The Night I Did Everything Wrong

I was rocking it!  I had made 6 lasagna dinners, gone to track practice and won the wall sit competition against the throwers, and come home to my mom and Annie and Jane and watched the Voice.  Life was good.

I really wanted to finish up the enchiladas that I had started earlier and get that project checked off of the never ending list.  So I let my Mom take care of Jane and I started warming up some coconut oil to saute the onions.  Jane wasn't wanting Mom so I took a second to go grab her... and then began to change her diaper to help her quiet down.

A minute later Mom mentioned that she smelled something burning.  I realized I had left the pan of oil heating on the stove.   I jumped up, ran to the kitchen, turned the burner off and returned to the baby in the living room.  Not a minute later, mom looked up and saw flickering on the hallway wall.  "What is flashing/flickering in the kitchen?"  As I looked through the little cubby hole in the wall separating the kitchen from the living room I saw flames emerging from the pan I had just turned off.

Baby in tow, I ran to the kitchen, saw that the flames were growing bigger, sat the baby down on the floor, grabbed the pan and sadly my first thought was "get the pot under water."  As I was carrying the flaming pot towards the sink (Mind you there are long curtains that hang over our sink...) my mom comes in yelling "No, not water!!"  Thank goodness for her.  She scooped up Jane off the floor and all I could think about was how do I get this fire out making the least amount of mess!  (Embarrassing to admit!  I have a fire extinguisher right under the sink, two feet from where I was standing and in that instant I chose not to use it from not wanting to make a mess... What a freak!)

I decided the only way to handle the fire was get it out of the house.  Within milliseconds I was rushing through our tiny kitchen, flaming pot in front, trying to not let the oxygen fueled flames spread.  I squeezed through the hallway, mom yelling at me the whole time "you're on fire, you're on fire!"  I reached the door.  Of course, it was locked up for the night.  Fumbling with the locks, the flames were growing bigger, burning oil was sloshing out of the pan on to the floor and coats as I tried opening the door.  As I exited the house I had to pass the burning pot in between me and the door.  Flames reached up past my head, reaching out and burning the fraying screen on the storm door.  The second I was able to, I chucked the whole burning pot out the door and into our hedge surrounding our property.  I ran back inside to see what other fires I had started on the way out and miraculously not a single one remained.  I grabbed the fire extinguisher from underneath the sink and ran outside and soaked the pot with fire retardant.

Let's list the stupid things I did... (This is more to drive this into my "special" head not to EVER do again.)
1. Never leave anything unattended on the stove...especially OIL!!
2. When you see flames anywhere, don't worry about a potential mess that you could make putting it out.  Go for the fire extinguisher.
3.  Do not try to put an oil fire out with water.  How many times has this been drilled into my head.  When it really mattered, did I remember that ?  Nope.  Thank goodness my mom was here to straighten me out.
4. Never run through the house with a pot of oil on fire!
5. NEVER run through the house with a pot of OIL on FirE!!!!  AAHH!
6. Do not chuck a flaming pot of oil at a dry hedge surrounding your property!

Now this was an incredibly stupid decision night for me.  I am the first to recognize that I made very foolish decisions that could have made everything be 500 times worse.  Our night could have turned out terribly different and terrible.  I am choosing not to dwell on what could have happened, because eventually I am going to need to sleep tonight.  However, despite all of my imperfect decisions, I feel like we were so blessed in spite of it all.  I had my angels around me stomping out mini flames and putting flames guards around me and my family keeping us safe.

List of tender mercies:
1. My mom smelt the smoke before the fire alarm went off.
2. My mom saw the flickering on the wall.
3. My mom stopped me from putting water on the fire.
4. The lady came to pick up the pile of boxes I had stacked waiting for her in front of the door earlier today. Had she not come, I would not have been able to open the door enough to get out.
5. Every little fire oil ball that dropped was immediately extinguished.  Yes, I do have melted carpet spots the size of quarters through out my hallway, but no other damage was done.
6.  I did not receive one burn.  Mom said it looked like the flames were up and down my torso.
7. The hedge did not catch on fire.
8, No one was hurt, everyone safe and we were watched out for and protected even in spite of my foolishness.

Life could be very different right now.  All I can do is lay here and think of how grateful I am to my Father in Heaven for watching out for my family and home.  My mom felt it very important that we say a prayer of thanks as we gathered ourselves together again.  I am so grateful for these tender mercies.  I am grateful for a mom who is able to pay attention to the small things to keep us safe (because I was sure bombing at the time).  Most of all I am grateful for a Father in Heaven who knows that I will not make correct choices, but is still patient and sends angels to tamp out the flames I set.

I pray and beg the Lord every night that our family will be safe and that our home will be protected.  I know that I will not be able to avoid all mishap or accident or disaster.  But I do know that my prayers are heard and that He is mindful of me and my family.

President Packer said this in this past conference, "...There are few things more powerful than the faithful prayers of a righteous mother."  This I know is true.  It was evident tonight in answering my prayers as a young, inexperienced mom with the sole desire that my family just be safe and protected.

My Mom Ride

You've seen the commercial where the mom is riding in her mini van and all the guys keep waving at her? She thinks that they are checking her out, liking her "mom ride", or whatever else else they might think when you wave at someone. ... and then she finds out that they are all trying to get her attention because she left the diaper bag on top of the car?

Ha.  I can relate!  There I was sitting in my "mom ride" (Honda Pilot... not quite the "sophistication" of a mini van... :) ) at a stop light.  As the on coming traffic came driving by everyone started waving, nodding their heads, smiling... WAY too friendly for 3pm Bozeman traffic...  I may have thought to my self for a brief second... Ha look at that... they like my car... they think I am cool, complete strangers!  hahahaha

And then I realize that directly behind me Hank has rolled down his window and was waving full force with a huge smile across his face at all of them.  "Hey mom look!  They are waving at me~!"

I may have felt a little like the gal on the commercial for brief second.

Kick your trash

I was accused yesterday of having mommy language.  Funny story is, I think I talked like this before I was a mommy.

An athlete I have been coaching made a remark to me that he gets his ambition and drive in a certain sport from the desire of kicking his opponents @$$.  But, when it comes to pushing himself to becoming better he is too lazy.

I was relaying this story to some fellow coaches last night and instead of saying, "kicking his @$$,"  I substituted "trash" for the "@$$."  Ha.  One coach looked at me and said, "Kick his "trash" ?"  Yes, I said, Kick his opponents trash... and I went on to describe that he gets motivation for winning not by trying to better himself, but kick the others opponents trash.

He stared at me like I was speaking a different language.  What?  Kick their trash?  Is that code for something?  The other coach standing there with us jumped in, "no, what she means to say is kick his @$$.  She can't say it because she speaks mommy talk."  HAHAHA

I was so dumbfounded that my Mommy talk was not understood, but when "stronger" language was used it was understood entirely.  I do know that I have been known to make up words and reformulate how words and phrases go together... but I thought that was pretty self descriptive.

I have always felt that the manner in which you speak reflects your integrity and is a window to the world from within yourself.  Falling into "maintstream" swear words, dirty talk, foul language only demonstrates to me a lack of imagination, self control, and a lack of desire in self betterment.  By no means do I fall into perfect in this category, because I also feel that any word or phrase said in a strong or vulgar tone can be offensive and have the same result.  Conquering this habit is even more difficult than just merely cleaning up language.  I am forever working on this even though my tally marks of "swear words" said in my entire life time can add up on one hand if that.

The Garbage Man

I have never met him.  He hauls our trash away every Tuesday morning.  Most times I forget to put it out on Monday night.  Usually I get the trash put out around 8:30am... it is supposed to be set out be 6am.  Our garbage man rocks.  He will keep an eye out for our trash can as he goes about his route and will then empty it.  We have even tempted fate and added more garbage after the first was dumped and he has come by to get the extra garbage.  One day I will meet him and thank him.  He is a tender mercy.

Answers from sitting on a toilet

I am supposed to speak tomorrow in church during our sacrament meeting.  I feel I cannot focus on anything until I have let this blog escape my brain.  Please tell me this is a normal occurrence among people who write in a "blog."

A couple months ago I was having a rotten, emotional day where the kids were screaming, house was dirty, and I felt the weight of thinking I needed to fix everyone else's problems when in reality I just wanted someone to come up to me and say, "How are you doing today?" and then sit and wait for a response.

I had friends stop by through out the day.  None of them noticed that I had tears almost welling up in my eyes as they sat there and told me how they were and their problems.  Normally, this is very welcome and I enjoy the trust that my friends have in confiding with me.  But, that day I needed to have someone listen to me.... Not even listen... Just ask how I was and mean it.

I remember standing in my kitchen, tears now streaming down my cheek and looking up as if I could see the heavens and say, "Can't someone just ask me how I am?"  I then pushed it aside and continued about my daily duties doing everything.

It was not an hour later that I received a text message from a friend.  "Hi, how are you doing?" it read.  I stared at it for longer than I should have astounded.  How did this friend know?  She herself had a house full of kids, lots going on and was able to stop and wonder how I was? Wow.  I sent back a quick message and didn't hear anything back for a day or so.  Which did not matter. I knew that someone in that minute was wondering how I was doing.

I later met with this friend and told her the story of what had transpired.  She sat there completely overwhelmed.  Her side of the story follows.

She had been madly cleaning their home as they were preparing to move, had sick kids, and company visiting her.  She escaped to the bathroom for a brief minute of solitude in the which she pulled out her phone and typed a long message to me... then deleted the majority of the message and simply wrote, "Hi, how are you doing?"  Quickly finished her business in bathroom and promptly forgot about her phone busying herself with other duties.

We both knew that we were directly affected by an answer to my prayers.  I needed to know at that moment that someone was thinking of me and wondering about me.  She was living her crazy life in still a manner that she was able to head the prompting of the spirit to know that I did not need a long book written to me, but that a simple question would suffice.

I know that we are not alone.  I am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves me and knows exactly what I need to be able to continue forward.  I know that he works through other people to accomplish this task.  I can only pray that I be used to help others when they are silently praying for an answer as my friend did that day.

Gwen: herder of little ones

Has anyone ever taken 5 kids ages four and under to the doctor...with only one of them being sick?  I have.  It was not amusing.  The parking lot was packed and had to park in the very far confines of hospital parking lots.  Which of course made us even more late.  Then just so happens all the kids took their shoes off right when we pulled in to the spot. And of course, it is like herding sheep trying to get them to go through a single door, let alone sit still in the waiting room.

Did I mention the looks I got from other moms?  Priceless!

Turns out the sick one had strep which meant that we had to go the pharmacy to get drugs to make her better.

That was when we met her.  Gwen.  You know the overly friendly people that you do not know if they are special needs or if they are really just that nice?  This was Gwen.  I herded the troop into the pharmacy which has a little table, chairs and coloring books that the kids usually sit at for an entire two minutes.

A nice, young gal in her young 20s popped into the pharmacy wondering if anyone had a cell phone charger... nope.  "Oh you have kids!  Can I play with them?"  Sure I say.  Have at it!
She then sits with them and proceeds to play, laugh and converse with them in their simple language.
I go to check on the prescription.  The doctors never sent it.  It would be at least a half hour.  Not good.

We decide to go wander around.  Gwen jumps up. "I am going with you.  You need help with all these kids!"  We all head outside and she proceeds to play games with them and keep them entertained.  I was left standing there, staring at her.  Are you real?  What complete stranger sees a stressed out, tired mom with too many kids at a doctor's office and just starts playing with them to keep them happy and be entirely involved and loving the attention they are giving her?

Gwen had to leave to make a phone call and we parted ways for the time being.  As we wandered the halls and elevators of the hospital, the kids worried they would never see Gwen again.  They were drawn to her.

After a few minutes we decided to head back and pray that the prescription was ready.  Thank goodness it was sitting there waiting and we could hit the road.  As we left the kid's eyes were searching for their special new friend.  Annie looked up at me and said, "I really love Gwen.  I need to tell her that."

Just outside the door and around the corner was our friend Gwen sitting on the bus stop bench.  Annie and the other kids ran straight up to her, threw their arms around her and with all the love they could muster, "We love you Gwen!"  She dropped down on her knees, tears filling her eyes.  "Oh thank you kids! I love you too"

She then insisted on giving each kid a stamp, pencil, pad of paper, etc from her purse.  After more hugs, we left and herded our way to the car.

Gwen was such person that I still to this day cannot interpret if she was an angel sent right at that time to help me out or if those kids were all right there as her angels to help her feel love.  Either way.  That meeting, that day was not a mistake and prayers were answered.  She felt loved if even by a mob of toddlers and I felt that my Father in Heaven knew how badly I needed another set of hands to help herd.  Tender Mercy.

Just trying to look romantic...

I have a slight problem.  A conversation today reminded me of this problem.  I don't like to be told that I can't do something.  Especially being compared to someone else who might be able to do that something. 

Which brought back a memory that I love.

We hired cheap photographers.  Never do that for your wedding.

As we were taking pictures outside the temple, we made awkward poses trying to look romantic.  Ha, must have been a sight!  The photographer suggested that James pick me up and swing me around making my dress swing out.  It turned out pretty nice and was fun...  Stopping to gain our footing, I joked that I should now swing James around me.  The photographer said something implying that I could not/should not do that.

Done.  It was immediately decided that James stand on the little table to get ready for lift off.  I wrapped my arms around him and in my little white heels in the green grass and beautiful dress I swung my cowboy around.

The photographer did not know what to say or do.

I can do whatever I put my mind to. :)

(Big thanks to Cami Joy Photography for fixing our pictures!!)

Now for a contradiction in my problem.

I have never taken a drink of alcohol.  Never.  Not even once.  Not even a sip.

Have I been invited to? Yes.  Have I been begged? Yes.  Have I been taunted?  Yes

I was asked today from one of our clients who thought I was wonderfully absurd, "You never even tried it?  It wasn't like the forbidden apple that you just wanted to eat because others said you cannot?"

I have never had the slightest desire to try it or for that matter to ever get "drunk" or "happy" or "relax" or whatever other reason there is.  Weird, probably.  Maybe this does not contradict my problem.  It could just be that everyone expects me to have tried alcohol before and I choose to not follow the crowd...  hmmm.

I am blessed to be married to another weirdo also.  He has never taken a drink either.  Peculiar people eh?