A doctor, two dentists, and a lesson on beauty

The plan was never to go to the monuments, the plan was to eat good food, drink more drinks than we probably should, laugh at the weeks misadventures and make a few memories our last night at the conference in DC. I am still not quite sure who made the decision or how we got there, but last night, somewhere around one in the  morning I found myself starting my Armed Forces Day Celebration in the heart of the National Monuments with two of the finest Army dentists and one of the Army's newest docs.

Because we were touring the monuments so late we had the freedom to explore alone, no busy tour groups, no noise or madness, it was just the four of us, it was one of the most peaceful moments in my life and it was happening in one of the busiest cities in the country.

As we walked through the Korean War memorial I focused little on the faces etched in the wall, but stopped to read the cards, look at the photos, and smell the flowers left behind. I ran my hand along the wall at the chance to touch something so beautiful that meant so much to so many and in an instant when I stopped to take it all in I looked to my right and there was one of the dentists, a young Captain, with his hand outstretched running his fingers over the wall exactly how I had. We both just stared at each other in silence and when he spoke he said, "you are really beautiful you know."  It startled me at first (it has been a long time since any man who was not my husband dare say such a thing) but I realized that it wasn't any sort of physical beauty that sparked his words, the beauty was in the way I was experiencing the world, the way I was choosing to experience that moment. I know that this is true because at the same time he saw beauty in me, I saw beauty in him for the exact same reason. This type of beauty is eternal, the beauty of an open and humble heart, a pure  beauty that allows someone to see something over and over again but still only be seeing it for the first time. 

 I think it has been a long time since I have been that kind of beautiful. 

When we reached the top of the stairs at the Lincoln Memorial I realized that the dentist and I were staring right up at Lincoln completely awe struck by this amazing piece of history, but the doctor, where was he? He was sitting on the steps next to Lincoln, not looking at him, but looking out over the water at the Washington Monument with him. It was as if they were two old friends catching up as they watched the ducks paddle by. For the doctor, the beauty was not in the the grandeur of the monument, the unchanging Lincoln statue, the beauty he sought was in sharing the same view, the same outlook as this historical giant. 

As for the other dentist, she gave me a refresher on feminine beauty, what beauty that comes along with confidence that you will not allow to be shattered looks like. As we walked through the statues and monuments of the historical men of our country she reminded me of the beauty  that exudes from a strong professional women, fighting for her place in a man's world. This is a special beauty that can only be seen by other women. 

If you have a chance to see the monuments, see them at night, when the rest of the world has gone to bed, when "the entire world is quietly at peace." You will see unimaginable beauty. 

37 Letters

The Army did a lot of wonderful things for me, it paved the way for me to find my career, paid for two degrees, helped me find my husband, and in a lot of ways helped me find myself. The most amazing thing the Army did, however, was take me away from home. This might sound a little bit backwards, but the truth is if I had never left home, never gone to basic training, I never would not have in my hands today one of my most valued possessions. You see when I went away from home, for the very first time, and was away from my mom for the very first time, she wrote me. 37 letters she wrote me.  37 times on paper she told me about her day, about her friends, about my friends, and 37 times she told me that I was special to her and that she loved me. This might not seem terribly significant, but 1 year 10 months and 26 days after I left for the Army, my mom lost her battle with breast cancer. 

I would like to say that every memory of my mom is as clear as the day the memories were made, but now almost 12 years after her death, the memories have started to fade. Not the big memories of who she was but the little memories, the memories of her quirks and idiosyncrasies, the little things that remind me how much I am growing up to be like her. 

But then there are the 37 letters, 37 moments cemented in time for me to hold on to, for me to revisit whenever I want. Those letters are proof to me that time travel already exists; those letters are my time machine back to my mom, those are the memories that can never be erased no matter how much time goes by. These are the memories my children are guaranteed of the grandmother they never got to meet. 

So now today is Mother's Day and as we moms spend our days celebrating I challenge you to ask for one thing this Mother's Day and every Mother's Day to come. One hour. One hour to sit and write a letter to your children. Tell them about who they are and also about who you are. Tell them what your dreams are for them and for you. Spelling doesn't count, and it doesn't have to be anything fancy, although my mom loved colored paper and stickers, it just has to be a memory, one that you cement in time. Start your children's time machine now so that some day, when a day comes when you can't be together, they always have a way back to you. 

Happy Mother's Day 

To Infinity and Beyond

It really should come as no surprise that Case's whole world surrounds Buzz Lightyear, it is, of course, in his blood. 

You should probably know that growing up I wanted to be a lot of things, clown (in all seriousness here makeup, big shoes, tiny car), doctor, first woman president, firefighter, math teacher, but above all, astronaut. Yes, thank you for noticing it doesn't get much dorkier than that list (I even made up that part about the firefighter to seem cooler than I am).

Actual proof of my inner nerd, and the fact that I have been short my whole life. 

Yes, I wrote an actual letter to NASA

For as long as I can remember my entire life has been focused on the "what" of growing up. In fact some of my earliest memories are surrounding the all too common question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" Let me say that I am a Patient Safety Manager, and I can say with 100% certainty that I never answered the question "I want to be a Patient Safety Manager." 

There have been times where I have thought maybe I have sold myself short on my dreams and goals and it wasn't until this past January during an informal job interview that it finally all made sense. I was devastated that I would not be offered my dream job, or at least at the time what I deemed my dream job, so I was interviewing for a second position. The funny part of the whole thing is the job I was so broken up about, I actually was offered, accepted, and am still working in today. But back to the story...the man interviewing me looked me square in the eye and asked me "what do you want to be when you grow up?" I don't know where it came from but I told him simply "I don't really want to be anything, I just want to be a better version of who I am now" he didn't ask me another question, he just smiled and offered me the job on the spot. 

You see it took me 31 years to realize that it doesn't necessarily matter what you become, what matters is who you become. Now I won't argue that there aren't a lot of important jobs out there; we need doctors, nurses, teachers, policemen, scientists, and farmers. 

More than anything what we need is to be authentic versions of ourselves and we can do that in any path we chose, soldier, stay-at-home mom, cashier, secretary, professor, and even Patient Safety Manager. 

I want to encourage Case and Liv in all of their dreams but I never want them to lose sight of the people they are destined to become, I never want them to sacrifice the who for the what. 

 As for the astronaut thing, in Case you were wondering, Curtis came to pick me up for our first motorcycle date (and no, I didn't make that part up, he is definitely the cool half of this couple) and gave me a helmet to wear on the ride. I ended up with the most terrible helmet hair around, surely a space helmet would have done just as much damage if not more, so thankfully after that I have never had to look back and regret not choosing to pursue that path.  

Long after I am gone I feel certain that very few people in this world will remember "what" I was but my hope is they will share stories and smile about who I was.

Is your identity wrapped up in what you are or who you are?

Blueberry Seeds and a Thing Called Love

Curtis recently asked me if I ever do any "bloggin' or facespacin'" about him. Yes, he calls Facebook,  Facespace and is about a decade behind the rest of the world in social networking; he also does not read this blog. I feel very confident that  if my blog ever becomes a TV show I will easily have a second priority recording on the DVR after Duck Dynasty, Doomsday Preppers, or Finding Bigfoot.

It is only fair, as I lovingly joke about my husband, that I take a minute to say that my husband is an amazing man. He is great to me and the kids, handles all the finances,  keeps up the lawn and the house, does most of the cooking and cleaning (to include 100% of the dishes), and keeps me laughing through all of that. However, you should know that my husband is not "that" guy. Curtis is not the guy who is going to remember Valentine's Day or Mother's Day and admittedly even anniversaries and birthdays are a stretch for him. He isn't the guy to buy flowers, write love notes, or do anything that would border on romantic. You should also know however, that he hasn't changed, because when we were dating he still wasn't "that" guy. In fact he used to send me the largest and most practical packages when we were dating and I was deployed. Short of his name on the return address label there was nothing to indicate it was from him; no "love you" or "thinking of you" not even a "miss you." He is very much today the same man that I met and fell in love with; that includes all of the good and all of the less good. 

Yes, this is the man I fell in love with and married 

All too often we expect a magical change in our significant other once they become our husband or wife and our disappointed when changing their title doesn't change who they are. It's like this, most days of the week I drink a blueberry protein smoothie. It is delicious, but every time I drink it my teeth are completely covered in blueberry seeds. It is a huge hassle to floss them out, but I do it because it is a delicious smoothie and it makes me happy. So let's just say one day I wake up and say I am not going to call this a blueberry protein smoothie anymore I love this drink so much I am going to call it my "super blue power pump-me-up party punch." I drink my "party punch" and when my teeth get covered in blueberry seeds I am disappointed by it. I think this causes a lot of issues in marriages; we expect that by getting married we will no longer end up with blueberry seeds in our teeth. 

The truth is when you love someone and agree to marry them, you agree to accept their flaws and you have only two choices. You can try to change them (this won't work by the way) or you can try to change yourself. 

I take you back to Curtis. Not only is Mother's Day coming, but I leave on a business trip that Sunday morning, and Curtis comes back from the field the day before. I know in my heart of hearts that he will not have time to plan something (nor will he have thought about about it) and I will have my feelings hurt. So I go back to the two choices. I can wait for him to come up with something (again this is a terrible choice because I already told you it won't happen) or I can tell him what I need. I can make the choice to communicate with the man I love or I can be broken hearted and then get mad and hold who he is, who I accepted when I married him, against him. I did the only thing I could; I sat him down and I said "look honey, we need to talk about Mother's Day." His response was to be expected "oh crap, did I miss it?" I explained to him that he didn't miss it, but that if he wasn't careful he would. I also told him how hard it would be for me to leave the kids on Mother's Day for work (talk about your ultimate Mom guilt) and that I needed him to work really hard to make it special for me. I told him to go ahead and start Googling "best Mother's Day ideas."

I guarantee while it may be awkward at first, your spouse or significant other will love you for talking to them and accepting who they are and trying to work with them. Some of you might argue that come Mother's Day when I have something special waiting for me it is less special because I had to tell him. I would argue back, what is more special than being able to openly talk with your husband, have him listen, and respond to what you truly need? 

If you are holding the person you love against them, stop it. Go out and buy the best floss you can find and accept the blueberry seeds as a part of your happiness.

"The Three Truths About Mom Guilt"

A good friend of mine and I were recently texting back and forth about motherhood and she expressed to me how she felt guilty for having two perfectly happy healthy children that she didn't deserve, and basically that she was not doing enough or being enough as their mom. This is a phenomenon known as mom guilt and while I don't have any actual data to back it up, I would venture to say it affects 100% of good moms at some point in their lives as moms. Mom guilt is debilitating, it is what keeps us up at night when we give our kids milk that expires tomorrow or even worse, expired yesterday. We know it is only a matter of time before dysentery sets in and we make the Fox News morning report as "world's worst mom." We toss and turn and lose sleep and check in on our kids, losing the few precious hours of sleep we have, only to find them happy and healthy and asking for more of that same expired milk the next morning. We, of course, would never dream of giving them this potentially deadly milk, so we pour it into our coffee and continue our day.  Mom guilt makes us strive to be and do all that we can for our kids but feel bad when we work too much or not enough, when we are too strict in our rules or not strict enough, and when we can't seem to keep up with our fellow moms. 

There are three ultimate truths that you need to understand when it comes to mom guilt...

The first  is that in order to be afflicted with mom guilt you must already be a good mom. It's a lot like testicular cancer, you can't get it if you don't have testicles. Bad moms don't suffer from mom guilt.  So, rest assured, as you are questioning your choices, losing sleep, and comparing yourself to all of those Pinterest moms out there (no offense meant because I am one of those Pinterest moms) you are already a good mom. 

The second is that you are the right mom for your kids. Seriously let go of some of the guilt and know that no one is more suited for your kids than you, no one can do it better for them than you. Even when you feel like the worst mom in the world, you yelled, you screamed, you let them eat 4 string cheese sticks and a pack of M&Ms for dinner; you are their very best mom for them. I promise.

The last truth of mom guilt is that how you thought it would be and how it actually is will never match up; that doesn't mean that it can't be amazing. Let go of the way you thought it would be and open your eyes to how amazing it is. The truth is that what you always pictured could never compare to what is right in front of you happening every day. In my wildest dreams of parenting I imagined camping trips, and family movie nights, muffin making, and Boy Scouts. What did I have tonight after the screaming toddler dust settled? A 2 1/2 year old who can sing every word of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and is handing me a stack of at least ten stories saying "read these to my couch mommy." I know what he means is read them to me on the couch, and I also know that I never could have imagined this moment no matter how hard I tried. 

Smiles in between stories 

The first of many...

This weekend was an amazing weekend of firsts at our house. Liv walked for the first time and completely amazed all of us. She just hit ten months and let's say does not have the body of a walker quite yet. She has, however, become unstoppable! Now, not to be outdone by his sister Case used the potty for the first time, and to say he was proud was an understatement. I am pretty sure that someday when he accepts the Noble Peace Prize it will in no way compare to his excitement of going on the potty; worry not, his mom will be there to share this tidbit with the presses.

Sitting down after her walk, she looks like a porcelain doll. 

Seeing so many things out that window for the first time.

I started thinking about how exciting firsts really are and the memories they cement in our hearts and minds forever. I cannot remember a lot of things in my 31 years of life but my first kiss, the first day I got  my driver's license, the first time Curtis told me he loved me, the first time I saw Case and Liv, my first day as a nurse, first day in the Army, these memories are as vivid as the day they happened. Don't believe me...

Brandon Welch, Sadie Hawkins dance Serrano High School, freshman year. We got married at the "hoe down" and I still have the ring. It was my first kiss and my first tongue kiss all at the same time.

My dad kept me home from school to take my driver's test at the Victorville DMV. I was wearing a teal Roxy shirt because I knew it would look great in my picture, and I was confident in my abilities. I got to go in late to Mr. Gregory's Algebra II class and announce to all my friends. I had to wear a white sweater over my teal Roxy shirt when I went back to school because the spaghetti straps were against the dress code.

Curtis told me he loved me in the bathroom of his Floyd Street house at a party, all I wanted to do was pee.

Case? I remember thinking "who is this little blonde haired boy with the perfectly round head?"

Liv? I remember thinking "another blonde? I am so sorry about your head" she had the worst cone head in the history of heads.

I wore a Mighty Mouse t-shirt the day I left for the Army.

I was an Army Nurse, MAJ Norman was my head nurse and her hair smelled so strange to me.

I know that Case and Liv will not remember these milestones, but I will always carry them with me. There will be so many more firsts for them, but how many more firsts will I have? My new firsts are completely intertwined with them, as are all of my future memories. I wonder though when was the last time I did something for the first time? What things have I been waiting to do? More importantly why have I been waiting? What is holding me back from creating new "first" memories?

When was the last time you had a first? 

"hold my hand, melt my heart"

This last weekend the Kelly family participated in the Great Strides Cystic Fibrosis walk.  Although the kids are too young now there is something very nice about surrounding them with community and awareness. 

The sun was shining and the crowd was filled with shades of purple (the cystic fibrosis awareness color). Liv was my little social butterfly, all smiles for the crowd. Case was in an especially two year old mood as we met up with our team. He whined and cried and refused to do anything but pout by the stroller. I was a little disappointed because I had hoped he would play with his friends from daycare and be charming and wonderful with the adults (sometimes I forget who I am dealing with). 

Then something amazing happened, the walk started and Case's demeanor completely changed. He started walking in that big crowd of people, we lost our group to include Curtis and Liv, we were of course walking at his tiny leg speed, but Case was smiling. He was chatting with people walking by telling them about alligators and monsters, he was running small bursts with other kids that came by. He said "look mommy, I go faster and faster" and every now and then he said "come on mommy, hold my hand." That kid can push me to my breaking point and melt my heart all in the same moment. I started thinking about why we were at the walk; we were walking for my friend Tammy's Godson who is living with cystic fibrosis.  I remembered how lucky I am to have not one, but two healthy kids. I remembered that somewhere a mom is wishing that her child was well enough to be a "terrible two year old" wishing her child had lived long enough to be a "terrible two year old." I remembered there is no guarantee in this life that Case will always be healthy, all that can change in an instant. I looked at Case and thought about him; maybe he isn't so terrible after all. 

He is however extremely sensitive and cautious of the world. He is unbelievably smart and funny but only once he trusts you enough to let you see that. He isn't terrible, he is selective, a tiny little man who knows what he wants and what he doesn't want. 

Case walked the entire mile and I have never been more proud. I always refer to Liv as my joy, but Case, he is my pride.

Who or what are you taking for granted that someone else might be wishing for?

Thanks for Nothing Cinderella...

I suppose it isn't entirely too surprising that all over the world girls both young and old are getting their hearts broken on a daily basis, and I will be the one to say it; I blame Cinderella. From as far back as I can recall I have known the story of Cinderella, a classic for all tiny princesses. Cinderella captivates the prince in just moments, he is the most handsome and the richest of men; he is, of course, a prince. He in turns searches high and low to find her and rescues her from her life of oppression and servitude for the good life at the royal palace. 

Cinderella is a magically, wonderfully, incomplete story of love. 

It is no wonder that at 16 I was prepared to be "rescued" by my prince. My boyfriend at the time promised me all the riches in the world, the castle to live in, the happily ever after, and as a bonus he would free me from the prison that was my parents. At the time, this seemed a fabulous idea, it worked for Cinderella right? It is a wonder that I did not lose it all in the quest for my Cinderella story because I almost walked away from all I knew and loved at the time and ultimately ended up broken hearted. 

It was again no surprise again that when I met my first husband who was the total "Prince Package" that I married him even though I knew it would ultimately end. My head told me it was a mistake but marrying him made me Cinderella. I got the beautiful gown and the beautiful pictures to place together in my very own Cinderella story book (purchased for me by his mom of course). The problem is that Cinderella doesn't teach us what to do when Prince Charming sleeps with another girl, hurts us physically or emotionally, or makes us forget our worth. Cinderella doesn't teach us how to walk away from the wrong man and fight for the right one. Cinderella is failing her tiny princesses everywhere. 

I don't mean this to sound cynical by any means, because I want Liv to believe in fairy tales and happily ever afters, I just want her to believe in real life versions. I want her to know that love is not always fancy dresses, magic wishes, and being rescued; that Cinderella has to make sacrifices, openly communicate and be honest and loyal to Prince Charming. I want her to know that Prince Charming's come in all shapes and sizes and that there is more to love than looks, money,  and the size of his castle (ha, ha get your minds out of the gutter, this is sweet, not dirty).  I want her to know that even though he may not always love her exactly as she had planned it doesn't mean he doesn't love her with all that he has, and that he is worth fighting for. And even when she finds her Prince Charming and realizes he is not quite the man she had pictured in her dreams, he might just be her happily ever after. 

For the record, I found my Prince Charming, how about you? 

I HATE running!

For the last ten years I have hated running! I hate getting dressed to go in those shorts with the lining that never fits quite right, and a sports bra that flattens my already flat chest. Then once you get going there is the ground and pound on your joints and that hurts and then there is all the sweating. Of course, let's not forget the judgement of all the other people passing you by at the park. Endorphins, shmorphins....running is not for me, or at least, it wasn't for me.

As it turns out for the last ten years I must have been running with my eyes closed. Because today, when I laced up my shoes and headed out the door I opened my eyes and saw some of the most amazing sights that I ever could have seen all in a matter of 30 minutes.

I saw my past...

I saw a woman making her way around the park trying to get in shape because her doctor explained to her that being healthy would improve her chances of conceiving a child; no doubt her head was filled with baby names and future nursery themes. I remember being torn between a Dr. Seuss nursery, dinosaurs, or pirate monkeys for Case.

Then there was the 9 month pregnant woman making her best attempt at power waking in an effort to get labor started; surely the desire to meet her little girl and the exhaustion of being pregnant was her motivation. I walked that same track trying to get Liv out, I was so tired of being pregnant and I couldn't wait to see if I finally got my little brunette baby (p.s. I didn't by the way).

There was a woman pushing a stroller with a newborn baby struggling to shed that baby weight for the summer season not realizing that she has a baby now and no one is looking at her, they are all looking at that perfect little person in the stroller.

I saw my present...

A secret society of women just like me; busy moms loving just a few minutes of alone time but still feeling a little guilty for taking time for ourselves. We share a glance as we pass by, the kind of glance that acknowledges our struggles, compliments our hard work and seems to say "I feel your pain, I respect you, and you rock" all without saying a word.

I saw my future...

A woman running around the park with her 10 year old son on his bike yelling "come on mom, pick it up!"I could almost hear Case, and I am sure he would be using something as a sword to joust me around the track.

Then there was the woman running side by side with her teenage daughter talking about the prom and high school graduation next month. I couldn't help but think about what color prom dress Liv would pick and where she would decide to go to college.

And then there was an old man and an old woman walking together hand in hand enjoying their time together. I have no doubt that in all the craziness of the world they only saw each other at that track as they walked for their health and the hope of just a little more time together. I saw myself and I saw Curtis, grey hair and wrinkles, sharing laughs about our grand kids.

Then just to prove that life is comedy, a woman came roller skating by with a broken arm in a purple cast.

As I came around the corner back to the house I completely forgot about my flat chest because I was focused on my fit body, and the fact that it was strong enough to get me all the way around the park two times. I didn't really mind the sweat and I guess I somehow missed out on the ground and pound. It turns out that the thing I spent so long convincing myself I hated I actually love. As for that judgement, no one was judging me, they were each having their own experience, making their own memories. I was just an extra in their life just as they were in mine. For ten years the only person judging me while I was out on a run was me.

Where could you turn hate into love if you only opened your eyes? 

Sweat and all! 

The park where I learned to love running

Free to Choose...

One of the first people I met when I started my nursing career was Ms. Loresa Crawford. She was a tough as nails, no nonsense night nurse who taught me how to treat a patient that has had too much morphine, how to pair chicken and waffles for the perfect meal, and most importantly she taught me about the power of choice. I once asked her how she maintained her positive attitude and most importantly how she managed to continue to look 20 years younger than she actually is. She told me "no one commands my day but me." She explained to me that we cannot chose what happens in our life, we can only chose how we react to it, that we are the product of all of our choices. It is easy to focus on what is happening in our day to day and forget that our life is full of choices. It's easy to feel stuck and get focused on the things we feel we "have to" do but the truth is we are free to make choices every day. I must borrow from one of my favorite books Life's Greatest Lessons, 20 Things That Matter by Hal Urban to highlight our freedom of choice, remember we are free to choose...

"We're free to choose our character-the type of persons we become. We can allow ourselves to be molded by others and our environment, or we can commit ourselves to self-development. We can become less than we're capable of, or we can become all we are capable of.

We're free to choose our values. We can let the media tell us what's important, or we an decide for ourselves. We can base our standards on what others are doing, or we can base them and what we know is right and good. 

We're free to choose how to treat other people. We can put them down, or lift them up. We can be self-centered and inconsiderate, or we can be respectful, kind and helpful. 

We're free to choose how to handle adversity. We can allow ourselves to be crushed, to give up, and to feel sorry for ourselves. Or we can choose to look for a source of strength and persevere, and to make the most out of what life deals us. 

We're free to choose how much we'll learn. We can look upon learning as an unpleasant duty or as a great opportunity for entering ourselves. We can be closed-minded or open-minded; we can be stagnant, or we can grow. 

We're free to choose what we'll accomplish in life. We can allow our circumstances or other people to determine what we make of ourselves, or we can choose our own directions and goals. We can be undisciplined and lazy or we can be self-disciplined and hardworking. 

We're free to choose our own belief system. We can ignore our spiritual nature, or we can accept it as an important dimension of life. 

We're free to choose our own purpose. We can wonder aimlessly, or we can search for a meaning in life, and then live according to it. We can live to please only ourselves, or we can find a cause that's greater, one that helps us understand and appreciate life more fully. 

We're free to choose our attitude regardless of circumstances." 

And lastly, from the book of me, we are free to choose who we love and how we love them, how we give love and how we receive love; we are free to love by choice and not by chance.

What will you choose today? 



The words and the "why" left unsaid...

My mom died when I was 19 years old, after a long and painful battle with breast cancer. It was, and still remains, the most painful experience of my life to date. In the 12 years since her death I have never once regretted not telling her I loved her, but I have regretted not telling her why I loved her. In fact, as a teenager I spent a lot of time telling her why I hated her and I am not sure that I ever repaired those wounds I inflicted by telling her why I loved her. I think it is a common regret when we lose someone. It is not that the person didn't know we loved them, obviously my mom knew I loved her, but it is the "why" the "love because" that went unsaid that leads to regret. It would stand to reason that because of this experience I would be better at telling the important people in my life why I love them and yet I am chronically complacent about it.

Perhaps we don't tell the people we love why because we have this belief of immortality, that those we love will never leave us, and that we will never leave them. I think things are left unsaid because we always assume there will be time to say them, but the painful truth remains that time is never a guarantee, not our time and not their time.

Now, following my mom's death my father remarried a wonderful woman named Lorrie, who had recently lost her husband to lymphoma. My dad moved into her house where her and her children lived and she turned it into our home too. She filled the halls with our childhood pictures, with pictures of my mom. She did everything she knew to try to make us a part of the family. Now of course, my brother, my sister, and I gripe over all of our childhood memories that were yard-saled  and thrown away during the merging of the households, but as a mom myself now I know that not everything can be saved. Lorrie organized boxes of our childhood photos and put them into photo albums, the photos weren't thrown away. She was there at my first wedding and did her best to support me through a painful divorce. She pinned my nursing school pin on at my college graduation, and I don't think I have ever known anyone as excited to become a grandma. The stockings that hang for Case and Liv at Christmas time were made by her with love. She also makes my dad happy, she kept him from being alone, and kept me from having to worry about him. She gave me a gold cross before I deployed to Iraq that her mom had given her. My mom hasn't been here for my adult years because she couldn't be and Lorrie has been here but doesn't have to be.

We don't always agree on everything, don't get me wrong (especially when it comes to my step-brothers) but I can say 100% that she has done the very best she knows how to. Do you think she knows that I feel this way? Maybe, but if she does, it isn't because she heard it from me.

I think I fall into the trap of waiting on others to take action and then blaming them when they don't make the effort. I have used every excuse when it comes to making an effort, "well they never call" or "they don't visit enough" or "they don't write or send gifts" always followed by "so why should I?"  It's important to remember that it has nothing to do with our effort verses someone else's effort, especially when it comes to family. Our family may not always be who we want them to be, but we can always be who we want to be. We only have the choice in our actions not those of others.

Reminding myself of this, I chose to write Lorrie a letter. As I sat and wrote my words to her I realized how much I cared about her and how little effort I have made for her lately, especially since having kids of my own. It made me realize how many people in my life I stopped making an effort for, or maybe never started making much effort for. Is there someone in your life who would benefit from your effort?

I regret not telling my mom all the reasons why I loved her, my "because," who would be your regret? 

"Case, I love you because..."

A few weeks ago I was at my wits end with Case. I'm talking, I was already drafting my Craigslist add:

2 1/2 year old blonde hair blue eyed boy seeks forever home with great patience and understanding. He is up to date on all shots but not yet housebroken.  Pictures upon request, rehoming fee applies.

I cried, I screamed, I prayed that the sky would rain Xanax...alas nothing but clear skies. It was then I came to the realization that Case was every bit of two and maybe my greatest chance for success, and by success, I mean sanity, was to change myself. The very next morning when I woke up at 4:30, and by that I mean when Case walked in my room, turned on the light and said "mommy, lets please be awake" (he has phenomenal manners before dawn). I picked up my phone and set my alarm to go off every 15 minutes for the entire day. I told myself that no matter what was happening I would stop what I was doing and tell Case "I love you Case, I love you because..."  My intent here was 100% selfish because it wasn't to make him feel love but to remind me of my love for him.

So I did it, in the middle of laundry, in the middle of tantrums, in the middle of Walmart. Let me tell you it is easy to say I love you, but to tell someone the “because” of your love is difficult. I am not saying it is hard to think of the reasons but it is awkward to say them out loud. The first 15 minute alarm I stopped Case and I said "Case, I love you because you are such a good big brother," it was painfully awkward to say it out loud. The next alarm I stopped him and said "Case, I love you because you are so funny, and you make mommy and daddy laugh." I did this for 16 hours; I only missed 2 times and that was during a short nap in which I whispered to myself, "Case I love you because you are asleep."

At the end of the day two amazing things came out of this project. The first was that every time that alarm went off Case would look at me and wait for his "I love you because," although my motives were selfish I made an amazingly positive day for Case. The second was that at the end of the day I was happy. I wasn't stressed out at him. I deleted my drafted Craigslist post, and I was more in love with being his mom than ever. I want to say that this drastically improved his behavior, but it I didn't, it drastically improved mine.

I challenge you to go ahead and give this a try, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

 Let me know how it turns out!