "Is it time yet?" I gave in to her request with frost still on the grass and after only 2 cups of Joe.

This is where the story gets good. She asked if we could run up an ENORMOUS hill by the house and I shook my head in disbelief. "Come on Mommy. Let's go!" She ran all the way up this hill as I jogged beside her in amazement. Each time we crossed a street, she reached out and held my hand. What a proud moment when she and I ran hand in hand across a small side-street near home. According to Garmin, we completed 2 miles with a brief "Mommy, let's sit here on the curb a minute and rest," break, and several water stops.

I remember as a kid my dad determined that 23 times around my small house in Tremont was 1 mile. I remember my dad mowing the yard while I ran round and round and round my house....I think I was in grade school, but not nearly as young as 6 years old. The memories we created this morning are unsurpassed.

The Fish That Is Immortal

I think it is a bit humorous that most of my posts revolve around my pets. I am in my house so much of the time due to the fact I work here (I have a wonderful office...really it is great), that I spend so much time alone. But alas, I have a fish story. It really is not anything too crazy except that this one lone fish won't die. Now I am all about loving animals, but this fish is immortal. For one of Isabella's birthdays we bought her 3 small goldfish. Now one died after a short period of time and I replaced it before she was any wiser, but one day after church she shrieked and discovered there was another casualty floating in the tank. We really didn't want to replace that one, as the novelty of the aquarium had kinda worn off...it was not fun anymore to clean the tank and watch them do nothing all day. About 2 years ago, the last remaining goldfish swam sideways and stayed still in his tank for about 3 days. We watched it and waited. It is the only fish in the tank, and cleaning that thing is more than I can take...so it gets grimy and disgusting, and once it starts to smell foul, then I clean it. Well long story short, the sideways-swimming fish recovered. Two years later it is huge and still swimming mindlessly in the tank and I am waiting for him to die and probably won't die until I am least expecting it. I really do not have the heart to flush him (I mean that would be cruel), but every morning I feed him, I think "today is the day," and he lives to prove me wrong.

The Kitten is Possessed

I am certain she is possessed....psychotic...out of control. Crazy in a way that if she were human would require large amounts of Thorazine or electro-shock therapy to manage. This small feline was a spontaneous decision 5 days before Christmas and was a gift for Isabella. Most shelters do not recommend adopting animals at the holidays because once the festivities are over, the shine wears off and they become a responsibility instead of a novelty. Now this is crystal clear to me. Back to being possessed...last night in the middle of the night, this kitten tried to climb a plant in my living room that is bigger than my daughter. The plant was a large entity in this room, because as it were, the room stands primarily empty with the exception of the plant....bigger than most children, but smaller than a tree. Once the possessed creature got to the top of the plant, she sat down. Sat down and the plant gave up. It gave up and split in the middle. The entire plant, soil and pot....a very large pot, came toppling over. The amount of soil in my carpet is that which no Hoover can fix. Every morning I get out of bed and hold my breath and wait to find out what other things this cat has done to my house. She pulls full roles of toilet paper off the role; pulls every tissue out of the Kleenex box, and eats anything that is on my kitchen floor...even onions. I say all this in one context, but remind myself that my daughter thinks she is the most amazing creature that walked the planet. Daisy (the possessed feline) curls up at night on my legs as I am trying to sleep and she grooms the older 10-year old cat and I think that the soil on the floor and the toilet paper shredded throughout the house might be remotely worth it.

The Day I Actually Gave Thought To a Bacon Cheeseburger

For 10 years I was a vegetarian. Most people, when finding out I didn't eat carcass, would ask why. Read the John Robbins books and you get the picture. On September 30th of last year I was in the midst of a heartache, just separating from my husband, and decided I was going to eat chicken. Just like that. I was standing in line to order by boring veggie salad at a Mexican restaurant and decided.....mmmm....chicken. All 10 years of principles out the window in an instant decision of chicken on top of my salad. Now I cannot get enough. I won't go into the times I have actually salivated and swallowed whole pieces of pork, chicken, beef, etc. Roast on a Sunday...the smells of it "roasting" in my crock pot fill my house and I wonder how it is I actually went 10 years. 10 years (!) without any sort of animal. Today I was driving home from running errands for work, and as my friend Stefanie states "just got starving." I realized I needed to drive as quickly as possible for the greasiest, largest bacon cheeseburger on the planet. Now I am not a large person, but when I was ordering and subsequently eating this delight, I realized I could eat 45 of these delectables in one sitting. I could devour 45 large bacon cheeseburgers and smile at how they melt in my mouth and make my tummy happy. I was once told that I have an appetite of 10 men. Driving my car and eating this wondrous blend of grease, I realized, it is a good thing I am a runner. I am a 400 pound woman trapped in a skinny body.

The Day I Could Have Been Nicer to Isabella

I love this blog in a way because it is a therapist's chair to the internet. I can sit here and type anything and delete it, type it again and delete it, and end up with a product that is readable by the rest of the world and feel better about whatever it is I am writing. This morning my sweet daughter woke up with a whine. She whined through breakfast and she whined through her shower. She whined as she put her tights on for church and pulled her dress over her head. She whined about brushing her teeth and every activity in between and then began to tell me how she didn't want to go to Mass and she didn't understand why she needed to go. I was "done" by 10am. We spent the day (as the form of punishment) without television (see previous flamingo story), and made use of the rooms full of toys she has crammed in 3 of her rooms in the house. That didn't go so hot and she counted down the time that I told her she could start watching television again. Once television began again, she whined more about staying up later than her normal bedtime (just because mom is a softy). Nevertheless, that didn't go well. Now she sleeps and I look at her sweetly. She lays there in her Disney Princess bed and is angelic and innocent, and I want to tell her I love her and that I won't be quite so crabby tomorrow. She is innocence in a beautiful little girl.

The Day I Drowned in Flamingos

We are knee-deep in flamingos. Yep – pink ones. You know the birds that are pink and stand on one leg…from the Tropics? Every month Isabella gets an issue of Ranger Rick, the kid’s magazine that I remember reading as a kid. Most of the time, it collects dust on our coffee table until it gets moved around enough to be thrown away. One afternoon I was flipping through her latest issue with unusual interest and a homemade Valentine caught my eye. The “completed project” is a pink flamingo made with feathers, 2 hearts (glued back to back); pipe cleaners; a little construction paper beak, and 2 very tiny squiggly eyes….you get the idea. Well I must have been feeling particularly ambitious because I was convinced this would be an easy project to complete for Isabella’s coming Valentine’s party. This morning we went to the local craft store and spent a whopping $7 and purchased enough pipe cleaners, construction paper, feathers, and craft glue to make 35 valentines. Okay there I stumble across my problem. 35 of these little craft projects, and that is at the very least. That’s 35 beaks, 70 legs, 70 hearts, and don’t even get me started on how many little squiggly (teeny-tiny) eyes I need to glue. So my coffee table looks like it has been taken over by a scrapbook company, and the day of the party, there will be 35 children who will take one look at my hard work and think, “Where’s my candy?” and toss it out. Isabella wrote “from Isabella” about 20 times and then said “I’m tiiiiiiirrred!” promptly put down her pencil, and walked away. Meanwhile asking every 15 minutes “Mom, when will you be finished? Wow that is a lot of work, huh?” Seriously? And of course, we have to make enough for grandmas and grandpas and the elderly lady across the street, and the drama teacher and the girl scout leader, and…..well you get my point. I think we are up to making at least 45 flamingos now. I am in it too far now to back out. I have at least 5 solid hours invested and a little girl who thinks I am the cat’s meow. That will make it all worth it. It beats the heck out of tar on my car.

The Day I Got Tar on My Car

Does anyone ever have a day they were unkind to someone and wishes you could take it back but can't? I am reminded of the movie "You've Got Mail," where Meg Ryan covers her mouth with her hand and just wishes she hadn't said something, but it was too late. The words were out. I was driving down my street today and I hit a bucket filled with tar. It was a black bucket in the middle of the road and our maintenance guy, Gale, was adding tar to the cracks in the road. I swerved (slight veer, really) to avoid impaling Gale with my car and hit the bucket going about 15mph and sent tar blanketing the whole right side of my car. At the time it was the worst site I had seen in my life. It was not just a small amount that one gets by driving on a newly-tarred road, but I estimated close to 2 gallons of hot tar. I operate on about 95% adrenaline (a "junkie," if you will) and I am ornery on moments I cannot control. As I was standing in the car wash bay trying to scrape warm tar off my car with a Shopko "frequent buyer card" the anonymous gentleman behind me explained "you will never get that off." He must have taken pitty on me because he gave me more quarters, shrugged his shoulders and said "Good luck." The front passenger-side wheel, not to mention about 50% of the paint and windshield were covered in dripping tar that was hardening in the moments we were standing there talking. I wanted to cry and scream all at the same time. After about 15 minutes of pressure-washing with no success, a young gentleman walked through the bay. "Do you work here?" I asked. "Yes." He replied. "Can you help me?" Two and a half hours and seventy-five dollars later, my car is exactly as it was before. The part I wish I could take back is the half hour my daughter and I walked to the Home Owners Association treasurer's house and I vehemently expressed my frustration and showed him my tar-covered hands and demanded I be reimbursed. The lump in my throat continued to swell and I looked at my daughter, who was listening with a captive ear, as she sat quietly on the front steps of the man's house I was berating. He explained I would be reimbursed and that he didn't think it was the fault of Gale, and that he was providing a service to our private, gated community. I walked away feeling no better, except that I would not be responsible for the $75 it was going to take to make my car "like new." We all have moments in our life we wish we would have just been quieter, more logical, less emotional, and a better example for the 6-year olds we are trying to mentor. Today I had one of those moments. Now I am left feeling worn out and tired and wish today I could have set a better example. I called my mother-in-law, who put it into perspective for me. "Tomorrow is another day."