Don't Cry Over Spilled Crayons

I've said this before, but it always surprises me how my teaching moments for Ryan turn into teaching moments for me. This particular lesson centered around crayons. Lots of crayons.

Normally, Ryan's pretty good about picking up after himself so long as I'm there to help. Last weekend, however, I decided to help him clean up everything but his crayons. He had dumped the entire bag on the floor just to be funny, and I wanted him to clean it up by himself. 

I started basic. "Ryan, pick up your crayons." He ignored me. I tried again. "Ryan, please pick up your crayons." This time he ran away saying, "no!" That earned him his first time out. A few minutes later, we tried again. "Ryan, pick up your crayons." He grabbed Brown Bear and ran away. Brenton caught him and took away the toy saying, "Ryan, you can have Brown Bear back once you put away your crayons." Total meltdown. Ryan started crying, begging for Brown Bear, and my patience was drained. I folded my arms and stood over him saying, "Ryan, we'll do this for hours if we have to, but you're picking up these crayons! Just do it! Just pick them up!" To no avail. After a few more tries with time outs and stern voices, nearly half an hour went by and not a single crayon was picked up. Ryan was miserable and I was exasperated. 

At this point, I was sitting on the floor staring at the crayons with every intention of picking them up myself, putting Ryan to bed, and chalking it all up to experience. I had reached my breaking point. For me, this is usually the time when the Savior comes in and teaches. As I sat there holding the empty bag for the crayons I thought, "does the Savior stand over me, chastising when I make a mistake and refuse to clean it up, or does He listen to me and encourage me to be better?" After a deep breath, I picked up my son, held him close, gave him a few kisses and told him how much I loved him. Then I picked up the empty bag and said, "can you bring the crayons to me?" Instantly, my sweet little boy eagerly picked up every single crayon and placed it in the bag while we sang the "Clean-up" song together. Inside of two minutes the floor was crayon-free. When he was finished, Ryan threw his hands up in the air and said, "Tah-dah!" He was so proud of himself, and with tears in my eyes I learned that children respond far better to love than anger. 

Ryan picked up every single one of his crayons. I didn't help him. I wish it wouldn't have taken me so long to figure this lesson out, but I'm grateful at how quick to forgive little children are. I'm sure Ryan has since forgotten this entire experience, but it certainly left an impression on me. Sometimes in life we intentionally make a mess. Maybe we think it's funny, or maybe we want to get back at someone else. Either way it's our responsibility to clean it up, but the Savior is always there with His hands outstretched, coaching and motivating us through the repentance process, encouraging us to do better. That's the kind of parent I want to be. Lesson learned. 

My Favorite Things

During the Christmas season, when I have yuletide music playing just about every minute of the day, I always laugh when the song, "My Favorite Things" begins to play. I turn to Brenton and say, "this isn't a Christmas song! Why do they only play it at Christmas?!" It's really a shame because it's such a wonderful song, and now when it's played during any other month people turn to each other and say, "why are they playing a Christmas song?" To which I stamp my little foot and say, "it ISN'T a Christmas song!" Bah! Humbug!

I've written before that every night as part of Ryan's bedtime routine, the last thing I do before placing him into his crib is rock and sing to him. I've sung dozens and dozens of songs to him over the past two years, one of them being "My Favorite Things." About a year ago, I realized while many of the things in the song I like, they're not necessarily my favorite. I do enjoy a good, crisp apple strudel, and I think wild geese are quite lovely, especially with the moon on their wings. However, I'm not sure I'd categorize them as my favorite things.

So while I was singing it once again, rocking my baby to sleep, I changed the lyrics a bit to talk about the things that are really my favorite. Here's my version, sung now dozens and dozens of times to my little boy. It's not all my favorite things of course, just a few that really matter to me.

The day I got married and became a Mrs.

Sweet baby boys and their mommy's soft kisses,

Sparkling diamonds on my wedding rings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Playtime with Daddy and rocking with Mommy

The look on his face when my husband first saw me,

The love that we share and the flowers he brings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Making a gift for somebody who loves me,

The day you were born and I became a mommy,

Listening to my own mom as she sings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Your cute little feet, especially your toes,

Watching my sweet baby boy as he grows,

Feeling so happy it's like I have wings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

When the bills pile,

When I can't smile,

When I'm feeling sad,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don't feel so bad. 

Perhaps I will add more verses as time goes by, as there are so many things that are my favorite. For example, I LOVE the Fall. It is my favorite season. It fills my whole soul with joy seeing the leaves change color, making tasty treats with pumpkin, going for walks, wearing argyle sweaters, drinking cider on the porch, and so many other things. In fact, I think I could write another four verses to "My Favorite Things" just about the Fall. Perhaps "crisp apple strudels" can stay in that one. Maybe even warm, woolen mittens, too!

Mommy of a Boy

There's no doubt about it, I'm the mommy of a little boy. Despite my 100% feminine nature, having a son has toughened me up just enough to make mud pies in the backyard, play with dinosaurs that eat other dinosaurs, and instead of screaming at the sight of a bug, letting it crawl onto a piece of paper so my inquisitive little boy can examine it. None of this is in my nature. I was born with glitter in my veins. My idea of a perfect world is one without spiders, where mud never gets on my clothes, and every pair of shoes I own is sparkly.

The day I discovered my first child would be a boy, I was blown away. I spent many a sleepless night wondering, "How on earth am I going to raise him? What do I know about cars, sports, and superheroes?" The day he was born all those doubts and worries vanished. I didn't have to know all the names of Thomas & His Friends, I just had to love my baby. And looking into his perfect little face, all the love in the world wasn't enough to explain how I felt about him.

As my little boy has grown, I've learned a lot more about cars. Not all the specs and mechanisms of the engine, but how to push them across a carpet while saying. "vroooom! vroom!!" I've learned it doesn't matter if it's a baseball, basketball, football, or red plastic ball from the drugstore, each is just as fun to throw back and forth in the yard. Superheroes are pretty cool, and I now know all about the Avengers and Batman (which has done far more for my marriage than my mommy skills). And yes, I also know all the names of Thomas & His Friends, my personal favorite being Gordon.

I know that my future daughters will come and when they do, my tea set and sparkly pink shoes will be ready. For now, I'm perfectly happy enjoying every minute I get to spend digging in sandboxes, spinning in circles til we can't stop giggling, and playing with the best little boy in the world. Still not a fan of spiders, though.

It's the Little Things

This week was not the greatest. I guess it's just the little things.

Ryan was sick for a few days, I messed up a crochet project and had to start over, my quest for Brenton's birthday presents didn't pan out, you get the picture. I was hanging in there and soldiering through when I realized I would have been 20 weeks along and found out the gender of our baby this week. That was my breaking point, and I burst into a full meltdown this morning.

To quote Charlie Brown, lately it feels like "everything I touch gets ruined." My starter plants in the front yard were eaten by birds, my hanging basket of fuchsias died, our cucumbers are bitter, the peppers rot before they're ripe, and a bunny keeps eating our low hanging tomatoes and zucchini. It feels as though everything I try to nurture and raise either dies or falls apart. I would have been halfway along in my pregnancy yet here I sit, barren and empty as another month goes by without a positive test. It's becoming a disheartening trial for me. 

About the only thing that has been growing really well is our cherry tomatoes. I pick about 3 dozen or so everyday. Today, those little, bright red tomatoes taught me a comforting lesson. All by itself, a cherry tomato isn't much. Just a little, juicy morsel that brightens your day for moment. But put all of them together, and you have a whole basket full of juicy, delicious fruit. You sit on the front porch and pop several in your mouth at once, wondering how something so small could taste so delicious and make you so happy. 

Here's my lesson. "By small and simple things are great things brought to pass" (Alma 37:6). Instead of letting the negative things bring me down, I can focus on the little cherry tomatoes of life that bring me joy. A long hug from my son, a kiss from my husband, a call from a friend, an uplifting song on the radio, a particular verse of scripture. All by itself, a little moment isn't much. But put all of them together and I have a whole basket full of happy, uplifting moments of joy. 

I guess it's just the little things. 

Life in the Bluegrass State

Ok, now that I've written about the miscarriage and can process my thoughts better, I believe some updates are in order.

About 36 hours after we moved to Kentucky and unpacked the truck (with the help of our amazing church congregation out here), we headed out to DC for my little brother's wedding. It was great to see our family and all be together for such a happy event. In between wedding festivities and visiting with family, we took Ryan to the National Zoo. He loved everything, and made animal sounds left and right. Also during the week, Brenton and I went out to dinner to celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary. We ordered three desserts at one of my favorite Greek restaurants. One for each year. They were delicious!  (strawberry cheesecake, white chocolate raspberry mousse cake, and creme brulee)

After the wedding, we headed back to Kentucky so Brenton could start his new job, and I could settle in the house. Brenton's first day of work was on our actual anniversary, May 1st. He had to work until around 9:30 in the evening, so we were grateful for the early celebration the week before. However, when he got home he surprised me with some sparkling cider, chocolates and a movie. We cuddled up on the couch surrounded by boxes and enjoyed the time together. 

Since then we've unpacked, settled in and started making our house a home. Everyone has been so kind here. I've never lived in an area where the people are more friendly. Honest.

Here's a little slideshow of our move, trip to DC, and our first month or so living in Kentucky. While we may have had a few bumps in the road, things are looking up, and we're very happy.

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
www.onetruemedia.com

Thoughts on a Miscarriage

I haven't written since the move not because I don't have updates to give, but because every time I sit down to write there's only one topic that comes to mind. I've thought about putting it aside and writing about it later, but for whatever reason I can't seem to write about anything else until this gets off my chest. I'm really not one to suffer in silence. It's not in my nature. And as I've been going through this experience I've found there's not much out there from the perspective of the expectant mother, just from doctors.

So yes, last month I had a miscarriage. It all happened so fast. I found out I was expecting, was absolutely thrilled, and within a few weeks lost the baby. I was completely devastated. I had just enough time to be ecstatic about adding a new member to our family. Over the next few weeks I planned exciting ways to tell my parents and in-laws the good news, as we would be moving from Utah and seeing both of them within a week of each other. It was the perfect time to tell them Baby #2 was on the way.

The day of our move all my excitement and anticipation was ripped away from me. I cannot fully describe the emotional disappointment and loss of a miscarriage. It came without warning, without feeling, understanding, or comfort. I felt like my baby was ripped from my arms along with all my hopes and dreams for her/him. As we drove away in our U-Haul, I felt like we were leaving her/him behind. It was a very hard day.

Looking back now, there is nothing on that first day that brings any comfort but prayer. There is nothing anyone can say that will make you feel better, and there's nothing that can bring your baby back to you. All you feel is empty. It brought a new level of sadness to my life I had never experienced, and pray I never have to experience ever again.

Over the next few days, I found myself crying uncontrollably for no reason at all. Not only did I lose my baby, but I had no control over my emotions due to the raging hormones that proceed a miscarriage. I was irritable, exhausted, very weepy, sometimes numb, but mostly heartbroken. Each day I would wake up with a sinking feeling in my stomach, remembering the baby was gone. It felt so awful. I wondered when I would finally start to feel better. I wished so badly I could fast forward to the day when I didn't feel so sad anymore.

Now a month and a half later, I'm doing much better. I still shed a few tears every once in awhile and give myself time to grieve, but I don't give myself time to mope. Having a new house to move into and plenty of boxes to unpack was surprisingly great therapy. It gave me time to think without sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I put my sadness into my work. I unpacked when I felt restless, played piano when I felt depressed, and held my little boy when I felt weepy. A few times I even danced when I felt annoyed or frustrated. Each activity helped in its own way, and I never tried to repress the way I was feeling. My dear husband was very patient with me as I tried to work through all the emotions. He's been a great support through the entire ordeal.

I don't know why I had a miscarriage, but I do know everything's going to be okay at some point. I still look at the calendar and think, "I would be 'x' weeks along now..." and try not to cry. Some days I'm even a bit jealous of my friends that are currently expecting. Other days I'm very happy and busy being a full-time mom. I scoop up my little boy and cover him with kisses, grateful for every minute I get to spend being Ryan's mommy. Every day I get down on my knees to pray for support from my Heavenly Father. I know this is all part of His plan. My little baby is not gone forever. He/she is still coming to our family. For whatever reason the body I was creating for him/her wasn't right and so it was discarded. Now I have another chance to create a better one. It's all part of the plan.

I didn't write this looking for sympathy, but to hopefully share some empathy with those who may have gone or will go through a miscarriage themselves. Maybe it will bring comfort should another woman I know go through this painful process. My advice? Look to those who love you for comfort, lean on your husband for support, and most importantly look up to the Lord for guidance. He is there and will give you the peace you are seeking. Then find ways to keep busy, and if you already have children, give them all the kisses and hugs you can. After awhile, you'll be okay. And if you need a listening ear, you know where to find me. I find ice cream dates with girlfriends, even through Skype, provide great comfort and relief. I'm here with a pint of Haagen Dazs anytime you need me.

Dear Provo: A Thank You Note

Dear Provo,

On Wednesday morning we will lock our door, hand the keys to our landlord, buckle ourselves into our U-Haul and leave your boundaries forever. I don't really have the time to write this post as there is still much to be done before that morning, but after nearly 7 years of ups, downs, and everything in between, I feel some "thank yous" are in order.

Thank you for the education I received here at one of the nation's top universities. I worked extremely hard to earn a bachelor's degree from Brigham Young University, and I am grateful for the professors who motivated, inspired, and encouraged me to work for something I will treasure forever. No matter what life throws at me, no matter what job I may have or lose, no on can take that degree away from me.

Thank you for the gift of my best friend, Laura. A bond like ours will last forever, and I will cherish the memories we have of our time spent here together.

Thank you for introducing me to my sweetheart. Your town full of affordable restaurants and lovely parks provided a great atmosphere for me to get to the know the man I would one day call my husband.

Thank you for providing me with my first salary-based, post-graduate job. I learned many valuable skills from it, but mostly learned I had something to contribute to the professional world, and was seen as an asset to a successful company.

Thank you for the miracle of my first child. Thank you for the fantastic hospital that saved my baby's and my life with only precious minutes to spare. Perhaps there are other hospitals and doctors who could have acted that quickly and effectively elsewhere, but I will be forever indebted to the people who took great care to ensure my son made it safely to our family.

Thank you for providing my with fantastic friends. I've made some friendships here that will continue with me no matter where we live. I'm grateful I was able to be in an area where so many people were in the same season of life as me. I don't think that will be the case anywhere else, and it was perfect for this stage of life.

We are truly thrilled to be moving on to Kentucky. It's everything we were hoping and praying for. I'm so excited for this new adventure for our family, but please know there is a part of me that owes you gratitude for the many joyful, life-changing events that happened in your city. Farewell, and may I never have to live here again.

Best Regards,

Katie Hoyos