Parenting, Relationships

When Mom’s Have Had Enough

During these days of isolation, I have been purging files — cleaning out family history folders and having my daughter help me scan photos, documents, and histories and post them on FamilySearch.

It makes us both feel productive, and I love reducing the loads of paper I’ve been hauling around for so long.

The process can be a little slow and tedious because I take too much time reading, remembering, and then, wondering whether I can actually throw some things away that have such sentimental value.

Like how can I throw this away — a photo of my five-year-old self?

Today, I found a little gem that I wrote many years ago that must be shared because it probably expresses how some moms might feel today after having their kids home from school now for what feels like forever.

I love my kids. The snow is pretty. I love my kids. The snow is pretty.

I’ve been repeating this mantra now for weeks.

It is not working anymore.

I love my kids, but enough already.

They need to be in school.

I need them to be in school.

First, it was 9/11 when they were in lockdown at school and we couldn’t wait to get them home, but we couldn’t go anywhere without worrying about terrorists.

Then, it was the snippers on the loose, and we couldn’t go anywhere for fear of being shot. The kids couldn’t even play outside at recess.

And, now it’s the snow that just won’t stop, requiring school to be canceled for what seems like forever.

The news folks aren’t helping things because they report on the snow with such enthusiasm and excitement.

Enough already with the news!

I find myself being mad at D.C. and its wimpy ways when it comes to snow.

I tell my kids, “When I grew up in Utah, we never missed school because of the snow.”

“Whatever, mom” they say as they roll their eyes back into their pretty little heads.

Did I mention that these eye-rolling-whatever-mom kids should be in school?

I’m worried about them losing all their brain power because they watch TV shows that suck out all their intelligence. I’m sure I’m going to find the contents of their brains spilled out in messy puddles all over the house any day now.

I want to talk to them about things other than code orange days, evacuation plans, and hoarding duct tape. (Why we need the tape is beyond me.)

And why do we keep hearing that we need evacuation plans? Evacuating is not an option because we can barely get out of our neighborhoods, let alone to our “planned family safety zones.”

Maybe an evacuation wouldn’t be so bad right now.

Wait, what am I saying?

I didn’t really mean that.

You know I didn’t really mean it. It’s just that I’m feeling a little frayed around the edges, a little more irritable than usual.

I tried yoga to calm myself down and I felt very zen until I walked into the family room and heard Sponge Bob Square Pans’ squeaky prepubescent voice singing about living in a pineapple under the sea…again.

My only coping mechanism is to go into the bathroom where I can be alone. Except that doesn’t work either because the dog parks himself outside the door and whines until I come out.

So, I try to propel myself forward by envisioning the happy day when life is normal and these beautiful, yellow stretch limousines pull up near our house and my girls can’t wait to climb in them. These luxury vehicles carry them away to a wonderful place of learning called SCHOOL, and they are happy to be there because they have missed seeing their friends, discussing math, science, English, and history, and learning songs in French. They can’t wait to do their homework and go to soccer practice, dance class, and resume piano lessons.

I imagine they are safe and the world is a good place, and I can go to the gym, the grocery store, the mall, have lunch with my friends, keep the house clean, cook less, turn the TV off, and then happily gather with them in the late afternoon to hear all about what happened while they were at school. I will soak it up because I will have missed them so much in those short hours we were apart.

Oh, imagine the joy that will one day be mine.

But, for now, I repeat these words: “I love my kids. The snow is pretty. I love my kids. The snow is pretty.”

Advice, Change

Pandemic Survival

As we live in the surreal, bewildering world of Covid-19, I repeatedly find myself thinking and feeling like I did after I was diagnosed with cancer over 10 years ago.

The lessons I learned then are helping me now.

Like a pandemic, that diagnosis made me feel helpless, confused, uncertain about the future, and worried about everything I touched, breathed, or came in contact with.

The grocery store became a petri dish, the nail salon, mall, and everywhere else became unsanitary places to avoid.

I had no control over what was happening, and every day it seemed like there was more bad news.

My life suddenly narrowed from being busy, involved, and overly social to being singularly focused on my own survival and the well-being of my family.

How many times did I hear that I had a “new normal?”

How many times did doctors tell me there was no way of predicting what might happen?

I hated the loss of control.

So, as the news has poured out endlessly over the last few weeks, I’ve thought a lot about the lessons I learned from surviving cancer that are helping me through this pandemic.

Here are a few of them. Maybe they’ll help you:

  1. Remember this is temporary. Life will not always be this way. Repeat this often. Let it become your mantra.

  2. You’re not alone — even if it feels that way. Other people feel like you do. They understand the loneliness, isolation, and fear.

  3. You will get through it. No matter what happens, you’ll survive. Even if the very worst happens, everything will eventually be okay.

  4. Plan for the future. Have something to look forward to. Imagine it in great detail, and when you feel the stress mounting, go there in your mind. Think about how it will feel, how you will enjoy it, and what a celebration it will be. I imagined being with my family at the beach, soft hair growing back on my head, the sand between my toes, the sounds of laughter as my girls played in the ocean waves, and the relief on Doug’s face because we made it through. Imagining all the small details propelled me through some hard days.

  5. Have faith. There is a God. He is in charge and if you believe in, trust, and rely on his words, you will feel at peace. God sent us here for a mortal experience and that means bad things will come our way. That’s just part of the plan. Our job is to respond well, learn, and become better through the hard times — choose faith over fear.  

  6. Rely on friends and family. I was overwhelmed with the love and kindness of others. It reminded me that even in the worst-case scenarios of life, good, helpful people are everywhere. Watch for them, appreciate them.

  7. Be someone who helps others.  We can be those good people. Doug is calling a friend every day which cheers him up and lets someone else know they’re loved. A neighbor just left us a cellophane-wrapped roll of toilet paper with a note that said, “When life gets crazy, roll with it.”  Check on people. They will appreciate it and it will make you feel better.

  8. Join in the worldwide fast tomorrow, April 10, on Good Friday, and pray that the virus can be controlled, caregivers will be protected, the economy strengthened, and life normalized. Fast for two meals or 24 hours. You decide how long you want to sacrifice.  

  9. We also have posted this graphic on our refrigerator to remind us of who we want to be during and after Covid-19.

 

I hope some of these tips are helpful. And, I’d love to know some of your tips.

How are you getting through these upside-down, inside-out days? Please share!

About Me, Change, Memoir

Finding a Life Plan

For the last several months, I have had an ongoing debate about this blog…

Should I keep writing or give it up?

I blog for purely selfish reasons — writing helps me figure out what I’m thinking and feeling.

That’s it.

No product to promote, no message to shout or cause to advance.

I just like to write.

The most common comment I receive about my blog posts is, “You always write what I’m thinking!” Knowing my posts resonate with others motivates me to keep writing.

Lately, however, I’ve wondered because I seem to be thinking about different kinds of things — things that indicate a new stage of life, so I’m not sure whether they still resonate.

Here is a partial list:

  • Funerals. I’ve attended a lot of them lately, mostly parents of friends. That says something, doesn’t it?
  • Making new friends, keeping up with old ones.
  • Missing my mom every single day.
  • Parenting adult children — How do you do that? What is my role now? How do you know when to stand back and when to jump in?
  • Planning a high school class reunion when for the first time, my brother’s name is on the “deceased” list of classmates.
  • What it’s like to retire or semi-retire or whatever we call what we’re doing.
  • How strange it feels not to have a template for what’s next in life.
  • Living in the belly of the beast in terms of religion.
  • Selling our home on the Outer Banks, our last toehold on the east coast.
  • Going on a church mission — when is the right time to do that? And, how do people just up and leave their homes and lives for two years?

And, that’s probably not everything.

Are these relatable topics?

Maybe the crux of this dilemma is not in the specifics of what I’m wondering about, but the overarching theme that I’m in a new phase of life, and I don’t have anything figured out.

Ironically, at this stage of my life, I have less figured out than ever before.

As I write this, I think of Norman Thayer in the movie, “On Golden Pond.” (I realize that’s an early 1980s reference that may be lost on some.)

When the movie came out, I laughed at Norman, who at 80-years-old, perused the want-ads, hoping to find a “career opportunity.” (I do that!)

I understand now that he didn’t really want a job, he just wanted to feel relevant and have a well-defined daily routine and path because he was in a new stage of life, one that frightened him in some ways.

I’m not 80 and I’m not lost like poor Norman, but I get the larger point of him trying to figure out his life when everything seemed to be new and different.

Now, the point of this blog is not to have my friends tell me I’m relevant, well-qualified for a job or to solicit comments about my capabilities. It’s just to point out that new phases of life bring new questions and challenges.

Does anybody else want an accurate GPS for life that says turn right, go three miles, turn left, make a U-turn or even “rerouting?”

If only Siri or Alexa could help us with that!

In all stages of life, there are unanswered questions and we have no choice but to walk by faith, believing that the answer is just around the corner or that the path is about to appear — if not the entire road, at least the next step.

When you’re traveling in the ruts, you want the freedom to move out of them.

When the ruts are gone — like Norman Thayer’s — you might not want the old ones back, but you want new ones to reappear because having your feet on a path toward your envisioned destination brings peace, security, hope, and excitement.

In the end, maybe all the things I think about are the same things everybody else thinks about (with some variations on the theme)– change, what’s next? Where are the ruts in the road? Where is this unseen road taking me?

Maybe, no matter what stage of life we’re in, we never really have it figured out.

I guess it comes down to that elusive concept of faith.

We have to believe we’re on a good path, leading to a beautiful place — even when, from where we stand, we can’t see the path, where it’s going or where we’ll end up.

So, maybe you don’t miss your mom every day and you don’t wonder about how to be a good parent to adult children or how to retire well or any of my other concerns. But, I’m sure you have some questions you’re asking about your future and your path.

Am I right?

And, maybe I just keep blogging because even if nobody else learns something, I do.

Religion

#Lighttheworld

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints released a new video called The Christ Child: A Nativity.

Take a break from your Hallmark movies and Christmas shopping because it’s worth watching.

Since I learned a few new things from this new depiction of the Nativity story, I decided to post a blog about it in case someone else can learn something new too.

A few things I loved:

  • Mary, Joseph and all the people in the story are shown as real human beings — flesh and blood people that really had these sacred experiences. The video shows their humanity. It helps us remember that the Nativity story is not a fictionalized holiday tale but something that actually happened and changed the world.
  • Mary and Joseph did not travel alone on a donkey to Bethlehem like most depictions show. They traveled in a caravan of other people and animals.
  • The actors speak in Aramaic, the language of the day, which makes it more authentic. (The only downside is I don’t speak or understand Aramaic but I could imagine their tender conversations.)
  • Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem to pay their taxes. They planned to stay with Joseph’s family but because so many other people were also there to pay their taxes, it was very crowded.
  • Bethlehem was built on a hillside full of caves and people often built their homes in front of the caves and used the caves for their animals and hay. When Mary went into labor, they were led to the cave behind the home where they were staying so they would have privacy.
  • One of my favorite parts is that it shows men, women, and children following the star to see the baby Jesus. Sheepherding was a family business in Israel so families traveled together to see the Christ child. I loved seeing the women gathered around the Christ child.
  • Christ was not a baby when the wise man arrived to worship him; he was a toddler. I love the visual of the wise men bowing to this little child, knowing who He was and what his gift would be to the world.
  • I loved being reminded of the meaning of the gifts the wise men presented to Jesus. The gift of gold sparkled like the gold used in the temple — the house of God — and it was a symbol of kings. Christ, of course, was the King of Kings.
  • Frankincense was a tree resin gathered in south Arabia and it was given because it provided a fragrance like that used in the temple.
  • Myrrh also was a tree resin and it was used in the temple to anoint and consecrate the High Priest. Christ was the High Priest that brought eternal light, life and God’s presence from heaven to earth.

The Church has been encouraging us to Light the World this Christmas season with small acts of kindness.

We’re having fun trying to do some of them — along with following through on our own ideas!

If you need some ideas on how to light the world, go here. It’s not too late.

Light someone’s world this Christmas season. You might light up your own world while you’re at it.

Personal

Bush Twin Gems from “Sisters First”

I just finished reading the book Sister’s First — Stories from our Wild and Wonderful Life by Jenna Bush Hager and Barbara Pierce Bush.

I picked up the book for two reasons — first, I’m a sucker for anything related to the Bush family, especially if it promises great stories about George and Barbara Bush.

Second, it’s the only memoir I know of that was written by two people, and my friend, Lisa, and I are having fun writing a memoir together, and we wanted to see how this book was structured.

The book did not disappoint on those two fronts.

A few gems that resonated with me:

Enjoy being in the game…

A couple of years ago in Maine, we were all sitting around the robin blue oval table that we’ve sat around for years having dinner — with Gampy at the head. The room was full of laughter. Everybody was talking, except for Gampy, and the conversation was ricocheting around the table. It started getting loud, and eventually he leaned over and in a hoarse voice, he whispered, ‘I miss this.’

And I asked, ‘What Gampy, what do you miss?’

And he looked around and said, ‘I loved being in the game. Don’t forget to enjoy being part of the game.’

Barbara pierce Bush

I loved this story because it reminded me of my mom toward the end of her life. When all of our family was together, the pace and volume of the back and forth conversation was too much for her.

It frustrated her until she learned to just soak up the love and energy in the room, noticing how everyone enjoyed being together. She loved just looking around the room and relishing that everyone there was “hers.” But, it was hard to see her gradually switch from being a participant to a quiet observer.

So, I loved George Bush’s advice, “Don’t forget to enjoy being part of the game.” We all need to appreciate being part of the game!

Sister Love Story…

I confess that I wasn’t sure if I would like the sister “love story” aspect of the book. In the acknowledgments, they wrote, “Sisters First isn’t a typical memoir, but rather a love story we wrote to each other.” That sounded a little too schmaltzy and contrived to me.

However, I was surprised to like it more than I expected.

A beautiful paragraph written by Jenna toward the end of the book made me stop and think about the power of sisterhood — whether by blood or by friendship.

She said she was reflecting on a day when she picked up her daughter, Mila, from preschool and Mila asked, “Where is Poppy? I want Poppy-Lou,” referring to her sister.

“That night, I held my girls closely and listened to the patterns of their breathing until they were in sync, until they were one. You have each other, I thought to myself, You can walk through this wild and wonderful life together. You will fight, yes. And you will adapt to each other’s quirks, but you will do it together. You will make your sister feel like she is enough. And for me, your mama, well, that is enough. More than enough. That is everything.”

Jenna Bush Hager

That really is everything, isn’t it? To have someone who makes you feel like you are enough? I thought of not just how my sister helps me feel that way, but how many of my dear girlfriends and now my daughters help me feel that way. I’m grateful that my daughters can write their own sister love stories now with not just each other but with their many female friends.

Live a life that’s worth it…

The last gem from this little book that I loved came from Barbara who wrote about a Burundian man who taught her that a birthday could be celebrated not just with a cake but by considering how, in the previous year, you had lived the best year that you could. And before you eat the cake, you have to share what you did for other people in that year.

You had to make a case that you were living in a way that was worth it, in a way that was giving to others. You are here for a reason, and you should be grateful for every year, and be ready to do the most [you can] with the next one.”

Barbara Pierce Bush

With yet another birthday around the corner for me, I love the idea of considering whether I lived the best way I could in the last year, and earning a slice of birthday cake by reflecting on what I’ve done for other people.

So, thank you Barbara and Jenna for giving me some beautiful words of wisdom and some stories to remember about creating and appreciating a beautiful life.

Personal

Perfect Moments

A wise friend of mine recently shared a thought that has made a deep impression on me.

She was talking about perfectionism and our tendency to beat ourselves up continually because we fall short of our expectations. .

She said that none of us are or can be perfect, and instead of berating ourselves for repeatedly missing the mark, we should look for “perfect moments.”

my life isn’t perfect, but it does have perfect moments

She described some of her perfect moments, including one that happened on a night when she felt particularly worried about her daughter. She knew her daughter was experiencing some trouble with a friend at school. She wasn’t sure how to help her through that challenge.

Late one night, she went into her daughter’s room and found her sleeping peacefully in her bed. She was overcome with the depth of love and concern she felt for that child. She quietly knelt down by her daughter’s bed and asked God to help her know how to help her child. She immediately felt impressed simply to tell her daughter, “I’m on your team.”

Her daughter woke up right as she finished her emotional prayer, and she was startled to see her mother in her room with tears in her eyes. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“I just want you to know how much I love you and that I’m on your team.” It turned into a sweet, unforgettable, perfect mother-daughter moment.

Since hearing that story, I have been watching for the perfect moments in my life, and while my life is far from perfect, there are perfect moments every single day.

Yesterday, I went to the community pool for an early morning water aerobics class. As the sun came up over the mountains, and glistened all across the pool, it was like sun glitter fell from the sky and landed all over the water. Then, I noticed an elderly woman wearing a swim cap in another part of the pool. She was facing the sun and stopped to take a deep breath to soak it all in. Then, she starting jogging to the beat of the music, and for that moment, her life was perfect. She was absorbing the beauty of a perfect moment.

I asked Doug about a perfect moment he’s experienced. The first thing that came to his mind was our daughter, Sara’s wedding. Her wedding weekend was full of perfect moments — seeing her walk into the beautiful Salt Lake Temple to be sealed to her husband, watching her smile when she arrived at the reception venue and saw it all lit up and decorated with pink peonies just like she imagined, watching her laugh and enjoy time with friends and family, and saying goodbye as she and her husband walked under a canopy of sparklers in the night sky.

So many perfect moments in one beautiful day…

I thought of seeing the lace from my mother’s wedding gown tied around Sara’s bridal bouquet and seeing my daughters together savoring every moment of the wedding weekend.

There are perfect moments everywhere, and focusing on them brings out so many of the hidden beauties of ordinary life. I’m grateful to my friend for pointing out this truth to me.

What are some of your perfect moments? Think about them, notice how they make you feel, notice how they improve your mood and attitude, and if you want, share them! I’d love to hear about some of your perfect, beautiful moments.

Family, Personal

Memorial Day — Utah Style

Memorial Day in the Washington, D.C. area meant a sea of flags waving brilliantly through Arlington Cemetery.

It meant Rolling Thunder motorcyclists descending upon the nation’s capital to bring public attention to prisoners of war and those missing in action.

And, it meant one of our favorite traditions of gathering with friends on the west lawn of the U.S. Capitol for the annual Memorial Day concert.

There is nothing quite like a Washington, D.C. Memorial Day — especially sitting on the lawn of the Capitol, listening to patriotic music and then watching an array of fireworks light up the city from the Washington Monument.

Utah, however, has its own style of Memorial Day.

The first year we lived here, I took my mom to the cemeteries about a week before Memorial Day to place flowers on the graves of our relatives. It was a sweet, tender tradition that she kept up her entire life. I didn’t realize then that I’d need to decorate her grave the following year!

Last year, after she died, I went to the grocery store and saw massive amounts of mums lining the sidewalks leading to the grocery stores. I wondered why mums were out so early. I thought they were fall flowers. (Obviously, I’m not always very observant.)

As it got closer to Memorial Day, my sister, who lives about three hours south, said, “Don’t forget to decorate the graves now that mom’s not here to do it.”

I had so many questions. I hadn’t paid attention to all the details of this new job.

Whose graves? Where do I get the flowers? How do I keep them from blowing over in all the Utah wind? How do I find all the graves?

“You know all the mums you’ve seen everywhere? Those are the flowers you buy,” she said. “You take them to all the family graves. And you go to the dry cleaners and buy hangers, straighten them out, cut them into two pieces, and shape them like hooks. The hook end goes in the plant and the other end goes in the ground. That keeps them from tipping over in the wind.”

We were such Memorial Day rookies last year that we actually went on Memorial Day. The cemeteries were packed. It was hard to drive on the streets and parking was scarce. Some families took lawn chairs and had picnics near their family graves. There were reunions everywhere as family members met and reminisced. This was something we’d never seen before.

So that’s why mom went earlier in the week, I thought.

I realized too that I hadn’t paid close attention to the locations of all the graves as I drove my mother to the cemeteries. So, Doug and I did a lot of looking at maps, calling relatives, and traipsing around, trying to find our family graves.

We vowed to be better prepared this year. So, as soon as we saw the mums for sale, we bought them. My brother got in on the tradition and gathered up and “built” (his word) the hangers to secure the plants to the ground. Then, last Friday, we went to the graves. It took some time to find them all but we did it.

And, I have to say, it was a sweet, new tradition. I felt more connected to my family and my Utah roots.

We did a lot of reminiscing — remembering how mom threatened to haunt us if we ever put plastic flowers on her grave, and how she took a watering can and a broom to clean off the debris around the headstones. I realized how much I never noticed about this family tradition.

As you know if you’ve been reading my blog, it’s been a year of loss. So, we had a couple more graves to visit, including my mom’s and my older brother’s. But there was something tender about going to these family graves and honoring them — their lives and legacies.

As I saw all the flowers, flags and wreaths on all the graves and the crowds of families gathered together to honor their ancestors, it reminded me of the power and lasting love of families.

It was not be like seeing the Rolling Thunder motorcyclists roar down the DC streets.

It wasn’t like seeing 14,000 flags waving at Arlington Cemetery.

And, it definitely wasn’t like listening to a concert on the lawn of the U.S. Capitol or seeing the fireworks burst over the city.

It wasn’t a national celebration on a grand scale this year. But, it may have been a little more personal, intimate and sentimental than other Memorial Days I’ve celebrated.

So, while we paused to honor the armed forces who have protected us on the world stage and on the front lines, we also paid tribute to the family members who have loved and protected us on the most basic level of the home front.

It made me deeply grateful for both.