Little Miss

Bleh

We've been sick around here since last Wednesday. Joyful. Joyful.

Have I mentioned in the blog that we've been raising bum lambs? I keep meaning to take some pictures to post- but then I forget or Chris erases my memory card. Bum lambs are never a money making proposition. Typically they're "free" lambs that the producers are willing to give away in order to not have the hassle of messing with them. :-) We all know that there's no such thing as a free lunch, don't we?

So... to make a long story short... milk replacer is $47 for a 25 pound bag. Ouch.

We've been raising two lambs. One is a cute little ewe lamb with a spotted body (she'll grow out white) and really sweet little wool cap. She's also squirrelly as can be... we like her anyway. The other lamb was a twin whose momma had big teats. Big teats make it hard to nurse because it's hard to get their mouths working properly to get milk- especially if the ewe is engorged. His twin died and the producer (our 4-H leader) told us that we could take him (since we were looking for a companion to our ewe lamb).

The ewe lamb (Lily) is an easy lamb. She picked up on bottle feeding within about six hours of arriving here. She's gained steadily and started on feed well. The ram lamb (Leon) is not bright! He took about a week to catch on to bottle feeding. I don't know how many times I drenched him with a turkey baster to get some food in his stomach (all the while cursing that I didn't have a tube handy to just tube feed the sucker).

We banded Lily's tail when she was about a week and a half old. Leon had to wait because he still wasn't eating well and I didn't want to stress him. When he FINALLY was thriving Chris and I headed to the pen with the elastrator, intent on castrating him and banding his tail (to make the tail short). What a happy day for Leon- we realized he only had one testicle descended- so no castration that day.

About the point we'd invested in our third bag of $47 milk replacer a vet friend of ours came over to anesthetize Leon and try to manually work the testicle down. That didn't work. So, she took him back to the clinic and they operated to surgically castrate the lamb (which she assures me shouldn't cost more than $50). At this point we decided to use Leon as a market lamb for the fair because he was WAY too expensive to put in our freezer. On the plus side- he was gorgeous.

You all know where this story is going. Well, if you raise livestock you know where it's going. Bright and early on Friday morning Chris went out to feed. Leon was dead in the pen. Yep. Now there won't even be an expensive lunch- and I still have most of that last bag of milk replacer.

*random thought for the post- did you know that the word "elastrator" isn't in the spell check dictionary. How can that be? I've included a picture on the very rare possibility that the rest of the world doesn't know what an elastrator is.

Classic

This morning Sam broke one of the fence rails on a fence that Chris uses with his Breyer horses. It's pretty major drama. For the past two hours he's been stomping around the house and complaining about Sam. Now I notice that the house seems to have picked up a new decorating theme. The signs are everywhere. Sigh.

Starting over

It's been a while since I've posted regularly. I'd like to change that. Writing helps me work through the things that confuse or bother me, gives me a platform to share joy, and helps me record the important events in my life.

Reading back through my blog reminds me of what my children were doing at any given point in time. It reminds me of how far I've come and how far I still have to travel. It brings to mind the wonderful memories, and relives the sad times. It's a small slice of my life- and it looks like that life was seriously impacted a little over a year ago. If you look at the blog it seems like that life may have just flat out stalled- because there are so very few blog posts.

I have had stalled times. I've also had times and memories that I haven't felt able to share and I haven't put forth the effort to record something else in their place. Today, I'm pledging to change that. I may write drivel, it may have no deep meaning and even less literary merit- but I'm going to write- and I'm going to write regularly.

A little bit stronger.

May I become...

May I become at all times, both now and forever

• A protector for those without protection
• A guide for those who have lost their way
• A ship for those with oceans to cross
• A bridge for those with rivers to cross
• A sanctuary for those in danger
• A lamp for those without light
• A place of refuge for those who lack shelter
• And a servant to all in need.

-Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama

Arrogance?

"My wife Mary and I have been married for forty-seven years and not once have we had an argument serious enough to consider divorce; murder, yes, but divorce, never."

Jack Benny

I've been blessed with a couple of friends who are at about the same stage in the dating (or preparing to date) game as I am. It's always nice to have other women doing similar things that you can talk with- kind of like when we were all first moms and shared stories about pregnancy and caring for infants.

One of the things I've discovered in the past year is that I really do have an arrogant streak when it comes to dating. Dave and I spent eleven years as a couple. We were happily married for nine years when he- died. He didn't leave. I didn't get tired of him. We didn't "grow apart," or "fall out of love." We loved and appreciated each other more on the day he died than we did on the day we married. In other words- our marriage was a success. I'm not single because of choices that I made, or because of choices that Dave made.

Most single people in their thirties are divorced. There's a lot of divorce going on with our age group. Divorce doesn't mean you're a bad person. It doesn't mean that you don't have what it takes to be part of a successful relationship. It doesn't say anything about your character. The circumstances leading to your divorce- those say a lot about you.

It's almost taboo to bring up people's failed relationships. I realize that it may hurt to talk about what went wrong. So many people respond by saying that they don't want to look backwards- they're focused on the future- because it's the future that matters. That's an admirable outlook- in a way. But, no matter what led to the divorce, I don't think you're ready to date if you haven't analyzed the negative outcome and examined how your own choices and actions led you to where you are today.

As a new member of the dating pool, I want to know what people are going to do differently this time around. If you just never were a good match for you spouse, what are you looking for in a partner this time? What traits did you overlook that later on you couldn't live with? Even if your ex is psycho- how did you wind up choosing them? If you admit some blame in the failure of your relationship- how have you changed so that the same issues aren't going to haunt your next relationship?

My heart is delicate. My husband guarded and protected it. He placed my well being and protection above his own. I was spoiled, and in return I spoiled him. I would have walked through fire for that man. We laughed- a lot. We loved- a lot. We simply enjoyed spending our time with each other- a lot.

Before we got married, we spent two years dating. In the beginning we weren't looking for a life partner. We were just having a good time and enjoying each other's company. As the months passed we spent more and more time together. About six months after we started seeing each other I realized Dave had become one of my best friends. He thoroughly ticked me off one night and then hurt himself when he was out walking off his own case of mad (because I did a good job of ticking him off too). As I was pulling the goat heads out of his hands I realized that I loved the idiot (I was still a bit mad at him at the time).

Those two years of dating were sometimes a bit stressful. Once I realized I was most likely in love with Dave, well, I wanted to know how the story was going to play out. It was too early to think of marrying the man. I really do think two years is a good time frame. You learn so much during that two year time frame- and you have your own space so that you can think about whether the things you're learning are things you want to live with or if they're going to drive you to wish to commit murder.

The hardest times for us, as a couple, were probably in the year after I realized I REALLY cared for Dave. I didn't want to grow to care even more if he was going to wind up walking away in the end. There's such a fine line to walk between protecting yourself and being open enough to let love grow. It wasn't made easier when Dave refused to say he loved me- 15 months into our relationship. He told me that those were words he never planned on taking back and he was saving them for his wife. Over the next few months he admitted a few times that he probably did love me- but he still wouldn't say the words.

I hated feeling like I was vulnerable, but I trusted Dave to treat my heart gently. Finally, I had the opportunity to apply for a job in Moscow- which would put me about four hours farther away from Dave than I was while living in Gooding. I was only partially teasing when I told him one afternoon, "You should marry me or I'll be moving farther away." He said, "Okay." And then- then- after almost two whole years- then- he said...

I LOVE YOU!

and he kept repeating it for the rest of his life.

Our marriage was fairly smooth (we all have our arguments though), but our dating relationship was strained at times because I so badly wanted to know whether to stay and wait for him or whether to walk away and look for someone else. How do you navigate the dating pool? What questions do you ask? What experiences do you look for?

I know that my approach can seem arrogant, but really, my marriage was a success. If I ever marry again I want that marriage to be just as successful. The group of single men my age is so completely different than the group of single men was when I was in my early twenties. They're a scarred bunch. Battle wounds- divorce, addiction, strange personality quirks- the battle wounds are plentiful. We all have a LOT of baggage (hey, look! I have 3 kids!). How do you go about sorting through the possibilities? When you meet someone that you do care for- how do you know when it's time to move on or when it's time to fight for what you want? Heck, how did we know that the first time around?

Thank you, fellow single women in your thirties. Even though none of us have the answers, it's still helpful being able to talk among ourselves. It's really helpful to have validation that you're not crazy, that your questions are questions being asked by the entire group.

Rage at stupid comments made by unsuspecting, innocent bystanders

Yesterday a friend whose son was climbing all over him made the comment that, "this is what happens when we don't have enough daddy time." There's nothing wrong with that comment, right? Divorce happens- and it happens more frequently than anyone likes. In fact, it's almost more common at my age than a happy marriage is.

The moment the words were out of his mouth, I felt rage. Instant rage. Of course we were standing in the shop out back- which is where my husband spent most of his time, and where he died. My emotions are always close to the surface out there.

I hate feeling sorry for myself. Really, I do (all evidence to the contrary). This is one of those issues that push my buttons so fast I can almost feel my head start spinning (like in The Exorcist). His son is so small and so cute. He's four (I know, because I asked). My baby was three when Dave died. Sam was 5, Chris was 7. They were so young.

My kids get so mad when I call them my babies- but they'll always be my babies. When the paramedics were working on Dave I just kept thinking over and over, "Oh, my babies." Every chance they had to make memories with their Dad ended on Oct. 1, 2009. Jake will never know his dad at anything other than the level of a three year old. He won't talk to him about girlfriends, or puberty, or his first job. Sam won't be able to read to his dad as he masters the skill of reading. None of them will be able to show their dad the projects they make. There will be no more water fights, no more working in the garden and watching their father obsess over making everything perfectly square and in line.

All the small memories that make up a relationship- they're finished.

I'm so glad that most children won't ever have to deal with losing a parent while they're still a child. It's not that my friend is divorced. It's not that his son is lucky enough to have two parents. The comparison between what others have and what we don't have- it's heart breaking.

I'm furious that Dave's gone. Every time I think I've moved forward and healed a bit- something like this happens to remind me that while I may look fairly still on the surface- underneath I'm paddling like crazy. I'd bet that people never realize when something flips that switch. I don't say anything, but I can feel all the hair on my head stand on end and my skin gets very cold. It feels a lot like the initial shock- so very cold. So often people tell me how strong I am. I'm not strong. I'm mad... and I have a feeling that it's going to be a very long time before I get over it.

*For the record, in case anyone is wondering, I don't like it when people censor themselves either in an attempt to protect me :-) I guess the truth is that it's the situation and not the comments that set me off.

So- please don't quit speaking freely around me.

It's a God thing

This week I had the opportunity to give $130 to someone who needed it way more than I did. I don't know the person I sent the check to. She's a friend of a friend and I learned of her need through facebook- mainly because she was so frustrated it kind of leaked over into her status update. I was curious and asked what her need would cost- and it was just short of $130.

After I saw her response I thought to myself, "It would really be nice if someone would just take care of that for her." She's dealing with some major stresses in her life and her family. I remember how it feels when it seems like life keeps throwing rocks at you and the barrage never seems to end. How can you ever get ahead- or even deal with the rocks currently being lobbed at you? I've never sent money to a stranger ever before in my life. For some reason I felt compelled to do it this time.

When I first offered to pay the bill, she turned me down- because she didn't know when she'd be able to pay it back. I told her that when Dave died people carried us. I have a karma debt- and it's a big one. No repayment is necessary- pay it forward when the time is right. She reluctantly agreed.

It felt right. I have no other way to explain the impulse that drove me to mail that check- it just felt right. I finally got the check in the mail yesterday morning. One hundred and thirty dollars. It's not a small amount of money, but it wasn't going to make me or break me either. We can be creative and not eat out this month. There are several areas my family can cut expenses to make up the difference in our budget. More than once in my life I've felt a strong compulsion to do something. Usually it turns out to be a very good thing.

This afternoon a friend on facebook posted a link to a class her local college is offering online about how to be happy. Here's the comment I left her (and I was being kind of sarcastic, but not totally). "Maybe I can save you some money, lol! Work hard towards something. End each day with gratitude for what you have and forget what you don't have. Believe in something larger than yourself. Take every opportunity to be of service- without expecting anything in return-ever. Smile. Be a friend a friend would like to have. "

Then I went and picked up today's mail.

In the day and a half since I mailed that check I've recieved two checks made out to Dave as settlements in class action lawsuits that we never signed on to. One was for $4.91 and the one I found in the mail right before I left for 4-H tonight was $100. I also found a twenty dollar bill tucked into a strange spot in the tote bag I used while Christmas shopping.

So... to recap... in the day and a half since I mailed a $130 check to a woman who I don't know (but felt compelled to help)... I've had $124.91 in unexpected money make it's way into my hands. This means I'm only down $5.09- and I got to feel the joy of helping someone without expecting ANYTHING in return.

Yep, it's a God thing.

December

Wow, it's been a while since I've written. For the most part that's a good sign. I usually write when I'm angry, frustrated, or excited about something. The past month has been very even keeled. The boys are all doing well. Chris is finally really making progress with reading. It's only taken years of time and effort and the work of a dedicated occupational therapist to finally get everything functioning properly for his eyes to see the words and his brain to process what he sees and turn it into language.

It's amazing how much we take for granted the complicated processes the human brain has to perform in order to do simple tasks (like reading and tying your shoe laces). I am continually impressed by our occupational therapist. In the beginning I thought the OT's were the most useless of all the professionals we worked with- which just shows how little I knew about what they really do.

We finally took our lamb to the packing plant. He was scheduled for the first of December, but we got 8-9" of snow the night before and the morning just fell apart- so we rescheduled and ended up taking him in this Wednesday. I'm looking forward to having a freezer full of lamb and Chris is excited to try making lamb sandwiches like the Basque dancing group sells at the fair. One of my favorite things to make with lamb is salami. We're going to have to make sure we have all the ingredients so that we can make a batch right away, once we pick up the meat.

Jake has written two letters to Santa. One letter lists the things he wants: Wooden stable for breyer horses, Hot Wheels, RC stunt rider car, Star Trek guys, Scentsy Buddy lion, dalmation dog like Fluffy, and Legos. The second letter lists the things he does not want. Apparently NOT getting gifts is just as important to him as asking for what he does want. The second letter says: NO BAKUGAN, NO PIGS. I'm not sure why he listed pigs, but he is going through a strange phase where he thinks all of his old loves (like bakugan and action figures) are scary. He's an interesting child.

Sam is talking really well and I understand him about 80% of the time now. He has interesting things to say and really is a gentle little soul. His only real wish for Christmas is to get a remote control monster truck. Otherwise he talks in terms of what his brothers want. All three boys speak in terms of what they'd like to do for their brothers much more often than they talk about what they want for themselves. I like that about my boys!

We're in the process of making snowflakes using popsicle sticks and glitter. The snowflakes are all assembled, this evening we're going to glitter them. The boys are really excited to make their own ornaments to keep. Sam and Chris love working with the sticks to try and build things. I had to hide them in order to keep enough to do some craft projects. Those boys sure are builders and tinkerers. As they get older I see more and more of their dad shining through.

Chris's feet are bigger than mine. It's not going to be very long before he's taller too. When he walks in from the garage he sounds like his dad. He was starting to sound like Dave, even when Dave was still here. There were times when I'd hear the door open as I was working on the patio. I'd have to listen for a little while to determine whether it was Dave or Chris walking in the kitchen. Chris is always talking or humming so he gives himself away pretty fast- but his footsteps and the way he moves sound just like Dave.

Sam's about to lose his second tooth. He always has his hand in his mouth messing with it. I can hardly wait until it falls out! Poor kid, I know it feels weird and that's why he has his hand in there- but it's kind of disconcerting to see his hand always on his tooth.

Jake's using foam snowflake stickers to make repeating patterns. It always makes me laugh when the kids spontaneously do something that would be in the curriculum of a regular school for other kids their age. Apparently people just naturally do some things at certain ages.

That's about all that's going on at our house. Nothing exciting, just general life. We're healthy and content. Life is good!

My Honey

November 4th, 2000, I married David Anderson. Somehow in the years that followed that event he kind of lost his name. I called him, "My Love" when speaking to him, "My Honey," when thinking of him, "Daddy," when talking to the kids, and, "My Husband," when speaking to anyone else. I know his name is David, I just don't think I ever used it unless I was introducing him to someone new.

Marriage is one of those wonderful, mystical, blendings that it's hard to find the words to describe. While planning our wedding I thought I knew what it meant to be married. I knew that I was committing to spend a lifetime with this man I loved. I knew that there would be hard times as well as joyful times. I knew that I had to accept him for exactly what he was at that moment in time and not think I could try to change him later.

I didn't know that our wholly complete, individual lives would tangle around each other like plant roots in the garden. I didn't know that we would weave ourselves so closely together that it would be hard to see the lines dividing us as individuals. I didn't know that when someone slapped him I would feel the hurt, and that when something made his day it would make mine as well. In the beginning I thought I knew what love was, but love and marriage are different than I ever imagined.

After he died his last client came to visit me. She brought a sympathy card and came in to talk with me for a while. Dave had really enjoyed working for this couple. The husband was in his nineties and didn't get out much. His wife was a bit younger and she's the one who came to visit. She told me how much they'd enjoyed getting to know Dave and how much they appreciated his perfectionism. And then, she told me that the real reason she wanted to talk with me was to tell me about how he spoke about me.

Apparently they weren't sure I had a name for the whole first week he worked at their house, "My Wife," was a phrase they heard a lot. One afternoon I called and he mentioned me by name when the phone rang. Otherwise they wouldn't have ever known if I had a name. She talked about the way he'd light up when speaking of the boys and telling stories about the things they get up to. Her visit was an amazing gift that I still cherish. I knew that Dave felt that way about us, but I still love hearing it from other people.

This would have been our tenth anniversary. I plan to celebrate it even though he's not here to join me. For nine years I was excited to be David Anderson's wife. Ten years down the road I'm still proud that he chose me to spend his life with. I wish our story could have ended differently (or at least fifty years later) but I will never regret a moment of being Mrs. David Anderson.

Dave was nothing I was looking for in a mate, but he ended up being everything I needed. He was so kind and gentle, soft spoken but with strong opinions, accepting and tolerant of all kinds of people and situations, intelligent but slow to speak. He was a very simple man in many ways. Money and things never held a lot of appeal for him. His wealth was his family. Early in our dating lives he told me he really wouldn't ever consider moving away from this area while his parents were still alive- especially if he had kids. He felt it was important to stay close to family and see each other often. I've been so grateful that he made that stand. Our children know our families well and we have so many memories of Dave that overlap others- it's a blessing my children will definitely be glad for when they're older and their own memories of Dave may not be as clear. Our shared memories bolster each other.

I'm trying to look at our anniversary as a joyful occasion. My marriage is one of the greatest blessings of my entire life. Without it I wouldn't have had this wonderful man and I wouldn't have the kids that I love more than my own life. So, today- let's celebrate! My Honey, I love you and I miss you but I'm sure glad you chose me and that I chose you!

School time

I've neglected writing about some of the very normal things going on in our house this fall. The school year has started and we're still homeschooling. This week the boys start attending Montessori for a whole day and a half each week. I need a bit of a break and some time to do things without kids trailing me (like housecleaning and grocery shopping and... sleeping). The Montessori director seems to have an almost identical educational philosophy to ours. I think this is going to be a good fit for us- somewhere between pure homeschooling and full time private school.

Chris and Sam both have speech therapy and Chris also goes to physical and occupational therapy every week. We're still going to our homeschool co-op every Friday (and we love, love, love it!). The only days of the week we're not running to appointments are Tuesday and Thursday. So... Montessori all day Tuesday and in the mornings on Thursday. Thursday afternoons I've reserved for excursions into the mountains, sagebrush, visiting, and exploring. Those activities are our favorite part of homeschooling.

I think it's going to be so good for them to interact with other adults and children without my constant presence. They're not old enough that I'm ready for them to be gone several days during the week, but this seems to be a perfect situation for us. It's also terrific that the Montessori approach to reading and math are exactly what we're already practicing in our home. :-) This situation is better than I ever dreamed I could find for our family. It allows me some freedom and time to schedule my own appointments- but it doesn't turn over my kids education to someone else. This feels right.

Some days I can't believe I did that...

One of the girls I went to high school with, recently lost her mother to cancer. The celebration of her life will be on the 2nd of October. I'd like to go and offer support to my old friend, but my emotions have been so up and down and all over the place lately, that I'm not even going to try.

Dave's funeral was on the 5th of October last year (I think- my memory of that month isn't very good). His death was such a shock, None of us ever expected to be planning a funeral at that time or for that individual (we do have a few elderly relatives that we live in dread of planning funerals for too).

I worked hard on his funeral. It gave me something to focus on other than the massive hole ripped out of the fabric of our lives. In another world, a lifetime ago, before I was a mother (so I guess that's actually three lifetimes ago), I worked in a field that required planning and implementing events. The funeral was something I could work on fairly confidently (especially since so many people wanted to help).

We are blessed to have some amazing musicians among our friends and family. Dave's cousin Jennifer played and sang a medley of songs that have become an Anderson family funeral tradition. His brother-in-law Ciro sang one of my father-in-laws favorite hymns. Kathy Danner and her best friend Janell Carrol sang a duet of my favorite hymn (Simple Gifts- we also sang it at our wedding).

The pastor was very good at saying what I wanted to hear. It may have been partially because I handed him a written list of what I wanted to hear :-) I'm kind of like that. I forgot to write a time limit on the sheet of paper I handed him- so it was kind of long- but all in all, I received comfort from his message. My requested talking points were: We are saved through grace; We are promised eternal life; and... Love endures. He's a very kind and patient pastor and although it was our first time interacting with him (the previous pastor had just moved) he was amazing.

One of the strangest memories I carry from that day is this: I spoke at my husband's funeral. I really didn't plan to speak. Do you know any widows who've actually gotten up and talked during the funeral? It's kind of weird, yes?

I didn't sleep much that week between his death and the funeral. For some reason, at about 2 in the morning, Brandy and I were looking up something out on the porch and I found something related to Robert Service. Robert Service was one of Dave's all time favorite poets and authors. One of my favorite early memories of my time with Dave happened when we were laying on the ground outside looking at the stars. While cuddled there in the grass he started speaking... and segued right into "The Junior God"

The Junior God- by Robert W. Service

The Junior God looked from his place

In the conning towers of heaven,
And he saw the world through the span of space
Like a giant golf-ball driven.

And because he was bored, as some gods are,
With high celestial mirth,
He clutched the reins of a shooting star,
And he steered it down to earth.

The Junior God, 'mid leaf and bud,
Passed on with a weary air,
Till lo! he came to a pool of mud,
And some hogs were rolling there.

Then in he plunged with gleeful cries,
And down he lay supine;
For they had no mud in paradise,
And they likewise had no swine.

The Junior God forgot himself;
He squelched mud through his toes;
With the careless joy of a wanton boy
His reckless laughter rose.

Till, tired at last, in a brook close by,
He washed off every stain;
Then softly up to the radiant sky
He rose, a god again.

The Junior God now heads the roll
In the list of heaven's peers;
He sits in the House of High Control,
And he regulates the spheres.

Yet does he wonder, do you suppose,
If, even in gods divine,
The best and wisest may not be those
Who have wallowed awhile with the swine?

It was early in our dating relationship and I hadn't ever heard him recite before. I was quite pleased to find out for sure that he could read :-) He loved that poem because it gently poked fun at self-righteous, holier -than-thou people and hypocrites. It also glorified the pleasure to be found in wallowing in life's unexpected pleasures. I can still see the twinkle in his eye as he approached the ending of the poem.

So... at two in the morning, the morning of the funeral, it seemed like a good idea to make sure someone would read that poem for David. For some insane reason, I felt like it was something I needed to do. Brandy (mrsbroth.blogspot.com) offered to be my back-up and we both carried copies of the poem into the funeral. This deviation from the order of events wasn't in the program. I'm not sure we actually told anyone official that we were planning on doing it- because I wasn't certain that I could actually get up in front of everyone on that day and recite Dave's favorite poem.

Yes, I am the woman who spoke at her own husband's funeral. I'm glad that I could give him that tribute, but there are still some days I can't believe that was me. My goal for the day was to keep the day as upbeat as possible, to celebrate a life well lived, and a man well loved. Dave deserved laughter and stories, not tears and sorrow. I miss him beyond anything I ever could have imagined. Before he was gone I knew I loved him and that we were very happy together, but I didn't realize how entwined we were in each other. For nine years of my life I was excited to be David Anderson's wife- and I used those exact words to tell him- every day for nine years. A year later I'm having a hard time finding the upbeat feeling and laughter that I demanded from myself in the early days. I'm tired and I'm lonely. I miss everything about him (and when I realized I missed scraping thinset out of my washing machine... well, I realized I'd lost my sanity).

Almost a year

It's been almost a year since Dave died. It's getting harder.

I know that there are lots of other people in the world facing this same sort of tragedy. I know that there are people who's lives are harder than mine. I know that. Don't tell me about it. I'm aware that my life could be worse. That doesn't make this easier. It doesn't make it less difficult. It doesn't make me more whole and less damaged. It doesn't.

Don't tell me how strong I am. I know exactly how strong I am... and how weak I am. Don't tell me that I have to keep going for my children. I know that. It's not like I have a choice whether to keep moving forward or not. Don't tell me the stupid stuff I already KNOW.

Nothing changes the reality that on October 1st of last year our lives, my life, changed forever. Nothing anyone says, no pretty words, no comparisons to other people's lives, changes that Dave isn't here anymore. Sure, we're ok. We have our life here in Nampa, our family, our friends, a nice house to live in, food to eat, things to do, places to go. NONE of that in any way replaces Dave.

I'm tired of trying to look at the positive. Do you know how tiring it is to always be the one looking for the silver lining? Do you know what it's like to smile and tell people you'll be ok, when inside you're screaming with rage? Unless you do- don't tell me how to deal with it. If you cook dinner for your family, do their laundry, dry their tears, clean up after them when they're sick, help them with their school work, and frequently have to make some sort of response to a four year old who repeats, "My dad died," whenever anyone's father is mentioned- then I'd love to hear from you about how you handle your daily life without killing anyone or blowing up like a rocket. If you don't live that life, if your husband still comes home every night, or if you wish your husband didn't come home every night- just shut up or tell me that, "it sucks."

Life isn't horrible. My life didn't end because Dave died. I don't ever wish that it had, but that doesn't change that it isn't the same. I wish that I could say that the blessings we're surrounded by are an ok trade-off, but they're not. I miss my husband. I still love my husband. My kids miss their dad. They still need their dad. Does that ever change? This isn't happy and upbeat- but you know what? Life isn't always happy and upbeat. There isn't always a silver lining. Nothing about now is made better because my husband died. I miss him and I wish I didn't feel compelled to write how badly this hurts- but the reality is, this hurts more now than it did in the months right after he died.

I am...

a statistical anomaly. That's right. You heard me. A statistical anomaly.

Anomaly (as defined by merriam webster.com):

1. the angular distance of a planet from it's perihelion as seen from the sun.

2. deviation from the common rule: irregularity

3. something anomalous: something different, abnormal, peculiar, or not easily classified.

(no comments from the peanut gallery about definition 3, please)

I am:

a 35 year old female (pretty normal so far)

the mother of three boys (a bit unusual, but not abnormal)

the mother of three boys who were born within less than 4 years (not entirely abnormal)

the mother of one and possibly two children who fall on the autism spectrum (looks pretty common in the Treasure Valley)

a widow (fairly unusual at the age of 35)

a quilter (pretty common)

the daughter of a man who died in his thirties (fairly abnormal for our age group)

the widow of a man who died in his thirties (when paired with the previous statistical group- this is peculiar, different and irregular)

ambidexterous (fairly unusual in any age group)

a woman with a chest measurement that varies by seven inches from band to cup size (not entirely unheard of, but not common- go ahead do the math, I'm not posting my bra size here)

an avid reader (more unusual than I like to believe)

a woman who has been pregnant four times, but only has three live children, early term miscarriage (pretty common in our age group)

an animal lover (very common)

an animal lover with two dogs who weigh 73 and 110 pounds, respectively (more unusual, but not peculiar)

an animal lover who in her lifetime has had horses, sheep, rabbits, guinea pigs, an umbrella cockatoo, two cockatiels, a dog, and way too many cats- all at the same time (getting peculiar here)

capable of passing biochemistry, trigonometry, and calculus- and not remembering any of it by the time I'm 35 :-) (you tell me whether that's normal or not)

able to kill an animal in pain (once again- you tell me how normal that is, I think it's normal)

a woman who is really attracted to men with muscular forearms- yep forearms- biceps are nice, but men who actually do work with their bodies- they have muscular forearms.

Who are you? What makes you unique? I think I'm enough of a statistical anomaly that perhaps I should invest my life savings in lottery tickets. Tell me your story and convince me I'm really not likely the be the one in 98070689780--65 who has the winning number :-)

Pillsbury Sweet Rolls Contest

The other day I received the most amazing package in the mail. It came from Pillsbury and the folks at MyBlogSpark.com. A plain brown box appeared on my doorstep. The children were quite excited. When we opened it--- Oh my goodness! It contained the most amazing delights!

First and foremost- at least if you're a 4 year old- it contained a plush, stuffed Pillsbury Doughboy. He even giggles when you poke him in the stomach or give him a hug. There were two amazing products by Orca- a beautiful blue spatula and a silcone pot holder. Two white dish cloths and a coupon for free Pillsbury Grands Sweet Rolls rounded out the package.

Would you like the opportunity to win a prize package of your own? Who can resist the idea of getting such a fun box of goodness in the mail? Leave a comment at the end of my post telling me your favorite Sunday morning memory. My favorite memory is of my husband cooking breakfast for all of us while I spent luxurious alone time reading in my room :-) Good husbands are worth their weight in gold- and he would have loved being able to put some of the easy rolls on the table with the bacon!

Facebook Page! If Sunday morning family breakfasts are a special tradition you cherish, then pop some Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls into the oven and let the sweet moments roll in. In an effort to recapture Sunday mornings as the ideal occasion to reconnect with family and loved ones, Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls is teaming up with Melissa Joan Hart, star of the new ABC Family sitcom "Melissa & Joey," for the My Sweet Sunday Moment contest, where you and your family have a chance to win a seven-day "week of Sundays" vacation to California, including a visit to area theme parks and Melissa Joan Hart´s sweet shop, SweetHarts! Enter today by visiting Pillsbury.com/SweetSunday and telling Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls why your family loves Sunday and why you want more of them for a chance to win. Treat your family to a "sweet Sunday moment" with the mouth-watering aroma and delicious taste of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls. Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls are a quick and easy addition to any breakfast that the whole family will love - just place and bake! To learn more about the contest and Melissa Joan Hart, you and your readers can visit Pillsbury.com/SweetSunday. Please keep in mind you have until September 2nd to enter this contest through Pillsbury.com. Visit Pillsbury on Facebook or Pillsbury on Twitter and "Like" or "Follow" for contest news and great tips, recipes and more from Melissa Joan Hart. While you´re there, take a minute to share family photos and the link to your blog post onPillsbury's

My Family

You hold me together :-)

By now I should've been broken
On the rocks arisin' life's ocean
Just another ship lost at sea
By now I should've been scattered
In the wind of my lonesome travels
Like a thousand dandelion seeds
And I should've come unraveled
At the seams like a well-worn sweater
But you hold me together

My hope should've been shattered
Like a bottle out behind some tavern
From a fight that you had no chance to win
My dream should've been ashes
Gone up in smoke like a book of matches
Tossed away and never gonna burn again
And I should've worn right through
Like an old cowboy's boot leather
But you hold me together

I feel your love surrounding me
Strong enough that I can believe
There won't ever be a storm that I can't weather
'Cause you hold me together
Together, yeah

I feel your love surrounding me
Strong enough that I can believe
There won't ever be a storm that I can't weather
No there'll never be a storm that I can't weather

I should've been long forgotten
Just a footnote down at the bottom
Of a page in the book of what could've beens
My heart should lie in pieces
On the ground like a goodbye letter
But you hold me together

I have to smile at this song because it reminds me of my sister-in-law saying she's always been scared to pray for strength. I prayed for strength. Pam's right. Don't do it. :-) I'm strong- but if it's the pain that makes you strong, and overcoming fear that gives you courage, well- I'd rather be weak and fearful.

Nightmares

I had the worst dream last night and I just can't seem to shake it this morning- so I'm going to write about it :-) Luckily, I lost most of my readers when I took a few months off of blogging.

The gist of what happened is that I dreamed Dave left me- without saying anything- just packed up and left. He was gone for a fairly long time (a week, a few weeks- not sure) and didn't contact me at all. The man just flat out ignored me.

Then we were getting ready for a family camping trip and he came to load the Suburban and just acted like everything was normal. But I was so mad at him for leaving me and not telling me why or even giving me a chance to know that there was something wrong before he left.

It makes me wonder if that fear has been lurking in my subconscious all along- or was this just a new twist on nightmares. Either way, the dream is lingering. This is one I'd really like to forget in the usual fashion of forgetting what you dream within a short time after waking.

Interview Evaluations Today

Golds!!!! Chris was awarded golds on both of his projects. He could have cared less, really. I, however, was stressing- and stressing a lot. Last night I finally took a deep breath and told myself, "he's only eight, how bad can it be?" Still, this morning, I was stressing!

He looked so cute and grown up in his new wranglers and crisp white shirt with blue tie. He very carefully packed his record book into the suburban and then he really didn't care what happened next.

The evaluations took place in an elementary school gym in Caldwell. They were so well organized, I was impressed (and it takes a lot to impress me- I used to be a county 4-H director before I was married). We checked in at the livestock and family consumer sciences tables and then we could go sit in the waiting area or there were an assortment of judging activities around the room for us to participate in. Chris didn't end up having time to judge before his evaluations- they were very prompt.

His first interview was for his Foods of Pacific Northwest project. His evaluator was a special ed teacher and he seemed to enjoy working with her. I'm not sure who did his sheep evaluation but he has a gold sticker on his book- so I guess it went well. He was so matter of fact and ho hum about the afternoon that you'd think this was only as important as a trip to the grocery store. It's amazing to think that he's actually completed two projects and his first year in 4-H. We could skip fair and be finished right now!

Of course, we're not skipping fair. :-) Next Tuesday we weigh-in, and we can hardly wait! Stay tuned for more updates...