Worth Keeping

When I move I throw away everything possible. I have not lived in the same house/apartment for more than a year and a half since I was thirteen years old and as a result I throw stuff away to make the moving process easier. Books go in the trash. Clothes. Food. Nick-knacks. I hate Nick-knacks. Anything and everything I don't see an immediate use for gets thrown away. My brother Eli loves to help me move because he always gets free stuff.

 Side note: I married a pack rat. The next time we move might be the first time we have a real argument. Usually one or both of us is willing to budge on every issue...but probably not this one.

Anyhow, I was looking for an important document the other day and I noticed that there are a few things, besides my journals and pictures, I have always kept. As I was making a mental note of these items I realized they all had one thing in common; they were given to me by my little Grammy. She made me a brown plaque that says 'I love you' in about ten different languages. She gave me a star tile with a poem titled "Don't Quit" written on it. She bought me a pair of beautiful copper colored earrings. She has given me a very pretty stuffed bear, a picture of Jesus Christ, several books and a few other little do-dahs. As I mentioned before, I hate nick-knacks, but I can never bring myself to get rid of the little gifts she has given me. After a few minutes of thinking about why I cherish these little trinkets I realized that each gift was given during a particularly difficult week or month. (I lived with my Grammy and Grampy for a time as an adult.) My little Grammy knew that I needed to be reminded of how much she loved me. I wasn't always willing to hear the words, "I love you," and so she found another way to tell me. Long after she is gone, which I hope won't be for another hundred years, I will have reminders set around my house that my Grammy loves me. With her love comes the assurance that I am worthwhile, that I am smart, that I am kind, (just like in The Help!) that I am beautiful. She always says to me, "You know, you are so beautiful. And I don't just say that because I am your Grammy." I respond, "Yes you do Grammy," as I playfully roll my eyes and loop my arm through hers as we watch one of our mystery shows. We love watching mystery shows together. We used to watch CSI,  Law and Order or Law and Order:Special Victims Unit every night before I went to bed. Grampy would always make us popcorn.

My Hunky Husband

I still cannot quite figure out how I got so lucky. My husband is one of the most kind and patient people I have ever met. No exaggeration. My dear Aunt Kathi used to constantly talk to me about choosing a man who was capable of being head over heels in love with me. I heard what she said but I did not truly get it until I fell in love with Eric. Before meeting Eric I had a habit of choosing men that were not, for whatever reason, capable of being in love with me. While I was dating them I thought they were in love with me, but in retrospect they never were. They may have cared for me and even loved me but they were not in love with me. If they had been our relationships would have gone very differently. I hope that makes sense; the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone.

My head is feeling a bit whoozy today, so for sake of keeping things simple I will list everything wonderful about Eric:

- he supports and encourages all of my dreams/goals
- he tells me I am the most beautiful woman in the world, every day.
- he laughs at my jokes even though they are generally not funny.
- he takes care of Bruce whenever he is home because he wants to.
- he buys me pretty things every now and then. Sometimes when we are out shopping I will point out something cute and a week later he brings it home. Usually small things, like a headband or cheap earrings.
- he listens to me and gives more of a response then, "uh-huh."
- he rubs my feet or my back whenever I ask him too, even though I am the massage therapist.
- he always helps me make dinner
- he works out with me, even when he does not want to
- he calls his mother every Sunday
- he gets sad when I am sad and does everything he can to make it better
- when I was sick and pregnant he stopped making himself eggs, which he loves, because he knew the smell would make me throw up
- he doesn't get mad when I snoop through everything possible (emails/bank statements/phone) to find out what he is getting me for my birthday/christmas/easter/valentines day
- he knows Easter is my favorite holiday and last year I was too sick to do anything for him and I was sad. He went out and bought us each a basket and candy and brought it to me while I was laying in bed so I could put together an Easter basket for him.
- he always eats my cooking. Of course he eats everything..but still. Sometimes when I try new things I fail.
- he sings to Bruce
- when I ask him what he wants for his birthday he says,  "I just want you to be happy," even though I am generally happy already.
- he stayed up all night long while I was in labor even though he is basically a zombie when he doesn't get sleep. I told him not to talk to me or hold my hand and he didn't. Even though he wanted to.
- He tells Bruce he has the most beautiful mother in the world.
- He takes me to the craft store all the time, even if we are just going to look around.
- he always helps out at church whenever anyone asks
- he looks just like his mother but acts just like his dad. His dad is hilarious, without meaning to be. I can't stop laughing whenever his dad is around.
- he is incredibly loud. His voice, that is.
- He is the best dad ever to our little Bruce.

I am certain there are a ton more things, but Bruce is waking up from his nap which means my writing time is over. Plus...check out his hair!

Observations About Bruce

Several people have asked how Eric and I came up with the name Bruce. We each have different memories (mine is the correct version) of how we came up with the name. I recall Eric suggesting the name before I was pregnant and my response was, "uh...no." However, after watching Batman Begins (Bruce Wayne) and realizing that Bruce Willis first name is Bruce (I've always loved me some Bruce Willis. Also, Patrick Stewart. I guess I have a thing for middle aged bald men. Good news for Eric as he is going bald) I agreed to the name Bruce. Before Bruce was born we were deciding between either Bruce or Wesley and apparently I want my son to grow up to be a hunky superhero or police officer. Several people have said, "What an old mans name for such a little boy." I guess that is true. Better then the reverse in twenty five years; a grown man walking around with a name that is only cute for a three year old. Or younger. Example: Percy. I LOVE the name Percy but Eric refuses. His sons will thank him someday, I am certain.
Anyhow, Bruce will be four months old in one week and while it is still early to observe his entire personality there are a few things we have noticed. First, he loves to be outside. If he is screaming for no discernable reason and we walk out the front door, the crying immedietly stops. He sort of hick ups and looks around and appears pretty happy. But, once he can tell we are about to go back inside he starts screaming louder then he did before. Also, any time he is in his baby backpack he is the happiest little traveler you ever did see.
Second, he is strong willed. Should we take longer then his allotted thirty seconds to fix whatever is wrong with him he will scream for an extra ten minutes to a half an hour just to let us know he is upset. It is impossible to distract him with something else, like a toy or a pacifier, if what he wants is to stand up.
Third, he would rather play than eat. Bruce lets us know when he is hungry but once he gets his bottle he is more interested in smiling and squeeling and grabbing my shirt then in finishing his meal. Should the bottle get taken away from his mouth he fusses until he gets it back, only to resume goofing around. Each feeding can take nearly an hour, bless his little heart.
Fourth, he loves his dad. Of course he loves his mom too but he really loves his dad. He refuses to take naps when his dad is home because he thinks it is time to play. Somedays he will be a complete grump until his dad gets home from work and then all the sudden he is having the best day ever. All smiles and squeels.
Fifth, he loves to cuddle when he is tired and ONLY when he is tired. I love cuddling my little baby and I have learned he will only tolerate doing so when it is time for his nap. Otherwise he has things to do and objects to chew on so get out of his way. Eric tells me I am the same way, minus the objects to chew on.
Sixth, he loves to move! He is the squirmiest baby, and strong too. There have been several times when he has hit me in the face and it hurts! Who knew a baby could be so strong? Plus, he has a hammer head. I have to make sure my two front teeth are not in line with his head because it hurts something fierce when he whacks his head back. Although, he does not seem bothered when his head hits my face, so I guess it is just my problem. :)
Being the mother to the cutest baby boy in the world is a lot of hard work. Fun, messy, loud, hard work.

Sister Jackie

This is probably the tenth time I have started this entry. I keep deleting what I write because all the words that come to mind cannot properly describe Sister Jackie. She is unconditional love and concern wrapped up in southern fried chicken and homemade chocolate chip cookies. She is funny and sassy and down to earth. She is someone I hope to be like by the time I grow up.
 I had the privledge of meeting Sister Jackie at church when we moved to Fresno. I cannot recall the details of our first conversation, but by the end I felt as though she had given my soul a hug. When she asks, "How are you doing?" she genuinely wants an answer other then, "good." Whenever I see her walk into the Relief Society room I'm selifishly a little bummed if there are no seats open near me. Even if she sits a row ahead of me I am able to enjoy the warmth that radiates off her. It is refreshing to watch someone who so freely gives of her time and love to others, asking nothing in return.
I decided that Sister Jackie was officially one of my heros just this past Saturday. Our ward was having a car wash to help raise money for the scouts and Sister Jackie brought her truck by. When she pulled up to pay her ten dollars she had a smile on her face like she always does. She asked my husband and I how we were doing and then went on to talk to the two precious six year old twins that were zipping around on their scooters. She said to them, "Next time Sister Jackie babysits you, we gonna go to the park. Would you like that?" Of course they said yes and smiled at her as they obviously adored her. I noticed a tear starting its way down her cheek and when we asked her what was wrong she told us she had just lost her sister. I was amazed. Here she was, offering her love and support to all of us right after hearing about the death of her sister. I found myself at a loss for words. (which rarely ever happens to me) I stammered out the question, "Is there anything we can do for you?" Her response, "Pray for me and her babies. She has a twelve year old and a seventeen year old and I don't know what we gonna do. Just pray for me." I told her I would as she drove to her place in the car wash line. To top all this off, after having her car washed she bought candy for everyone and brought her bag around to everyone who was there to help. I should have stood up and given her a big hug as I know she would have hugged me. When I saw her briefly at church on Sunday I should have walked over, sat down and put my arm around her even though I didn't see her until the middle of the service. So many things I should have done. I made excuses for myself like, "I asked her if I could do anything and she just wants my prayers, or, it is the middle of church, I will talk to her after." I'm fairly certain excuse making is one of the big differences between me and Sister Jackie. I come up with a zillion reasons as to why I can't walk up to a new person at church (or anywhere) and introduce myself and ask them about their life. Sister Jackie comes up with a zillion reasons as to why she can.

19 1/2

I found my journal from 2006 under my bed today. Inside I discovered the following entry; (I'll edit some words as my language left much to be desired at the time..)

September 1, 2006

The following are things I wish I had been taught as a young girl I thoroughly plan on imparting this painfully learned wisdom on my future daughter, niece or whatever:
- under NO circumstances should one EVER compromise who they are. Not for a boy, not for friendship. Never. (I really should have listened to myself back then!)
- eat healthy foods because your body will feel better
- exercise on a regular basis to maintain strength
- put lotion on after you get out of the shower
- clean and moisturize your face before going to bed
- don't sleep with your hair tied up; you'll damage it
- when you think something is funny, laugh
- ask questions when you don't understand something
- smile at strangers
- tell creepy men to leave you the beep alone. Don't be nice about it.
- state your opinions
- you can't change the way you look so enhance it
- if you have curly hair, do not straighten it...often
- short hair on females usually doesn't look good, but most of us have to find that out by ourselves.
- chunky highlights = very bad idea
- skinny men = worse idea
- if a man does not call when he says he will, move on. He knows how to use a phone. If he wanted to call you he would.
- what goes around comes around
- new shoes make most situations better
- never make anyone a priority when they are not willing to do the same for you.
- you teach others how to treat you, so respect yourself
- tanning too much will give you leathery skin
- most people are just as concerned with what others think as you are
- yelling does not fix the problem
- all things pass
- read; you'll learn something
- expecting perfection only sets you up for disappointment (and yet here I am...still a perfectionist)
- it's okay, you're human
- don't think too hard about any one decision
- men don't get hints
- communication is the key to every sort of relationship
- forgive others, grudges only make you ugly on the inside
- life is not fair
- insurance companies suck
- work also sucks, but everyone has to do it
- believe in whatever feels right to you
- drink lots of water, it has countless health benefits
- this whole portion cannot be written for anyone to see. ever.
- respect the beliefs of others, especially when you think they are dumb
- you are not superwoman
- learn a foreign language
- wear clothes that you feel good in
- don't make life decisions to please anyone else as you are the one that has to live with it
- apologize when you are in the wrong, or when someone else feels that you wronged them
- everybody matters to somebody
- it is okay to cry and it is okay to be angry
- birds are evil.


And this list completes the entry. I'm fairly certain I was in my hippy phase when this was written. Or psuedo-hippy phase. Oh, mercy.

Weighty Issues

I know. The subject is tiresome and boring. Yet somehow the topic of weight creeps itself into every other conversation I have with another woman and probably every conversation I have with my husband. Eric is tired of hearing about it and I am tired of talking about it. Solution: write about it. Let all the dirty and weighty laundry swing in the winds of the Internet and get swept away, never to bother me again! (Note: inevitably, the shirt baring the words, "You still have 5 more pounds to lose!" will somehow whack me in the face again, but hopefully I will not feel inclined to put the shirt on and walk around telling everyone what it says.)

Deep breath....exhale...truth vomit. You've been warned. I am obsessed with my weight. Always have been. I can remember being thirteen years old and weighing 132lbs at my physical for track and field. I thought I was huge. Before I go any further I must mention that I was basically full grown, except for a couple of inches, by thirteen. I had the body of a woman, not a little girl. I would compare my adult body to the girl bodies of the other thirteen year olds in the locker room. Yes, I was bigger then they were at the time but not because I was overweight. Also, my two older sisters were/are shorter and of a slighter build than I am, and instead of making that connection I assumed I was a mini-elephant. Other then thinking I was fat I didn't do anything about my weight as far as dieting or excessive exercise. Fast forward three or four years and you'll find a teenager who viewed her body as a disgusting burden to carry around as opposed to a gift of health and beauty. I could hardly stand to look in the mirror because every bone in my body was not sticking out. One time I went four days without eating any food. All I drank was SuperGreens, thanks to some well meaning relatives, in order to cleanse my system. I could hardly walk up the stairs and my vision went blurry because I was starving myself. These same well meaning relatives thought the best thing to give me after my cleanse was cookie dough and chips and a sandwich. I naturally tried to eat as much as I could and gave myself a horrible stomach ache. This started at least five years of either eating too little or eating too much. When I would eat too much I would exercise to compensate for all the food I ate. This was an every day battle. During one of the times I was eating too much someone told me that my face looked, "jowly." Really? I have jowls? Like a dog? That is what you're comparing my face to? Ugghh!!! That comment has stuck with me ever since. The saddest part is that I was born with big cheeks! Look at my baby pictures or toddler pictures and all the way through adulthood, no matter what weight I have been my cheeks remain. Truthfully, sometimes they are bigger than others but they are always there. I still delete any picture my husband takes of me that I don't like while repeating the words, "my face looks jowly." Shame on any adult that says any comment like that to a teenage girl. I'm tempted to steer into another rage inducing topic of mine; teenagers may look like adults but they are still children. But, I will save that for another day. Let me emphasize that I did not casually wish to weigh ten pounds less, I actively hated every part of my "fat" body. I would cry at the department store because I had to wear a medium instead of a small. What a waste of energy! My weight obsession has taken me from a size 8 to a size 14 and back again. Weighing less did not make any difference as the obsession is still there and no size is ever thin enough. I'm disturbing myself while writing this, but it is the truth. The fact that I never had a weight problem to begin with and somehow managed to convince myself that I, in fact, did is also quite irritating. I could have done so much with the time I have spent berating myself for eating! Not just when I don't eat healthy, but any time I eat in general. Ridiculous, I know. Surprisingly to no one, I am not extremely thin. I dislike hunger pains and I like food, especially chocolate and marshmallows. I do love to exercise but I have learned that I prefer to feel strong when I exercise, as opposed to weak and lethargic.
My weight makes no difference to my husband. He thought I was as beautiful at nine months pregnant and 191 pounds as he did the day we got married. I'm back down to 161 pounds and the extra five pounds I mentioned earlier does not seem to want to come off any time soon as I exercise one hour a day, six days a week and eat healthy 85% of the time. I could put myself on a strict diet and increase my exercise but I'm afraid I would start getting on the scale every day and waste all my energy on getting the number to go down instead of enjoying my blessed life with my husband and son. Also, I gave birth only three and a half months ago so I should probably be more patient with myself.

The only real conclusion here is that spending one more minute worrying about my weight will do no one any good. I take care of myself and I should appreciate the healthy and strong body that God gave me. Plus, my husband tells me every day that he thinks I am the most beautiful woman in the world. I better stop trying to convince him otherwise.

My Bookish Timeline

Here it is! My completed timeline. Note that I mentioned I need three to four people willing to edit and provide feedback for my story, feedback that will include at least one thing I can improve upon. If you are interested in this let me know.

February 14, 2012 - February 14, 2013

February 14, 2012 - Develop timeline.

March 14, 2012 - Finalize the time and location where the story will take place.

April 14, 2012 - Complete all character backgrounds and descriptions.

May 14,2012 - Complete the first chapter of book. Select three or four people who are willing to read, edit and give honest feedback. I need the good, the bad and the ugly truth! These people must be willing to respond with feedback within one week of receiving the first chapter.

June 14, 2012 - Complete three additional chapters.

July 14, 2012 - Complete two additional chapters.

August 14, 2012 - Complete three additional chapters. Research which publishers I want to send my manuscript to.

September 14, 2012 - Revise written chapters to assure that the story is going where I want. Re-evaluate message of the story if necessary. Complete two additional chapters.

October 14, 2012 -  Complete three additional chapters. Research which publishers I want to send my manuscript to. Revise and edit.

November 14, 2012 - Complete two additional chapters. Research which publishers I want to send my manuscript to. Revise and edit.

December 14, 2012 - Complete two additional chapters. Revise and edit.

January 14, 2013 - Complete the end of the story. Re-read story and pick the three weakest chapters to either replace or take out. Request that the three to four people who read the first chapter, read the entire thing and then give feedback. They must be willing to do so within two weeks from receiving the manuscript. After receiving feedback make any desired changes.

February 14, 2014 - Book will be complete.

Musings

    Today I am just writing whatever is in my head. I cannot think of a subject that I want to stick to so whatever comes to my mind is what is going in this post. Children. Child. My child. Cutest boy ever. Responsibility. Hmmm...that seems like a good starting point. I am a firm believer that one of the first responsibilities I have to Bruce is to teach him how to live a good life. First and foremost I want him to learn that if he wants something in life, whether it be his career or a family or developing a skill, he has to be willing to work for it. I remember the day my father taught me this lesson. I was sitting on our cream colored couch, staring at the soft green carpet and complaining about how I could not run very fast. I was a freshman in high school and I wanted to be faster than anyone on the track team. I was also not working as hard as others on the track team and expected that my pathetic efforts should give big returns. I was excusing myself by saying, "I am too big to be a runner, I get shin splints, other people are so much faster, I'm ugly, (not related to the running but I thought I would throw that in there anyway, since I was already complaining.") My father walked over from the doorway to the couch and sat down. He waited until I was done and then he looked me in the eye and said, "You can do anything you want. I know that because you are my daughter. You have to be willing to work hard and sacrifice, but you can do anything you want. Never expect anything to be handed to you or expect that it is any other person's job to give you what you want. Stop complaining." He then stood up, walked out of the room and went about whatever it was he was doing. Probably tinkering on his motorcycle in the garage.
    Since then I can say that most of the time I have worked hard and tried my best. I have never thought, "I can't do that." A more likely thought would be, "I could do that...but I don't want to put the work in to accomplish it." If I wanted to, I have no doubt in my mind that I could become a brain surgeon. Doing so would take an enormous amount of hard work and money but if I really wanted to, I would find a way.
     As I mentioned in the, "About Me," section of this blog I want to be a published writer. While writing a book is something I have always wanted to do having a child made me want to do so all the more. If I want Bruce to learn to pursue his dreams I better be willing to pursue mine. Of course, Eric and Bruce are my first priorities but there is plenty of time in the day to work on whatever I want to. Afterall, how much time do I waste on the internet? If I make better use of my time there is more than enough to write a book in a year. As I am typing this I realized I just gave myself a timeline to get my book done. One year. After I work out this evening I will sit down and write out mini goals within my one year timeline to assure the completion of my book. Once I finish the timeline I will post it on my blog so anyone who has an inclination to follow can  keep me honest. My baby needs tending to so the writing must end for now. I am an endless fountain of opinions and observations so expect plenty more posts in the future.