Celebrate, Well, Me!

In honor of my upcoming birthday, I thought it would be fun to share some random facts about myself. I will be busy all day on my birthday, so now seemed as good a time as any.

1. First-- this is a little bit of a secret-- I still have all my journals from growing up. (I'm on about #16 now.) My oldest journal is from first grade. I was with two of my best friends this summer and they were saying what trash their journals were and how pointless they were. I think one of them had thrown away all their journals except the most recent ones. I held my tongue when I should have spoken up and not pretended to agree with them. Because the fact is, it's not that I think my journal from first grade is particularly profound, but the very idea of throwing away my journals makes me feel very sad. Never! I am a record keeper. Not a beautiful record keeper. Not a brilliant record keeper. But a record keeper nonetheless.

(Clearly, life's moments need to be captured: Cliff jumping in the Apostle Islands.)

2. I'm a little bit obsessive about names, specifically, my name. My first name is unusual. In the baby name books, you would find it under boys' names. It's Irish. It means "little fiery one" -- I liked to think of that meaning "passionate about life." My middle name is my great-grandfather's last name backwards. He used it as a pen name when publishing his poems in the local newspaper. My maiden name was an interjection-- how fun is that! And my married name is a noun. I have given a lot of thought to names over the years. One of the best things about writing when I was a kid was naming my characters. My parents even got me a baby name book when I was young, just because of that obsession.

(Little Fiery One, backwards surname, exclamation/noun!)

3. The (not super important but really intelligence-enhancing) gift I covet the most is a memory for facts. I fail at knowing trivia. I even fail at remembering things I'm really interested in-- like facts from books or history. Some friends recently introduced us to www.sporcle.com (it's highly addictive and time-wasting), and I have been disappointed to be reminded of this fault. Sometimes, it feels like such a waste of time to learn anything because I know that if I want to know it, I will have to learn it fifteen times before I know it . . . and then relearn it again after any time elapses. This, as you may be able to imagine, is highly aggravating. Probably this seems even more desirable because I know so many people who naturally have this gift-- one of my older brothers, my husband, my friend Kristi, and three of my sophomore roommates, to name just a few stellar examples of this.

(For example, Sporcle asked the name of this author. I have read this book in French and English, and I still couldn't remember!)

4. Along those lines, I always wanted to be one of those girls who was good at math and science. First, my dad loves math and science and he really did an awesome job of making them look cool and desirable. Second, when I got older, I began to realize that girls who liked reading and writing were a dime a dozen. Third, when I got even older, I began to notice scholarships for girls who were pursuing degrees in fields related to math and science. In every way, I just thought that was awesome. However, my gifts lie another direction. And I've accepted that, but I can't help but think my friend Libby is a genius-- with her master's in mathematics.

(Madame Curie-- way to go, woman!)

5. My inspiration growing up were fictional girls: Anne Shirley, Jo March, and Lizzy Bennett. Perhaps it's cliched and old-fashioned, but I adored every fiery, energetic, passionate one of them!

6. I admire my dad because he is a genuine lover of people and life. He loves all kinds of people. He loves to get out of his comfort zone and meet people and have interesting experiences. He loves to observe people. He is very easy to talk to, and he was my confidante when I was a kid. I remember slaying dragons with him while my mom was in a late-night meeting when I was a kid. He loves books. He read The Secret Garden and Tom's Secret Garden and later Dune with me. One daddy-daughter date with him included walking around Walmart telling outlandish stories about people we saw. Might make you a little uncomfortable next time you see people looking at you while you're at Walmart, but there you have it. Also, my dad is always striving to improve himself.

7. I admire my mom because she is whole-hearted. My mom is ablaze with passion for information. For a long time, different cultures were her thing-- she especially loved learning about Native Americans (and is very knowledgeable about Navajos especially) and about the Deaf Culture. When she learns something, she learns it through and through. Now, she is passionate about animals. She has a farm and can tell you the difference between Cockatoos and African Greys (both parrots but very different parrots); she can tell you about Parelli Natural Horsemanship; she can felt wool; she can give animals shots; she can bandage wounds; she can deliver animals; she can tell you about different kinds of hens. To me, my mom is a sort of renaissance woman. She's also whole-hearted in friendship. If she considers you her friend, she would be there for you 110%. She's also whole-hearted as my friend. I call her a lot. A lot. A LOT! And she talks to me a lot even though she has a lot of activities in her life.

8. My favorite color is blue. It has been for a long time. I have never been a big fan of pink.

9. As a mother of boys, I sometimes feel that boys get a bad rap. When I have girls, maybe I'll hear more negative things about girls. Recently though, I have just felt like I want to be surrounded by people who celebrate boys (not over girls or above girls, but as well as girls). I have wanted to say that boys have cute clothes. And boys are fun. And boys aren't necessarily harder to potty-train or teach to talk than girls. In fact, boys aren't necessarily harder than girls at all. And boys can grow up to love their mothers and mothers-in-law. And boys can grow up to be good husbands and fathers. I admit it, I really want to have a girl at some point. However, for now, I find absolute delight in my two beautiful, wonderful boys.

10. I hope that I will be excited about my birthday every year of my life for the rest of my life. It could be a little over the top. It could be a little silly. But it's one of those extravagances I hope my children remember fondly after I die. (My list of silly quirks they should remember is thus, so far: super enthusiastic about birthdays; lived off of anticipation of anything for several months in advance; set up the Christmas tree right after Halloween (yes, it's fake); rolled down hills and splashed in puddles; and showed off cool-looking dead bugs (though admittedly I'm really squeamish about live ones, especially if they're big).)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Have a fantastic Thanksgiving today!

We're so thankful to have you in our lives,

family and friends! We are very, very blessed!

Trigger My Memory

I love memory triggers. I'm so grateful that my brain reacts to so many things with a flood of beautiful memories. Associations are THE BEST! It fills my days with a reminder of all the great relationships I have, even if I hardly see anyone all day.

For instance, the following purse was made by one of our favorite people. Kyle was making one for his wife, Kathleen, for Christmas and it just so happened that my birthday was close enough to Christmas that he just went ahead and doubled the present to make one for me. I was completely surprised to get anything for my birthday and doubly surprised to have it be something so useful and cool! And now, every time I use this purse, I think of Kyle for making it and Kathleen for having one just like it-- and how much I love them both and miss them!

That's just one of many examples. On my wall, for instance, is a beautiful painting of the ocean that my grandmother painted. I've never met her, but it still makes me think of her. The painting used to be up on my grandpa's bedroom wall, and I remember lying on his bed when we were there for his funeral, staring at this painting for a long time, and how peaceful it helped me feel. I think of them both whenever I notice it. (And I'm so grateful my aunts and uncles let me have it.)

I have millions of things from my parents (especially at Christmas): books, a quilt (and my mom is NOT a quilter, so this is truly a gift of love), our nativity up right now, our stockings with our names on them, most of the ornaments on our tree, all sorts of things.

The quilt on our bed now is from my mother-in-law and Caleb has a matching one from her. Both of my boys have quilts that were gifts from my Grandma. I have a frog quilt from two of my best friends, Christine and Debbie, that they made for my wedding present. I have books from my friend Stacy (and this is symbolically dear to me because I feel that one of the many ways we've bonded over the last several years is through books). I have several pictures on my wall from my aunt and several trinkets from my uncle. Most of my boys' presents are tied to family in my heart-- a train set from Patrick's aunts and grandpa, a walking toy from Patrick's parents, etc.

But it's not all about presents. The fact is, there are a million triggers in our lives that we couldn't stop if we wanted to-- we couldn't throw out if we suddenly got depressed and stupid. Recipes are a major one. The food we eat is almost all tied to people. And I like that, so I promote the tie. In our family recipe book, I attribute the recipes to whomever gave them to me. One has come to be known as "Libby Pasta" even though she didn't come up with it. (Actually, Libby, this would probably offend you because I altered it so much that it's not nearly as good and now I don't have the original. I need to get the original from you again!)

And everyday things are memory triggers, too. I once had to make a poster for an event at our church. I have almost no (possibly absolutely no) aesthetic gift. Happily, my friend Kathleen has a visual eye. Now when I look outside in the fall, I remember gathering up leaves with her to put on this poster that she made for me . . . even though it was sort of my "job."

When I'm at my parents' house in the summers, I have so many triggers from all my years growing up there. Especially two memorable camping trips out in the back forty with friends Christine, Debbie, and Eun-ji.

I wish I could mention everything that makes me feel so good and so loved, but of course that would bore you all to tears. So let it simply be known: I love my memories and how they help me remember my friends!

And so ends my November Thanksgiving posts. This year I'm still going to number 100 things I'm thankful for in my journal, just like always, but I hope I can be a little more creative and specific about all the things that make me happy. Out of curiosity, what are some of your favorite memory triggers?

My In-Laws Are the Best!

(Except for my husband's, as he also got a pretty incredible deal, if I may say so.)

Now you know all those horrible mother-in-law jokes? Or remember all those sad stories about not fitting in with your in-laws? Well, that is not my story. My story is the story of a girl who gets told pretty often how lucky her husband is to have her. My story is the story of a new mom who got sick at the same time as her young baby and her mother-in-law took off longer at work and her father-in-law postponed his return to all the comforts of home to stay and let her fussy baby sleep in their room so that mom could get some sleep. My story is the story of a couple who makes room for us to stay in their house (which is already shared with another child and her spouse) when we're in the area so they can get more time with all of us. This is a couple who definitely has the attitude of adding children by marriage and not losing children.

My awesome in-laws.

And it's not just my husband's awesome-as-can-be parents. While going to college, I was always a mite jealous of all the people around me who had family close at hand. And then, voila!, when Patrick and I were dating, I got to meet his two (later three) aunties who lived nearby. When the discussion of marriage came up, I quipped, "Heck, I'd marry you just for your aunts." They made me feel welcomed from the very beginning when I joined them at monthly family dinners. These women listened to my academic goals and babysat our son while we went to the temple. They taught me many dishes to prepare when I was completely inept.These women had some really tough things happen during the time we were in Utah and they still made room for us and let us be part of their lives. By doing that, they helped us learn an awful lot about families and children and parenting and love. They supported us through graduations and graduate school applications and baby blessings and many, many holidays. I felt as much a part of the family as if I'd been born in it.

Our host-auntie and her twin.

Two local aunts and one visiting aunt.

But, wait, it doesn't stop there. That's part of Patrick's (very large) paternal side. The side he grew up knowing best was his maternal extended family. In this family, every family on Patrick's maternal side is doubled up (and one tripled up) in their houses, and this is just one example of their generosity. Every holiday we get physically showered in presents. This is a bit overwhelming for me, but how can I complain? Now I know that people don't have to send presents to say they love you (good thing because this isn't our best way of showing love). And even when people send presents it's not necessarily out of love. But in this family, the presents are definitely a manifestation of love. The presents are only the beginning. They are also a time-spending family who makes sure to see us when we're in town. And as every spouse and every child has come into the family (and as they wait for more to come), it's clear that this family has an abundance of love to give. I believe that every fiance and then spouse has felt welcomed with open arms.

This is one maternal auntie. The other would never, ever let me take a picture of her again if I posted the one picture I have. But they are both awesome.

I've heard stories galore of women whose fiance's were told not to marry them by nervous (and as the women felt, meddling and judgmental) soon-to-be mothers-in-law. I've heard stories of women who felt their mothers-in-law only liked them when they gave them grandchildren. I have heard stories of women who felt their mothers-in-law broke up the family after the marriage by trying to keep sons tied to their family of origin. But, as you can see, that's not my story. My story is filled with a loving mother- and father-in-law and incredible extended family.

I'm Thankful for Good Girls

(A few of the good girls in our lives, especially ones Patrick grew up with.

I chose this one because it was one of the few I could find with Alysha. What's up with that? Clearly, we need to get together!)

Recently, Patrick and I were talking about all the things that can go wrong in life-- all the points of decision, where good choices or luck kick-in in your favor. For instance, going on a mission for the LDS church for him, getting married, finishing school, going to graduate school. But even before all those major points of decision, there were many influences for good that I can reflect on that led him/me to those major points of decision. Growing up, Patrick and I both had some awesome friends-- friends that will be lifelong friends, friends that we can count on in need, and friends that we can reunite with and enjoy catching up with even after years.

But in particular, I have been feeling grateful for the girls he knew in his youth who influenced him for good. I have heard stories of him gathering around a piano on Sunday at the home of a friend and singing hymns with two girls. Now, my friends, it isn't likely that my husband would have done that with his male friends, but what an influence for good! What a blessing that there were people like that in his life.

The way Patrick and I met was through our mutual friend, who was my roommate in college for two years. When we were dating, Michelle would tell me that she had "trained" Patrick that he better open doors for girls. She thought of Patrick as a brother in a lot of ways, and felt she could tell him what to do, and Patrick respected her so he honored her good guidance (although at other times he calls her a hippy, but he's like that).

(Michelle with her little girl.)

Maybe this sticks in my mind because I have two little boys now, and I hope that the girls they know as teenagers will help them to make good choices and spend their time doing positive things. Also, I hope that I was that kind of girl for other women's husbands, that when my name comes up in conversation, women can say, "Gosh, I'm glad you two were friends." Because I'm glad that those amazing girls (now amazing women) were part of my husband's life.

(Another mutual friend, Cat, who I knew from Girls' Camp.)

(Cami with her husband at our wedding.)

(Aimee at her wedding. Yes, Patrick started a water fight with the bride. She is clearly an awesome good sport.)

I'm sure there are others that I don't know about or don't have pictures of, but Michelle, Cat, Cami, Aimee, and Alysha are a few I know have done him good, and I'm so glad they've been a part of our lives!

It's Nice to Like Yourself

(The Pictures that follow are in acknowledgement that this post is definitely 100 million times more interesting with pictures. They date from 2001-2002.)

Growing up, my family had a tradition of sharing 100 things we were thankful for (each taking turns until we collectively reached 100) on Thanksgiving. Then I made a list in my journal as I got older and did Thanksgiving away from my family and then I got married and made Patrick do it with me. Last year, the friends we "Thanksgivinged with" humored me and did our 100 things list with us. Looking forward to Thanksgiving generally, thinking about "my list," and watching all the other thankful people posting on Facebook, I have been giving thought to things I'm thankful for. In particular, I have tried to think of original things I'm thankful for-- things that I don't say every year (family, friends, home, school, books, etc.).

One thing that came to mind was that I am thankful for the self image I had growing up.

Now, I have to be honest. I was not the most attractive little rugrat. And I didn't get any introduction to fashion until a friend went shopping with me once in high school. Even then, the only aspect of "fashion" (if we may call it that) that stuck with me is that it is probably more attractive to wear clothes that fit and that are from the girls' section than to wear your brothers' hand-me-downs that are two sizes too big.

And I wasn't the smartest cookie in the box (or whatever the cliche ought to be). I mean, I was in Gifted and Talented, but from an early age it was obvious that almost everybody else in the Gifted and Talented program was probably both more gifted and more talented . . . and had a higher IQ than me to boot.

And I'm definitely not the funniest girl you'll ever meet. I love a good laugh, but I'm usually along for the ride, not the one cracking the jokes.

I'm also not super creative. I have friends who are artists, musicians, actors, quilters, and much, much more. I dabble in writing-- and I like it, but that was pretty much the end of my concrete talents before adulthood. But even that is frequently not a showy talent-- it's a bit private most of the time (especially growing up pre-Internet frenzy).

Now, having said all that, and even knowing all that about myself growing up, I thought I was the best, most amazing little woman. I was full of passionate, idealistic ideas. I had big plans. I thought people were lucky to be my friend (though it wasn't arrogant because I felt equally blessed for every friend I had). Of all the gifts I have ever had in my life, the confidence I had in my youth was probably one of the best things I could ever have asked for but never could have thought of beforehand. It protected me from all sorts of stupid choices. And it made choosing to be happy much, much easier.

I had friends and family members who struggled with their self-images. And I remember that I just couldn't really relate. It was just a little foreign to me. I think because I knew them and loved them and they opened up to me, I could have a sincere compassion for them and a deep sympathy, but I could never pretend that that was a struggle for me.

And for this I have to thank 1.) My parents. My dad is super confident himself and my mom was ALWAYS positive with me about my body and my talents. She never harassed me to look better or lose weight. 2.) God. I think it was really just a gift I was given. 3.) Little Women. I know that one seems funny, but I was thinking about how much I adored Jo and how she was a model for me. For Jo, being the best-looking, most charming person in the room was just never a priority for her. To me, Jo immortalized making the most of yourself and your life by being bold and interesting and unique even if "you" wasn't super showy or super gorgeous (as I always felt was the case for me and Jo). Bless you, Louisa May, for depicting that character so well.