Old Photos

Share a photo of something old. Maybe something that has personal history for you, that was passed down to you, and that has special meaning to you. Tell us about it and why it's special.

Lucky for me, my mom just so happened to send me these old pictures earlier this week.

Perfect timing for today's Blogtember post!

July 1986
This was the first summer we went camping at our spot in Cougar, Washington.

{The same place I camped with my own kids this year.}

See me at the picnic table waving?

My entire lifetime of summer memories include camping.

It's one of my favorite past times.

As a little girl, I was in love with our huge green tent!

---

First Day of Kindergarten 
(Fall 1988)

I loved being in school, riding the bus, and writing in my daily journal at school.

Not much has changed. I still love school & writing in my journal!

---

My bedroom from ages 4-8.
My canopy bed.

I loved that thing!

Also, my name is not Shelly.

It's Rochelle.  (See it hung above my headboard?)

---

Riding my bike without training wheels

October 1987

Along with camping, riding bikes was one of my favorite childhood activities.
We lived on a dead end that was perfect for riding bikes with all the neighbor kids.

Last night my mom sent me more pictures from my childhood.
Of Halloween.
Those will be coming soon!

~

What Makes You...

Blogtember Instructions:
Go to a coffee shop. 
Order your favorite drink.  
Write about what makes you happy and what makes you sad. 

My reality:

There isn't a coffee shop within 150 miles of here. And that one requires a plane ride. So instead I am writing my blog post in my regular spot, at my computer desk, drinking a cup of hot coffee with powdered CoffeeMate Vanilla Caramel creamer (even though I really prefer liquid) because that's the best I can do.

But just because it's my regular spot to post, doesn't mean it isn't extraordinary.  I mean, I am less than half a mile from the bank of the Yukon River in rural Alaska, pretty much in the middle of nowhere.  So that's something!  Sorry, I digress.

What makes me happy?

New pens
Empty Journals
Unread books

Wyatt asleep in my arms
Jack learning to read
Logan's snuggles in the early morning

Going home for summer
Camping with loved ones
Visiting the beach

Reading a good book
Painting my toenails
Falling asleep holding Josh's hand

What makes me sad?

When a good book ends.
Commercials, movies, TV shows... I'm a crier
Yelling at my kids
Not being able to share my kids' awesomeness with my family

Missing things back home:
Parties, baby showers, birthdays
Missing people back home.
My Grandma. My mom. My sister. My best friend.

And the thing that makes me the most sad?

Knowing that some people will never have their dreams come true like mine did.

I live a charmed life.

~

A Time (or two) I Screwed Up

Write about a time you screwed up- a mistake you made.

Is he mormon?

I look back and think, "Really? That was my question?" There were so many other important questions to ask. Questions that would have been important, should have been important, to me as I fell in love with him and imagined a future together.

Is he a good guy?
Does he smoke weed?
Is he a partier?
Does he value family?
Is he a hard worker?
Can he love me wholly?

Thankfully God had my back on this one.  He hand picked Josh for me.  So of course, he was a good guy, a hard worker with family values.  He wasn't a partier, never so much as touched a joint, and most importantly, he was able, is able, to love me wholly.

As I look back on my life, I see mostly good decisions.  I see mostly well thought out and executed plans that have gotten me where I am today.  But that, my inability to see past his religion, past my religion, that haunts me.  (To read the whole story, see Part Two of my Life Story.)

---

Church has been heavy on my heart lately.  Or rather what happened with my church.  And why church sometimes doesn't work.  And today I remembered the most disturbing evening I shared with a friend ten years ago.

We had met at work in 2003 and instantly clicked. We were besties. In the end, our friendship was short lived once we were both let go after the holiday season, but those few brief months together, sitting back to back, placing flower orders, we were overjoyed to have each other.  

We were both in the newlywed part of our marriage and not doing much but enjoying life.  One evening the four of us (she & her husband, and me & mine) went to a Christian event sponsored by her church.  Josh ended up leaving, he didn't feel well and wasn't able to shake it, but I stayed on, flanking my friend on one side, her husband on the other.

After some worship music and a brief message from a highly respected professor at Multnomah Bible College, the floor came open for questions.  My friend, who had suffered a miscarriage because of lymphoma and the following treatment a year earlier, asked the man if God had been punishing her (with the cancer and the loss of her baby) for having pre-marital sex.

"No. No. No," I was silently willing him to say the words I knew were true.  "No, our God is not a vindictive God. No, God would never purposefully hurt you because of sin you have since repented.  No, you are wonderful and He loves you."  

Instead he sat, thinking for an uncomfortable amount of time, then launched into this hell & brimstone talk about how sin dominates our world and all that ugliness comes back on us. Basically, he said to her, "Yes. Yes, God was punishing you for getting carried away with your emotions when you were eighteen by killing your baby and putting your life in jeopardy."

I was stunned. So stunned in fact that I didn't talk about it with my friend.  This powerful, heartless man moved on to other questions and by the time we got in the car to go home, our conversation had drifted on to something else.  

I have since lost contact with this friend.  And I will forever regret not telling her, "No. No way that the God I know, who loves me like I love my babies, would ever, ever purposefully crush your dreams by giving you cancer and taking away your baby.  He would never. Oh, and also, I love you."

---

I am thankful to be where I am now. Open and accepting of others' beliefs, able to know what I believe is true and not shove it down anyone's throats.  To know that God is love, and if you love someone, God is there.  Just like he was when Josh and I  met. And just like he was there when my friend & her husband suffered like they did.

"Faith is a knowledge within the heart,

beyond the reach of proof."

-Kahlil Gibran

Comfort

React to this term: comfort

Comfort to me is still my mom.  Comfort is being with her because she knows more, knows better.  Comfort is her voice on the phone, her arms in a hug, her hands cool on my face.

As I have grown, my mom and I have come to a place where we can comfort each other, and I think that's the best. Especially since she and I are so similar.  I am grateful that beyond being a mother & a daughter, we are friends.

That's the best comfort of all.

creative writing

Creative writing day: write a (very short) fictional story that starts with this sentence: "To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century."  The story does not necessarily need to have a conclusion- you can leave your readers wishing for more!

To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century.  My husband was dressed and ready, the sitter was with the kids at the kitchen table, dragging chicken nuggets through ketchup like she was one of them, and I stood before the long mirror in our bedroom staring at myself, wondering how I got here.

We were going to a dinner party where not only was my ex-best friend going to be in attendance, but the woman who had been in an affair with my husband two years prior.  My husband's company was taking a big leap, joining forces with another firm, and to celebrate, the boss was having all his key players over for dinner.

This included Natalie, my former best friend, her husband Heath, my husband's coworker Paul and his petite wife Meg, and my husband's ex-lover, Whitney and her new boy toy, Rob.  There was no way to get out of the dinner. If Kyle wanted to continue moving up in the company, there was no way we could skip out.

I had toyed with the idea of pretending one of the kids was sick, but the thought of Kyle alone at a dinner party with Whitney was enough to make me change my mind.  There was no way I could compete with her. She had spent every morning the last five years at the gym.  Meanwhile I had bore him three children.  She had long, luscious brown locks. I had mousy, thin hair in a pixie cut.  She had boobs that nearly touched her chin.  I had bags that used to be breasts before our three little blessings sucked the life out of them.

Kyle and I had been in therapy, decided to move on with our marriage and get over what had happened during our sleep deprived year post-second child.  We had since had another child, bought a house and made a once-a-week date night commitment. We were good. We were solid.

So why then was this dinner, this few hours, throwing me for such a loop?  Maybe it was because he worked with Whitney, a fact that I hated being reminded of.  Maybe it was because I hadn't seen Whitney in over a year.  Maybe it was the mix of seeing both her and my ex-best friend.  All I knew was that as I stood critiquing every centimeter of my 34 year old body, the whole thing was too much for my poor frayed nerves.

Kyle walked in, handsome, fresh shaven, his smile bright as he took me in, "You ready?" he asked slowly.  I looked in his eyes.  I could see there, behind their soothing brown, an electricity that told me he was as nervous as I was.  I took his hand in mine, fingering his wedding ring, and nodded my head curtly, "Ready as I'll ever be."

To be continued...


Update: Part Two

Computer Desk : Before & After

 BEFORE

 AFTER

Some of my favorite pieces:

{a gift from my mom}

~

Only Photos
{September 18th}

Memories

A memory you would love to relive.

I have pondered this for days. 

If I could go back in time to any point in my life, where would I go? 

What would I do? What moments would I like to relive?

It's impossible to decide.

• I would go back to Josh and I dating, the very beginning when everything was new & exciting, and I was all butterflies.

• I would go back to the moment we found out we were expecting twins.

{34 weeks with twins}

• I would go back to those first few crazy weeks with the twins and make sure I squished them up properly.

• I would go back to being pregnant (with the twins or Wyatt) and I would feel those tiny legs squirming inside me.  I would feel those first faint flutters of amazing and revel in it.  I would go back to that moment in time when my body housed three, and I would marvel at the miracle of it.

{32 weeks with the twins}

• I would go back to those four days in the hospital with Wyatt, when Josh and I got to pretend we were a family of three (which we never had been) and cherish every moment.

~

But really, if I'm being honest, I don't feel the need to travel back in time.  

I am content right here & now.  

And that feels good.

social media

So... this is likely an indication of the day I had yesterday... 

I switched yesterday & today's topics for blogtember in my head. 

Oops!

Oh well. Moving on. Today (actually yesterday) I was supposed to write about how blogging & social media has changed me.  Instead I posted my self-portrait. Either I was out of my mind because the children were driving me crazy (true) or I was wishing it was Friday instead of Thursday (also true).

  

Whatever the case, I have two specific instances where social media has shaped me.

One is that it has connected me.  Facebook has kept me connected with loved ones whom I now live thousands of miles away from, and blogging has connected me with new friends & followers who have joined me on this crazy rural Alaska journey.

The second is that it has inspired me.  Blogging (especially when I do it everyday) inspires me to keep improving, changing and seeing things with new eyes.  Writing about my passions (my family, reading & self improvement) keeps them alive for me.  Posts about the boys, good books and my goals keep things feeling fresh.  I love that.

Sometimes I am tempted to throw in the towel.  I look at other blogs that are bigger and better and think, "I'll never get there.  Why am I even trying?"  Or I'll see someone's Facebook status update and think, "I'm not that beautiful, my life isn't that awesome... How can I possibly compete?"  But the truth is I am exactly where I'm meant to be, and (plain & simple) I enjoy blogging & staying caught up with loved ones on Facebook.  So I keep on keeping on, reminding myself that what I see are only snippets.  Those awesome bloggers I follow have two years olds who tantrum, too.  The beautiful girls I envy have flaws they strive to hide, too.  The adventurous world travelers I know don't climb into bed at night next to the man they love with their three beautiful sons asleep down the hall.  

I guess the lesson in social media is that I don't have it all... 

but neither does anybody else.  

And that's okay.

self portrait

~

when life takes a turn...

Describe a distinct moment when your life took a turn.

{Not my ultrasound image, but this is what it looked like}

January 29, 2008

I would say the day we got our ultrasound for my first pregnancy was a life changer.

tell you no lies

So on Monday, I am supposed to take this survey & find out my personality type for Blogtember. But I have taken it before, so I would rather spend Monday's post answering questions you have about our family, our life in Alaska and pretty much anything in between.

Fire away!

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder

A story about a time you were very afraid.

I had been here two weeks when the sickness began.  It washed over me and then wrung me out to dry.  Diarrhea, loss of appetite, weakness.

With the illness came my anxiety.  They held hands, making it impossible for me to tell what was what.  Looking back, of course, it makes sense that the anxiety would arrive.  Weeks of going nonstop-- wisdom teeth extraction to camping to road tripping to flying out here with three little ones five and under...  It had to hit me eventually. At some point I would have to deal with what was the insanity of our last month of summer.

In the dark of night one Sunday, alone with no one to call, I felt entirely certain that I was going to die.  I laid on the couch sobbing, until finally I decided in my neurotic state that if I was going to die, I could at least get things in order for Josh. So I organized the bills, balanced the checkbook and recorded myself singing the boys' favorite bedtime lullabies in the bathroom mirror.

When I retreated again to the couch,

thoughts circled like hawks over the interstate:

You have c diff.

(A complication that's possible from taking antibiotics like I did back in July)

Not only do you have c diff, but you have passed it on to your children.

And your husband.

You are going to have to travel to Anchorage.

Alone.

While you're sick.

And then you are going to die.

Your children are going to grow up without you.

You have finally  made it this far, only to lose out on living the best part of your life.

You will never get better.

You are going crazy.

With each day that passed after that initial night of panic, the anxiety's grip tightened.  At times, I couldn't take a full breath.  I was outside my mind with fear. Josh would get home and I would beg him repeatedly to tell me that I was going to be fine. If I heard it enough times, I was sure I would start to believe it. I spent hours on the phone with my mom each day, running my symptoms by her, sobbing and soaking up her comfort.

She recommended that I take my medication, Ativan, every six hours as directed on the bottle, until I started feeling more like myself.  I knew she knew what she was talking about, so even though I didn't want to, I swallowed the pills, one by one, for days.  They made me feel warm, sleepy and a bit foggy.  I hated taking them, but any time I missed a dose, I would spiral downward rapidly.

The lucky thing about the medication is that it made sleep possible.  And sleep was exactly what my body needed after everything I had put it through.  

I also got outside each day. Meandering while the boys played and even walking with Leah one evening.  

At the end of my physical illness, I adopted a "Fake it till you make it" attitude. I showered, got dressed and ready for the day, even though it was the last thing I felt like doing.  I managed the house, did chores and blogged, all against my own will, convinced that if I acted like I felt fine, soon I would actually start to feel fine.

It worked and ten days after this whole nightmare started I woke up with no body aches, no headache, no stomach cramps and no anxiety.

I found that once I felt better all the tasks that had felt monumental were suddenly less daunting.  Laundry? Dobable.  Dishes? Done.  Phone calls & paying the bills? Easy as pie.

The blessing of this intense period of acute anxiety is that I am now euphoric in the absence of it.  Everyday feels like a gift instead of a nightmare.

~

{I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder which is defined as "persistent, excessive, unrealistic worry about everyday things." 3% of the population is affected, and women are twice as likely as men to have it.  In my case, the anxiety generally peaks one or two days a month.  I rarely need to take a pill for it.  Breathing, making lists, exercising or talking it out can bring me down.  In the past, it has never been debilitating.  It has been manageable.  The last two weeks have shown me how lucky I have been.  Not everyone's anxiety is livable.}

the best advice I ever got

Pass on some useful advice or information you learned and always remembered. 

Hold your baby as much as possible in the first four months.

I collected this little gem from Susan Crawford at my first baby shower.  

I was 26 weeks pregnant with the twins, and thought it was... odd.

Fast forward to their arrival, and I remember thinking about this strange piece of advice (why four months? why so specific?) all.the.time.  I can't tell you how many times I let laundry sit in the dryer, dishes sit in the sink, and cat poo sit in the litterbox because of this advice.  

As the weeks crept (and then flew) by, I continued following the interesting advice, holding one or the both of them every chance I got.  While I watched TV... While they slept... While I talked on the phone...

Then BAM! they were four months old, and her advice made complete sense.  They would wriggle and strain their necks to see what was going on around us.  They would fuss, push up off my chest and straighten their little chicken legs.

Four months is the mark.  

It's the age where they transition from newborn to baby, and it's a big one.  

Before four months, they are like a puddle of baby powder scented goodness.  Past four months, they are their own person, with a desire to see what they want to see and do what they want to do.

As much as I followed this advice (which I now pass on to every pregnant woman I know) with the twins, I followed it ten times more with Wyatt.  With the arrival of your second (or in my case third) child, experience proves just how fast time does fly that first year. 

Particularly that blurry, sleepless first half of the year.

 And so I'd like to thank Susan for knowing that she knew more than me. I would like to thank her for sharing the priceless truth that there is nothing like those first four months, with a warm, doughy baby asleep in your arms.

Thanks to her, I cherished every moment.