The Year of Get er Done.

When Dad left earth I sat back on my heels and realized some things. I don't have a million years here. Self care or the lack thereof affects everyone, not just myself. And life is too short to let insecurities and weird crap hold you back. I had a year of healing/realizing but the next one was "get er done." I got my mole removed, took Jody on a honeymoon, had my wisdom teeth extracted and got braces. These silly 'unfinished business' items were dragging me down. They were things I really wanted, yet I always denied myself while wasting money on Starbucks and silly fripperies. As the year wraps up, I realize all of these little things are leading up to the big one. I have to decide what I'm going to be when Hazel goes to kindergarten. Will I be a retail clerk at Home Depot? Go to seminary? Get a Real Estate license? Go to college and just see what they can make me into? Go to trade school and become a welder? I don't know yet and I am realizing that this decision is the one that has always paralyzed me. I don't know if it's a lack of self confidence or a fear of making a mistake. Luckily for me, Jody will support and encourage me. He always has. But if I could just keep 2015 a little longer and put this off... I probably would... even if I had to get my wisdom teeth pulled again. 

Haze Craze

Sometimes the Hazel stories come so fast and so furious that I realize I need to just sit down and write it down so I can read it all in a few years and laugh myself silly.
So, if you go to Boulder you WILL cross paths with a panhandler. They are so heartbreaking and are literally on every single corner. I've raised three kids who would give these sad people our last penny and bring them home to live with us if I agreed to it. I haven't ever agreed because I've had very very crazy experiences with homeless people not because I have any inner warnings or inhibitions. The other day one was by the exit to the grocery store so I quickly hopped out and grabbed him something from my groceries at Hazels feet and asked if he liked yogurt. He assented so I handed him a couple of chobani choco loco flips. I jumped back into the drivers seat and my dear sweet Hazel unloaded on me. "Why did you just do that? Why did you give him my favorite yogurt? What does his sign even say? Does it say "I have nothing!?" I stuttered a shocked reply that it said "anything helps" and that he liked that yogurt too. She wasn't finished. "Does he have no home or something?" I replied to the best of my knowledge "well, I don't think so." She exhaled in great annoyance and said "Never do that again! Never give him my favorite yogurt again!" I verged between hysterical laughter and horror. How had I raised this child four years and never imparted a sense of compassion for those less fortunate? How could she be one of my four? I called Jody and relayed the entire dismaying tale to him and from the back seat one more explosion blasted into the phone "NEVER AGAIN!"  We both couldn't hold it back, we erupted, laughing and saying "Who is this child?"
The next day I asked her to share her grilled cheese sandwich with Elijah and she simply said "Ok, I like to share with people I KNOW."
Mind you, Hazel has a creative streak like Eden. While Eden was ceaseless with her havoc, Hazel has spurts and streaks and lulls. I don't know which is worse. While I had to stay constantly vigilant with Eden which was very stressful, Hazel lulls me into a sense of false security for weeks or months on end doing mostly harmless things. But when it hits and it always does, there is a shock that I have to work through before I'm able to react. Like the other day when I came out of the bathroom and found her at the woven coffee table with every finger paint open and large quantities poured into cups. with drips and clumps all around. Her pleased and confident demeanor did not falter in seeing my face as I surveyed her and Austin stirring and congratulating one another. I exploded. PMS ok? Gosh I'm not a saint. After scrubbing and cleaning and wiping crevices for a very long time with Q-tips I assessed her attitude... casual dismissal of the whole thing, eating her macaroni and cheese like a princess. I gave a few more ineffectual shouts and heard Austin peep "I told you it was a bad idea Hazel." The next day I opened the freezer and pulled out a cup... that clearly had paint in it.
I said "Hazel what in the world is this?"
She trotted over, smiled proudly and took it from my hand poking it with a very happy air and said "it's my experiment!"
I patiently repeated my question and she said "Oh, it's yogurt and paint!" I want to take it out of the cup! Can you help me get it out?"
At this point I had a hazy memory of sweeping a chobani yogurt cup into the trash as I cleaned up the coffee table.
I firmly faced her and told her that no, she was not to take it out of the cup and that I was very very upset about that whole entire mess the day before. I announced that I was putting it on the counter to thaw so I could throw it away and marched back to my laundry life. All of my children have always quailed in fear at my "angry voice". Not so much Haze. She just waited for my dramatic exit and picked up her cup and headed to her bedroom.
The next morning I went to Hazel's bedroom and went into her closet to gather things for her ballet recital. I saw a nice bathroom hand towel spread upon the floor with an upside down very very familiar cup resting on it. I might have said a bad word or two. I scooped it up and headed to the kitchen howling like a werewolf. By some wild miracle the "experiment" did not penetrate the towel.
I will end that tale here. But it IS recorded so when she has little monkeys she will never ever be able to say "I never..." or "I always..."
There was also the day that I was running all directions and Hazel went in my room and closed the door. I popped in and she was perched in my bed seemingly innocently enough with her kindle. Later, at dinner Jody asked her what was all over her. I looked over and realized her whole shirt was brown with chocolate and her fingernails were full of chocolate and her entire face was covered in chocolate. I still didn't really process. I just tipped my head and asked where she got chocolate.
Where my other children have exhibited shame, she just revealed a hopeful smile and said "mommy's chocolate in her bedroom." It was a very large bag of ghirardelli candy cane chocolate bars.
My eyes got large and I said "how many did you eat?"
She dipped her chin like the best of liars and said "three".
Jody and I looked at each other and I said "how many did you REALLY eat?"
She raised her chin and looked into my eyes like I had really busted her and said "four."
I was really going to press on for the truth but I dissolved into laughter and so did Jody but somehow he managed to look mad while he laughed and say "I don't know what's so funny, I'm only laughing because your mother is." This put me into a complete melt down shrieking laugh.
If I hadn't been camping out in my bedroom at night eating chocolates and littering my nightstand with the wrappers, I suppose we could have counted the wrappers to confirm her confessions...
Other super freakin adorable phrases "I want to pet the boxing turtle, Mommy has a cricket in her neck" followed by tears that were only stemmed by Jody's assurance that it's just a crick.
Yesterday Hazel and I found a new chobani yogurt at the store called "Haze Craze."

Swirling thoughts

Tonight I can't sleep. Maybe it was the booze at Jody's work Christmas dinner. Maybe my weekend was too beautiful and blessed. Maybe it was because I forgot to take magnesium. No matter the reason here I am to thank my Lord.

When I think about these joys I know that God wants my thanks and praise because he promises beauty for ashes and joy for sorrow. Not so very long ago I was not myself and not joyful. 

Now, I excitedly loaded up six kids and took them to a candy cane festival with determination and joy and excitement. I've waited for this feeling for three years and it's here. In spite of Christmas being the day of my dads death, joy is creeping in and redemption is mine. Jody and I actually went Christmas shopping together today and I'm not sure we ever have before. I know that seems implausible after all of these years, but it felt foreign and fun and indulgent. We never disagreed on a single item. I like to consider us symbiotic in those moments. We also went to that Christmas thing... as usual he asked me why I said so many slightly embellished embrarrassing things and I held my hands up and confessed that being a big talker puts me in a position of only 85% of what I say being appropriate. I told him I regularly pray that God will give everyone extra grace to pour out on me for the things I say. Then I told him all of the things I shouldn't have said the night before when I had a little girls night out. Which by the way was super fun. I've been feeling pretty strongly that I needed to start a somewhat regular gathering of moms of teens and so I'm working out the kinks. I'm realizing some really awesome things like once you have teens you join the judgement free zone. And I can confess that Kait is my elf on the shelf mover and Hazel is still batting 33% on tooth brushing. We can have spirited debates on homework philosophies just for the fun of discussion and putting thoughts together. Basically, that is everything I could hope for. All of them have boys older than mine so I can get little glimpses into boy stuff and file it away. What challenges me is how to plan something universally appealing and at a time that works for most. That's the real kicker. It's ironic actually. When you have babies and are doing mommy play dates and all of the first time mommies are competing with nursing and cloth diapers and baby wearing and baby sign language, you have plenty of time for large groups to gather and then even hit the park afterwards... But man these teens change everything with energy and schedules and me time which is sad because it's so comfortable and relaxed to be together with mommies now. 

What Will the Kids Remember?

I'm going to cut to the chase. I don't care. Well, I care but it really shouldn't matter because I have no earthly idea or control over what the kids remember. They already reminisce to me about the weirdest stuff. Honestly, I know I shouldn't sit down and write a blog about why everyone should be motivated by selfishness and yet I feel like I have to and as everyone knows, I always do whatever crazy thing I feel like I HAVE to do.  I might wash your feet. I might take the kids to ice-cream and make them tardy for school. I might buy matching scarves with you in a grocery store just so we have a physical memory of being together. I might give you a piece of copy paper for your birthday. I might prostrate myself before God and pray for you and never tell you about it. I might buy you a used jacket you never knew you wanted. I might take you on a surprise trip to San Francisco. I might buy you a dining set just for the chairs. When the MUST hits me, I just let it flow. So here's my message about the necessity of selfishness.  A question we really need to ask is "What do I want to remember and how can I make that happen?" I've been doing it for awhile on my blog and Facebook but every single time I see one of the things I recorded that I would have forgotten it's like finding a loose diamond on the living room floor. I was checking my calendar the other day and on December 15th I found something that wasn't an appointment. It was a message from me to me. It said "One year ago you sat on a couch (I should have specified which couch) with wine, pandora and a puppy by a beautiful tree." I stared at that message and said "hello Elizabeth from last year!" I don't remember you and I don't remember that moment but I know I wanted to at the time so thanks for the message!" I think this really really helps fight guilt. Guilt over wasting time, guilt over not giving, being, doing. If you can't even give yourself an evening of pandora wine and puppy, that is what you should feel guilty about because all of the giving and doing doesn't come from your heart because it's not full.