If you need me...

...I'll just be over here...catching up with a few old friends...








Oh how I LOVE fall premiere week!

"Sweet" Dreams

Do you ever have the dream where you are trying desperately to escape an often unseen menacing force by running with all your strength but your body won't comply and your legs move like they are submerged in wet cement? I often find myself in such a quandary during my slumber.

I know that dreams represent unconscious concerns of our everyday lives, and I understand exactly what my unconscious mind is trying desperately to communicate to my conscious psyche...get a grip! Pull those legs out of the sludge, and get movin'!

I have been trying to lose weight. The numbers on my bathroom scale are my unseen enemy--except they are not unseen--I can see them JUST fine as they stare at me every day, their fluorescent red configurations shouting "What has happened to you?!" I am trying, desperately, to escape the grip of those unwanted, stubborn pounds that insist on clinging to my body.

I know what I have to do--just like in my dreams--I know HOW to evade whatever is chasing me, but it's getting through the heavy, gooey barrier that's tough. In my life that barrier takes the form of snickerdoodles, cinnamon bears...and a little impairment I like to call will power deficiency.

I ate macaroni and cheese the other day, right out of the pan, with the big serving spoon. Kraft mac n' cheese with the orangish little noodles stained by gross powdered cheese.

At Paradise Bakery last week I ordered a salad, dressing on the side, no cheese, no crunchy little tortilla strips, just...salad...and a little chicken.
But, by the time I left the restaurant I had eaten my salad, plus a medium sized chocolate chip cookie, and half a slice of carrot cake...

Experts (?) have said if you are having a nightmare during sleep you can, with some practice and amazing control, actually insert conscious thoughts into your dreams. If you are running from something, for instance, stop--and confront whatever it is that is haunting you. They say this will wake you up, thus ending the nightmare.

So maybe if I confront my weight, acknowledge it and refuse to be swayed by tempting deserts or carbohydrate pitfalls, exercise EVERY morning rather than smacking the snooze button eight times, I will WAKE UP in the body I occupied just six and half years ago, this LB-laden body hidden in the recesses of my mind and reserved only for distressing REM sleep...

Reaching the top...and hitting rock bottom

A good friend of mine (McDreamy) recently traveled to Africa as part of an expedition team to scale the tallest free standing mountain in the world--Mt. Kilimanjaro. Not every member of his team was able to reach the summit due to extreme terrain, and the complex, unyielding effects of high altitude. McDreamy was one of the few to make it to the top despite lungs burning with the transparent air that exists at such an extreme elevation. Accomplishing such a formidable, daunting task was so rewarding to McDreamy in so many ways. It allowed him a glimpse of just exactly what he was capable of accomplishing. When faced with a challenge, he now has greater fortitude to take it on, just as he did the rocky, icy face of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Inspired by my friend's recent adventure, I too decided to take on a challenge so difficult, so seemingly impossible, that I had many doubts as to whether or not I would make it to the end. My challenge did not involve travel, fundraising, learning a new language, or a documentary film crew, as my friend's great African expedition did, but it was no less challenging or intimidating.

I GAVE UP DIET COKE!



Unimaginable...I know. Out of character...definitely. And yet I accomplished something I never thought possible.

Why would I take on something so completely absurd?

The past few months have seen my very slow, arduous ascent from the depths of hypothyroid hell. Though feeling better, my energy level has remained at a microscopic level. To combat the never-ending fatigue my long standing addiction to diet coke was kicked up to a level that was completely out of control. I was drinking thirty-two ouncers on a daily basis. As early as 9am I was suggesting to my kids that we run over to McDonald's for a hash brown (greasy fried potatoes for them, gigantic fizzy liquid sunshine for me). I became a connoisseur of diet coke noting the differences between beverages served at McD's, Sonic, Seven Eleven and Maverick. I focused on the ice, the taste, the level of carbonation...Every waking hour was spent thinking about where I would go to get my next DC fix...okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I was hooked nonetheless.

I finally realized that the amount of diet coke I was consuming each day was having a counter productive effect. I was drinking it to boost my energy but in fact it was causing even greater fatigue and exhaustion.

After much deliberation and soul searching I decided to give up my precious diet coke for an eleven day exhausting, excruciating, torturous, "nutritional cleanse." Along with diet coke I also gave up all sweets and carbs, even fruit. For eleven grueling days I ate nothing but leafy greens, a bit of protein here and there, unsalted raw almonds (only two at a time) and filled gaps of starvation with little antacid-like wafers and protein shakes. Going without food was difficult, but the hunger was no match whatsoever for the caffeine withdrawl. The first couple of days I thought my head would explode. I lashed out at my kids just for asking for a drink of oj, and I glared at strangers in their cars wondering if they were on their way to Sonic for a DC with lime...

Each day seemed to get a bit easier as I worked through my monstrous cravings. My mood swings became a little less extreme, and each day my body ached and groaned
a little bit less for just a teenie tiny sip of diet coke.

I made it. Eleven full days--not one drop. And I must admit...I feel much better! I am allowing myself to splurge--a little--at restaurants, etc. But, no more cups that are bigger than my head... and no more daily runs to McDonalds.

I conquered my own Kilimanjaro. I suffered just as Mcdreamy suffered on that mountain. He couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe...well, I could breathe I guess, I just didn't WANT to breathe. He took on a challenge, one that taxed him mentally and physically. I took on a challenge, one that not only taxed me, it nearly killed me...

I learned a lot as I made my way through a week and a half of pure agony...I am a much stronger person than I thought, and I have a lot more in common with drug addicts than I ever imagined.

Whether you are climbing a mountain half way around the world, or giving up something that is a huge part of your world--my advice is this...

NEVER LET GO!

Everybody has to go to school

Luke started Kindergarten last week.
It was a day both of us had anticipated with excitement since the leisurely, playful days of preschool ended last spring.
He is ready, he really is, to expand his horizons both academically and socially.
I am ready as well, to have a bit of freedom offered in three hour increments each and every afternoon.
We had the entire morning to prepare, but giddy with enthusiasm, Luke was dressed in his stark white shirt and dapper navy shorts by nine. Requesting lunch at ten fifteen, he exclaimed "why does the morning have to be SO LONG?"

As last minute preparations were underway,
-backpack-CHECK
-shoes-CHECK
-potty-uhhhh (hurry!) ok CHECK
my sweet boy looked up at me with the exact same eyes that had gazed at me from the round face of a chubby, hairless, giggly bundle of baby boy that I held in my arms such a short time ago...

"Maybe you could come to school with me, just for today," he whispered with just a hint of apprehension.

"Oh buddy, I'm sorry, they don't let moms come to kindergarten, only kids."

His face clouded for just a second, then brightened and broke into a huge grin as he grabbed his backpack and ran for the car shouting "I forgot! I get to go to RECESS today!"

As we approached his school, Luke noticed the other kids in uniforms. "Whoa! This is freaky!" He said. "Everyone looks exactly like ME!"

We pulled up to the kindergarten drop off area and after lots of kisses and gigantic hugs, Luke opened the door and hopped out. He glanced back at me as the teacher closed the door, and the tears that had been stoically suspended all morning suddenly came in gushing force.

"Oh no no no no! This was not supposed to happen! We were so prepared for this day! Just drive away..." I told myself even though every part of me wanted to jump out and squeeze my baby and tell him that everything was going to be okay. He would have such fun in class, and make so many friends, his teacher would adore him, he would learn so many fascinating things, and no, he was not going to grow up before my tear-filled eyes...

I did drive away, my vision clouded by the mist of tears shed for time that has passed too quickly.

When Luke got home he burst through the door ran into my lonely arms exclaiming "Mom, I love school!" Through his detailed account of the hours spent in kindergarten I learned that one girl in his class cried as she left her mom.

"Well, I'm glad that YOU were brave and didn't cry," I said to him.

He looked at me with a puzzled grin and said "Why would I cry? It's just school--everybody has to go to school."

"Don't I know it, buddy, everybody (even my baby!) has to go to school."

It's a wrap!

Well, it's official...summer vacation 2008 has come to an end.

School starts tomorrow and our days of staying up late, sleeping in (8:30 even 9 some days!), and planning our days as we go along are a thing of the past as we look toward ninth (LAST year of middle school!), seventh(FIRST year of middle school!), and fourth grades...as well as KINDERGARTEN!

We bid farewell to a lovely summer suffused with all of our traditional activities including Lagoon, the fountains at Gateway, irrigation, Sugarhouse Park, Draper Days, Scofield and St. George...and recall with fond memories American Idol and Chris's new pool. We revel in our expired status as "the new family," and will always count this summer as a turning point in establishing fabulous new friendships while forever preserving the old.



Little things will always remind us of summer 08'...any mention of Michael Phelps, or the theme song of Phineas and Ferb. Treyson's arrival, Aunt Linda's passing, anniversaries (eighteen years!), and birthdays...all encompassed within three months of relaxing, chaotic, frolicking, summertime bliss!

Adoption is a wondrous thing

I have had the opportunity to experience the joy, the uncertainty and the glorious miracle of adoption through my sister, Chris, and her husband and family.

Almost nineteen months ago Braxton entered our world and became my favorite soul on earth. He was adopted by Chris and Jas after they very faithfully followed the promptings that lead them in his sweet, dark-skinned direction. Satisfied with a realized life-long goal and desire to adopt a brown baby, Chris felt that her family was complete. After a short time, however, she and Jason both knew that there was another baby meant to join them by the same route that their fourth little one had arrived.
They never planned to have five children, but they knew they must have five children...three of their own making, Braxton, and one more to match their
chocolate-bunny baby.

Once their minds were made up, they left the rest up to Heavenly Father. They trusted that he would lay out a path for them to follow and would find the baby that belonged to their family. Once again they were led, and they followed without falter to the situation that would secure the presence of their fifth child.


Treyson was born last week, and what a miracle he is. His birth was complicated, but he is strong at a strapping five pounds eleven ounces. One look into his precious olive-toned face and it is so obvious that he is where he is supposed to be. The bond with these little ones that enter our family in a bit of an unconventional way is just as strong as with those that were actually, physically delivered by my sisters.
I am so grateful for a healthy, beautiful new nephew, and for his remarkably unselfish, constantly faithful parents who will serve as an example to me forever.

To be a vampire...or a writer...

Stephanie Meyer is my hero...for a couple of reasons...

First of all, she provided me with four fabulous days of distraction and pure vicariousness as I escaped almost unnoticed from the predictable chaos that is my life to the little town of Forks, Washington and into the enchanting and irresistible existence of the Cullens--a coven of vampires, and their long-haired neighbors/sworn enemies--the legendary werewolves of La Push.
Within my diversion I could visualize the Cullen's white house deep within the forest, I could see Edward's crooked smile and feel his icy touch. I could relate to Bella's conflicted pain as she attempted to maneuver her way through the maze of addled feelings she had for Jacob.

I found myself making frequent references to "imprinting," "Volturi," and "newborn vampire" like they were relevant to my everyday life. Discussions with friends were focused solely on the actions of our beloved vampires, and their immortal destinies.

As I made my way through each captivating chapter I found myself wondering at times why I was so enthralled by this novel series. I tend to gravitate toward "good literature." I enjoy books that are well written and life changing. I appreciate historical novels, and love a challenging book that tests my knowledge and expands my literary boundaries. But I am absolutely smitten (obsessed) with the Twilight series. I know that these books would be ripped to shreds in an English Lit class, and they bear no relevance to the real world, but they are fun...and entertaining...and addictive. They provide a respite from kids and cleaning, grocery shopping and carpooling. With an open mind and a little imagination even the most intellectual, astute reader may just find themselves wishing--even THIRSTING--(see there I go again with the lingo) to become a beautiful, indestructible immortal creature (aka...vampire!!).

Stehanie's heroic act number two in my mind is her success story. Five years ago Stephanie Meyer was just like us...stay-at-home LDS mom with three kids, lots of laundry and endless meals to fix. She never planned to become a writer--it just happened--literally overnight as she dreamt about Edward and Bella and their complicated and dangerous love affair. She is now a highly acclaimed author, compared to the likes of ...J.K. Rowling...!

I believe her story should serve as a motivating factor to all of us who love to express our thoughts and ideas through writing. Who knows who will come up with the next intriguing story to lure legions of fans into a fictional world derived from pure imagination, perseverance and tenacity...(personally, my money's on Brooke...)

I have a half-baked novel that has been rolling around in my head for ages that someday...sigh...I hope to put actual words to. I wouldn't expect overwhelming fortune as experienced by Miss Stephanie, but just a bit of recognition would be so sweet.

So...Read on...Write frequently...Dream big. There you go.