Bravery

Yesterday, on my Business Blog, I posted this.

Let's be brave, friends.

Happy Weekend!

Community & Villages

Soon after arriving at work yesterday, Colton fell asleep in the handy dandy camping chair in my office.

I was concerned that the meds might wear off early, so I gently woke him and got him to the truck

Side not: I drove the truck like a boss! 

My left leg was a freaking rock star and my brain totally remembered how to drive a manual!

Anywho... we made it to the dentist about 20 minutes early.

They saw how drowsy he was and got us right back.

He was still anxious enough that he wanted Danielle (Dental Hygienist) to hold one hand and me to hold the other. 

They put heavy head phones on him, turned on Black Panther and laid him back.

I thought for sure he would fight the laughing gas mask being put on his face... I was wrong.

He was drowsy enough that it didn't bother him.

The dentist was a genius with the needles!

Colton had NO idea that they were in his mouth or that he was putting them into his gums and into his BONES.

Brilliant!

Side note #2: I told the dentist that there should be a contest similar to the grocery bagging contest where baggers compete to see how fast and efficient they are at bagging... but for dentists to put needles in people's mouths fast and without them knowing! He'd win a lollipop for sure!

Anywho... he.was.out.

Out.

Like, snoring OUT.

The dentist was able to do his entire left side, which was like five cavities.

One of those was bad. There was a literal hole in the tooth. 

The dentist thought for sure he'd have to do a root canal.

But, again, he's a freaking genius and was able to get it fixed without doing a root canal.

When they were done, we had a hard time waking him up.

They turned straight oxygen on him. 

We took the head phone off.

I rubbed his chest a bit.

He just kept right on sleeping.

When he woke up, he was groggy, but good.

I got him an ice cream at Cold Stone.

We went home and both of us took a nap!

There is something to be said about community. About villages. About resources.

I have a child with different abilities. 

In order for him to live his best life, I am in constant search of people to add to our very tight-knit community.

I am looking for people who SEE Colton. Who HEAR Colton. Who LOVE Colton for being Colton.

Our dentist community is amazing. Like, AMAZING.

It's as if they were hand-picked for us.

They come together for my boy and take care of his needs.

Because his needs matter.

His thoughts matter.

His ability to vocalize what his needs are is important.

They validate that.

We love them.

It's Take Colton to Work Day

Today is Take Colton to Work Day.

Colton has seven cavities.

Today the dentist, and his amazing team, will begin filling those cavities.

Everyone knows he won't be able to do all of them in one day.

He is going to work on one side of his mouth today.

Autism, Pediatric Anxiety, ADHD

Those are Colton's challenges.

Add to that putting needles in his mouth...

It's going to be the best day ever!

We have given him some extra Clonidine this morning.

The doctor will have some meds on hand as well.

A perfect day will be the dentist being able to get the needles into his mouth to numb everything without being hit, kicked or bit.

Here's hoping for a perfect day!

Oh, and as I type this... he's asleep in the chair that you see him sitting in below.

Agency in Opinions

To preface this post, I would like to say that I am fully aware that we all have our own opinions. 

How blessed are we with agency to have our own opinions?!
And to live in a place where this is acceptable...

I understand that many people may not agree with my opinions.

I respect that, and I respect the opinions of others.

Even if I don't agree with them.

I also want to say that many of our opinions and feelings and thoughts come from the stories that we have lived in our own lives. 

In no way, whatsoever, am I trying to take away from experiences that others have had. 

I cannot begin to understand what people have been through, what that has meant to them and I am in no way able to tell them how they should feel or what they should think.

I only know of my own experiences and how those have shaped me in my own life.

Please remember that this is my journal. Therefore, my story.

I read a blog post yesterday, written by someone who I love to follow.

I love the way she writes. I love the stories she tells. I love to see life through her eyes and in her perspective.

Randy taught me many, many things. One of the greatest lessons he taught me, by his own example, was the importance of hearing people. And, not just hearing them but really learning their perspective. There is great worth in knowledge.

Just because we may not agree with someone, we can listen to them and hear them and gain from their perspective and views.

I love learning this woman's perspective from her own experiences. 

I have learned over the past several months that she has chosen to take a step back from the Church. 

Obviously, she is not the only person to have done this.

As I read her post yesterday, I felt that perhaps she was giving insight into why she made that choice.

We live in a day when news is spread so quickly.

News is spread so differently.

One story can become 10 different stories, told differently by 10 different people.

The same story, told 10 different ways, can be shared in 10 different mediums.

It is not difficult to find a story if we are looking for it; and it is not difficult to find a story told the way we want it to be told if we look hard enough.

She chose to stop her story from being told by anyone else by telling it herself.

In it, she describes being a survivor of sexual assault.

She describes talking to her LDS Priesthood leaders about it.

She describes how that made her feel on that day, and in the years to come.

She describes being in a horrible marriage.

She describes how certain words, certain phrases told in scriptures and in temple ceremonies make her feel.

She talks about her ancestory and stories of abuse, control and neglect.

She speaks of the "Mormon Moms."

This was the first time I had heard that term. 

She speaks of how Mormon Moms act and react to truths being told, to men being called out for abuse and neglect and control, to feeling as though women who tell their stories should be kept quiet.

She speaks about how her ancestors (women) were very much like this.

This is my opinion:

I have been very fortunate in that I have never felt belittled, abused, neglected or controlled by Priesthood leaders in my wards, stakes, or by general authorities.

I have never felt that I have had a conversation or an interview with a bishop, counselor, member of the stake presidency that was awkward, inappropriate or uncomfortable.

Thankfully.

Nor have my children (all boys).

I have never felt that I have been asked questions that were in any way shameful, too detailed, or inappropriate.

I have no doubt that many people feel they have been subjected to conversations or interviews that were not acceptable. For them, my heart breaks.

I have been in marriages to men who are/were at the time LDS.

Return missionaries.

"Worthy" of a temple recommend.

They were abusive.

Severely abusive.

To me and to my children.

Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Verbally.

Abusive, neglectful and controlling.

It damaged my children and I beyond repair. 

I have been vocal about making sure that in the Young Women's Program (for girls 12-18), we are much more adament about these young women being taught their worth simply based on who they are, not on who they are with, what age they get married at, how many children they have, if they are a stay-at-home mother, etc.

I believe strongly that our worth is set in stone the moment we are born.

I was taught in the YW program that our worth is based on being married to a worthy Priesthood holder, having children, staying home with the children, being a homemaker, honoring our husbands, and supporting them.

This was clearly not my journey. Therefore, for a LOT of years, I felt less than. I felt that my worth was zero because I did not have those things in my life.

I am a single mom. 

I work three jobs.

I am not married, and frankly was never married to a "worthy" Priesthood holder.

It took me having a stroke to realize that my worth is no less than President Nelson's wife.

There are lessons every week taught in Relief Society about home and family.

Just this past week in Sacrament Meeting, the talk was on family and being a good parent.

The Proclamation of the Family was quoted.

I believe that document came from a Prophet.

It talks about how the family should be made up of a mother AND a father, who raise their children with the values of the Gospel. The mother stays home and raises children. The father financially supports the family.

That is not what my family looks like.

Is it hard to sit through talks like that?

Yes.

Do I feel that those talks are aimed at me? That they are trying to teach ME a lesson? That they are trying to make me feel bad?
No.

Are things said in our temples about honoring our husbands and our God?

Yes.

Are those things hard for me to hear?
Every single time.

Do I stop believing in the Gospel because of that wording?
No.

Have I met, and had association with women such as what this lady calls "Mormon Moms?"

Absolutely.

I had a dear friend (20 years ago) tell me that she could no longer be my friend because I was no longer in her status. (I was divorced and a single mom)

Was I broken by that?
Yes.

Have I talked to her since?

No.

Do I believe that she was taught in a lesson somewhere that this is the right course of action?
No.

Do I believe that there are Church leaders who do bad things?
I know there are.

Do I believe that these things get swept under rugs?

Absolutely.

Do I believe that the LDS Church is the only church where this occurs?
I know it's not.

I don't believe that there is a single religion on this Earth that does not have members who do evil, despicable things. 

Humans have agency.

No matter their religion.

The LDS Church is full of humans.

That doesn't make the GOSPEL untrue for me.

Am I the perfect LDS member?
Hell no!

Have I drank alcohol?
Yup.

Did it end well?
Nope.

Have I followed the Law of Chastity my entire life?
Nope.

Were those smart decisions?
They were decisions. 

Do I swear?
Almost every day.

Did I serve a mission?
No.

Do I do family history?
Never have.

Do I have a testimony?
A deep, personal, very simple testimony.

Am I a good mom?
I am the best mom I know how to be in my circumstances.

Do I pray to a God that I believe in?
About 265 times a day.

Do I go to church to be seen and to socialize?
No. In fact, since the stroke, church is still the hardest thing for me to endure.

There is a lot going on at church - and it is very overwhelming to my brain.

Do I go to church to feel something?
Yes. And I never leave disappointed.

Do I have a testimony of the Priesthood?
Yes. 

Do I believe that every person at church who practices their Priesthood is worthy to hold it?
I know they're not.

But, I also know that it is not my problem. That's between them and God.

I don't have to worry about their issues.
I have enough of my own.

If I was a member of this Gospel because of the other members of this Church, I wouldn't be a member of this Gospel.

I don't believe in the Gospel because of the people at Church.

Are there lessons and thoughts that I do not agree with?
Yes.

Do I stop going because I think a lesson was completely out in left field?
No. Because I recognize that the human teaching it capable of having their own perspective.

Do I raise my hand ever and say, "Uhhhh... you should probably check yourself before you wreck yourself?"

No, but I probably should!

Because I'm sassy.

And imperfectly perfect.

Family Pictures & Mission Pictures & Babies

It was a crazy-busy weekend.

Fall is in the air.

The mountains are changing colors and it is beautiful!

We went to do mission pictures and family pictures with our favorite Pam on Saturday morning.

The temple grounds were closed for maintenance, but they let us on to do pictures.

Thank goodness.

It was freezing.

As I watched Pam take pictures of these boys of mine, I was in awe. 

These boys are my whole world.

They are handsome. Funny. Smart. Smart-allicky. Brave. Resilient. Kind. Hard-working.

And they love their mama.

After doing all of the individual pictures of the boys, she asked if I wanted individuals of me. 

I said, "NO!"

She said, "Well, it got voted yes."

My boys wanted me to have pictures of me.

I think that's pretty great!

I did a makeover that afternoon.

Then, we went to Brandon and Carrie's to relieve my mom.

She had been with them since Friday night.

These boys have our hearts.

They are just the best!

Sunday morning, we took them to Farmington Station to run around.

Of all the things to do at Farmington Station, Asher was completely content to stand under the newly-watered flower planters and let the water fall on him.

He is seriously pure joy.

Anson walked/ran around, collecting leaves of all sorts. 

Asher tried to break into the fountain to swim.

Anson tried to eat wrappers that were on the ground.

Boys. I love boys!

My weekend wrapped up with this guy grilling some salmon and asparagus for me while we watched football.

Crazy-busy weekend.

Really great weekend!

Feelings

Sometimes in a world where there is so much going on;

So much noise;

So much chaos;

So much distraction...

It's good to have a clear and concise way to remember where our feelings come from.

I often remind my children where negative feelings come from;

But often neglect to remind myself where they come from.

I saw this on social media and snatched it up!

I love this!

Happy Freaking Weekend! You are amazing!

Tonto

Yesterday was a good day. 

I met my future ex afterall.

That's a joke.

A bad joke, but a joke.

My guys lovingly told me that I had just met my "future ex" since it was obviously  not going to end successfully with Tonto.

It's fine.

He touched me AND said my name.

So, that's pretty much a relationship.

Anywho.

Yesterday, three of my guys picked me up at 6:10 am.

We traveled to the far-off metropolis of Saratoga Springs.

Have you ever driven out there?
Someone please explain to me whey anyone would EVER want to have that commute everyday!

We arrived at the venue and met up with like 15 of my other guys.

It was just my Streets guys and I.

It was a great day.

We ate breakfast, which my guys brought to me (because I'm spoiled).

A donut and a Diet Coke.

Speakers talked about snow plowing, the forecast for the upcoming winter and the science of ice slicer.
I was only interested in the budget part of it, but my barely-awake guys seems enthralled by the meteorologist and scientists' speeches.

THEN, THE KRIS TONTO PARONTO came out and spoke.

He was the Ranger involved in the Benghazi battle.

He was a great speaker.

He spoke in great detail about the battle.

Some of it was funny, most of it was heart-breaking.

The gratitude that I have for those who literally sacrifice everything for me and my family is immense.

As he was finishing his speech, the building started to shake and it sounded like a loud helicopter above.

It was an Apache.

I totally spelled that wrong on Instagram and FB.

Stroke brain.

It was so emotional.

I've never seen one up-close.

I stood right up on a chair in my skort.

Should have thought better of that.

Come to find out, a few of my guys stood behind me so that no one could look up my skort.

Gosh, I love them so much.

It was announced that Tonto would be out at a table next to the Apache, signing his books and answering any questions.

The cool part, he had no idea the Apache was coming. 

The host announced that some military members found out he was coming and wanted to salute him.

Tears.

I told the guys that we needed to go get a family picture.

Mr. Watkins said, "Come on, Sis."
He walked down with me to where the table was.

Tonto had stopped to use the restroom and wasn't there yet.

It was already a massive line.

Mr. Watkins asked me what I wanted to do...

I told him that it was too long and I didn't have money for a book, so we should just forget it and go get in line for food.

We started to walk back to the food line and walking toward us was Tonto.

I about lost my breath.

For real.

Mr. Watkins said, "Okay, Sis!"

I said, "I know I'm not in line, but can you please take a picture with me?"
He said, "Hell yes I can!"

He put his arm around me first!

And, he said, "Nice to meet you, HEIDI!"

I said, "HE SAID MY NAME!!!"

Mr. Watkins said, "You're wearing a name tag, Sis."
Oh.

His speech and the Apache are something I'll never forget.

The guys and I then went and played 18 holes.

My 5 iron was on point!

My putter and pitching wedge not so much.

But, my heart was full!

Softball & Grub

Annnnnd, both softball and lunch events for 2018 are in the books.

Annnnnnd, my anxiety level is just now coming down.

Annnnnnd, as usual I am eternally grateful for this group of men who surround me and lift me up every single day.

This is the third event since P went to Heaven.

I have missed him immensely at every single one.

He handled my anxiety and sass with expertise.

There is no question that Beyta and Mr. Watkins have taken the reigns.

I am pretty sure they prepare themselves for this for days.

Not the softball or the food or the setup or the cleanup, but me.

They prepare themselves for my high-strung angst.

Once again, it went off without a hitch.

We ran out of food and drinks.

That's probably a good thing.

Hungry people with full tummies!

I love these days... when they're over.

I love that we get to do this twice a year.

I love my guys to the moon and back.

They have proven they would do anything for me and my family.

I feel the same about them.

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

Until Spring!

Gifts & Such

Saturday was a busy day for me.

Laundry, house cleaning, gym-going.

Business working.

Children loving.

I came home from my stuff and found this bracelet on my makeup table.

It was from my children.

I post about a lot of really great things, great stuff regarding my children.

I love them dearly, afterall.

Sunday was not one of those "everything is great" days.

Not even close.

I have four teenage boys.

One of them said a not very nice thing to me.

Two others got a bit physical with that one.

I sobbed and asked them to stop.

They did.

Then they hugged and apologized while I sat on the toilet, sobbing.

Worried that I just have not done a good enough job.

Worried that because of a lack of a father figure in their lives, they will never have all that they need to succeed and be the best they can be.

Worried that some of my poor choices have effected them beyond what I can do to make it better.

Then I prayed (whilst still on the toilet) that angels would invade my home.

That my children would feel surrounded by love and peace and comfort.

That the Spirit would abound in my home.

Jackson came in and asked if we could pray.

He knelt by my bed.

He collected his thoughts, and his unstoppable tears.

And, he gave thanks for an Atonement.

He gave thanks for a Savior.

He gave thanks for trials, agency and blessings that come from both.

He prayed fervently that he would remain worthy to serve his mission.

He prayed for me. He prayed for his brothers.

He tucked me in.

I prayed with gratitude.

Not every day is a good day.

Not every moment within our families is full of goodness and joy and hope and frolicking.

Not every family that we believe to have it all together actually has it all together.

We sure don't.

But, we got up this morning and we are giving it another try.

That's the part that matters.

I love my children.

So much.

And we aren't perfect.

But we are imperfectly perfect.

A Rare Saturday Post

Thursday, on my way home from work, I stopped by the grocery store.

We needed milk, bananas, paper towels, shampoo, Tylenol PM...

I walked in and saw these flowers.

I stopped.

I fell in love with the orange.

They had purple, too.

Oh, and some yellow (my favorite color).

I'm not a roses kind of girl necessarily.

I love different, unique.

After smelling the purples and the violets and the Gerber Daisies of all colors,

I put these orange beauties in my cart.

The price tag - $5.

Sometimes, I buy myself flowers.

I take them home.

I put them in a vase.

I add water and nutrients to them.

I put them on my table in the front room, or on my kitchen table.

I open the blinds in the morning to bring them sunlight.

I usually only buy them when they are $5.

I buy them for me.

I have finally learned, after 41 years, that I don't need someone else to buy me flowers to prove to me that I am worth it, that I am loved, that I am worthy of love.

I can prove that to myself.

$5 flowers remind me every time I look at them that I AM worth it. I AM loved. AND, I AM worth of love.

$5 flowers remind me to stop for a minute. 

Don't just walk right by the floral department that you have to walk by to get to the rest of the store.

Stop for a minute.

Look. Smell. Touch.

See the beauty. Smell the scent. Touch the fragile, sometimes broken petals.

$5 flowers remind me that we all need water and nutrients.

We all deserve to be in a clean, glass vase with a ribbon tied around it.

We all deserve to have sunlight and to be noticed.

The orange reminds me that Fall is almost here.

The orange reminds me that everything will die soon, so that it can come back to life even better and stronger and more beautiful in the Spring.

The orange reminds me that Heavenly Father has a plan.

And His plan is perfect. 

Orange reminds me that we live in a beautiful world... even if sometimes we need to look a bit harder to see it that way.

$5 flowers remind me to find joy in the journey.

Field Trips

There were days when P would tell me that we were going on a field trip.

I'd hop into the truck.

He'd usually play a General Conference talk on his iPad and we'd drive.

We'd check on different projects that our crews were doing.

We would sometimes take the crews water.

We would sometimes go to Farr's to get ice cream (like once a year).

I pretty much lived for these field trips.

I always felt like it was a day off.

Apparently, today I was a bit off.

Okay, maybe the entire week I have been off.

Mr. Watkins came into my office and announced we were going on a field trip.

Heidi IN!

First, we went to Burger King. 

They may or may not have sat and watched me eat a double patty with cheese and bacon with no bun.

They may or may not have ripped all of the sharp edges off of my fries.

I was in Burger King bliss.

For real.

Then we went on the hunt for coolers.

The semi-annual softball/lunch is next Tuesday and we needed coolers.

We found the perfect ones! 

Thank you, Walmart.

Then we went to pick up a tap and oil.

I would describe these but I really have no idea what they are for... the mill??

Then we came back to the office.

I felt like a new person.

And, I felt like P was smiling down on us...

Especially his guys for taking care of Sis!

Shopping with Grandma Tina

Yesterday, Grandma Tina took Jackson shopping.

They got this suit.

I got this picture.

I cried.

They also got three white shirts, a pair of shoes, a pair of waterproof socks, and an oil vault.

I cried some more when I got home to see everything Grandma Tina bought for him.

In the midst of chaos and trial, which seems to be never-ending, my children are blessed endlessly by people who love us.

Grandma Tina is my visiting teacher/ministerer/bonus mama/bonus grandma for my kids.

She fed my kids while I was hospitalized after a stroke.

She fed us after I got home.

She stops by with Diet Coke, flowers, treats.

She picks Colton up from school sometimes.

She loves on my boys.

She loves on me.

All the while, having A LOT of BIG challenges herself.

We are endlessly blessed.

This boy.
He is ready and worthy and so sharp!

Tell It Like It Is

Shitty week.

This has been a shitty week.

Shitty shitty shitty.

Work seems to be complete chaos, and not the good kind of chaos.

It amazes me how verbally abusive people get over a recycle can.

Mean. Ugly. Hurtful. Angry.

Over a free recycle can.

I can take so much, and then I just refuse to take anymore.

I hang up on people who will not stop with personal attacks over a freaking blue can.

Did you know that you can no longer put grocery bags, garbage bags, ANY plastic bags in your recycle can? Take them to the grocery store.

Did you know you can only put plastics #1 and #2 in the blue can. 

Truth.

Did you know that no glass, foam, wood, furniture, yard waste, dirty diapers, food-stained anything can go into the recycle can.

Well, you're welcome.

You can thank China.

Don't call me and yell at me.

And, X isn't too hip on being yelled at anymore either.

See this:

That would be my protein shake that spilled all over the console in the car this morning.

Yippee.

I went into Winco and bought a box of 45 plastic spoons, thinking that would do the trick.

It didn't.

Goodie.

So, because it's been such a fantastic week, I bought donuts for my favorites at work and 45 plastic spoons and a Diet Coke because it was the best thing I could do for my dang self and went to work.

Where I took approximately 2, 386 paper towels to soak up the spilled protein shake.

Oh, Colton is at home asleep.

He could not get up this morning.

I know how he feels.

I wanted to join him on the family room floor this morning.

But, I didn't.

And, Kaydon and I did leg day like a bunch of bosses.

And, I taught him some sweet yoga moves.

Now I am eating a dang donut even though my stomach will blow up like I'm 9 months pregnant and I will be in serious pain within an hour AND drinking a freaking Diet Coke.

Carry on.

I Remember

I remember everything about the moment that I saw this happening on my television.

We were living in the Linden Colonial Apartments. 

I was the assistant apartment manager.

I had gone into my apartment, put a sign on the door that I would be away for a little bit, and nursed my newborn baby, Braxton.

I was sitting on a green couch, nursing my baby.

The TV was on.

Two year old Jackson was napping on the couch next to me.

Suddenly, these were the images that we all saw.

Planes purposely going into occupied buildings.

Buildings that all Americans were familiar with.

We saw people, covered in matter, running for their lives.

Screaming.

Panicked.

Running. Just running.

We soon saw first responders, risking their lives to save lives.

We saw bodies falling from the highest of floors.

We saw smoke. We saw fire.

We saw devastation.

We saw death. We saw terror.

I remember the distinct feeling of having this be my first real experience with terror.

Of course I had always read about terror. History classes were full of text books that described terror. But those stories were in the past. 

Those stories, although super sad and awful, were stories to me. Stories of things in the past, who affected people I didn't know personally. Stories.

Suddenly, I was witnessing, first hand, terror. Death. Evil. Hate. 

I was traumatized.

We all were.

17 years later, we still remember.

I hope we always do.