"It's all just a bunch of Hocus Pocus..."

Oh, Halloween. How I love thee.

Pete and I threw a Halloween party on Saturday night; lovingly nicknamed Spooktacular! Spooktacular! (Moulin Rouge? Harold Zidler? Anyone?)

"It will be Spectacular! Spectacular!
No words of the vernacular
can describe this great event,
you'll be dumb with wonderment..."

I have been longing to throw a Halloween bash for many years. It just never happened due to the fact that we were always dead broke and never had enough friends or neighbors to show up. After we moved here last year, we were really looking forward to whatever neighborhood/church Halloween events might ensue, plus a neighborhood perfect for trick-or-treating. Then when Halloween time came, Pete and I were kind of disappointed.  There were no parties, the ward "trunk-or-treat" was only fun for little kids because there were absolutely no activities for adults and hardly anyone dressed up or decorated their trunks, and then we discovered that hardly anyone trick-or-treats in our neighborhood because no one wants to buy candy for both the "trunk-or-treat" and for home. We ended up driving to a town 20 minutes north just to take Ryan trick-or-treating in an awesome neighborhood full of decorated houses and festive people.

So sometime back in September, Pete and I started talking about how we finally have a neighborhood full of friends who are (in our twisted opinion) in desperate need of some Halloween festiveness. So we decided it was time to throw a party.

I spent about one week coming up with ideas and then two weeks planning, shopping and crafting. Then,in addition to the party, I decided to take on the task of transforming myself and two of my friends into the Sanderson sisters from the classic 90's Halloween movie Hocus Pocus, so I was doing a lot of late night sewing mixed in with everything as well. I haven't had any creative projects since Kennedy was born (except for minimal work on Pete's ComicCon costume), so taking on the Hocus Pocus witches was pretty fun.

Here's the inspiration and the finished products...

I was so busy that I kind of forgot about invitations until the last minute...but luckily they turned out pretty well:

Given that invitations went out only seven days before the party, I was terrified that hardly anyone would come. Plus, there is this weird epidemic constantly plaguing the good people of Utah which causes them to not RSVP for anything, so I really had no idea how many people to expect. 

As usual, I overbooked myself and took on too much, so on the day of the party I still had to do homework that was due that night, bake cupcakes, makes sugar glass candy for the cupcakes, make frosting for the cupcakes, make poisoned candy apples, make banners, pick up balloons, donuts and cookies from three different stores and do hair and makeup with my fellow witches before Pete got home from work and we could start decorating for the party (there was a reservation before us, so we only had an 90 minutes to set up).  Unfortunately I did not end up having enough time to do all those things, so some decorations never got put up (God bless my friends Julie and Joy for their help or else a lot more would have never made it up either), the banners never got made, there was a scary incident involving red food dye being spilled all over my kitchen counter, and I wasn't able to put my costume on or do my makeup until the first guests had already started arriving. EEK!

But after I finally got myself turned into Sarah Sanderson, I ran back to the party and was happily overwhelmed to find it filled to the brim with people in great costumes, so much food that it wouldn't all fit on the food table, and my fellow witch sisters looking AWESOME. 

Here we are...

"Come little children, we'll take thee away..."

So after fearing that no one would come to my little party, over 80 people showed up! It made my little Halloween-loving heart so happy. We did games for the kids, a costume contest, a photo booth (that hardly anyone used...I'll have to rethink that one next year) and played The Nightmare Before Christmas and Hotel Transylvania on a big TV in the corner. Although I was so busy running everything and wrangling children for the games that I wasn't able to really hang out with anyone or eat any of the food, I heard that everyone else had a great time.

The one crappy part? Our camera must have been on some weird setting that I wasn't aware of, because all of our pictures are fuzzy and blurry. GRRRR. So if anyone has a pictures from the party that they would be willing to send me, please do.

We have such fantastic neighbors here - so many willing to not only show up, but show up in awesome and creative costumes, bring food, help out with games, hold our sleeping baby, and then several friends even stayed to help Pete and I clean up the giant mess when it was over. Seriously. You guys just keep making it harder and harder for us to entertain the plan of moving away next year.

So far Halloween has been a lot of fun, and it isn't even over yet! We still have our church trunk-or-treat on Wednesday, then taking the kids trick-or-treating on Thursday. Halloween season may all just be a bunch of hocus pocus, but what can I say? I love it.

Come with us and you will see, This our town of Halloween

I have been crazy busy over the past couple weeks planning and crafting and sewing and shopping for our fabulous Halloween party that went down last night (post on that coming up soon). With that plus grad school, I have been too busy to post anything, but I've had a couple posts waiting to be finished before the wonderful month of October is over.

First off, it's time to share our happy-creepy-Halloween home with you all...mostly just because I will miss all of the decorations come November, so I will need photos to reminisce :)

I have been waiting a long time to be able to go all out for Halloween, and it has been so much fun to finally live in a house that gives me that opportunity.  My awesome husband has been so supportive of my craziness, from party planning to decorating, and hasn't said a word about all the new stuff I bought this year. I will be sad when I have to take everything down next week...but then it's time to start planning for next year (after Halloween clearance sales!!!) - hehehehe.  And of course I can always think about all the amazing stuff I will do someday when we win the lottery (light shows synchronized to music, a full graveyard, fog machines, murder mystery parties...).  A girl can dream, right?

Happy Halloween Dear Readers :)

October, Netflix, Snow

So, what happened to September?  It flew by like a freight train and was gone before I knew it. It is now October, and as much as I am not happy about it, the first snow fell last night, meaning summer (and maybe even fall) is most definitely over, so I figured it was time to catch up.

October is my favorite month of the year. And this year, it has come with a much needed shift in the wind. After several months of suffering through postpartum depression, the past couple weeks have finally started feeling more balanced and normal.  I give credit to treatment, support, routines and the therapeutic value of spending days and days putting up Halloween decorations (it seriously makes me giddy).

The past five days in particular have brought more peace than I have felt in weeks, thanks to the fact that our little Kenny Rae is *finally* sleeping. Of course when I say "sleeping," I do not mean sleeping through the night (will that ever happen?), rather I mean sleeping longer than two hours at a time at night and actually taking regular naps again, which has not been happening for quite a while due to K's extreme gassiness, fussiness and weekly bouts of constipation. After eliminating dairy, caffeine, and carbonated beverages from my diet, strictly watching her diet of solids for connections between certain foods, introducing two different kinds of formula, and three weekly trips to the doctor's office, we still didn't see much progress (although eliminating caffeine did seem to help a little). Eventually a couple of my friends urged me to ask the doctor for an infant reflux medication, and *fingers crossed,* I think it is actually working! The medication combined with a daily dose of prunes seems to be making a difference, and she has been a much happier baby over the past few days, which makes for a much happier Momma. Hooray for small victories!

Grad school is going well, which is saying a lot considering I have managed to stay on top of my work in spite of the fact that Netflix has been sucking my life away over the past week with back to back episodes of Sons of Anarchy. I got sucked into a hole like this right after K was born with The West Wing, and it's not pretty. Wearing pajamas all day, looking forward to midnight nursing sessions so I can watch just 15 more minutes, dreams about characters...it's ridiculous. But my homework is still getting done, the house is clean, Halloween decorations are up and I've somehow lost 10 pounds...so I guess it's all good.

Other good things:  Ryan is thriving in first grade and just finished his first season of flag football, we bought Pete a new car a few weeks ago, Pete had an interview on Wednesday for a better paying position in his company, we get to go to General Conference for the first time on Sunday, and I'm planning my first Halloween party for later this month.

Not good things:  Snow. This morning. On top of my pumpkins. Not cool. Overall I really enjoy cold weather and all things that come with it (cozy sweatshirts, hot soups, cider and hot cocoa, gorgeous white mountains, gloomy days, boots) but when snow is covering the tombstones in my front yard, it has crossed the line.

Oh, and I miss dairy. A lot.

I am grateful that things are finally starting to feel normal again, or more specifically, that I am starting to feel normal again. I am looking forward to the next few months of holidays, birthdays, and cold weather, and considering how long it has been since I have looked forward to anything, that's pretty good progress. :)

A photo tour of all my Halloween giddyness is coming up shortly. Get excited.

"Here's to Hard Choices"

That quote is a line from an episode of Brothers and Sisters (one of my all-time favorite shows). And it kept ringing in my mind when thinking of a title for this post.

I began graduate school this week. I was accepted into an online program through my alma mater, Arizona State University, to get my Master of Education in Curriculum and Instruction specializing in Gifted Education. The decision to go back to school in itself was not really that hard of a choice, given that I always planned to do so at some point. But the fact that I am doing it now is part of a "bigger picture" choice that has been very hard for me: the choice to stay home with my kids.

The short book answer is to just blame the choice on external circumstances. The car accident in March 2012 prevented me from taking the AZ teacher certification exams in enough time to get certified by both Arizona and then Utah before all the jobs for the 2012-13 school year were filled. I then failed one of the Utah certification exams by one single point and was not left with enough time to retake it before the 2013-14 school year began this month. So yes, it has technically been impossible for me to even apply for a full-time teaching position at a public school since I received my Bachelor's degree almost sixteen months ago. But....but. I could have applied at private and charter schools that do not require state certification. I could have applied to be a substitute teacher and maybe work three or four (or maybe even five?) days a week. I could have looked for jobs working as a teacher assistant or working at the district office. And then of course I could have decided to pursue some kind of employment outside of the field of education altogether.  But I didn't.

Instead I chose to conceive a baby two week after I graduated, completely aware that meant I would be staying home throughout the entire pregnancy (thanks to Hyperemesis).  And then after I failed the World History Praxis (don't even get me started on the hell that is that test) I chose not to pursue any other jobs until I pass the damn test (God willing) and can apply for teaching jobs next year. And the reason is simple: I want to stay home with my baby. But that choice has been very hard for me.  So hard, even, that I have not even been able to write about it here until now.

It has been hard because I gave up almost all of my son's precious baby-hood many years ago to go to school full time and work part time so that I could someday give him the life he deserved. I worked my butt off for five very long years to get my degree so that I could help support my family. And half of me argues that now is the time for the bill to come due, for me to go out there and earn a salary and contribute. That now is the time to make good on those promises I made to myself late at night when I would hold my baby boy in my arms and cry because I was so exhausted and so stressed and feeling so guilty for missing all the wonderfully cute things he did that day.

But then the other half of me reminds me that money was not the only reason I did it. I did it because I love to learn and I love to teach. I love to use my brain. I love to feel like I'm making myself better and may somehow make the world better if I try. I did it because I wanted to show my son that he can do the very same things, that he can make hard choices and make his life what he wants it to be no matter what obstacles are in front of him. And you know what? I did that. I instilled in him a love of learning, a dedication to hard work and an intense desire to go to college by the time he was only five years old.

But what about the job part? What about showing him the importance of using his education? What about showing him the importance of choosing a career that makes a difference in the world and that he cares about even if it pays very little?  And what about the fact that Pete and I have already had to start teaching Ryan the importance of not wasting the talents he is blessed with (if you know Ryan you probably know what this is referring to), yet here I am sitting on a Bachelor's degree that my own husband would kill to have and I have yet to work a single day outside of my home since it was handed to me?

Sigh.

And then it all comes back full circle to those memories of holding my baby boy in my arms and crying. Because I missed him. I missed so much of the precious time when he was little. To this day I have very few memories of his first two years of life other than urgent care waiting rooms and being up all night with a sick or teething baby.  And I don't want to do it again. I don't want to miss my baby again. Back then I always knew I was doing the right thing, because six years ago I had no other choice. I was single, I was 21 years old, I had no place to call home, I was fighting to give my baby the life I wanted for him.  And now?  He has that life. He has a mother and father who love each other and love him. He has a nice home in a great neighborhood. He goes to a good school, he plays sports. He wears cute clothes and has so many toys he doesn't even know what to do with them. And most importantly, he is smart, he knows how to pray, he values the importance of doing his homework and he loves to read. While Pete and I still strive to give him even more (maybe a dog...or a college fund...), the fact of the matter is that I did come through on the sacrifices I made, even if I have yet to get a real job.  And now it is time to give my daughter the one thing that I could not do back then, which is to simply be here. Because this time around, I do have a choice.  And that is something I should be incredibly grateful for.

So I made the choice to stay home for one more year.  And then I made the choice to pursue a Master's degree online in the meantime...because I still love to learn and love to teach. I still love to use my brain. I still like to feel like I'm making myself better and may somehow make the word better someday. And I still want to teach my children that they can do the same things. And of course there's the fact that I am advancing my career, improving my teaching skills and expanding my job opportunities for whenever the time comes that I do go to work...so that's good too.

But the choice has still been hard. I have struggled with feeling like I'm not using my talents and that I'm not doing "enough" by staying home (albeit temporarily) with my kids. And then I read this awesome article that a friend posted on facebook...and my entire perspective changed.  (Go read it. Now.)  I realized that I am working. I am making a difference in the world, because I am making a difference in my children's lives.  Even if I never make it to my own classroom (highly unlikely, because I really cannot wait to begin teaching, but I guess you never know), my children will still become smarter, better educated, more cultured and diverse leaders of the next generation because of the efforts I have made in my own education.  Thankfully, that belief makes this choice just a little bit easier.

So here's to hard choices, grad school, and one more year (or maybe more?) of baby memories.

And naps. Let's not forget that part.

Just One Moment

Last night I spent several hours at a friend's house, talking into the wee hours of the morning. Around 2:00 AM, one of us said something about how we should be sleeping.

Then I said, "I wouldn't be sleeping anyway."

"Why?"

"Because it is August 17th."

"Huh?"

Pause. Sigh. 

"It is the day my mom died. It will be twelve years today."

The conversation continued, and then my friend asked, "Do you do anything [on this specific day]?"

"....Well...I write. I write a blog post. Back before I had a blog, I wrote in my journal. I guess it has become a tradition. Other than that, no, I don't do anything out of the ordinary. My brother usually calls me, and simply asks if I'm okay. I say yes. Then I ask if he's okay. He says yes. And I'm pretty sure we both know we're lying. But that's about it."

While the phone conversation was actually a bit different this year, I still felt the need to write. So I decided to use some quiet time while the boys were at the store and the baby was asleep to read through some pages in the journal I kept twelve years ago, hoping I would find something that would spark the right words for this year. As expected, most of the pages made me cry. But there was one page that did not.

I wrote it on June 10th, 2001, as I was sitting in the ICU at Good Samaritan Hospital next to my mother's bed. She had just come out of her final surgery that had successfully removed the remaining tumors in her body. I had been told that she was expected to make a full recovery (although I have no idea how truthful that information really was), so that night I wrote about peace.

"After two years of hell, right now, sitting here in a a dark hospital room, I feel completely at peace. I'm not crying about anything. Instead I am feeling so thankful to God right now. He has finally blessed me with peace. And even though it may not last, I will always be thankful for this one moment of happiness. Thank you, Lord."

One moment. It was just one moment. But I still remember how incredibly grateful I was for it. Then on August 17th, there was another moment. A moment burned in my memory. A moment that still haunts me to this day. That one moment that changed my entire life.

Twelve years later, as I look back on both of those moments, I find my heart hurting just as much as ever. It stings in ways I cannot even describe when I remember that entire summer - the pain my family was feeling after my grandmother's death and then my mother's within just months of each other, the immense stress that my brothers and I were under, the emptiness of our house, the sterile hospital rooms, the goldfish crackers that I lived off of because my body was too weak for real food, the freezer full of lasagnas that no one wanted to eat. Yes...that hurt still hurts.  But today, when I read those words that I wrote as a fifteen year old girl in a dark hospital room, the hurt went away for a minute. I was struck by how God blesses us with tender mercies - feelings of joy, love, and peace - even in the midst of our absolute darkest days.  He knew that the peace I felt that night was going to be short lived. He knew I was about to face an uphill battle that would continue every day for the rest of my life. But He gave me that "one moment of happiness" to remind me that there was still hope. To remind me that there is still light somewhere on the other end of the darkness. To remind me that peace is always possible.

I needed that reminder today. I need it on many days. Because sometimes, the pain of this life is just too real. The struggles get too hard.  But there are moments. Moments when I laugh so much my stomach hurts, moments when I see something incredibly beautiful, moments when I hear my kids giggle, moments when I feel overwhelmed by blessings, moments that take my breath away.  Those moments are what make life liveable again.

Sometimes all you need is just one moment of peace. And on days like today, when I miss my mother so very much, when I think of all the things I wish I could say to her, when I feel jealous of every other woman I know, when I think about how many more long lonely years I have to face before I can see her again...that one moment of peace is something to be grateful for.

I love you and miss you always, Momma.

"...But then again, I know what it would do, 

leave me wishing still for one more day with you."

Raelene Metcalf

11/1/49-8/17/01

August 17th, 2012

August 17th, 2011

August 17th, 2010

Kennedy: Halfway Gone

My baby girl is six months old today.

*Sigh.*

Her babyhood is halfway gone.

I seriously want to cry. But instead it is time to write about the awesomeness that is Kennedy Rae at half-a-year old.

This is Kennedy right now, at this very moment, playing in her jumperoo. She is going back and forth from being as happy as can be to extremely angry whenever she gets frustrated because she can't figure out how to get the toys in her mouth. You can't see it, but she's wearing a Metallica onesie. Of course.

This girl loves to be loud.  Even when she's not crying, her happy "baby talk" babbling is more similar to opera singing than anything else. And when she's mad? Well...it's intense. I have had several different people comment on how incredibly loud and high pitched her cry is, and how she's destined to be a talented soprano. With the first stages of teething going on right now, there have been days where her crying has literally caused me to get migraines. I'll jokingly remind her of that fact every day when she's performing at the Met someday.

Within the past week she has just about outgrown all of her 0-3 sized clothes, meaning she is still a full size smaller than her age. Everyone keeps saying how little she is, yet Pete and I can only see how much bigger she is getting every single day. Compared to the tiny newborn we had just a few months ago, she has filled out tremendously.  She has chubby squirrel cheeks, adorable thunder thighs, and Tootsie Roll arms. I miss the tinyness of her, but the chunkiness is just so dang cute.

The growth from five to six months has been the greatest by far.  In just the past few weeks she has learned to sit by herself, pick up and play with toys, grab for my shirt when she's hungry and push all the way up on her arms when she's laying on her stomach (which she still hates vehemently).  She still has yet to start rolling over...a fact we are a bit worried the pediatrician is going to be concerned about at her checkup on Wednesday...but we're hoping that her incredible strength when it comes to sitting makes up for it.  I wouldn't be surprised if she becomes one of those kids who skip crawling altogether and just start walking, because she has no desire to be horizontal unless she's sleeping.  We gave her brown rice cereal for the first time two days ago, and she was so excited about it. She still hasn't quite figured out how to actually eat it, but she was happy about it nonetheless.

She does not sleep very well at night anymore, but she loves to take naps during the day as long as I lie down with her. We've tried putting a shirt of mine in her crib, using white noise, swaddling, unswaddling, etc., but nothing seems to work except putting her in bed with me. Not quite sure what we're going to do about that, but I'm reading a book about it, so at least there's that.

Baby Bean still hates being in the car, which made for an awful road trip to Arizona last month and nixed our plans to go to Disneyland this summer and Illinois this fall. She loves watching Baby Einstein, which is the only way we mange can manage to to take her shopping or to Nathan and Angela's house. And we survive church every week only thanks to the fact that so many wonderful friends fight over whose turn it is to hold her. Such a little princess.

Ryan makes Kennedy laugh more than anyone else. All he has to do is laugh himself and she just cracks up. She is so in love with him. She watches him play like she's a scientist observing a research subject and she turns her head to him the minute she hears his voice in a room. He loves the fact that he can somewhat play with her now by handing her toys and picking them back up after she throws them, and he loves to read to her. A couple days ago I was upstairs doing something while they were both downstairs (she was laying on her play mat) when she started crying. I head Ryan try to give her some toys, and when she continued crying, I heard him say "Please don't be sad, Baby, I love you!"  It melted my heart.

I would do anything if I could just hit the pause button on life, or at least slow it down a little bit. My baby girl is growing too fast and the time flies too quickly.  We are halfway to one year old already - when it seems like just yesterday I was holding her tiny body on top of my chest in the hospital. Where did it all go?  I think this feeling is why women choose to keep having more babies. I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it. Shhh, don't tell Pete.

Six months gone. Six months left before we have a toddler on our hands. Stop, time. Just stop. I'm not ready.

January 29, 2013

July 29, 2013

Cruel Summer

It is time to write. Something. Anything.

It has been hard for me to write over the past few weeks. Postpartum depression can be a real bitch.

I used to love to write when I was dealing with depression and hard things in life. I don’t anymore. I’m pretty sure it is due to the intense desire that I have been feeling to just escape…and if I were to sit down and write about the hard things going on right now – like the difficulties of depression, how difficult Ryan has been since the baby was born, the problems Pete and I are facing as a couple, the sudden negative and isolating changes in my friendships or the unpleasant return of my anxiety – I wouldn’t be able to use my precious and rare alone time to escape all that by watching back to back episodes of The Big Bang Theory, now would I?

But I need to write anyway. So here I am.  

I have been in a bit of a fog yesterday and today, as my hometown of Prescott is mourning the tragic loss of nineteen firefighters. I knew three of them from high school, one of them since elementary school. I knew the older sister of one of them and performed with her in choir for two years. I knew a girl who is married to the cousin of another one.  And I knew one of the grieving widows very well when I was a young teenager. She and her family were in my ward, and she and I spent a lot of time together in Young Women and Seminary activities. The part that is stabbing at me today is that I was always a little jealous of her - she was beautiful, popular, the boys liked her, and she was incredibly kind - and I envied her. Then this morning...I watched her try to hold it together on national television while being interviewed on the Today Show, talking about her fallen husband and her four very small children...and all I could do was cry for her. My heart hurt for her. And it hurt even more when I remembered my stupid and juvenile jealousy. I found myself wishing so badly that I was back home so that I could find a way to help her, to help her babies, or to help any of the other eighteen widows. I cannot help but think of how grateful I am for my husband and for the fact that he comes home to me every night.  He wanted to become a firefighter once (actually I think he's still technically on the ridiculous waiting list for the FD academy in Chicago), but instead he works in front of a computer screen and comes home to me every night. I know how it feels to worry. I was an Army wife many years ago. My brother served two tours in Iraq. And when I was a teenager I suffered from horrible nightmares about him being killed while he was working in law enforcement.  I remember the worry.  Which makes me even more humbled and grateful for the fact that my husband and my brothers are all safe tonight while nineteen other men never made it home. The whole thing is surreal and hard to swallow...because the truth is that you never know when your entire life could change. And that's a hard thing to be reminded of.

We spent seven days in Phoenix last month, and I was very strongly reminded of how right our decision to move to Utah was, and continues to be. Despite how far we are from Ryan's grandparents (the only thing we actually miss about AZ), every minute I spent in that metropolis-of-death-heat reminded me of how miserable we were there and all of the reasons we did not want Ryan to grow up there. I encountered a lot of memories while I was there - some good, most bad - and I don't think they served my current emotional battles very well.  But the silver lining was how amazing it felt to come home. With pretty much every vacation I have ever taken, I always dreaded going home at the end, and once I was home, I was usually pretty unhappy about it.  But when we made it back from our 12 day trip (we spent time in Prescott and Vegas after we left Phoenix), I was so happy to be here. When I walked through the front door, I actually felt like I was home, and that has been a hard thing for me to feel for almost a decade. Now we just gotta work on making a butt load of money so that we can fly Ryan back and forth to Grandma and Grandpa's house whenever he wants...but that might be harder to accomplish.

It is July already. Never in my life has time gone by so fast as it has over the past six months.  After spending so many miserable summers in Phoenix where it was too hot to do anything, and then spending my first Utah summer battling HG (puking my guts out and not being able to do anything fun), I was really looking forward to this summer with Ryan.  I had images of backyard BBQ's, sidewalk chalk, swimming, playing in the sprinklers, hanging out with friends, outdoor movies and swinging on our new backyard swing after dark...but somehow between traveling, postpartum depression, and a child who is either consistently grounded or spending all his time at his best friend's house across the street, we've done hardly any of those things and the summer is already halfway over.  I feel like time is just slipping between my fingers and I don't even have a chance to make all the memories I want to make with my babies before they're grown. Maybe that's just the hormones talking and everything will be easier next summer? I hope so. And I hope I can figure out a way to make the most of the remaining weeks we have before the harsh winter hits us again.

I will wrap this up with a couple photos that makes my heart smile, because, well, I need it. 

I love my babies. I love my hottie husband. And I'm looking forward to better days.