Another Long Ago Holiday

Ah, Father’s Day.  Eva told me a couple of days before Father’s Day that it could be Father’s Day and Girlie Day.  She was certain that her Daddy would want to share the day with her.  Every time I made a preparation for Father’s Day, she would ask what it was for.  When I answered that it was for Father’s Day, she would say, “You mean, Father's Day and Girlie Day.”  Yes.  That’s exactly what I mean.

I wanted the day to be extra special so I tried my best to make sure Michael didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to on Father’s Day.  I even did it willingly and with a smile.  I’m such a good wife.

I made him biscuits and gravy for breakfast and they were very tasty.  I remembered my gaffe on his birthday and didn’t dump the entire box of salt in like I had the first time.  That turned out to be a wise choice.  I’m usually not a lover of biscuits and gravy but my, my, my, they were divine.  I’m such a good cook.

Michael has a binder full of talks that his mission president gave while Michael was serving as a missionary – back in the olden days.  He cherishes these talks and has tenderly cared for them all these years.  They are photocopies of photocopies, typed haphazardly with varying fonts and grammatical errors, and they are difficult to read without complete concentration.  For his Father’s Day gift, I spent six weeks retyping this binder full of talks.  I thought it would be an easy task but underestimated how long it actually takes to type up over 100 pages of single-spaced text.  Turns out it takes about six weeks.  It was a difficult task at times, but I imagined how excited Michael would be when he unwrapped the new binder and that kept me motivated.  My fingerprints are worn off from all the tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard and my carpal tunnel syndrome has flared so severely that I can’t bend either of my wrists, but I’m glad he has a shiny new binder of prettily-typed talks.  He loved the gift and I loved that I could give him something meaningful.  I’m such a thoughtful person.

The best gift came in the form of more food.  Ribs, cowboy spuds, and artichokes for dinner.  And a towering carrot cake for dessert.  MMMMMmmmmmmm.  I’m such a good menu planner.

I’m so blessed to have Michael and the superb influence that he is as the father in our home. 

I’m such a good husband-chooser.

Happy Father’s Day! (And Girlie Day)

Holidays Long Ago

As long as I’m posting about celebrations so far in the past it’s like they never happened, let’s talk about the days for the parents;  Mother’s Day.

Mother’s Day was a lovely affair, complete with German Chocolate Cake.  Eva’s preschool did Muffins with Moms the week before Mother’s Day.  It was noisy and chaotic and I had the delightful opportunity to sit my fat bottom in a tiny preschool-sized chair.  Not only was it tiny in width, it was only about 2 inches from the ground.  My knees were pleasantly tucked into my third chin and my saddlebags were dangling serenely just centimeters above the carpet.  I’ve never been more comfortable. 

Eva and I made a craft together and ate muffins.  Well…I made a craft and ate muffins.  Eva mostly jumped around.  I did feel bad for poor Eva because she desperately wanted a chocolate muffin but was told multiple times to wait until the dessert table was opened to the public.  When it was finally time to eat, I was engrossed in gluing Eva’s handprints onto a butterfly body and I didn’t realize the table was open for consumption.  The chocolate muffins were gone by the time we arrived at the trough.  Eva was a good sport and grandfathered her excitement into the lemonade stand instead.  She drank two full glasses of lemonade and ate nothing else.  We made many trips to the potty that day.

Eva had made me a gift prior to the get together which I got to open when I arrived.  She was very proud of the stickers she had chosen and shouted multiple times, “Mama!  I made this for you!”  My heart was molten hot with love for her.

 

On Mother's Day proper, Michael wrote me a sweet letter and bought me a hand-held mixer and electric salt and pepper grinders.  I scored my annual candy bar at church, which was consumed in the car on the way home.  It was a happy Mother’s Day and I’m incredibly grateful that I get to celebrate motherhood and have a legitimate excuse to eat chocolate all day.

Now, what should I make first with my new mixer…

40 Years of Michael

I haven’t acknowledged the recent holiday celebrations we’ve had and I’m feeling like a jerk about it.  My dear husband turned 40 in April and I didn’t share that news.  40!  (Maybe I’m not actually a jerk and I just didn’t want people to know I’m married to Old Man River.)  I feel okay about my slight since it was also Mother’s Day and I didn’t say boo. 

I reserve all of my booing for Halloween.

And for most of Myke’s jokes.

I felt perfectly fine about Michael turning 40.  He, however, did not feel fine at all.  I heard a lot of whining in the weeks leading up to his birf-day.  He moaned things like, “My life is over, I haven't accomplished anything, my hair is gray, my belly is a voluptuous orb, I don't own a Tesla automobile, and I’m practically dead.”  I tried to cheer him up by pointing out all of the good things about his life.  For instance, he has a beautiful daughter, he’s got a good job, he’s healthy, and he’s married to me; an awesome woman who is moderately overweight with facial hair and acne. 

Jackpot! 

He wasn’t consoled.

It actually kind of turned out to be a weird birthday.  I had big plans for a wonderful celebration but nothing quite turned out like I had hoped.  Maybe turning 40 really does suck.  I started the day by making biscuits and gravy for breakfast, which were salt licks.  I failed to consider the saltiness of the sausage and salted the crap out of that gravy by the end.  It really was inedible.  Sorry about that.  Lesson learned.  Then we went bowling.  It wasn’t really bowling but more of a chase-Eva-around-the-bowling-alley-while-she-touches-everything-and-walks-in-front-of-other-bowlers.  It was exhausting.  Plus, I told the guy I wear a size 10 shoe and he interpreted it as a size 27.  I was clomping around like a clown but I was too lazy to walk all the way to the counter for a smaller size.

 

We had lunch and planted flowers in the front yard.  It seems like a strange thing to do for a birthday party but that’s what we did.  Eva wandered around with my phone taking pictures.  She would even preface each picture with, “Smile Daddy!” 

After horticulture hour, we picked up a babysitter for Eva while Myke and I had a massage.  That part was actually nice. I sprang for the 90 minute massage but the time flew by much too quickly.  Is there really any amount of time that feels satisfying when it comes to a massage?  I think not.

We then we came home for a family campout.  Mama don’t camp outside so I camped out in the house in my bed while Myke and Eva camped out in the backyard.  We had a fire and S’mores instead of cake and I thought it was divine.  Eva was having the time of her life.  She was so excited about everything that was happening. 

          

Unfortunately, Myke did not share her enthusiasm.  He told me the next day that he wished we would have had cake and ice cream instead of S’mores.  He also said he wished he hadn’t slept outside on a cot.  And that he wasn’t 40.

I bought him ice cream a day later and we celebrated turning 40 the way God intended – by each of us devouring an entire carton of Ben & Jerry’s.

40 isn’t so bad after all.

Happy Birthday, Michael!

Space Cadet

If you travel to outer space you will see planets, stars, and all kinds of ponies.  Space ponies.

Just ask Eva.

Life Hacks

Eva has life figured out.  She knows how to live in her own happy, carefree world.  For only five easy payments of $29.95, she’s willing to help you live the same way.  Here’s a peek at some of the worthwhile advice she can offer you.  Make your check payable to Booney.

Sleep.  If you suffer from insomnia, consider using one of the following slumber techniques.

The “Do Not Disturb”

The “Contemplative”

The “Mama”

Do your bathroom visits seem mundane?  Try one of Eva’s tricks for a more pleasant experience to the throne. 

The “Rock Bath”

The “Ethereal Toilet Paper”

Perhaps her best advice is to escape reality whenever you can.  Be someone else for a day.  It’s liberating.  Eva endorses: 

The “Fairy Princess”

The “Friendly Costume”

The “Headless Horseman Ballerina”

Eva also suggests that you make a new friend.  And then ask where your new friend is at least four times a day.  And then escape into the yard at least twelve times a day looking for your new friend.  And then mistake every other kitty in the entire city for your new friend.  Animal/human relationships are very therapeutic; except for the mother of the human.

 

If none of these brilliant ideas work for you, then you’re a real jerk.

But I’m still willing to accept your check.

Brainiac

Look what Eva can do!

My kid is smarter than yours.  Sorry.

Ponder

There are a lot of fun things that I want to post about but it seems like I should hold off on those for now after how I spent last week.  I’ve spent many quiet moments recently pondering life and all that I have to be grateful for. 

I have a dear friend whom I met my Freshman year of college.  Though time has separated us and we haven’t seen each other in several years, we have a great history together, and I count her as an influential person in my life.  Ten days ago, her husband passed away unexpectedly after a heart attack.  My dear friend is widowed at 35.

She lives in Seattle so I quickly gathered my things and drove to her house.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, what to say to her, how to offer even a morsel of comfort.  I ached for her but didn’t know what to do for her.  I worried all the way to her house that I would say the wrong thing or be in the way.  I worried that the long span of absence between us would be awkward.  I felt guilt that my husband is alive and hers is not.  I was concerned about what I was to find.  I was thinking about myself.

I arrived to her home and immediately clutched her in a tight embrace while she sobbed.  I stood there and instantly realized how incredibly ridiculous I had been worrying about what I was going to experience and how this trip would affect me.  It wasn’t about me at all.  It wasn’t about whether or not I would say the right thing or even offer her any comfort.  It was about being with my friend in a time of tragedy.  The number of years that have passed since we last saw each other were inconsequential.  Friendship is friendship, no matter the time and distance apart.  I love her and I knew she knew it in that moment.

Here’s one of the hardest parts about loss: no one can say anything of comfort to the person who is grieving.  Nothing I could say would dull the sting of her husband being gone.  Nothing would fill the emptiness of the house or her heart.  I couldn't fix it.  I didn’t try to fix it.  Instead, I listened.  I mowed the lawn.  I encouraged her to take a shower and eat dinner.  I watered the plants and vacuumed the house.  I didn’t talk her out of feeling devastated.  I was just there.

I don’t say this to laud my contributions and to say that I healed her the week I was there.  I didn’t.  I’m not eloquent and I rarely say the right thing.  I only mention this as my reflection of how incredibly difficult death is for the people left behind.  It is a wretched reality of mortality.  It is painful and unfair.  But it is also unifying.  My relationship with my friend changed last week.  We have been bonded by her loss.  Her family, friends, and co-workers have reached out to her in a way that could only happen during tragedy.  She has seen the miracles of being loved and served by others.  Would she return it all to have her husband back?   Absolutely.  Unfortunately, that is not an option.  But what is an option, is the opportunity to be changed and strengthened by death.   

This experience has made me acutely aware of my blessings.  It has reminded me to cherish the moments with those I love and to make sure they know I love them.  It has made me exercise faith that God is in control and will not abandon us.  Every one of us will pass through death, and every one of us will experience the bite of loss.  It’s not fair.  It’s not pleasant.  I don’t want to do it.  But it’s life.

I have long had anxiety about losing my parents, about being a widow, about my loved ones dying in general.  I don’t have that anxiety any more.  I watched my friend during the raw moments of grief and watched her mourn for someone that she has shared her life with for the past 15 years.  I saw strength in her.  I saw bravery.  I saw that even though she felt like she could never heal, she will in fact heal.  She will never get over the loss of her husband, but she will learn how to live in a different way without him.  She has to. 

We have the awesome ability as humans to adapt and change.  We can absorb our experiences and let them shape us into someone new.  We can choose to find joy in our sorrows.  There is peace and hope in life.  There is happiness amid our afflictions.  There are wonderful blessings waiting for us at the end of our journey.

I am grateful for the week I spent with my friend and the way that her strength has changed me.  I am grateful to experience both the sweet and the bitter in life.  I am once again reminded from the scriptures:

Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.