For Timothy

                “Tell me again. “ The little boy whispered.

                “Again?” His mother asked, wondering how he never tired of this story. He snuggled deeper into his blankets and looked up expectantly. “Once upon a time, “ she started. “There was a very beautiful and talented young woman. She was a good person and she loved her family very much. But as she got older she made a few mistakes. And she soon found that she was pregnant.”

                “That means she had a baby in her tummy, right?” The little boy asked, knowing the answer.

                “Right.” Said his mother. “She had a baby in her tummy. But she wasn’t married to the baby’s father. And she was still in high school so she didn’t know what to do. She told her family and they were all very nice to her. Her mom took her to the doctor and to a lady who could help her decide what to do with the baby.”

                “She’s called a counts-all-her, isn’t she?”

                “A counselor, yes. Well, the counselor helped the young woman decide to let someone else raise her baby. That’s called adoption. So she looked at pictures and read letters until she found the family she thought should raise her baby.”

                “That was you and daddy.” The little boy said matter of factly.

                “Yes.” His mother answered as tears fell down her cheeks. “And that’s why you’re my little boy.” She stopped, ready to go to bed; as this was where the story usually ended. But the little boy had more to say tonight.

                “Are you happy I’m your little boy?”

                “Extremely happy.” She answered, surprised.

                “Then why are you crying?”

                She paused for a moment wondering how much he could understand. “There are a lot of reasons I’m crying. One is because I’m so happy you’re my little boy. I’m happy that I get to kiss you goodnight. And hold you when you cry. I’m happy I get to see your smiling face every day and to hear your wonderful laughter. But I’m also sad. Because your real mommy doesn’t get to do or hear all those things. Because I know she loves you just as much as I do.”

                “Mommy,” he said very quietly. She knew by the look on his face something was troubling him. She also knew this would be a new question, one she hadn’t answered before. “Didn’t she want me?” He whispered. “Didn’t my birth mommy want to keep me with her?”

                His mother tried to breathe as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. “Oh baby,” She whispered and pulled him into her arms. “She wanted you so much. She wanted to hold you every day just like I’m holding you now. But she loved you too much. She didn’t think she would be a good enough mother for you. Not then. She was too young. She wanted you to have more. So she gave you to me and daddy. Because she wanted you to be happy. And she wasn’t sure if she could make you happy. But most of all,” she hugged him tighter. “She loved you way more than she loved herself.”

                She laid the little boy back on his bed and kissed his forehead. “I love you.” She said

                “I love you, too.” He told her. “And I love my real mommy too. Because she loved me so much she gave me to you.”

                His mother wiped at her tears, turned off the light, and shut the door.

               
Somewhere, far away, a young woman lay in her bed thinking of her son. And suddenly an overwhelming feeling of love came upon her. And, again, she knew that she had made the right decision when she gave her son up for adoption.

Holden's First Day of School

Holden had his first day of advanced PreK today. Yes, I know it's still just preschool, but I like the sound of advanced PreK better.

Next year he will be off to Kindergarten so I'm enjoying my non tear filled first day of school for probably the last time.

JJ: Where did your Grandparents Live, etc?

This one is a long question so it's not all in the title.
Where did your grandparents live? What was their home like? Did it have a certain smell or look?

I only had one grandparent growing up. My Mom's parents died before I was born. And my Dad's dad doesn't count. So that leaves me with my amazing Grandma Archibald.
She lived in Garland, Utah in a large three story house. She always had horses and I loved to ride. I miss riding horses more than I ever would have thought. She also had raspberry bushes galore. I used to go out to pick raspberries and come back to the house with less in my bag than in my belly. I still love raspberries. Easily my favorite fruit.

The house itself had three stories. The basement was dirty and used for storage mostly. Or it seemed like it to me anyway. The main floor had bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living room. But upstairs was where the real fun was. Aside from the creepy picture that watched you wherever you walked this was my domain when visiting Grandma Archibald. There were big rooms and small closets, a whole room full of trunks and old things, and a porch to sit on. One room even had two walk in closets. Often one of those closets was "my house" and the other was a siblings house. We could play in that one room for hours on end. She had a big porch in the front yard with little holes in the front that I used to slide through. (what the heck were those for anyway?) And I remember a huge pine tree that had a picnic table underneath. As well as a swing set that wasn't used nearly as much as the things that were not toys. I used to dream of having a very similar house when I grew up.

I can't remember a specific smell or look, but I do remember that my grandma almost always had something cooking. So it always smelled of good food. Grandma Archibald had a way about her that just made you feel special. I'm so glad I was able to experience that; if only for a short time.

Master Chef Holden?

Holden and I had an interesting conversation yesterday. He is a horribly picky eater so it really made me laugh.

Holden "When I grow up I'm going to be the next Master Chef."
Me "You can't be the next Master Chef because you don't eat anything. And you have to be able to taste what you cook to know if it's good."
Holden "Well I think Chef Ramsay is going to love peanut butter and jelly."

SLC Bees Clinic

I entered a contest for Holden and Beckett to win a baseball clinic with the Salt Lake Bees. And they won! There were only 25 kids total who got to participate so we were excited. They got to catch, hit, and run the bases with some of the Bees players. They also got a tour of the locker rooms. Both boys had a ton of fun. And I think Tim loved every second on the field as well.

They also got some tickets to go see another game and a Salt Lake Bees baseball. Beckett is asleep with his ball right now. He had to bring it in the car to run errands also.  He doesn't want to let it out of his sight for a second.

Hitting the ball. He did really well! I wasn't sure, since he's mostly just hit from a tee before.

JJ: What Kind of extra-curricular activites did you participate in in school?

 (I'm on the right holding my friend, Felicia upside down)

I tried my hand at the viola in elementary school, but it didn't stick.

However, in junior high I started doing a few things. I was the editor of our school newspaper, on the peer leadership team, and in advanced drama. I really enjoyed them all, but the school paper was easily my favorite. I remember one issue where we didn't have anywhere near enough articles. So my assistant and I wrote around 5 articles each using fake names for that issue. I totally still have the newspapers that I wrote an article for. They are in my memory box. Plus, I had a press pass. Which meant that I could get out of class all the time. And also get my friends out of class to "interview" them. That's right, I totally abused my power. Bwa ha ha!

Really, I was a good kid and got great grades the year I participated in so many things. But in high school boys and my social life took over. So I mostly stopped the extras. I did do concert choir my senior year and had lots of fun performing.

JJ: What are you frightened of? Why?

This question has a lot of layers. I am frightened of heights. Insanely frightened. I almost started bawling when my dumb date talked me into riding the Rocket at Lagoon years and years ago. And I'm scared of plenty of other superficial things.

But mostly I'm scared of something happening to my kids. I have been having some ridiculous panic attacks or anxiety (or whatever they actually are) at night. And every single time I'm gripped by irrational fear, it has to do with my kids. I always think someone is in my house and that they are after my children. I usually cannot go back to sleep until I visit each of their rooms and make sure they are tucked safely into bed.

I went through a horrible experience as a child and I worry so much about something similar happening to one of my boys. I just want them to be safe and healthy and happy. I know God won't give us more than we can handle, but I struggle with that sometimes when I look back at what I have been through. I lost my baby, Quentin, and I couldn't survive losing another one. It's a scary, scary thing to think about.