Category Archives: Memories

Anxiety, Cochlear implant, Disability, Faith, Family, God speaks, Health, Hearing Loss, Kids, Low vision, Memories, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Partial Blindness, Photos, Running, Stories, Visually Impaired

2023 Bayshore Half Marathon

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So. I ran another half marathon. This is the one I was training with a friend for, only she was not able to run the race due to a foot injury. However, she was sending me cheers from home throughout the race and was surely with me in spirit! Also, the race went as well as could be expected. Would you like to hear all about it? Grab a tasty beverage and sit back.

This particular race, Bayshore, has been kind of a dream of mine ever since I heard of its existence. The race offers 3 distances, the 10k (which I ran last year), the half marathon, and the full marathon. The races are located in Traverse City, Michigan, where my dad’s family essentially called home for many years. The small city is located in northern Michigan and is home to the Old Mission Peninsula, which is flanked by the Grand Traverse Bay. My grandfather owned property on the peninsula, on the West Bay, and my cousins and I spent a week every summer there. We have so many great childhood memories from our time “up north”. We ate cherries, we hiked, we swam, we strolled along the shore searching for Petoskey stones. My husband and I honeymooned at the cottage, sharing my childhood memories and making new ones. We’ve had family reunions there. My paternal grandparents are both now buried on the peninsula. The property my grandfather owned was eventually sold and the cottage is now gone, but a big piece of my heart still lives on Old Mission. So when I learned there was a race that actually allows you to run all over the peninsula? Sign me up! I ran the 10k last year, which was satisfying but slightly disappointing because only a small portion of the race I felt like I was ON the peninsula. The half marathon distance starts at the north end of the peninsula and follows the coastline of the east bay all the way south into town. This was the race for me.

Now I want you to understand that racing for me is terrifying at moments. Not being able to see the start from far away, being unfamiliar with the terrain. It’s not like home where I’ve memorized the potholes and cracks in the roads and sidewalks. My anxiety for this race began building several days before the race. But standing in the chute among all the other runners was somewhat calming. I was finally here. And I had trained for this, I was ready to go. Until I realized I was standing near the wrong pace group, among runners way faster than me. Not to worry, I simply shuffled back until I found my people. As I stood there waiting I checked my phone and realized I had lost my Bluetooth connection to my cochlear implants. It’s a good thing because reconnecting involves taking off my hat in order to remove my left cochlear implant, remove the battery, replace the battery to make it “discoverable”, put it back on my ear, put the hat back on, etc. So I’m glad I had that time to make sure I was connected. I rely on my music playlist to keep me going throughout these long runs.

Once I was situated and connected I got back to bouncing around to keep my legs warm and as I’m bouncing I realize there’s a strange stillness all around me. It occurs to me that everyone is looking in the same direction, some with hands on their hearts. Ah! It must be the National Anthem playing. I hope I didn’t do anything disruptive or disrespectful. It wouldn’t be the first time. No worries, carry on Mel.

I wish I could remember more of the details of this race, but I’ll share with you what I do remember. Coming up the first hill, I marveled at the vineyards stretched out on each side of me, and the East Grand Traverse Bay glistening in the morning sun ahead. The road leading me forward, filled with runners. I don’t want to forget that moment. Or later, coming around a curve to an open expanse, my view filled with brilliant blue water on my left and lush green evergreens on my right. I thought about taking a picture there because it was so freaking gorgeous but it wouldn’t have done it any justice, and it would have taken away from my enjoyment of it. I would have wasted the moment fiddling with my phone, most likely unsuccessful anyway.

I continued running, soaking in the atmosphere and the majestic scenery. All the anxiety had disappeared. I was thanking God for this experience. It was incredible. I felt strong. I was at peace. It wasn’t until I was about 6 miles into the race, that I started to really feel the burn and the soreness of my legs. I still felt strong, and my legs were moving well. That’s also about the time I started to see more and more spectators. Kids giving high fives, dogs wondering why all these people are running in the street. Posters lovingly prepared: DIG DEEP – a POWER button – WORST PARADE EVER. I love these races. You think making a poster and standing at the side of the road isn’t a big deal, but it IS. Without the spectators, it’s just a grueling training run. We NEED these people.

Around the 8th mile I was starting to really struggle because the weather had warmed up quite a bit. I decided to take my shirt off during my next walk break but with the deaf/blind vest and the sweat sticking to my shirt, it took longer than I anticipated. So by the time I got reset I was running through an aid station with a gang of onlookers to my comically awkward process. It didn’t matter. There’s no shame among runners, and these people understand and have likely seen it all. In fact, later in the race I was passed by a woman carrying her shoes, running in her socks to the next aid station. You do what you have to do. So it was a bit of a chore to get that shirt off but it was so worth it to lower my temperature a few degrees. It gave me the rejuvenation I needed to keep going.

The last few miles of the race honestly felt like drudgery and I just wanted to be done but those spectators kept me going! The runners were still moving ahead of me and I just kept reminding myself what I came for, and that was to complete this race. And I did! I finished! I set a new personal record for myself, and I did not fall. Though after the finish I was struggling to walk. My left foot knew we had crossed the finish line and just refused to lift, so I hobbled along the fence line until I saw my husband and kids walking up, all smiles. They escorted me to the recovery area and found me a chair and some ice cream. It was an incredible moment, getting to share this accomplishment with my three favorite people in the world. I tear up just reliving it.

Me, in my bright orange vest, running towards the finish line!

This was such a great race. It was so difficult, but I have to accept that reality because I’m signed up to run my 2nd full marathon in October. Yes, yes I did. I swore I wouldn’t run another one but it turns out I lied. I’m glad I already committed to the marathon, because I think I would have chickened out after this race. It was a sobering reminder of how difficult and painful it is to run a lot of miles, but it was also a good reminder of the immense joy I still find in running.

It’s serendipitous that my devotional this morning actually talked about how we can have joy and pain coinciding. We can feel both simultaneously, and that’s an incredibly mysterious fact of life. There will be pain. Expect it. But also we have in us what it takes to keep moving forward and find joy in the midst of it. I am so grateful that God has sustained me as I continue to run. That He has given me the inner strength to keep challenging myself and doing these ridiculous races that both terrify and thrill me.

Isaiah 40:29-31 ESV “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

Cochlear implant, Deafness, Family, Food, Funny story, Marriage, Memories, Photos, Piper, Punky, Stories

Flooding Anniversaries

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I had originally started this post around the new year, and forgot about it. As we are coming up on the anniversary of the events, I thought it would be a good time to finish the story. Also, a disclaimer: the photos included here lack captions because 1) I couldn’t figure out how to add captions and 2) with my vision I’m not even entirely sure what’s in each photo. So I apologize to all the other visually impaired readers out there.

In April of 2021, my husband Mike and I were looking forward to celebrating our 22nd wedding anniversary with a weekend trip up north (Up North being a big deal in Michigan). We had planned to leave Friday afternoon, while the kids were still at school, and Grandma was to come and stay the weekend with them.

On this fateful Friday morning, I was frantically awoken by my husband. When I opened my eyes I could sense there was an emergency but could not tell what. I hurried to put on my cochlear implants, and when I did Mike handed me a stack of towels and said “You work up here, I’ll work downstairs.” A few short steps from my bed, and it did not take me long to realize that the floor was soaked. Our bathroom sink had been left running when I got up several hours earlier to use the toilet. I can’t tell you how many times in the past I had gotten up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom and left the water running. Only every other time it had happened, my husband was awake enough to hear it and made sure I got back up to turn the water off. This time that did not happen. The water had been running for several hours, and because it was a slow drain, the water quickly overflowed. The water had spread from our master bathroom, to the carpeted hallway, and through the floor to the main floor ceiling to the kitchen. And then through the kitchen floor to the basement ceiling.

I was devastated. Stunned. In disbelief. In a whirlwind of activity we managed to send the kids off to school and get everything cleaned up the best we could. It was still very early in the morning so while we waited to talk with an insurance agent, I sat on my husband’s lap and sobbed into his shoulder. Not only was our trip cancelled, but I couldn’t believe the mass destruction I had caused to our home. Mike had nothing but compassion for me. He had been angry all of 3 seconds when he discovered the damage, but from every moment thereafter he was in problem solver mode. He kept saying this could be a blessing in disguise. I had always hated the look of our kitchen, and now we would get to pick out our own cabinets, countertops, floors, etc. It could be fun!

I wouldn’t say the process was fun, however it was nice to discover I did have opinions when it came to the kitchen and bathroom designs. And there were a million little decisions we had to make together, so it gave us some good practice as a married couple. After 22 years of marriage it was nice to find we could work out our differences and make compromises without killing each other.

When the restoration crew came to assess the damage they brought very loud drying machines and put them on all 3 floors of the house. They had to cut holes in the kitchen and basement ceilings to get them dried. They ripped out our soaked kitchen and bathroom cabinets, and with them the countertops they were holding up. They put up plastic sheets as barriers because they had detected mold in the kitchen. It was a mess.

We got to work right away at choosing replacement materials, but there were supply chain issues so it did take longer than we had hoped for. We still had use of our fridge and stove, but no place to prepare food or wash dishes, so we lived on fast food for the next several months.

Oh, did I mention that I had already started training for my first marathon at this point? Yep. Marathon training on a fast food diet? Not ideal. But our family got really good at knowing how to get the best deals at all the fast food restaurants. Biggie Bags at Wendy’s, Five Dollar Boxes at Taco Bell, all the value menus. It was fun! (She said, facetiously.)

Anyway, all was restored by early September, just days before my marathon, and it was beautiful. I was so happy to have my kitchen back, I swore to never talk about hating to cook every again. I am grateful for the privilege of having a kitchen to prepare food in.

We put a motion sensor faucet in our bathroom, so that this would never happen again. It took a little getting used to, but it’s been effective; I’ve never left my bathroom faucet running because I’m not able to. I seem to remember one of our kids asking around this time, “why don’t we put one in the kids bathroom too?” And the reply being that there was no reason to because Mom never uses that bathroom. Well, never say never…

Fast forward to April of 2022, almost a year following the major flood. I was blasting my music through my cochlear implants, drowning out all other sounds, and doing a bunch of power cleaning. I noticed the dryer was quite dusty, so I grabbed a washcloth and ran to the nearest bathroom (the kids bathroom, which is the other full upstairs bathroom) to wet the cloth and wipe down the dryer. I continued my work, flittering around the house. My daughter had come home from school, used the small bathroom just off the kitchen, and when she walked out of the bathroom noticed a problem. She hurried upstairs to let me know, “Mom, the kitchen ceiling is leaking!”

I had NO idea what could be causing that but I zoomed into crisis mode. I handed her a bunch of towels and told her to grab a large bowl from the kitchen cabinets, put it under the leak, and start drying the floor (our practically brand new kitchen floor!). I was frantic, not knowing what to do, so I called my husband. He calmly walked me through turning the water off in the house and then gave suggestions for where to check for the source of the leak. I walked upstairs and opened the door to the kid’s bathroom (why was the door shut anyway?) and walked into a cloud of steam and water dripping off the countertop. It was then that I realized I had left the water running after wetting the cloth to clean the dryer. I could not believe it. I had done it again. Thankfully my daughter had caught it in time and the damage was not as severe, but the damage to my ego was just as devastating the second time around, if not more so. I had come to learn after the first flood that it was actually quite common, for people to leave faucets running and flood their homes. I never learned the statistics for two-time offenders but I was sure it was more rare.

The ironic thing is, we had planned a trip for our 23rd anniversary, since we didn’t get to take it the year before. And when I asked Grandma to come stay with the kids, I told her – jokingly – I wouldn’t flood the house this time. And then, of course, I did. Thankfully it happened a few weeks before the trip so we were still able to go. And boy, did we need that trip. It was just for the weekend, but it gave us time to process and reflect on all that had happened, and to be thankful that we were still crazy in love even after all the difficult things we’ve been through. Maybe even more so because of the difficult things we’ve endured. And when we look at those challenges we’ve had to face over the decades, dealing with a flood or two is no big deal.

Now I’m just praying that I make it through this year without causing another major disaster. And I’m extremely grateful that my family loves me despite my propensity for calamity and can laugh about it all now!

Memories, Photos

Sentimental things…

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Don’t mind me, I’m just cleaning out my draft folder here. I found this one from January of 2016, with some photos of a few sentimental Items I was saying goodbye to., Marie Kondo-style. Just for funsies, I’m sharing them with you.

The first one is a t-shirt my sister bought for me when I was pregnant with my firstborn. It’s an infant sized shirt that says “I was worth the wait.” I remember bursting into tears when I first saw it.  See, my husband and I were unable to conceive for many years, but after a successful surgery in that sixth year, I was finally pregnant with a son. That son will be 16 years old in a few months and I still believe he was worth the wait.

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This second photo is of a raggedy stuffed teddy bear that I had affectionately named Elizabeth. This is a stuffed toy I loved on for many years when I was a child and I have no idea where I got her from.  I had dressed her in this adorable dress adorned with white lace and blue puppies. Why I had waited until well into my 30s to get rid of her, I’ll never understand, but I remember it being quite a difficult decision. Probably because it truly felt like saying goodbye to a childhood friend. I certainly don’t miss her anymore, but it’s still fun looking back.

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And the last photo, for your viewing pleasure, is of a plate I made in preschool. The kind you draw on a paper circle and they somehow transfer it to a plastic plate. I don’t know how that process worked, but I remember drawing the picture.  A hideous picture of three trees of varying colors, a bright shining yellow sun high above, and a stick person with a big smile and long legs coming out of her head (presumably yours truly) off to the side. My first name and last initial, with a backwards ‘Y”, scrawled underneath. I held on to this plate for as long as I could, until it was accidentally used in the microwave (if you look closely you can see the bubbles). We have a friend who once dubbed it the “pēnī plate” (he didn’t think they looked like trees), and the name survived for many years but unfortunately the plate itself did not.

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So that’s all for today. I have a post about house flooding I still have swirling around in my head and hope to get that written and posted soon. I am having a chill day and am looking forward to the new year, as I hope you are too!

Family, Memories, Music, Writing

Writing and Music Memories

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Hi there! I was on a weekly roll there, posting stories and then…. hard stop. Sorry about that. I got stuck. To be honest, writing about old stories was getting a little, well… old. And not much has happened in the present that seems exciting enough to write about. My daily journals consist of a lot of mundane recaps and daily goals such as: laundry, groceries, nap, read, clean, etc. SUPER boring. But I still think about writing. All. The. Time. Because I am a writer. It’s who I am. I love writing. Always have. Probably always will. I just haven’t been writing anything here on the blog because I haven’t had anything I felt anyone would be interested in.

But awhile ago I stumbled on an old blog of mine (I’ve been blogging since 2003 on various platforms) and it was a lot of silly nonsense. I wrote because I enjoyed it, not because anyone was interested in it. And so I would love to get back to that. The not caring. Just writing because I enjoy it.

So I decided I want to share here a new genre of music I’ve come to love. Now, I have loved Bob Marley since I first heard him in high school, but that’s as far as I delved into reggae. However, this past summer my family and I took a cruise, stopping one day in Jamaica. Lounging in a pool of sapphire blue atop a lush green mountain overlooking the Caribbean Sea was extremely magical, but what I really fell in love with was the music. There was this energetic, positive, vibrant music blasting everywhere. And it makes my heart flutter when I hear it and I can’t help but sway and move to the rhythms. So several weeks back as I was trying to choose some music to get me through another session of folding laundry, I was reminded of Jamaica and searched for a reggae station. Y’all, it immediately brought me back to last summer and I couldn’t stop smiling. Or dancing! It makes housework so much more fun. Every one of you should try it. Really. Jot that down on your to do list. Then let me know what you think. I’ll wait…

Cochlear implant, Deafness, Faith, Health, Hearing Loss, Low vision, Memories, Multiple Sclerosis, Stories, Visually Impaired

The Mayo Clinic

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If you’ve never been to the Mayo Clinic, as I had never been, you might have been just as awe struck as I was. It felt like a theme park for sick people. We had been anxiously awaiting this visit since it was first mentioned by the doctors when I was at my sickest. We felt like our options had been exhausted, and that this was our best hope for some answers. 

We were scheduled to go in late January, at the height of winter storm season in Michigan. We chose to drive because it was much cheaper than flying, and Mike was perfectly comfortable driving the ten hour drive from Michigan to Minnesota. In addition, we didn’t know how long we would be there, because they don’t tell you that. They can estimate, but this is where the fascination for me came into play. They only schedule that first day of appointments. They wait until you are there, until they’ve met with you and run preliminary tests, before they schedule the next round of appointments on the following day. Appointments and procedures with real professionals, scheduled on the fly! They literally take it one. Day. At. A. Time. Everything is handled in this enormous complex with tunnels (so I hear, I never actually noticed any, but that’s not surprising given my state of mind at the time and my poor vision). It’s an incredibly well-oiled machine and I was so impressed, but I don’t ever plan on going back. 

We left on a snowy Monday. The worst of the weather was in Michigan, it got progressively better as we drove through Indiana, and by the time we were in Illinois it was smooth sailing. There wasn’t much traffic through Wisconsin and after ten hours on the road, we arrived in Minnesota to a balmy negative 12 degrees Fahrenheit. It was very cold and a little windy but at least the sun was shining. We checked into our hotel and settled in to rest for our first day of appointments on Tuesday.

On Tuesday our first appointment at the clinic wasn’t until the afternoon, so we took advantage of the extra time and ran some errands. Got the oil changed on the truck, bought some necessary supplies for the week, and had lunch. Then we took the hotel shuttle to the clinic. Very handy. Our first doctor had a ponytail and reminded us both of the tall guy from Penn & Teller, though at the time we couldn’t remember which was which (it was Penn). This doctor asked all sorts of questions and did some basic reflex/sensory testing. He thought all signs pointed to vasculitis, but he needed to do more testing and gather more prior medical records. This whole time Mike was typing everything for me on his laptop, so that I could answer the questions the doctor was asking. We left knowing they wanted an MRI, blood tests, and possibly a plasmapheresis, so we understood we might be there for longer than a week. That was it for the first day, surprisingly, but I was confident we were in good hands.

Wednesday we were up early so I could have blood tests and several eye exams. They put drops in my eyes and took photos inside and out. It wasn’t Glamour Shots but it showed them what they needed to see. We thought we were done for the day but then we got a call from the doctor to come back that afternoon to discuss the results of his research on MRIs and MS. I don’t remember any details of these discussions. What I remember is sitting there, in silence, feeling dazed and overwhelmed.

Thursday I had a very early appointment for an MRI. This MRI was arguably the longest and loudest one I had had to date. Not that I could hear it, because even with my hearing loss they gave me ear plugs, but I could feel the vibrations from the noise. I told the technician afterward that my kids would love to have a picture of the bulldozer that ran over me. I also had an appointment with an ENT in the afternoon. I remember it well. We walked into the waiting room and a woman quickly took me back to the testing area, telling my husband to stay and fill out some paperwork. I told them I needed him with me but they insisted I would be fine. I wasn’t fine. The woman was trying to talk to me, and she was writing things down with a regular pen, which I couldn’t see. At this point I had been having people write for me with sharpie pens, because nothing else was dark enough. I just cried and said, “Can you please just get my husband?” They brought him back and conducted a few hearing tests. The speech recognition tests were impossible for me and I cried some more. The third test was in a separate room. This one was nice because all I had to do was sit with electrodes stuck to my head and wait. It was after this test that they were able to tell me what was happening with my hearing. I simply had a bad connection between my ears and my brain, and cochlear implants would likely work very well for me. This news gave me a lot of hope.

Later that day I met with the doctor again (ponytail Penn) to hear his conclusion about my vision. His determination was that it was permanent. Irreversible. There was nothing they could do to repair the damage to my optic nerves. Mike and I left his office and stood, stunned, in the lobby. I was devastated. I remember resting in my husband’s arms, just sobbing uncontrollably. A woman who had been at the front desk every day that week walked up to us, offering me a box of tissues and an invitation to join her family for dinner. Since we were leaving the next day and I was not exactly in the mood for being around people, we declined. However, she offered to be praying for us, and that really encouraged me. We believe she was Muslim and hoped our God would honor her prayers. 

 I left that day talking of guide dogs and reading Braille but Mike told me to stop. I was getting way ahead of myself, and we would deal with all that if we needed to, but right now we didn’t need to. We had two good pieces of news. One, the doctor had recommended a plasmapheresis when we got home, which they believed would stop any further damage from happening to my optic nerves. And two, I was a perfect candidate for cochlear implants. So, there were things to be hopeful about.

And that was our final consultation! We were driving home the next day. Everyone at Mayo Clinic was extremely helpful and kind. I had hoped for better answers by the end of the week, but I was grateful to learn that I was not dying and that there were steps I could take going forward.

Marriage, Memories

Happy birthday to us

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Today is my 40th birthday, and many of my friends and family know I’m pretty excited about it. A lot of people dread this milestone, but not me. I’m excited to join the 40s “club” and put my 30s behind me. They were quite a roller coaster. I had some babies, I went back to school and FINISHED, praise the Lord… but I was also diagnosed with MS and then later lost my hearing and vision. So, lots of ups and downs. I know I can’t count on the next decade being all ups, but I can look each day in the face and hope for the best. And I feel like I’m learning how to do that as I get older. The maturing that happens with aging is such a blessing. And that is why I’m happy to be 40.

But I also came on here to talk about my husband. It is also his birthday today, only he is one year older. It’s a neat little tidbit about us that people find just fascinating. People ask, “man, what are the odds?” Well, the answer to that is 1 in 365. Because days in a year, folks. There are only so many. And while I know mathematically that’s a correct answer, I still want to say the odds that we would fall in love and still be crazy about each other all these years later are much, much higher. It sure shoots holes in those astrology theories, that’s for sure.

Earlier I was thinking back to the day we discovered we shared a birthday. We weren’t dating, we were just out to dinner at Denny’s and were in the “getting to know you” phase. We were asking each other basic questions until he asked me when my birthday was. Here’s about how it went:

Mike: So, when’s your birthday?
Me: March 3rd.
Mike:  No, really, when’s your birthday?
Me: March 3rd. Why would I lie about that?
Mike: Seriously? Let me see your license.

I think he asked to see my ID, that part I’m fuzzy on. I know he didn’t believe me, that’s for sure. He thought I had peeked in his wallet and was playing a joke on him.

That was more than 20 years ago, and here we are, old people lol We joke that 40 is old but it’s just that, a joke. Because you’re only as old as you feel and old is such a subjective term. My prayer is just that we’ll always remember to embrace life, be present with our loved ones, and in everything look to Jesus for guidance.  Happy birthday to us! Today I’m praising God for life.

 

 

Cochlear implant, Hearing Loss, Memories, Music

Music makes my heart happy

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Okay. So it seems I’m not on my computer as frequently as I would like to blog (I keep it upstairs in my bedroom) so I’m gonna try blogging from my phone when the mood strikes. Which is surprisingly and nerdly (making up words here) often.

What I want to share about today is music. Music has always been very important to me. I have a sort of eclectic mix of what I like, mainly because I don’t care to just listen to something because other people say it’s good. If it makes me feel something good inside, it’s a winner in my book. When I lost my hearing I lost what I had with music, and that was devastating, but they tell me my brain can learn to appreciate music again, with time and practice. Right now it all just sounds weird and mechanical, but they said if I listen to familiar music, stuff my brain would remember, it would get better over time. Problem is, I have trouble remembering what I used to listen to.

Enter The Office. I’ve been rewatching the show on Netflix cuz I loved it when it originally aired. Still makes me laugh out loud. One character on the show, Andy Bernard, will occasionally start singing songs that were semi-popular at the time. In one episode he was singing a song by the Indigo Girls and I recognized it immediately. Yes!! I had forgotten them but I remember I had a cassette tape I used to listen to on long road trips to see friends, or my drives to work at the Pizza Hut two towns over.

This didn’t bring back a flood of music memories, but it was at least a key to the particular time period that I knew held lots of my formerly favorite music. So, I started a Pandora station with the Indigo Girls and over the last few days I have been spending a little bit of time each day building the perfect station for retraining my brain with my very own personalized “oldies”.

So far it seems to be working, and I’m having fun singing along to all these songs I forgot I knew.

In other news, the kids had a show day today so they are hanging out with me at home. And it’s sunny outside, so the sun just dances off the blanket of snow outside. I love this season!

Family, Kids, Memories, Photos, Vacation

Oklahoma in July

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The kids and I flew to Oklahoma to visit Grandma Deb and Grandpa Dave (my mom and stepdad) for a whole week! EEK!! The last time any of us had been on a plane, Luke was 2 and Natalie was in utero. So it was pretty much like their first time flying. I was a nervous wreck through all of it, but the kids did great.  And once we were at Grandma’s, we settled in quite nicely. Pictured below on Natalie’s head is their green cheek conure, Riley. I learned very quickly that I have a new fear of birds flying near my head, mainly because when he flew toward me I could feel the wind from his wings before I could see where he was. Thankfully, he was pretty harmless, and by the end of the week we were getting along just fine.

We had so many activities in store! Our first full day there we went hiking near some natural springs. I took a lot of really blurry photos of that, so you’ll just have to trust me that it was really cool and the kids enjoyed themselves.

The next day Grandma took us to the salt plains to dig for selenite crystals. I was happy to stand around and take pictures while they got dirty. Luke found the first crystal, which led us to the mother load of crystals. It was pretty exciting. (Oh, and I got to drive a car! Since it was wide open space and no one was around. Don’t tell anyone though lol)

Another day we visited the children’s science museum in town. This was similar to the one we have back home, but with a different mix of things to see. The kids had a blast here too, and it was a good way to stay out of the 100 degree weather.

I’m sure I’m getting the order of events mixed up, but at some point towards the end of the week we visited what we were calling the rock museum. The museum was a house, made entirely out of rocks, that belonged to a couple that did a bunch of stuff, and kept pretty much everything they owned. So now they keep it on display and let people come and look at it. Which is funny to me, because it’s just some people’s old things, preserved for no apparent reason. I still thought it was pretty cool to see all these items from an entirely different era, and the kids were great sports about it. Grandma even bought them some geode stones to take home and smash open.

Let’s see… we also did some put-put golfing, because my poor deprived children had never been, can you believe it!? I beat everybody, both times we went, but the kids scored a couple holes in one, so they were strong opponents, for sure. We celebrated the second day by taking them out for ice cream, as you can see below.

There was also grilling, eating out, a bit of swimming in the blow up pool to cool off, jewelry making with Grandma, and of course lots of playing with Riley, the bird. I’m sure I’m leaving out details. Yes, flying was stressful for me, having to rely on the kids to see and hear things for me, but it was really nice to get where we were going so quickly. For all the fun we had and getting some quality time with Grandma and Grandpa, it was totally worth it. It was a fantastic, full week of fun and I am so glad we went. We hope to do it again next year.

 

Deep thoughts, Family, God speaks, Holidays, Kids, Memories, Miracles do happen

The light in the darkness

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It’s Christmas Eve, and we’re all ready for Christmas morning with the kids. Breakfast fixings are ready in the fridge, gifts are surrounding the tree.
We went to church tonight and were reminded that Jesus came to be a light in the darkness. Then we drove around looking at Christmas lights, a tradition we’ve been doing since before the kids were even born.
And do you know, my 9 year old son made the connection between the sermon at church (which I thought he was sleeping through) and the decorative lights everyone puts up at Christmas? I don’t know for certain the origin of Christmas lights, but I think my son might be on to something. The lights we put up at Christmas are a representation, a reminder, that Jesus is the light in the darkness. That just blew my mind, to hear something so wise coming from his mouth. I was pretty impressed. And for sure, I will remember that connection and from now on our annual tradition of driving around looking at lights will hold much greater meaning for me.
Merry Christmas, and may you find the light in the darkness.
Family, Holidays, Memories
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I remember when we were kids (back before the internet) when you would take the Toys R Us ad and circle all the things you wanted for Christmas? Times have changed. Now my kids make lists – very specific lists – or they guide me through finding the exact items on Amazon. “Google it Mom, it’s a real thing. Just pull it up on your phone.” he says, of the bungee chair he wants for Christmas. It’s true, it’s a real thing.

I don’t remember every Christmas in great detail, but there are a few I can recall fondly. I remember the year I got a Cabbage Patch doll. When I woke up Christmas morning and looked under the tree, I knew it was there because they came in these distinctly shaped boxes. So unless you repackaged it, it was a dead giveaway. My best Christmas memories though are the times spent with my family. Waking up to Christmas breakfast, running around my Grandma’s house with all my cousins, knealing around the Christmas tree with my brother and sister. Just being together. That was the biggest gift. And I hope those are the memories our kids hold onto as well. Because that’s the stuff that lasts. Everything else wears out, fades away.

Of course Christmas is not all about the presents. We now, as parents, love to give gifts to our kids, and every year we manage to go a little bit overboard. Hopefully we are not creating spoiled children by doing so. Christmas is the celebration of Christ’s birth, so we think a lot about God this time of year, when we maybe wouldn’t have otherwise. And I believe God is the biggest gift giver. He loves to give us good things the same way we love to give our kids good things. And maybe He runs the risk of spoiling us, but He does it anyway, doesn’t He? As much as the commercialization of this holiday busts my buttons (lol), I can reconcile it in my spirit by remembering who we are modeling our lives after. It may sound pathetic, but I do feel that by giving to others – our kids, our extended family, friends, neighbors, etc. – we are modeling a bit of Jesus’ character. He gave His life, the ultimate gift. So would it be wrong to say we are honoring Him by giving to others? Maybe? Maybe. I don’t know…