Long Time, No Write

What have I been up to?

I moved. I unpacked. I lost my toaster. I bought a new toaster. I found my old toaster.

I left hundreds of books in Virginia because I didn't have space for everything in one moving van.

I accepted 12 chickens from a neighbor in my new town and watched Peter learn how to care for them, gather eggs, chase them around the yard, and throw his arms around me and tell me his life is complete now that he has chickens.

I looked around my new house and thought how strange it is that my ex won't ever see this house.

I went back to Virginia for a court date on September 15th and was granted a permanent protective order.

I killed a spider the size of Vermont who was living in my bathtub. (I have a large bathtub.)

I figured out what my neighbor meant when she asked if I was putting up. me: "Putting up with what?" Pause. her: Putting up fruit? Light goes on. "Oh! Yes! I bottled apricot juice and peaches with my mom!" I didn't tell her this was the first time in my life I'd "put up" anything, and that my peaches looked pathetic.

I enrolled my children in (GASP!) school. First one. Then another. Then another. I went home, sat at the kitchen table and wondered what on earth I had just done.

I ate so many raspberries that I made myself sick. I didn't know that was possible.

I wrote an entire novel in about a week.

I tried to plan a trip to Yellowstone, but remembered the kids were in school and we couldn't go anywhere.

I watched as Naomi walked out the door in the morning, turned and said with a smile, "I have a backpack, a lunchbox, and a locker. I get to ride the bus and go to science class. I feel like a normal kid!" And I wondered if this made me happy or sad.

I watched baby David while Rachel and Mike went to the temple with Mike's younger brother.

I agreed to paint the set for Cinderella before finding out exactly how big the set is and how soon they want it done. (Holy Cow.)

I took Bethany, along with Elizabeth, to the (brand new!) recording studio at BYU and helped her record a couple of songs for her album. We laughed and figured things out and scrunched in a tiny room and worked for hours and hours 'till our brains hurt.

I discovered that I LOVE (as much as I thought I would!) having a fireplace in my bedroom!

I had Joshua's birthday dinner at my house with All My Kids!

I helped my mom cut out pieces for the (insane!) quilt she's making. It's going to be amazing.

I cried when people asked where my husband is, and what I do. I discovered that a single mom is supposed to work. Not just write novels.

I realized we have deep window sills, so we can put candles in the windows for Christmas and I smiled for a week.

I hosted parties for kids from BYU, kids from school, and anyone else who showed up. We've had bonfires, roasted marshmallows, carved pumpkins, watched movies and had a jolly good time.

I watched the sun set, smelled newly mown alfalfa, picked sunflowers, fed apples from our tree to the horses down the road, watched bees get drunk on apricot nectar, discovered grapes growing on the fence, watched the kids play soccer in the backyard, made bouquets of hollyhocks and snapdragons, gathered eggs, picked pumpkins, and wondered...

Is this really my life?

And I thanked God that things can be so wonderful. =)

The Hunt for the Perfect Location

I will be moving soon, to an as-yet-undisclosed (and undiscovered) location. What am I hopping for? Perfection. That's it. Not much, really. Only one word. 10 letters. But, perhaps I should be more specific. What is perfection in a living location?

--Low cost of living. Housing, food and gas prices that are at the lower end of the national average, along with a community college that is either free or very close to free for highschool students. (Yes, Virginians, there is free college for highschool students in some states.)

--Nice people. Friendly, well-educated. This presupposes a low crime rate. Criminals may be friendly with each other, but I really don't want my kids hanging out with gang members. Preferably many of these nice people will homeschool their kids and enough of them will be LDS that my kids have a good dating pool to choose from.

--Not Too far from my family members at BYU. This could perhaps be an extension of "Nice People." =) I like my kids, my parents and my siblings. And grandparents are a good thing for children to have around!

--Lots of trees, no billboards. Think of the mama duck (I think it's a duck) on Bambi (I think it's Bambi) who says, "Green's good for the eye!" (Or wait. Was that The Ugly Ducking? Anyway, you get the idea.) Trees make me happy. Billboards make me feel like white trash.

--Fun Stuff to Do. Nearby activities that are kid and family friendly and either free or pretty darn close to free is big on my list. This could include museums (think Smithsonian), hiking, fun parks, lakes and rivers for boating/canoeing, etc.

--Easy Homeschool Laws. Some states make it easy to homeschool your kids. Some seem to have forgotten who gave birth and who didn't. I like Alaska, where, if I understand correctly, the state assumes your child will be homeschooled unless you tell them otherwise. If anyone finds a way to move Alaska a little closer to CONUS, please let me know.

--Really, really good church congregation. One with a good assortment of happy, non-cliquish teens, where home and visiting teaching happen, ward parties are fun because the people like each other, and members are generally thrilled to be with their friends on Sunday and at YM/YW. If they happened to have a Girl's Camp that was comparable to Scout Camp, I might never leave.

I think this pretty well sums it up. Do you happen to know where I am describing? 'Cause if you do, please contact me ASAP! The hunt for the Perfect Location is on!

Yes, but-

What if I look under the bed

To make sure they are only figments of my imagination

And they leap out

Splitting my ears with their roars

Tearing my face with their claws

Spilling my blood

In pools

On the bedroom carpet

?

Solid Ground

I never notice

Stepping onto the shore

After a day on the lake

In my canoe

But after a night on the sea

In hurricane storms

I fall to my knees

Clutch the grass in my hands

Press my face to the dirt

And thank Almighty God

For the blessing

Greater than I could have imagined

Of solid ground

What's Up?

People have been asking what's up in my life lately, and... well... frankly I don't have time to answer all of them because of what's up in my life lately. So, a quick blog post will have to do.

I turned on my computer tonight and found an email from my attorney that read, "You're divorced!" I stared at it for several minutes wondering if I was going to feel anything. Apparently not. But now you all know.

What else has been going on? I'll see if I can remember. My car has just recovered from a month out of commission during which time my dishwasher and kitchen sink quit working, the court lost my divorce documents, my kids psychiatrist lost his medical license, Bethany had two ear infections, Naomi was uninvited to attend our church's youth group, the bank deposited my money in someone else's account, I got stranded out of town with no way to get home, an animal died somewhere in the garage (or in the walls of the garage), and the garage door fell off.

I'm pretty sure I'm missing several major things, but this is all I can remember right now.

My apologies if I've been behind in emails, phone calls, or neighborly chats. It's not that I don't love you. I just can't remember what I'm doing. Oh yes. And we're moving.

Somewhere.

Else.

Rebecca =/

The Miracle of the Cell Phone

Something like this past week at our house must have inspired The Series of Unfortunate Events. You know-- that book series about a family who goes through so many horrible things it's completely unbelievable?

But in the midst of broken car parts, a broken dishwasher, wrong car parts, a broken disposal, cracked car parts, a doctor whose license was revoked, mountains of paperwork, missed appointments, and more car troubles... a miracle occurred.

Bethany lost her cell phone and we turned the house upside down and inside out searching for it. I'd offered major rewards for it's recovery (to motivate Peter and Naomi to search- and search they did!) We'd stationed people all over the house, and called and called Bethany's number, even though the ringer was turned off, hoping it might make its self known to us. We'd prayed and prayed to know where to look. But nothing was working. We went through trash cans and old boxes no one had opened for years. It appeared that, along with all the other stress of the week, the phone was gone.

A couple of nights ago Bethany and I were up late. She asked what she was going to do about her phone, and I told her there was not much we could do. I can't afford to get a new one. We'd just have to do without. We both went up to bed feeling depressed.

A moment later Bethany was shouting, "Mom!" in a voice that made my blood run cold. Had she found one of the cats dead on her bed? This would fit with the week far too well. "It's going to be all right!" she sobbed. I opened my door and there was Bethany with her cell phone in her hand.

"You found it?"

"I was praying again, telling Heavenly Father I really need help and asking Him to help me find it. And then I heard it ringing! I went into Joshua's room and there it was, under my drum set, ringing."

N0w let me just say, her ringer was turned off, no one was calling, and the only alarm set on the phone was for several hours earlier. But it rang when she prayed.

We hugged each other and cried. And for some reason, I knew she was right. Everything will be all right.

=)

Recovering from Surgery and some Serious Misconceptions

Yesterday I stood up and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d! My arms, my legs, and even my ABS! Oh the joy! The sheer elasticity of it all! Oh yes- recovery is good.

It's been a long time coming. Frankly, I didn't believe my doctors when they said, "six weeks for recovery." I mean really. Who takes 6 Weeks! to recover?

Me.

I went into this thinking I'd take no pain meds and be up and running... oh... maybe a week later. I didn't expect to do CrossFit the day after surgery or anything. I'm not stupid. I'd give myself a good 4-5 days to recover.

Then I woke up after surgery.

My first thought: Ow.

My second thought: Oh! Really OW!

My third thought: HOLY COW! Get me some morphine NOW!!!

I slammed the nurse call button and felt myself starting to cry-- which was NOT a good idea. Crying uses abdominal muscles. (A fact I'd never considered before) The more I hurt, the more I started to cry, the more I hurt, the more I cried... The worst (and fastest acting) vicious cycle I've ever been caught in.

The nurse- a short Asian woman- informed me in halting English that she couldn't give me anything more for pain because, "You ah sensitive to pain medicine."

Shocked stare from me. My thoughts: "I'm the one who told you that! And apparently I'm not THAT sensitive, because I am about to DIE from PAIN!"

What I actually did: Stare at the ceiling and try to remember some Lamaze breathing from my ancient past in order to live. Focus. Relax. Breathe.

When I could talk I told her to go get an anesthesiologist. She argued for a moment until I turned my head away from my focal point on the ceiling. We made eye contact and she saw the terror in my eyes. "I go wake him up."

Yes. Good idea.

I came home from the hospital with Tylenol 3 and a renewed appreciation for narcotics. But I still didn't take the whole recovery thing seriously. I mean, how hard could it be?

For the first two weeks my Mom was here and I was able to rest. And rest. And rest. And at the end of those 2 weeks, I was feeling pretty darn good! I was certain I was basically recovered. Isn't it amazing what Moms can do?

When she left, I figured the vacation was over and it was time to get back to real life.

And so I got up, walked around, drove all over town (which is what I do- did you know driving uses your abs?), went tutoring (we DO need the money), and generally refused to rest until my body gave me no choice. Thankfully, several people brought in dinner for us, so after I'd exhausted myself, I could collapse with dinner and not have to stand up to prepare food for my 3 teens. Can I even begin to tell you how wonderful these meals were?

Nope. I can't.

As I am nearing the end of my 6 weeks, I humbly acknowledge my former complete incomprehension of what recovering from major surgery meant. It means Rest. As in, lying down (fixed that grammar mistake for you Mom!), not getting up to answer the phone, let the dog in, or go to see daughter X's amazing Lego creation. It means Saying No to things like tutoring, driving to the grocery store, and taking kids to activities. It means Accepting Help from people who offer it. Even when you are a bit obsessively independent. And it manes accepting My Own Mortality and coming to grips with the fact that sheer will-power can't force damaged cells to regrow any faster. (Darn it all!)

I was asked to speak in church on Sunday. (As in- give the sermon- for those of you who are not LDS) I think people at church are afraid I've gone inactive and am dropping into apostasy. Who misses church for 6 weeks in a row?

People recovering from major abdominal surgery. That's who.

I told them I could do that, as long as I don't have to give a traditional Mother's Day talk. I hate going home from church on Mother's Day feeling depressed because I am apparently the only mother in the world not ready to be taken up to Heaven in a Chariot of Fire. But MOTHERING, as in taking care of people who need help-- THAT I can talk about.

And recovery.