Labor Day Weekend Update without the Labor Day Part

My house is clean. Clean, I tell you, clean! I went all vigilante on the messiness and dirt and rallied the troops together! Yeah, basically I made the whole family clean the entire house and there was --unfortunately, sadly, mortifyingly (is that a word?) --a lot of yelling on my part. But the house hasn't been this clean in months, people. Months! Just don't ask me about the unpacked office. Stop! I said don't ask me!
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BYU won. Badly. Is it possible to win badly? Yes, yes it is. It's called --"holy crap, we are so glad we weren't playing a better team!" But at least they won. And it was a beautiful day and loads of fun; BYU games are always loads of fun in my book.
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I won something! I won something!
James Dashner, a great author and hilarious blogger has been having a blogging birthday bash give-a-way week. On Day #5, I won! What did I win? Well, dear reader, I won a signed Advanced Released Copy (ARC) of Dashner's next book, The Hunt for Dark Infinity (Book 2 of The 13th Reality). Ironic part? I received an ARC of The Journal of Curious Letters (Book 1 of The 13th Reality) at the BYU WIFYR conference back in June (2008). How cool is that?!
The only sad part in all of this is that I didn't let you in on the give-a-way week, dear reader. Why is that? I honestly have no idea! I'm not very good about spreading the word on contests and give-a-ways, but I'll do my best in the future to let you in on them, okay? You forgive me? Okay, good.
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If you've been living under a rock, Sarah Palin is McCain's VP candidate. I've always disliked Obama, but my teeth would just grit thinking about voting for McCain. With Palin as his running mate? I think I just might be able to vote Republican without ripping out my hair. I've done some Palin research, and I'm impressed. Hooray!
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Brandon showed me this video. Holy. Cow. I wasn't sure if I should be grossed out or totally impressed. Sure puts a whole new spin on the Starburst wrapper, now, doesn't it? Ha!
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So, a lot of people have talked about how much they either LOVE Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Books (specifically Breaking Dawn, of course) or how much they HATE Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Books.
I wasn't a huge fan of Breaking Dawn, but I haven't liked all the crud that's been flung Stephenie's way. Not fair, really, considering all the hard work she's obviously put forth to finish the saga. I feel people have been unfair in their criticisms. Maybe this is because I can't imagine how hard and amazing and difficult and thrilling it would be to have a book published, let alone five (she wrote The Host, too). And then to have everyone rip it to shreds because they don't like the name you pick for the baby?
You know, this is the one area that scares me the most about being a writer --it's not so much finally getting my novel (or 12) finished (although that's proving to be very difficult in and of itself), but having thick enough skin to be criticised to the point of insanity. How could I take the humiliation and/or rejection? Would I cry myself to sleep every night if there were doznes of blog posts dedicated to putting me in my place? Would I hide out in my bedroom if a book didn't sell? What if my family hates my writing? It's so scary, this rejection gig. But I guess I've already been rejected by three separate publishing companies (true story), so what's a rejection from a reader when an editor finally believes in me? Hot dog! Someday, an editor might believe in me! Wouldn't that be fan-diddily-dandy. I would scream like a little girl and dance around with joy. Joy, joy, joy!
Anyway...
Shannon Hale (another good author) has a little something to say about readership and criticism of authors/authorship/author-like-people. Go read it. It's good! Then come and tell me what you think. Or just tell Shannon what you think. My favorite line from her post is this:
You need to allow the author to tell the story she's trying to tell. It may not be a good story, it may not be your kind of story, but if you don't try to play along, you're not giving the story a chance. And in the end you might not like it--there are an infinite number of reasons why this might be. But the author didn't fail you--the author just wrote a story that didn't click with your internal reader at this point in your life. You are responsible for half of that story. So you go find the next book, the next author that works for you, and as a team, you and the author tell a new story together.
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Have a great Labor Day tomorrow, dear reader. We might be hiking if it doesn't rain. Wish us luck!

Mist

As mist they come, these days taken in

Pieces, not given in hours but

Moments defined by singular fascination.

Drifting; muted, matted, music of such

Loud silence it treads the

Skin and melts into careful formulations.

Even when vanished by

Pointed light, such melody lingers to

Speak of dew and damp, cool and crisp,

Freshness which fills the lungs and awakens

Sadness to look upward, not down,

Forward, not back.

So I wait for mist and watch for

Dew, hoping not once, but thrice these

Moments will appear before

Dawn carries them from outreached

Fingers. Stay near me, moments of

Mist; give me such

Happiness.

~ HMC Cheryl

Copyright August 2008

Awards, VT, and...*sigh...I Miss the Fair!

Fluffychicky presented me with this award! Why, thank you, fluffy! I love your blog, too. I'd like to pass this onto:
Every blog on my sidebar. You may think this is a cop-out, dear reader, that I could not possibly love every blog I read, but I do! Every blog I read gives me new perspective and enhances my life is some way. So, please consider yourself the recipient of this award. How could I choose just one of you? That would be torture, you know. Pure torture.

Amanda presented me with this "Arte y Pico" award. This award was designed to be given to bloggers who inspire others with their creativity and their talents, also for contributing to the blogging world in whatever medium.
Thank you, Amanda!
I'll pass this one onto:
Cristy
Summer
Jeanette
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Last night my Visiting Teachers came over. It was good to see them; they are loyal, kind, and concerned. Every time they come, I am left happier. How lucky am I? To have such great Visiting Teachers? It's not always been this way; and I'm not the best VT, either. I could go on and on about Visiting Teaching, but for now, I won't. Just answer me this: Do you have good VT?
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Wishing I was here:

You know, I haven't been to the fair in what? 8? 9 years? That place holds special memories for me: wristband days with my friends in 8th grade; working the parking lot and the Corn Booth for Marching Band fundraisers; dates; eating until I exploded; conquering my fear of being flipped upside down on rusty old carnival rides; fun concerts; awesome rodeos; the fun parade where, for two years, I directed the Blackfoot High School Marching Band whilst-a-marching backwards and stepping in horse manure (never breaking ranks), all while wearing hot polyester.
Those were the days, my friend! The days. The days of what, I'm not sure, but they were the days.
Maybe one day I'll get back to the fair. Maybe. But for now, I'll be content with the excuse as to why I can't get there: BYU Football. And for some reason? That excuse is jut fine to me.

Have fun at the fair, all my fellow Idahoans! Don't forget to eat a Tiger Ear for me, and some of that famous Italian Soda and Ham Fried Rice. Oh! And drop by the Bronco Marching Band Booth and get some yummy corn (is it still there??). I'll be drooling on my pillow just thinking about it...

Hope, Brains, Romance, and a Bloggersnacker!

Hope is an amazing thing, and unified prayer and fasting creates miracles.
Stephanie and Christian are doing better, and CJane (Stephanie's sister) does a much better job of describing their improvement than I ever could (what with her being family and me being a distant pray-er).
Today, a lot of people are holding auctions (including MMW and Segullah) to raise money to help Stephanie and Christian pay for massive medical bills. It has been declared Nie Nie Day! If you would like to donate, participate, etc. go here for more details. Or, just head over to MMW and Segullah and start auctioning!
I missed the Balloon launch last week, so I'm hoping I can do something today, even if it's just more prayer. And then some more prayer.
*Update: Go to Design Mom to find more auctions! CJane is auctioning BYU football stuff, Lisa is auctioning Maroon 5 tickets, and many others are auctioning off amazing things. Go do what you can to help!
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Speaking to the children:
Me, referring to the backyard: Did you guys have fun out there?
#2, in a tired voice: So fun, I lost my brain.
me: You lost your brain? What?
#2: I lost. My brain.

Ooookaaaaay.
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Yesterday morning, I went to Target, as you already know (because I couldn't find the PedEgg. Because I'm kind of slow). Whilst-a-shoppin' there, I decided to buy Brandon some PB M&M's because he loves them and I felt like being all loving towards him. Why? No reason, really. I honestly felt like being romantic "just because." I even got him a card --a really sweet love card. I left the card and the M&M's on his pillow, and then went about my day. Later, I asked Brandon to run to Costco after he finished up at the office because I was experiencing random exhaustion. He obliged, and came home with loads of groceries. When he walked in the door, he handed me a large bouquet of Sunflowers. Yes! Sunflowers for me! I haven't received flowers for while. Let's see, it hasn't been since...since...well, I know I got a rose on Mother's Day...
Anyway, can you see the irony here? Brandon and I aren't the most romantic couple even though I adore romance. We love to be together and eat out and do things for each other, but the romantic gestures of "just because" don't happen very often anymore. Like hardly ever. So the fact that we both thought of doing a "just because" piece of romance on the same day made it all that much sweeter.
You may now say "Awwwww!"
Or not. I'm okay either way. I know you love me!
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I've decided I want to have a Happy Meets Crazy Bloggersnacker.
What do you think?
If it's a success, maybe we'll have more. Maybe it'll turn into a semi-annual or annual event. Maybe it will be so big, the newspapers will pick it up and the news anchors will come and we'll all be famous!
Or we could just have some fun meeting bloggers in real life.
What say you? If I was to hold a Happy Meets Crazy Bloggersnacker on a Saturday afternoon (or morning) at a park somewhere in Provo, Utah, would you be interested? Would you come? Would you rather it be bloggers only, couples only, or families? Give me your input, and I'll put it together.
Ooh, I'm all giddy just thinking about it!
Oh, and if it's a success, I promise to bring a Bloggersnacker more north for my Idaho (Fluffychicky!) and Northern Utah blogging buddies. I'm starting small first. Well, not "small", just local. You know what I mean!
Okay, so give me your input, please. Input away!

TOP TEN!

I have so many things to blog about; so much information to share with you. My head is swimming with all kinds of blog post topics, but I don't have the time or energy to sit and write and write and write (although that would be bliss, I'm tellin' ya. Pure bliss! Well, only if chocolate was somehow involved. And a massage.), so I bring you my Top Ten Things Cheryl Needs to Tell You, Dear Reader. Hooray! Here they are in no particular order:

1. My soldier brother told us on Sunday that his wife is expecting their second child. Whoo-hoo! This is good, because babies are good. Love babies!
2. The Amazing Race 13 is starting Sept. 28th! I adore this show. Love it. Crave it. Want to be on it. Probably never will. Am okay with that. Sort of.
3. #1 and #2 started school! I'll show you pictures later (bad ones, because I ran out of batteries in my camera both times and the poor girls didn't have time for a nice photo shoot. I'm thinking I'll just have to do one in the backyard one of these days).
4. I'm exhausted. Incredibly exhausted. In the last three days, I've taken two naps. Two! This is unheard of! I never have to nap! I'm not sure why I'm so tired, but I'm hoping it passes soon.
5. I never told you what calling Brandon and I had been given, did I? Man, that was a while ago. We are the Chairman over our ward's yearly Neighborhood Picnic. Basically, imagine a small town carnival/fair for about 400 people with pies, hamburgers, corn on the cob, music, displays, cotton candy, a car show, hay rides, volleyball, carnival games, etc. etc. and so forth, and you have our annual Neighborhood picnic. Well, the pace just kicked into overdrive last night, seeing as it's in three weeks. AHHHH! And when it's over? I will go back to being calling-less.
6. BYU Football. Starts. Saturday. I will be there! Will you? GO COUGARS!
7. I love Autumn. Fall. The passing of summer into winter; the changing of the leaves and the scent of cinnamon and pumpkin. Honestly? It's my favorite season. And I can tell it's going to come within the next month or so because I can feel it on my skin as I'm walking around at 6:15AM (so early). Also, I looked at a calendar. *snort
8. I took the boys to Target this morning after making sure the girls were off to school okay. I was going with the intent to find and purchase the Ped-Egg. I couldn't find it. Anywhere! I almost asked a worker, but I had scoured the entire Beauty and Prescription Drug sections, and it was most definitely not there. My heels are sad. Very sad. Maybe I could order one online?
9. I'm going on a vacation, dear reader. I know, I know. I'm always on vacation. Always! I know! But this time it's nice because it's a weekend with Brandon. Yes! A weekend with Brandon! We leave in a few weeks, and we will have two entire days to ourselves. No weddings, funerals, or family reunions. No children, strict schedules, or deadlines. I like these weekends with Brandon. We deserve them, too, you know! Everyone deserves a weekend with their hubby sans kids.
10. Most married couples have a song, and we are no different, my crazy Brandon and I. Our song is "To Make You Feel My Love" by Bob Dylan, as performed by Garth Brooks (yes, we are Garth fans). Trisha Yearwood sang a version, but I never liked it. Kelly Clarkson does an annoying rendition. Bob Dylan's version (officially the "real" version, since he's the composer) never sat well with me. But this week, I found a version I fell in love with --madly, too. Since I can't upload YouTube videos to my blog directly, you'll have to go hear it/see it for yourself. Here's the link. Tell me what you think.

That is all.

Fences

Dear Reader,
I know some of you come here to read about my depression. Others of you like updates on my family. Even more of you are apparently fascinated with my warped sense of humor and my ability to "keep things real," as it were. However, lately I've been adding a lot of Church/Spiritual things to my blog. This is a good thing, because if I am to use this blog as my hobby, scrapbook, and journal, then I want to record the most important things about my life and who I am. A great majority of who I am is my testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. So, here we go again!
This subject may not sit well with all of you. But it is on my mind constantly. I usually feel like I am in a continual battle with Satan --trying to fight discouragement and depression is just the tip of the iceberg. On all sides I see the influence of Satan to try and force me into complacency and doubt, and much Internet-based information out there whines of intellectual complacency and arrogant doubt. When I find myself getting discouraged, I try to reach for the scriptures, lds.org, the Ensign, and prayer. It helps so much more than blogs dedicated to embracing independent thinking and over-analyzing spiritual experiences.
So, today, I bring you some more wondrous spiritual finds. I hope you enjoy it. If you have anything to say or add, feel free. I like discussion. And validation. Gotta love all that validation!
Happily and Crazily,
Cheryl
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One activity which often leads a member to be critical is engaging in inappropriate intellectualism. While it would seem the search for and discovery of truth should be the goal of all Latter-day Saints, it appears some get more satisfaction from trying to discover new uncertainties. I have friends who have literally spent their lives, thus far, trying to nail down every single intellectual loose end rather than accepting the witness of the Spirit and getting on with it. In so doing, they are depriving themselves of a gold mine of beautiful truths which cannot be tapped by the mind alone.
Elder Faust describes this type of intellectual as “a person who continues to chase after a bus even after he has caught it.” We invite everyone to get on the bus before it’s out of sight and you are left forever trying to figure out the infinite with a finite mind. In the words of Elijah, “How long halt ye between two opinions? if the Lord be God, follow him.” (1 Kgs. 18:21.)...

...There are some of our members who practice selective obedience. A prophet is not one who displays a smorgasbord of truth from which we are free to pick and choose. However, some members become critical and suggest the prophet should change the menu. A prophet doesn’t take a poll to see which way the wind of public opinion is blowing. He reveals the will of the Lord to us. The world is full of deteriorating churches who have succumbed to public opinion and have become more dedicated to tickling the ears of their members than obeying the laws of God.
In 1831, some converts wanted to bring a few of their previous beliefs into the Church with them. Our problem today is with members who seem very vulnerable to the trends in society (and the pointing fingers which attend them) and want the Church to change its position to accommodate them. The doctrinal grass on the other side of the fence looks very green to them.
The Lord’s counsel in 1831 is relevant today: “Behold, I say unto you, that they desire to know the truth in part, but not all, for they are not right before me and must needs repent.” (D&C 49:2.)
--Bishop Glenn L. Pace, “Follow the Prophet,” Ensign, May 1989, 25
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Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household. He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.
Matthew 10: 34-39
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This is for M&M. I love this song, and I know she does, too.
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I recently heard a woman of another faith say she didn’t think much of Mormons because
she believed an LDS friend of hers wasn’t allowed to participate at Church. What a tragic
misperception! From the time we can string three words together, we’re serving. There is
no group of women anywhere who teach more, lead more, or speak more—or are better
at it. Right now, hundreds of thousands of us are teaching children, youth, and adults.
Hundreds of thousands more are serving in presidencies. I’ve looked, and I can’t find any
religion, government, or business where so many women have as much influence as in
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But we are the only ones who can send
that message. We are the ones who need to define Latter-day Saint womanhood, not
anyone else. This means speaking up and reaching out. It means seeking to have
influence in as many ways and with as many people as possible.
--Sheri Dew, Awake, Arise, and Come Unto Christ , May 1, 2008, at the BYU Women’s Conference
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Therefore, fear not, little flock; do good; let earth and hell combine against you, for if ye are built upon my rock, they cannot prevail.
--Doctrine and Covenants 6:34

Ooh! More Poetry!

Today, dear reader, another one of my poems was shared on Mormon Women: Who We Are. Go ahead...you know you want to read it! I understand the desire. There's no shame...

And speaking about poems and Mormons and women and sharing the Gospel and all that jazz, do you have any poems you want to share? Any stories? Essays? Testimonies? Songs? Experiences? Good! Go to this link. It will describe what they are looking for and how to submit. Or, if you are ready and would like to submit something right now, just email your submission to mormonwoman 'at' gmail 'dot' com.

This is a great way to share your testimony with the world and with other women. So, hop to it! And make sure you come and tell me when you get something posted.

Road Trips Rule. The World.

Well, I'm back. Obviously! And I had myself a grand ol' time. Here are some of the highlights:

• Deciding to leave at 3:45AM on Thursday morning got us to Lethbridge (Alberta) in time for the family dinner at Dynasty (a Chinese restaurant) with family members.
• Enjoying time spent with my sister's friend (who came with us), which provided me with a rare glimpse into the amazing culture of the Filipino people, and taught be more about grace, maturity, respect, and admiration than any sermon I've ever heard.
• Stopping on the way to see Rozla in Montana! Whoo-hoo!
• Getting my passport stamped for the first time at the border in Coutts and wondering why I had never done it before.
• Attending a session in the Cardston Temple Friday morning instead of the sealing (Short reason? Too many siblings on the groom's side makes it hard to include cousins in the small sealing rooms. No worries! There were no hard feelings. How could there be?).
• Playing on my Great-Grandmother's grand piano that now sits in the Cardston, Alberta Old Courthouse Museum.
• Experiencing the grand and wonderful traditions of a first-rate Mormon Canadian Wedding, complete with programs, dinners, dancing, tributes, responses, and lots of tinkling glasses.
• Supporting my cousin who is an only child, so cousins and friends are her "siblings."
• Dancing like I was 16 years old to some pretty great music.
• Watching my parents dance like they were 16 years old to some pretty great music!
• Seeing my cousins in a way that reminded me what it was like when we were children (i.e. laughing until we cried and goin' all nutso).
• Learning that although my sister and I get into the dumbest, heat-filled fights, I really, really, really love her and enjoy her company.
• Realizing that driving 12 hours, each way, to a one-day event is totally worth it when the children are at home livin' it up with their daddy (i.e. they went to a Bees baseball game, an EQ picnic, the library, and the Old Spaghetti Factory. Without me! *sniff).

It was awesome. Here are some pictures of the blessed event:

And a video of me playing my great-grandmother's piano:

P.S. Notice the new header? I took that picture last week; a lady in my ward who knows of my depression crud brought me some beautiful purple tulips and I had fun playing around with the zoom on my camera. Also, I decided to put my picture with my profile. Not sure if it'll stay for very long, though...

P.P.S. What did you do this weekend?

On the Road Again...

Dear Reader:
I am currently on my way to Canada. The Great White North, as you may know it. Yes, I was just there last month, but that was not enough to curb my appetite for real chocolate and polite drivers! Plus, my cousin is getting hitched, and so my sister and I decided to have ourselves a road trip. Without husbands. Or children. That's right! We are driving up today (Thursday) and coming back on Saturday. Sure, that means we'll be in the car for 24 hours within 3 days, but when without whiny children, that's pure bliss, man! Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone; I promise a full report when I return. In the meantime, since I can't stand to leave you without some form of entertainment, enjoy this and this. Because it's all about you, dear reader. It's all about you.
Love,
Happy Crazy Cheryl (or is it Crazy Happy?)
P.S. That first one might make you carsick. Be careful!
P.P.S. That second one is not in any way meant to make my Canadian relatives and friends feel bad, because we all know that Canadians rocketh! Oh, yes. Yes, they do.

Smack Down Update: Feelin' Good

Darkest before the dawn.
Hafta hit bottom before you bounce up.
Last straw to tip the scale.
Pendulum swinging the other way.

What do these phrases (real and sort of made up) have in common?

Me.

That's right, dear reader. The pendulum is swinging! I'm bouncing! The scale has been tipped and the dawn is peeking out over the mountains. How do I know this? In the last 48 hours, I have put the smack down on the self-pity! I have unpacked and set up the entire Master Bedroom --including pictures (never mind that the peeling wallpaper strip at the top of the walls is unbecoming, because right now, I couldn't care less), and I have gone through all of the children's clothes and organized their rooms (with the children's help, of course). I have picked up the scripture reading pace, and my prayers are not rushed. I feel a sense of accomplishment, and it has been accentuated by flowers from a ward member (who knows of my plight), sweet emails from blogging friends, a visit to my nephew's birthday party, and a fabulous phone call with a friend who has finally returned home from vacation. And since she's reading this, she better know that she's not allowed to leave ever again. Kidding! Okay, not really. Don't ever leave again! ;)

Anyway...what? What was that, dear reader? You're reminding me that it's only been 48 hours? Who cares! Not me. 48 hours of happy productivity is a rare find around here, and I'm going to cherish it forever. Because I feel Better! So much better. Wait. What? Oh, no, dear reader. I'm not Cured or Fixed. I'm better, but not better. I don't think I'll ever be cured of this depression that plagues my life. It's not like the flu --but it is like a virus. It just keeps coming back. Yes! Like a virus! It goes away, life is good, and then it comes back. Especially since mine is very PMS and hormone related. It's like the worst form of PMS, though, because it can occur at different times and sometimes lasts longer than the designated week. But for the most part, it's very regular. However, it doesn't get "fixed" like a broken bone (or a dog! Ha!). And actually, I've been thinking about it a lot today.
I have asthma. It's hard sometimes, but if I take my daily meds, I do well. When I skip a day or two of my asthma medication, I can tell very quickly, because I can't breathe easily. And if you can't breathe easily, well, then it turns into not being able to breathe. And when you can't breathe, dear reader, you die.
Duh.
But sometimes I forget, you know? Life gets busy, I don't pack it on the camping trip, etc. and there you have it --asthma attacks. Luckily for me, I've been really good about remembering the last few years, and so I haven't had a full-blown attack in almost 4 years. I hate those middle-of-the-night-where-the-crap-did-I-put-that-rescue-inhaler?-asthma attacks. Not fun. But I digress.
If I think of my depression as my asthma (or my period, go figure! Ha!), then I will know that it won't go away. It will always be there, lingering and awaiting until I'm the most vulnerable, and it will attack without warning or provocation. Not quite unlike an alligator. Or a cheetah. Or car sickness. In fact, I can see the pattern now: stressed, tired, hormonal Cheryl is suddenly feeling massive waves of self-doubt and self-pity (stupid self pity), and then suddenly she doesn't want to do anything or go anywhere or be anyone and she can't stand the sight of people, places, or things. Sometimes it lasts a day. Other times it lasts a week. Once, it lasted for 6 months.

But it's okay now. Because I am aware of this. I know how to cope and get through it. I know what works and what doesn't. I know when to eat the chocolate and when to take a nap. And honestly? This blogging gig has really gotten me through some of the hardest episodes. Writing has been said to be very therapeutic, and I'm not surprised, since it works well for me. And of course, there is all of the awesome support I have here --I'm talking about you, dear reader. You're priceless, really.

Anyway, the point? I feel good. And I like good!

Are you feeling good? Any good news from your neck of the blogosphere?

Blog Awards, Fabulous Mail Surprises, and a 25th Birthday

I got an award! Wowzahs! Thanks to Leslie for giving it to me. My blog, apparently, is Brillante! No, not brilliant. Brilliante!

The rules are: Put the logo on your blog, and put a link to me (who awarded it to you) on your blog. You need to nominate 7 other bloggers for the award and put up links to them. Then, leave a comment for those you have nominated - so they know they have received a special award!
Here are my nominees:
Bythelbs at By the lbs
Julie at Just Trying to Remember
Mother of the Wild Boys at Where the Wild Things Are
Amanda at The Little Things
Flip Flop Mama at Flip Flop Mama
Janelle at Regally Blonde
Michelle at All We Ever Find

If you sense any favoritism in my blog award nominees, then...uh...keep it to yourself? Maybe? Wait, what? Oooh, look a shiny thing!
(totally stole that from Becky, i have a cat. Can't help it. She's a genius!)
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More about Leslie:
Remember a while back when I was having the Down Day of all Down Days? Well, sweet Leslie asked for my address immediately. Knowing that she wasn't a crazy stalker, I relented, and I was blessed for my trust about a week later:

No, she didn't send me a clock. It's the cross-stitch that she not only cross-stitched for me (a skill I've never mastered. Okay, I can't even do it remotely well. At all.), but put in a frame! Isn't it beautiful? And you can tell how much I like it because it got a prized place on top of my very piano-like Clavinova (which reminds me, I really want a real piano one day. Brandon, did you hear that? Hint-hint!). Isn't she the sweetest friend? Made my whole weekend!
If you are ever in need of a pick-me-up, dear reader, you are welcome to come over here to Happy Meets Crazy and read Leslie's cross stitch. Because, indeed, a Hug Will Do.
Thank you, Leslie!
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Finally, I think the world needs to know that my baby sister, Michelle, is TWENTY-FIVE! That's right, dear reader. Today is her 25th birthday, and although she feels old (Bwhahahaha, chuckle, chuckle, *snort), she is a gorgeous 25 and will always be younger and better looking than me.
Not. Fair.
So, Happy Birthday, sis! I hope you have a good day. And enjoy being 25. I promise that it goes by quickly, and before you know it, you'll be starting down at 30 and wondering where the time went! Love you!

Combined Fast Today

Dear reader, I need your help.

Some of you may know the Blogger C Jane. She blogs on her own blog here, but she is also a writer for Segullah. Her sister and BIL (Stephanie and Christian) were involved in a horrific small airplane crash on Saturday night. Both are suffering from severe injuries and the family is very concerned. Saddest part? They have small children.

Today (August 18th, 2008) they are holding a special fast for Stephanie and Christian. If any of you can join them in this fast, I know it will be appreciated and felt. If you cannot fast, please offer up your prayers for their speedy recovery; I can't imagine what it would be like for their children if they take a turn for the worse...

P.S. Not that it matters, but I only know Stephanie through two channels (and have never met her): Stephanie's sister is married to my husband's boss. Also, you know Ann and Brent? That I always blog about? Brent's brother is my husband's boss. So...Brent's SIL is the sister of Stephanie. See how it works? Yeah, I know it's confusing. But I thought I'd put that out there to head off some questions about my knowledge of the situation (which isn't much, really).

Putting the Smack Down on Self Pity

Last night, dear reader, I hit rock bottom.
And it was rocky, you know. Down there, in rock bottom. Lots of rockiness and rock-like bottom-ness. Oh, yes! Sharp and jagged, all those rocks, and dark and cold, that bottom, down there.

The day had started off well enough. By 10AM, #4 was asleep, and the older three were with Brandon at a Primary activity. This gave me a good hour or more alone, and I was determined to break through this cruddiness and self-pity. I spent a good 20 minutes on my knees, and another 20 in the scriptures. I drifted off to sleep, drenched in tears, and I was woken suddenly by a phone call. I was asked to substitute for the ward organist (for today) and I said I would. Minutes later, Brandon came home, and we spent some time talking. I felt a bit better, but at the same time, I didn't. In fact, the "bit better" didn't last very long.
As the day progressed, I got worse and worse. My motivation was gone; I refused to do even the simplest of tasks. I was short with the children, I was angry with my husband. I didn't want to do anything, and I didn't want to sleep. I got involved with an verbal altercation with a friend (via email), and I was beyond depressed. I sat on the couch, refused to move, and even though I was focused on a few tasks via the laptop, I was pretty much idle. I couldn't understand it, either --hadn't I prayed with most sincerity? Didn't I feel the presence of the Holy Ghost? Didn't I seek and ponder and ask?
And then a thought came to me: It is always darkest before the dawn. And didn't Joseph Smith and Moses experience the worst darkness and despair after seeking out God?
It made me pause.
When I went to sleep last night, I dreamt I was somebody else. When I was woken up by #4's small cries in the wee small hours of the morning, I cried to myself because I wasn't somebody else.
And that scared me.
When my alarm clock went off this morning, I stayed in bed until after the first snooze went off; and by then, my plan was formulating.
I took an extra long shower --extra long --and I continued to plan.
By the time I got to Sacrament Meeting, my plan was coming into light. It wasn't just an idea or a desire. It was a goal.
This desire-turned-goal formulated in my mind as I played the prelude music. Every once in a while, I would glance at my three oldest children, sitting alone on the 2nd row of the middle section in the Chapel. Brandon was at home with #4, and I felt tears come to my eyes as I watched #3 misbehaving and causing problems. I prayed so hard that #3 would behave himself. I hadn't had time to ask anyone to watch the kids while I played because we had come early so I could practice, and we didn't realize #4 would still be too ill to come to church until an hour before. I hoped that somebody would come to my assistance and perhaps notice? And sit with him? Nobody did, and #1 did the best she could at convincing him to sit still. I was half tempted to run down there when all of a sudden, #3 looked at me, felt the glare, and miraculously sat still. For the rest of the meeting, no less! In fact, he was better by himself down there (with #2 and #1) than he was when I was sitting with them (during the bulk of the meeting).
This tiny miracle, along with a Sacrament Meeting talk on the power of Acting on Faith and Music and the Spoken Word's message of finding joy in simplicity solidified my goal.
What is this goal, you ask? Well, dear reader, Here is the goal:
To conquer my self-pity and sense of despair.

Yeah. Well, I didn't say it was an easy goal.
Please notice, however, that I didn't say I was going to conquer my depression, although I know self-pity has a a lot to do with it. I want to conquer the self-pity and the despair. I want to stop feeling so sorry for myself.
For months now (maybe years?), I've felt that I couldn't accomplish this because I have small children. Because I have depression. Because I was so used to wallowing in the self-pity that has become such a part of me I often wonder if it's another living entity, feeding off of my disappointments and frustrations. It has become such a part of my life that until I noticed another woman's own self-pity, I never realized how unassuming and pathetic it was --and frustrating to others, I'm sure.

So! Here is what I'm going to do in the next few months, maybe weeks, maybe days? to see if I can put the smack down on my self-pity. I'm not above a Plan B, but this Plan A is going to get a good ol' fighting chance:
1. I received a Priesthood Blessing from Brandon this afternoon. Why I've gone so long without one is beyond me! The power of the Priesthood is amazing, and as I felt Brandon's hands upon my head, I could feel his love for me, my Heavenly Father's love for me, and the love I have for myself. It felt good. And right. And necessary for these steps I'm about to take. Best part? Brandon didn't know about this blog post (well, he does now, when you're reading it, dear reader, but he didn't know about it when I wrote it, eh?), but he spoke words to me that only Heavenly Father and I had known up until this point. Another beautiful reminder of His reality. I'm hoping to be wise and seek out more Priesthood blessings in the future, attend the Temple more often, and remember this particular blessing when times get rough.
2. I am going to put my house in order. We may not be able to paint and replace the carpet right now, but that doesn't mean I have to sleep on the floor anymore (okay, okay, the mattress is on the floor, but you know what I mean). The office may not be unpacked, but it needs to be! The laundry room needs a good scrubbing, and my bathrooms need to glow. I'm realistic enough to know that this is going to take time, but the motivation is going to be forced a bit until I can get it going again. Forced motivation? If it's self-inflicted it's okay, right?
3. Priorities are going to be rearranged. Things of a spiritual nature will take over things of a physical nature for the time being; time with my children will increase. If this means to get up earlier? I will. If this means less blogging time? I must.
4. I will focus on the positive as much as possible and stop caring so much about what people think of me. This is harder than it looks, but I'm sure gonna try. This means no self-pity because Brandon doesn't notice I did the dishes or did my hair. No worrying about what random bloggers think of me, and no "woe is me!" goin' on when I face hard trials like the ones I've been having.
5. I will think of others before I think of myself, because self-pity, when it's prolonged, goes beyond just having one's feelings hurt. It becomes the worst form of selfishness, because it is not a love of self, or a hate of self, it is just the state of self. Self-pity means that nobody else is good enough to help, nobody else is good enough to understand. I hate self-pity. I've always hated it, and I've always had it. As a child, I remember feeling sorry for myself constantly. I can see it in #1, too. She's just like her mother, you know. And I can't stand it anymore! I don't want her to grow up with my worst faults, especially if they are ones that can be conquered, slowly and surely.

I know it's gonna be hard, and I'll have set backs. But I'm ready for the fight. This has been years in the making and I'm so tired of being unhappy. Tired! So,you hear that, Self-Pity? You listenin'? Bring. It. On. This time, I'm ready! And you're gonna get it in the face, baby! I can feel it. There ain't gonna be no backing down this time.
Yeah, you heard me!

Pet Peeves and Some Happy and Deep Thoughts

Pet Peeves:
Going to Back to School Night with the entire school population, plus all their parents and siblings, and having to stand in the back for 30 minutes because the gym is the size of...well...an Elementary School gym.

Finding out that #1 starts school on the 18th, #2 starts school on the 26th, and #3 doesn't start school until the 2nd of Sept. And yet, they are all on the same "school district schedule". Wha?

Happy Thoughts:
School starts soon. School starts soon!!

We've got a Double Date tonight with our good friends, Brent and Ann. Hooray!

My blogging friends rock the world; I can't imagine going a day without reading their thoughts and thinking about them. I seriously think my life has improved my a bazillion points (life is measured in points, right?) since I started blogging. But holy cow, I sure miss Bythelbs. I guess that's not a "happy thought" to miss somebody a lot, but it's a happy thought that I like her enough to miss her, eh?

I talked with a good friend (we've been buddies since Kindergarten) on the phone yesterday for a few hours. It felt great to catch up!

We took the kids to the BYU Cougar Fall Sports Kick-Off Thingy-Majingy last night, and we got to eat Cougar Craze ice cream. For free! GO BYU!

I've lost Four Pounds. Go ME!

This weekend will not be full of panic packing or long driving. It will only be full of random house things and a Primary activity. Hello to some down time!

Deep Thoughts:
Maturity, I've decided, isn't a state of mind, or something easily earned. Maturity is the ability to never assume, forgive easily, and keep other's feelings above one's own. Is that in the dictionary? I don't know. I never looked it up.

Now I know I'm not quite mature yet. But at least I know what to shoot for! It's always good to have something to shoot for.

Have a great weekend, dear reader!

Better Than Friends? Maybe Chocolate...

Yesterday was a good day. Fabulous. Wonderful. Quite thrilling, really. There wasn't much improvement as far as the physical goes (although I did enjoy a nice shower), but the spiritual, mental, and emotional part of me was flying high. And it wasn't anything spectacular that made me feel so good --just a couple of great friends.

It's amazing what a couple of great friends can do.

In the morning, I met with Rarely Home Mom (aka Julie P.) at a park. We've met before --about 1 1/2 years ago, just before I moved to CA --so it felt like old hat. We let the kiddies play and run, and then we took them to the Purple Turtle for lunch (it's a burger place in Pleasant Grove). It was so nice to reconnect and make plans for future get-togethers. That must happen! Because I sure like that Julie P.

In the afternoon, I had one of the rarest and greatest of friends come to my house. Becky (i have a cat) drove down to spend the afternoon/evening with us. Here's some background:

Becky and I have been friends since...7th grade? I moved into her ward in the 8th grade, and I remember she rode her bike over to my house to help me unpack my room. Becky and I were in choir together in middle school, and in high school, we did band (percussion ensemble, marching band, jazz band, and symphonic band). I can't remember any event in my life that didn't have Becky a part of it. Classes, seminary, band, church, dances, dates, shopping, hanging out, being silly, being serious, Junior Miss, boyfriends, parties, and even college applications. She was there the day I said good-bye to all my friends before moving to BYU; she was there the night before my wedding, in my room, talking to me about my future with Brandon.

Over the years, we drifted a bit --just due to different lives, different paths, and different goals. But we always kept tabs on each other, and lately we've been better about keeping in touch. So, last night she came down, brought my children loads of food and toys (she spoiled them rotten!), played soccer with the kiddies, got to eat Brandon's Thai food, and stayed up late with me looking through old scrapbooks of high school. Man, it was great. Becky is fabulous and I love that she's still my buddy after all these years. Here's a picture (and a video of #4) from her visit:

A few of my high school friends have mocked me for keeping in touch with everybody. I'm one of those people that loves friends --past, present, future --and so I invest a lot of time into keeping relationships alive. Even if it means a few emails, a visit or two, or even a phone call. I'm not perfect at it, but I sure try. The pay off? Relationships that have lasted a lifetime. Friendships that stay strong, new friendships that grow quickly, and amazing blogging friendships. You know, I can't imagine my life without you, dear reader. I like friends. I need friends. What better thing is there in this world (family aside) than friends? Okay, maybe some chocolate. But after that? Friends! (haha, just kidding about the chocolate. Sort of. Okay, I wasn't kidding. I take my chocolate seriously.)

Are you still friends with high school buddies? College roomies? Childhood playmates?

Technically Not Another Depression Post --More of a Hopeful Post, This One...

Last night, I got to accompany some ladies in our ward for Enrichment Meeting. They sang this song. It went really well, but it was inconvenient, because they had planned a combined Young Women/Relief Society Enrichment Meeting on YM/YW night, and Brandon had to be at YM's, and because the YW were joining us, there was no children's class, and so what the heck was I supposed to do with the kiddies?
Well, we worked it out [Brandon came home early (although, technically, he was late, and I left my children alone, supervised by #1 for approximately 3 minutes) so I could rehearse at 6:30, and then he took the kids to Young Men's with him, and I was going to pick them up after the song (which was at the beginning of the meeting)]. As you know, I have been have a lousy life lately, and yesterday was no different. I really didn't want to be at Enrichment, and have women coming up to me, asking me why I looked so sad or tired (thanks a lot, ladies), nor did I want them to ask me what was wrong. How could I answer that? As if they really want me to dive into a conversation about my depression? Nobody really wants that when they ask "How are you?" in a public setting. It's just courtesy. So, I answered, "Oh, you know. Just really tired," and then they would smile that knowing smile and I would think "You have no idea, so please stop pretending you understand me."
Bitter, eh?
Yeah, I was a wreck.
But I had to be there, and I had to be there early. So, after our quick rehearsal, I sat and listened as another sister play some prelude music, avoided all eye contact, and sat close to the piano up front and to the side. I was pondering my self-pity and my frustrating situation (and how tired I am of feeling so pitiful) when suddenly, I heard a melody. It's a common hymn, but the words pricked my heart and tears stung my eyes:
Oh, how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day
So, when life gets dark and dreary
Don't forget to pray.

I had forgotten to pray yesterday.

After the opening prayer, it was our turn for the musical number. Except for a few glaring mistakes on my part (nobody noticed but my singers), it went really, really well. Afterwards, I was going to take my leave, but I was at the front of the room, and so instead of walking out in front of everybody, I sat down and listened to the Spiritual Thought. The entire theme that night was on Beauty --modesty, divine worth, fun hairstyles, pedicures, manicures, hair products, a fashion show, etc. --so the speaker's thought focused on Elder Holland's talk, which was entitled To Young Women.

It was your typical spiritual thought on divine worth --nothing I hadn't heard before. But then the sister quoted part of Elder Holland's talk, and again, my heart was pricked, and my soul felt realization and hope:
Be a woman of Christ. Cherish your esteemed place in the sight of God. He needs you. This Church needs you. The world needs you. A woman’s abiding trust in God and unfailing devotion to things of the Spirit have always been an anchor when the wind and the waves of life were fiercest. I say to you what the Prophet Joseph said more than 150 years ago: “If you live up to your privileges, the angels cannot be restrained from being your associates.”

Am I living up to my privileges?

It's always interesting to me how the cycle of depression comes in waves. I wrote about it once, here. I mentioned how I always start with the awful depression, then the pity parties, then the small tender mercies of God, and then guilt and gratitude. (Heck! I even talked about the shards of happiness last week). But I think even more than that, I find myself forgetting to do the small things that help keep the depression at bay. Not completely gone, but at least controllable. When I am doing the things I've been told will help --you know, all the Sunday School answers, such as pray, read scriptures, go to meetings, attend the Temple, fasting, etc. --they actually help. Always.

Fancy that.

So, even though I left Enrichment after the spiritual thought, and even though my bad mood wasn't completely abated by the time I had put the kids in bed, I still felt better. I realized that I was supposed to be there early for prelude, and I was supposed to stay for the Spiritual Thought. I felt hope, I felt loved, and I felt heard.

God is so kind, dear reader. Man, how I love Him.

Open House and Other Rambling Stuff

Open House:

On Saturday, we were in Idaho (you probably already knew that). The reason was for my baby brother's Open House, and it was a great ol' shindig. I was the unofficial photographer, but since you already saw loads of wedding pictures, I'm leaving you with just two snapshots: The happy couple and #4 trying to drink Great-Grandma's homemade Angel Food Cake:

I think it might be interesting to note that all four of us (my siblings) had our Reception or Open House in the same Stake Center, had the same food served (homemade angel food cake with strawberries and ice cream/whipped topping), had the same helpers in the kitchen (my parent's closest friends), and had the same woman play the background music on the piano (my mother's co-worker). Isn't that kind of trippy?

Oh, and I'm very happy for my brother. He's married a fabulous girl, and I feel lucky to have her as a SIL.

Other Rambling Stuff:

So...how are ya'?

I'm actually doing okay. Not perfect; just okay. I've been reflecting a lot on my bouts of depression and the hold they have on me, and yesterday, I confessed to a friend that I really don't want to feel this way anymore. As if it was a revelation or something, which, of course, it's not. But I think I'm thinking of it in a different way --not so much that I'm sad all the time, but more as the inability to be motivated. For example: We have wanted to paint our Master Bedroom for months now. We have been sleeping on a mattress on the floor, with our shelves and nightstands in the kids' rooms. All of this was going to be temporary until we could strip the left-over wallpaper, sand down the walls, prime the walls, paint the walls, and install new carpet. Oh, and get new drapes/blinds over the windows. Well...none of this has happened. Most days, I'll psyche myself up and be "Today, I will strip off half the wallpaper!" and then I never do it. Other days, I'll declare a goal to have it done by...say...July 31st. "But it's August," you say. Yeah. Exactly. Then I think that perhaps I will finally unpack the computer room/office in the basement and put everything away, or that I'll finally get around to weeding all the flowerbeds in the backyard, or that I'll finally be strong enough to go through all of the kids' clothes and purge, purge, purge. Same with their toys --purge, purge, purge. Well, the only thing being purged around here is my confidence and motivation.

Sometimes I blame it on the heat. It's too hot to weed and organize! Other times I blame it on summer vacation. We've been going, going, going, and no time to recover! Most recently, I've been blaming it on the children. I can't do anything with them around! Truth is, I know these are just excuses. I know the kids know how to work, I know my summer vacations haven't been that long, I know the heat is the lousiest excuse because we have...ahem...air conditioning. And the office is in the basement.

So, I continue to twiddle and justify, mope and mourn, sometimes using a burst of energy here and there to accomplish the important tasks: making dinner (chicken nuggets, anyone?), teaching piano lessons (ooh! Another cancellation! Yippee!), doing laundry (didn't say it gets folded!), bathing the kids (at least once a week), praying (in the shower, in the car, while drifting off to sleep), reading (life without reading is no life at all!) and blogging my brains out (gotta have a creative outlet somewhere, eh?). Meanwhile, that motivation and confidence --that part of me I love the most --is slowly building back up. Maybe? I hope? I honestly think that she'll show up again--hopefully soon!--and take me to the place I was meant to be --organized, refreshed, peaceful, and happy. Very, very happy.

Hey, so do you ever find yourself wondering where yourself went?

#3 is Four

On August 9, 2004, I went into the hospital to be induced at 39 weeks. My midwife was concerned that I was measuring too big, and even though I did not have gestational diabetes, she wanted to play it safe.

My water was broken, the pitocin was started, and I began my first labor and delivery without the help of medication.

After 8 hours of labor, 2 hours of pushing, incredible help from my mother and my husband, and the professionalism of my midwife (who, along with the respiratory specialist on call, saved my baby's life), my first son was born. And boy, was my midwife right! Even at 39 weeks (and they checked the gestation, and he was right at 39 weeks), he was a whopping 9 pounds and 11 ounces and 22 1/2 inches long. He was so beautiful! The experience was indescribable. But boy, oh, boy! I was glad when he finally arrived. And a tad scared.

I don't know why I was so scared to raise a boy --I guess I just assumed it would be different from girls (and I was used to girls!). It is a bit different --at least when it comes to the path of destruction that he has left in his wake. But his hugs and kisses are the best, and when I look into those big brown eyes? I can't help but let him have his way a little. The spoiled punk. Here are some pictures of him growing up over the last four years:

On Saturday, the little guy turned Four years old. FOUR! Can you believe that #3 is four? We had a birthday party for him on the 8th, and then the lucky guy got another little party at my parent's house on the 9th. He shares his birthday with cousin Courtney, so they got to share a cake. Fun stuff! Here are some pictures of it all:

What I love about #3:

He is so curious, especially about how things work, and this has only fueled his current obsession with batteries.

Every morning when he wakes up, he seeks me out for a big hug. And his first words are always, "I want breakfast."

He loves to laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.

Even though he can be rough at times, he loves his sisters and brother so darn much, and is sad when they are not around.

He honestly believes his dad can fix anything.

He's always surprising me. This morning, I thought it would be wise to finally teach him how to write his name (I know! Can you believe I haven't done it yet?!). I squealed with delight when he not only copied the letters of his name pretty well, but knew the names of most of the letters.

I love you, #3! Happy (late) Birthday!

P.S. Here are a few videos from the wedding:
The first one is my brother and his new wife coming out of the Temple for the first time. As a married couple! How exciting! The second one is me asking them how they feel being married. My brother's answer Rocketh.

Atlanta Trip Catch-Up

Last weekend (Aug. 1-3, 2008), we flew to Atlanta. "We" as in Brandon and yours truly. We left the kiddies with a neighbor (and then my cousin, Courtney --love you, Court!), and so the trip was kid-free, and that suited me just fine, what with the flying and the layovers and the car rentals and the late nights and the driving and the Temple sealing and the nice clothes and the fancy food and the pictures and the driving and the flights and the canceled flight and the arriving so late I thought I would cry.

Kid free = Easier

Here are the Good and Bad Highlights (and then some pictures of all the highlights):

• Hanging out at Stone Mountain with some of the family.
• Arriving at the Marriott Marquis in downtown Atlanta at the same time church services had been let out down the street where every member of that church was staying in our hotel. This meant no parking space in the parking lot, hundreds (thousands?) of beautiful families with boys in suits and ladies in fancy southern hats, and little patience on our part because it was nearly midnight. The hotel was awesome --47 floors with an open atrium (holy vertigo, batman!), and the restaurant (for breakfast the next morning) was wonderful, wonderful. Kind of wish we had stayed longer...
• Realizing that although I was raised right next to a Native American Reservation and grew up with a large Hispanic population, I had never been a minority before, and loving that I was perhaps only one of 4 white people in the Marriott Marquis that night. I honestly have never been around so many Black people (dang, am I supposed to say African American?? I don't know these things anymore! They're always changing!), and I thought it was wonderful. I couldn't stop staring! Is that wrong? Or weird? Hmmm...
• Freaking out a bit because we were 20 minutes late for the wedding (we were supposed to be there by 11:30, we arrived at 11:10, saw we had time, went to the Waffle House so my brother and his wife could eat breakfast since they hadn't eaten yet, and arrived back at the Temple at 11:50. Doh!) and my mother was not happy. At. All. Don't blame her! But we didn't miss the wedding, so it was all good.
• Enjoying a lovely but very, very short sealing, where I bawled like a crazy baby (bawled, people. I bawled!) because my baby brother was getting married. To a fabulous girl. In the Temple. And so I cried even more. Such tender moments!
• Driving two hours to the Reception in Signal Mountain, TN and loving the beautiful green, green, green trees (and thinking of Jolene because she told me she had loved all the green while she lived in Atlanta).
• Having a great time at the Dinner and Reception. Great time!
• Looking hot in my hot outfit (heehee!).
• Helping decorate the car for the newlyweds (even though they drove a different one away from the reception).
• Loving that after the reception (and cleanup) we only had to drive halfway back to Atlanta because Brandon was wise and got a hotel on the way in advance.
• Being grateful for the Kid Free weekend (again) when our flight was canceled in Dallas.

(I think I might be getting addicted to the mosaics...)

The day after we got back, I got to visit with some friends. Kathryn and Dave came by with their twins --I worked with them at Aspen Grove Family Camp eight years ago. Eight years ago! Wow! It was so good to see them again.

Then I got a special, special treat. Beyond special, people! Summer and her husband, Tom, along with their cute kiddies, came to meet me. Meet me! I met Summer! And Tom! Here at my house! I met them! And it was thrilling and wonderful and they are exactly what I thought they would be --funny, relaxed, smart, and all around fabulous. Here are some pictures of the meeting:

I love meeting Blogging Friends!

And now, because I can't get enough of Mr. Tilney, I bring you THIS.

Coming up next: Birthdays and More Weddings

The Greatest Friends In The World

I've often thought that I had the greatest friends in the entire world. But now I know it's true. All of your comments, emails, messages, phone calls, posts, words of concern and comfort, prayers, thoughts --they have helped me so much. It's easy to forget that we are loved, the we are special, that we are stronger than we think we are. I truly believe Satan's best tool to get us to fail is by taking away our confidence --actually, wait. No, that's not his best tool. Satan's best tool to get us to fail is by helping us forget that we have that confidence and that we've been through this before and that we've always gotten through it. The Scriptures teach us to always remember --Christ often told His disciples to remember. Why is it so easy to forget? To forget that I'm strong? That I have loyal friends? That I have a beautiful family? That I am doing good in the meager efforts? Stupid Satan. He's so mean.
So, thank you for your friendship, dear reader. Thank you for understanding! Even though these "Cheryl Down Days" occur fairly often, you have never told me to get over it. Nor have you ever told me to stop writing about it. It's really hard to write the truth about oneself, you know? It leaves you out there, all vulnerable and scared, and sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't be so truthful. But you, dear reader, have told me more than once that you appreciate my candidness, and so I think it has fueled the desire to be honest about my struggles. If it can help me to discuss it, then perhaps it can help you? We're all in this together, eh? Comforting thought.
And now, for some business:
MBusse, a good friend of mine (for 9 years!) has written a post for me and all the mothers out there that are tired of drudgery. Go read it!
For those who are fans of the Twilight Saga (or not), Daring Young Mom actually spent the weekend in Forks, WA! Read about her adventure here.
My blogging buddy, Jeanette, has done the Mosaic Meme. I've seen them around, but never took the time before to do it. Well, she specifically tagged me yesterday, so I decided to spend some time this morning learning more about myself. Talk about therapeutic! If any of you haven't done this one, yet, take the time to do it. It's fun (and easier than I thought it would be)! The rules are at the bottom:

1. Cheryl's flowers, 2. Devils food cake and vanilla bean ice cream, 3. Blackfoot High School marching band, 4. Meeting the pregnant princess of the forest, 5. THE SHADOW IN THE NORTH, 6. Sunset, 7. The Avenue in mist and sun, 8. coffee and chocolate mousse cake, 9. Finding Neverland: The Fantasy Within, 10. Wall Of Peace, 11. Bokeh Melody, 12. in the field

Here's how it works:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd's mosaic maker. Choose 3 columns with 4 rows.
The Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name. (kid version: favorite animal?)

I'm leaving for Idaho tonight. My brother's Open House is tomorrow, and so we're making a quick trip to Blackfoot. Before we leave, though, I have to throw a birthday party for #3. He's turning Four tomorrow, and it just blows my mind. FOUR! Anyway, I was hoping to get the Atlanta trip posted, but I guess it's just going to have to wait. I'll play major Catch-up next week, okay? Okay.

P.S. Love you, Dear Reader! You're the best.

P.P.S. I'll give you extra brownie points if you can find the movie reference in this post and if you can name the actor I have a crush on. :)

Down Day. Yeah. You Heard Me.

Warning: I'm going to talk about my ongoing battle with what is called Depression. No, I don't take meds for it. No, I don't have a therapist. No, my family isn't concerned. No, I a not a rotten mother, and no, I am not suicidal. If you would like to leave me a comment telling me what an idiot I am, feel free, but you're going to feel rather silly, now that I've already answered the basic questions.

First of all, I hate that I have to be all upfront with my warning and what-not. But I've had enough "counsel" given to me in the past (by those far removed from the situation), that I feel I need to be frank with those who are quick to --dare I say it? --judge. Yep. Judge. I mean, I'm all for good advice and encouraging words, but I don't like being told that I'm being stupid, especially when the one telling me I'm stupid doesn't know me. Harsh stuff, man. And that could be an entirely different post, you know: "Why you shouldn't ever make people feel stupid on their own personal blogs. Save it for the forums! Just kidding. Don't ever make people feel stupid, because it's not nice."

All righty, then. This is what's been going on lately:
I've spent the last few days engrossed in the world of Breaking Dawn (no surprise there!) and here's my short take on it (some Spoiling if you haven't read it!):
1. People love Stephenie Meyer because she has a great imaginary world a lot of people want to believe in. There's just something about fantasy that makes us imagine the possible in the impossible and takes us away --even just for a day --from the daily grind. Sure, her similes get old after a while, sure the relationship between Bella and Edward is a little too passionate/gooey/"I would die for you and oh, your pain is so much my pain!", but I think a lot of women put up with it (as we are reading) because in our deepest inner part, we remember the lust/passion/"die without you" phases in our lives. And hopefully, for some of us, there's a little bit of that still there. Maybe.
2. I was very happy that although there was quite an inordinate amount of sexual reference (not dirty or vulgar, just lots of references!), the recommendation for chastity was obvious. This is good.
3. I would never, ever, ever want my daughters to read these books until they have hit about...age....17 or so. At least until they are at the age when they realize that being a "horndog" (doh! Did I just use that word!?) isn't exactly a good thing, and that Bella's constant physical desire is obnoxious. As a married woman? Didn't really bother me. I got it. As a teen? Awk-Ward! And pretty inappropriate.
4. I thought it was a perfect ending to a good series. This book was just as good (or just as bad, depending on your PoV) as the rest of the books. I was satisfied.

Now that I'm done being immersed in the world of Vampires and Werewolves (and the total desire to become an awesome Vampire myself --what? To macabre?), I have turned my attention to my destroyed household. And I'm tired. Very, very, very tired. It isn't a "oh, I stayed up too late reading Breaking Dawn!" tired --because I was in bed before 11PM last night --it's a "Why do I have to do these stupid chores again!?" tired. It's the "I'm tired of cleaning up dried cereal and cheese; tired of laundry; tired of dirty toilets; tired of whining kids; tired of all the things that are breaking all around our house; tired of financial struggles; tired of dealing with people" kind of tired. The "I'm going to be doing this for 20 years. Every. Day. For 20 years" kind of tired. It's also the "I'll never be a writer" kind of tired and the "did I really gain 6 pounds this month?!" kind of tired and the "blogging just isn't very fun right now" kind of tired.

I'm tired.

And it's not so much that I don't want to do things --I know I need to get things done, and I'll get them done. Even now, as I type this, I'm on my second load of laundry, the dishes are finished, and the kids are dressed. The birthday party for #3 is already planned, and Brandon and I are even going out on a date tonight. See? I do things. I get things done. I always get it done. But I'm at a point where I'm wondering if I want to get things done anymore.
Wouldn't it be easier to just be a known deadbeat and watch my Soaps all day? Wouldn't it be easier to allow myself to drift inside and ignore the external? Wouldn't it be easier to just...just...stop caring?
Maybe.
But I doubt I'll find out. I'm too stubborn to quit or give up. I wouldn't be happy with that outcome, anymore than with the outcome I'm living. It's kind of a crappy place to be, you know --stuck inside some sadness, wanting to get out, but liking the familiarity too much to leave.
And then having random strangers to tell you to pop some pills already.
Ah, well. It's how it goes, you know. You do the best you can and you just keep goin'. What else is there to do? Besides trying? And going? Even if I was to take meds and spend years and years trying to find the right dose and type to "fix" me, I'd still have to keep going, you know. Keep trying. Keep fighting. Even if I was to find some superficial type of happiness (which could be better than none, I know, I know!), I'd still have hard times and trials and a never-ending supply of Humble Pie. So, I just gotta keep going. Keep doing. Keep moving. "Enduring to the end," if you will.
You know, someone once told me that "enduring to the end" was awful. What good is enduring if there's no happiness? I wasn't sure how to respond, because I didn't really understand what she was meaning. But now I think I know what she means. And I have to disagree. Because I know that I have happiness. It's out there --on the fringes. Every once in a while, it pops up and into my life (not quite unlike the poem I wrote here), and I try to remember those times. Good memories can last a long time. But I have to endure through the drudgery and down days and tough times to get those shards of happiness. Do I wish I had to find them this way? Tiny pieces of happiness, strewn along the way, only found every once in a while? Do I wish I could have constant happiness? Absolutely.
But some happiness is better than no happiness.
And I'm okay with that.
I hope.

Blah...It's August...and Blah...

When August hits, I'm so ready for school to start. And for the weather to cool down. And for the longest nap of my life.
Well, school doesn't start for two more weeks, the weather will remain hot until October, and I probably won't get a nap until 2028.
So, until then, I'm trying to stay sane. And non-depressed (hard to do when one struggles with depression, eh?). Staying busy helps, and so I'm working on a post about our trip to Atlanta. Oh, the stories to tell! The joy-riddled adventure that will leave you all begging for more! I know you can hardly wait!
There's also another post I'm working on where I will describe for you my joy in meeting Summer and her husband. Yes! I met Summer! And her husband! Yesterday! And obviously I'm quite excited about it!

Other ways I'm going to stay busy this week:

• Teach 9 piano lessons.
• Go to the Library.
• Make and pass out Birthday Party invites for #3's 4th birthday party this weekend.
• Plan said birthday party.
• Buy gifts for the birthday boy.
• Shower occasionally.
• Visit with old friends.
• Blog.
• Clean the house.
• Wonder why everything in our house has to fall apart at the same time and in myriad of ways.
• Go to Idaho after said birthday party for Baby Brother's Open House. And another birthday party.
• Try to convince #4 that Nursery is a beautiful place, full of food and toys and wonderful things!
• Start thinking about back-to-school shopping. Because I procrastinate like that.

That is all. Sorry I don't have any good questions to ask, so feel free to comment about whatever I said. Or didn't say. In fact, you could tell me how you feel about the weather, macaroni and cheese, Ferris Bueller, or the price of rice in China. Serious! This is a free for all today.

Aaaaaaand....we're still here.

Right now I am sitting in the DFW (Dallas/Ft. Worth) airport. I am not on an airplane flying home right now, as hoped. 

Our flight was cancelled. 

Ah, well. There are two more flights heading to SLC tonight, so either way, we'll be home by 1AM at the latest (home, home. The flight gets in before midnight.). 

And you know? It's not so bad. Sure, we're stuck in the airport for about 8 hours. Sure, it's boring. But I've never had a flight cancel on me before, and so it's kind of an adventure! It's kind of thrilling! Exciting! 

Okay, yeah. Who am I kidding? This kind of sucks. 

Hopefully we'll see you tomorrow!

CEO?? Pshaw! We Deal With Poop, Buddy.

Dear Reader,
I am currently on my to Atlanta, GA for my baby brother's wedding. I wrote this post yesterday morning, but thanks to Blogger's post scheduler, voila! It looks like I wrote it this morning. Enjoy! I'll see you when I get back. Or from the hotel tonight. Because I'm obsessed like that.
Most Sincerely,
Happy Crazy Cheryl

The following happened on Wednesday afternoon within a two hour window:

*#4, not wearing anything but a diaper because it was a hot day, was found, by me, with poop all over his legs, his arms, his belly, and in his diaper. Miracle beyond miracles, no poop was found on any carpet, toys, or furniture. How this occurred, I will never know!
*Convincing three of my four children (#4 just isn't old enough to be convinced, yet) to help me clean the play room/family room without completely freaking out (although a little yelling did occur. Okay, maybe a lot. But not as much as usual, so it was progress!).
*#1 accidentally knocked down a light fixture with a large, folded box. This sent glass shattering all over the family room carpet, caused her to cry in hysterics, and made me --once again --grateful that Brandon ended up buying the Dyson.
*Being able to talk on the phone with a superb and dear friend throughout all the catastrophes and still accomplish a meaningful and delightful conversation.
*#1, thinking she could lift the 1 gallon pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge with one hand, spilled said contents all over the fridge.
*#3, not paying attention, knocked over an entire glass of lemonade, which spilled all over his pants, #1's pants, two chairs, the floor, and the counter. Who knew 8 oz. could spread so far?


I've decided that mothers are better than CEO's. Better than any high-falutin' business person whose job it is to put "fires" out all day, because a mother? With small children? Not only does she have to put out "fires", but she has to keep the child's sense of self-worth in tact, at the same time teaching the importance of responsibility. We do the menial and most degrading of jobs (poop, throw up, snot, etc.), and yet we have these delicate, delicate minds to mold and these amazing souls to love.
Hardest job, ever. Hands down.


And now, for your laughing pleasure (and because I love Bythelbs' Funnies Fridays and so I couldn't resist to steal her idea), here is a taste of what goes on in our home on a very consistent and deliberate basis: