See ya later!

Four years is long enough to get burned out... from blogging. I'm going to delete this personal blog and continue my blogging through our family blog, HolmFeet.  If you would like an invite to this private blog, leave me a comment and I'll be happy to send you an invite.

I also keep my Facebook account fairly updated.

If you really want to know how I'm spending my free time these days, find me in the wonderful world of Goodreads.

See you over on HolmFeet!

Hope for Haiti Now

You can buy the Hope for Haiti Now album.

I have hope.

First Presidency Appeals to Church Members to Help People in Haiti - LDS Newsroom

Recovery

From a birthday party.

You thought I was going to talk some more about my injection? Nope, that's old news. The birthday party, well, I guess that's old news now. Thank goodness.

Being the first birthday party I've ever hosted, and living in a new town/ward... I didn't quite know what I was doing. We may have had too many girls there. We may have not had enough structured activities planned... or too many. Either way, it is DONE.

Today I'm starting to feel relief. After the entire family slept in until 10AM (I am still dazed and confused about how we made it to church by 10:55am), I realized that I had a tension-induced headache threatening migraine status. It dissipated in time for dinner and a second round of cake/ice cream/presents.

To cut to the chase, I'm glad to celebrate the birth of my first born, but NOW...

I am ready to celebrate the birth of another little baby. I hope we can calmly, quietly, and uneventfully celebrate Christmas for the next couple weeks. And I hope all of you get a little bit of peace and quiet this holiday.

Survived

I survived the big needle. It actually ended up being two spinal-area injections (between L4 and L5, and between L5 and S1, for any who care). Having things poking/moving around back there feels scary and unnatural. Having once endured a month-long spinal leak and spinal headache, I'm a little nervous about these things.

I was trying my best to stay calm as I stared at a beautiful outlet and listened to the nurses/doc discuss ways to make the room more sterile. Finally I admitted that I was beginning to freak out, and a nurse came over and started talking to me about the girls. We had a nice little discussion about their upcoming birthday party. Nurses can save the day. :) Doctors aren't so bad, either...

I survived the procedure, but I really shouldn't have gone out to eat afterwards. Even if I did discover that Laughing Planet makes AMAZING burritos and the girls loved the "funny one-eyed place". For all you bike-minded people out there (and Portland has a plethora), they make their burritos to fit perfectly into a bike water holder.

Tsk at your own risk!

Confession:
I lashed out at a woman in Walmart who had the nerve to "tsk-tsk" my parenting skills. Not only was she making her disapproval obvious, but she was sharing her disapproval with fellow by-standers. Ugh.

My words of advice: if you see a mother of young children in need of assistance, just help her out or give her one of those "we've all been there" looks. Tsk-ing will only incur the wrath of a fiery young woman. Coming from a mother who views daily lessons on how to conduct an efficient and painfully public tantrum, you simply DO. NOT. WANT. TO. GO. THERE.

In the way of other news...

Tomorrow I'm getting an epidural steroid injection for my lower back. Since the pain has progressively returned in the past year, it's about time to do something. I have very high hopes that this injection will help me progress in physical therapy and strengthening my back. In the mean time, I've been prepping for the worst- a couple days of bed rest. I doubt recovery will be that bad, but the TV is always a great back-up babysitter. And I've stocked the refrigerator with prepared dinners for the rest of the week, so at least we won't starve.

This injection is actually an answer to prayers. One of my small miracles in life was being able to schedule it for the ONLY week day Janson has off in December. I'm not too worried about the injection, although I shake a bit at the thought of a big scary needle digging around my spine.

Saturday the girls are having a joint fairy birthday party. It's the first time I've hosted a birthday party, and I was excited for about the first two weeks of planning. Right about now I'm ready to just do it and get on with Christmas. Visions of fairy wands, wings, and all things glitter dance around my head, and swim before my eyes. I've learned a few good lessons for future parties, but I think Saturday will be a very fun, memorable experience for the girls.

Sum Me Up

Fitting for a literary junkie, here's me in words:

You can try it out at Wordle.com!

No live rodents please

Feel free to help Grace feed smarties and kool aid to her custom made hamster. What genetics can do these days! Grace's fave colors these days are obviously green and purple. Have fun!

Spooky Shakespeare

Remember the witch's chant from Macbeth? Double, double, toil and trouble? It sounds like both second graders and strangers on the street can't help to read this chant without getting into it!



Great Halloween entertainment!

A Day

12:20am Grace wakes up whining. She's too congested to breath, but is just confused and uncomfortable so she continues to moan and groan. I was actually still awake trying to finish my book. Brandon Mull is a great author.

12:47am Ditto. This time I was not originally awake.

1:32am Ditto.

3:09am Ditto. (You get the idea.)

5:30am-ish (or sometime when it's still dark) Janson leaves for work. I remember that last night he said, "Oh man. I have to wake up early to lay some legs out to defrost." Huh?

7:10am Mari falls out of bed. I put her in mine, and think "I should probably get up." I realize that Grace is probably too sick to go to school, but we're in charge of bringing snacks. If I bring the snacks and not let her stay for school, lengthy tantrum will be inevitable. Instead of facing my decision, I fall back to sleep in our heavenly new pillow-topped $90 bed.

8:10am Jump out of bed. I have 20 minutes to get myself and the girls in the car. Just the thought makes me sweat. I'm still not sure if Grace will stay for school, but either way we're bringing snacks.

8:13am I grab clothes in the dark, hoping they match. Wake up Grace, beg her to hurry.

8:17am Debate between sacrificing the time to put on my contacts, or do Grace's hair. My eyesight wins out. I'm so selfish.

8:23am Grace is dressed. Hallelujah, for once she was fast. Get Mari out of bed.

8:25am Prepare preschool snacks. Girls climb into car, Mari still in her footie PJ's.

8:30am Realize there is rainy wind storm outside. Collect windbreakers and umbrella.

8:32am Pull out of garage. Remember that I forgot to brush my teeth.

8:50am Get double stroller out of car, get hit in head by trunk door that won't stay open in cold weather. Plop girls in stroller, they whine about windy rain.

8:52am Whip out umbrella, try to put it over girls, but wind is winning the battle.

8:53am Mari's eye is almost poked by delinquent umbrella, attempt to close it. Stranger on sidewalk helps.

8:55am Force Grace in bathroom stall before entering school room. Remember that community center gym locker room is closed for maintenance, so women sparsely clothed are wandering restroom. Shield the sights from Grace while enforcing her lengthy hand washing session

9:00am Liberally lather Grace's hands in hand sanitizer. Hug Grace, hand over snacks. Leave.

9:09am Outside Target, battle wind while carrying Mari, who can't walk in rain puddles with footie PJ's. Notice her PJ's are feeling damp around diaper. Remember that I have no diapers.

9:11am Enter Target, with prepared list in hand. (Sometimes I actually do prepare.)

9:24am Try to ignore Mari's discomfort due to full diaper. Give her toys/books for distractions.

9:37am Joyfully shopping. (No sarcasm this time.)

9:42am Shield Mari's eyes (and ears) from scary Halloween decor, which are conveniently placed next to the harmless, conservative wreaths I'm looking at.

9:54am Leaving Target, battle rain/wind with full-cart, crying, wet child and head-banging trunk door. What do I do for an hour before picking up Grace?

10:00am Burgerville drive-thru. Grab breakfast so I can take morning meds.

10:06am Enter community rec center. Sit at table, put food and toys in front of Mari.

10:12am Nicely dressed and blow-dried lady next to me looks at Mari in disgust. I look at Mari, as though for the first time today. She has extreme bedhead, is soaked to her heels and now has a very potently poopy diaper. Oh, and she refused her food, continuing to sneak sips from my Diet Coke. The sight of an infant drinking soda is so endearing.

10:33am If you are in need of a serious guilt trip, eat fast food in the front waiting area of a rec center or gym.

10:46am Third person in a row has sat down nearby and then soon moved to a seat farther away. Mari's smelly diaper is not helping my social life.

10:55am Mari pushes the double stroller down hall, hitting one trash can, two toddlers, one wheel chair, and nearly enters the men's restroom. (Why do so many public restrooms these days have no proper doors?)

11:00am Pick up Grace, leftover snacks, and rush home.

You get the idea. Things got better from there, as they often do when we're at home base. Random highlights of the rest of the day:

- Girls helped me clean bathroom. I found Grace "cleaning" Mari's bed with a vinegar/water spray bottle.

- Picnic in the living room. I watched Mari "comb" the carpet with her fork between each bite.

- Mari has had frequent bouts of suddenly saying "Peepee!" or "Poopoo!" and running to the toilet. She stares at the toilet, tugs at her diaper, and flushes the toilet. After this happened for the 3rd time today, I thought, "How old is she again? 19 months? 20? 21? Definitely not 23." I forego the calculations and just dig out the little potty from storage. I strip Mari down, and she happily sits on it for 30 minutes while watching Elmo's Potty Time. If she wants to potty train herself, sounds good to me. Otherwise, I'm making no real effort until she's 2 1/2 years old (and I KNOW she's not that old yet).

Moral of the story: There are many times today that I've been tempted to say, "I'm such a bad mom." But as an acquaintance taught me, it's only okay to say that as long as you complete it:
"I'm such a bad mom. But really, I'm NOT a bad mom. I'm NOT."

And it's true, I'm not. So there, blow-dried lady at the rec center. So there.

I'm such a good mother that I bought a new humidifier at Target, which will allow Grace to sleep through the entire night, which will allow ME to get more sleep, which will allow me to wake up earlier so I will be more prepared for the day. Right? Learn from my mistakes, right? At least I should be able to brush my teeth and put clothes on my youngest child. Right? Please tell me yes, because I'm having my doubts.

No matter what, Nana flies in tomorrow, and we are SOOOOOOO excited!

Whitney Houston

My friend Julianne blogged about this Whitney Houston song. I'm glad she had a link, because it's a great song. The lyrics are a little repetitive, but the meaning and idea behind it are great. We can all relate to it. Click here to watch. Enjoy!

Dear Primary

Dear Primary Kids and Teachers at Church,

Yes, I hear that my kid jumped up in Sharing Time and shouted,

"My mommy hits my daddy all the time!"

No, it is NOT TRUE.

I'm pretty sure Grace has seen her mommy give her daddy enough icky kisses to understand: Mommy LOVES Daddy. :)

I know you don't know me very well, but please believe me, I'm a good, funny gal who's just going to laugh it off. :)

With Slight Embarassment,
The New Woman in Church You Don't Know Yet

p.s. Oh how I wish someone, anyone from my ward actually read this blog. :) I think it's time for more Mommy-Daddy dancing sessions in the kitchen. You up for it, my love?

Where are the mothers?

I just finished reading an LDS historical fiction novel. I don't read LDS fiction very often, but since my Portland library had it I figured, what the hey?

Well, within the first few chapters I was irritated. There were no mother figures. Both main character families had mothers who conveniently died within a few years of the novel's story. Now, I know this is a frequent phenomenon in the media, but this was LDS fiction. You know, the whole focus-on-the-family, every-kid-needs-two-parents thing?

We all know about the trend at Disney. Poor Cinderella, Belle, Ariel, Jasmine, Nemo, Pinocchio, Snow White, and Lilo. Why is the temptation so strong to strike out poor mama? Or maybe, as in Toy Story, they keep her in the picture, but only has a headless, moving housewife machine body. (Does she not have a brain? A personality?)

My English major mind had to come up with my own thesis, and here are my two possible options:

1. People are afraid to try and accurately portray and do justice to the mother figure. Yes, sometimes we are superwomen and the portrayal of us could seem too good to be true. :) But this is fiction. If people can swallow a pumpkin-tuned-carriage, I think they can stomach a loving, endearing mother figure. I understand the concept though. I would feel overwhelmed to accurately portray in writing the goodness of my own mother.

2. The plots would be impossible. The mischievous, crazy adventures that make up the plots would often just not be plausible with a watchful mother on the scene. You know, the all-knowing, eyes-in-the-back-of-her-head, enforcer-of-rules mother. She would squash all those crazy plot ideas. Ariel's mother would have kept a close eye on Ariel and enforced the "do not go to the surface rule." Same for Belle and her escapade to the beast, and Jasmine and her excursion to the "forbidden" city. Ugh, I guess I am admitting that there is no fun when mother is around.

To refute that statement, I think I'll take my girls to the park. But those eyes-in-the-back-of-my-head will keep my children from being kidnapped by a gnome in the woods, thus making them the victims of a fantastic plot.

I think I have just stumbled upon a great masters thesis if I ever choose to go back to school. Hhmm.

Happy Women's Voting Rights Day

Everyday is a holiday, and today is Women's Voting Rights Day. Woohoo!

Mormon women were pretty active in the Women's Suffrage movement. There's a good chance that my own women ancestors played a role in allowing me the right to vote. Here's a picture of Susan B. Anthony with the Utah Women Suffrage leaders. (Just don't ask me which one she is. Feel free to point her out if you recognize her.)


Today is also Bad Poetry Day, so go write yourself a dreadfully bad poem! And because I'm sure you were all dying to know, tomorrow is Snuffleupagus' Birthday! Oh yeah, it's also the birthday of Bill Clinton and the Indianapolis 500 Speedway. I'm particularly fond of Snuffleupagus because it was a nickname of mine in high school.

While researching preschool lesson plans for Grace, I came across this huge list that verifies that, yes, everyday is holiday! Beware, this may give reason for some fairly ridiculous but pretty fun future postings. :) I am especially looking forward to National Punctuation Day, Singing in the Rain Day, National Toasted Marshmallow Day and Toilet Paper Birthday.

I'm looking forward to...

Three days of...

No washing dishes
No cooking
No picking up toys
No diapers
No laundry

Singing in a choir
Feeling validated for being a mom
Being around hundreds of other women like me
Roaming my college town
Seeing old friends
Attending classes pertinent to my life
Going to the temple whenever I want
... and absolutely NO cleaning.

Does it sound like a fictional fantasy land? The whole no-cleaning-cooking-laundry part does. But that beautiful land exists.

Ever since Janson started traveling all over the country a year and a half ago, he's promised that I'd be able to go on a trip of my own. Last fall I thought, "I'll go to BYU Women's Conference next spring, but that seems too faaaaaar away." Well, the conference came and went, and there is still no logical time in sight when I can make my get away.

So, the other day I made my plans. And they are happening. BYU Women's Conference 2010 here I come. It's eight months away, which gives me plenty of time to make it happen. It's so far away they don't even have any info online yet. But it's also so far away that it gives you women a chance to think about joining me. It would be so much more fun with someone I know! Now, the totally minor and insignificant task of finding someone to watch my kids for four days.

The One Year Anniversary

Today is the one year anniversary of when my back gave out, which led to events that changed who I am. From the outside I may not seem much different, but from the inside I hardly recognize the stranger from August 4th, 2008.

I know this seems like a silly anniversary to take note, but I will never forget this date. It changed my life just as much as each of my children's birthdays.

I remember days in October and November when I yearned for those first days of August, when I was oblivious of what was to come. I was jealous of my ability back then to carry my baby around, hold her when she was crying, and play with the girls.

I wish I could say that I'm glad I experienced the trials within the last year, and that I "would do it over again." But there is still too much scar tissue, both emotional and physical. I am definitely a stronger person in some ways, but there is also a bitterness that I desperately want to shed. I'm afraid that I am waiting for the chronic pain and back problems to disappear before I can say, "It was worth it." I am still having a difficult time following Elder Wirthlin's advice to "Come what may and love it."

That is probably the biggest lesson I have learned, and continue to work on: "Finding Joy in the Journey," as President Monson put it. During my worst moments, it was the emotional pain that wore me down. I hate to admit it, but these comments drove me crazy:

"You'll be so much stronger in the end"
"We have this life for trials"
"This too shall pass"
"Don't worry, this will all be over soon and you can get back to life."

Why? I know these comments were meant to comfort me. But as my bedrest and inability to mother dragged on, I couldn't just sit around waiting to be happy when it was all over. I'm so grateful for those two General Conference talks that I have mentioned. They brought hope into my life, and I still cling to those teachings.



I didn't mean for this post to be so negative. That has been a very unfortunate effect of my trials that I am trying to work through. My bad temper and pessimism I already had is aggrevated by constant and ever growing chronic pain. I think I could write a book on the exhausting emotional effects of chronic pain. But the chapter, "How to overcome" would be missing. :)

While I am still dealing with emotional scars, I would be an ingrate to not appreciate valuable lessons learned:

1. I try hard to appreciate the physical ability to mother my children- from changing their diapers, to putting them to bed, giving them meals, and being able to sing and dance with them. Every single day I give thanks that my body allows me to do that.

2. I am grateful for overall self-reliance, from being able to take myself to the bathroom and make my own meals, to exploring an entire town alone with my girls.

3. I am still brought to tears by the family and friends that have helped me, and continue to do so. I think am more sensitive to how others help me. Sometimes I want to give a big bear hug to the strangers that open a door so I can push through my double stroller.

4. I would hope that I am more keen to the needs of others, but I think I still have a ways to go. It is still difficult to see over the wall of my own pain and into the lives of others. That is embarrassing but true to admit.

5. I only sit when it is the only socially acceptable thing to do. I will probably never again be a leisure sitter, which is fine by me.

6. My phone is practically another appendage to my body. I live in constant fear that I will relive my experience from a year ago today, and be unable to move to call 911 or take care of my kids. My phone is my safety net, just in case.

7. For the sake of priorities, I have completely redefined my definition of necessity. I am very careful about what work, and how much I force my body to do. I have rethought necessities like, "Why make a new, unusual and time-consuming recipe when the whole family will be so much happier with spaghetti?" or "Do the girls really need an excursion every single day, when there's so much we can do/learn here at home?" I guess you could say that I'm learning to simplify.

8. Here is a valuable lesson I have appreciated just recently.

Having stayed at the hospital a few times, I have a fresh memory of life as a patient. Now that Janson is a resident and is asked to work long hours at the hospital, I am not as upset by this as I expected. I remember what it was like to sit on my hospital bed waiting all day for the doctor to come in with a new diagnosis, or those words like "You can finally get up and go to the bathroom yourself," or even better, "You can go home!" When I was impatient and ready for change, the nurses would say, "I'm sure the doctor will come in soon." And that "soon" always ticked by too slowly.

And when Janson jokes about patients that just don't seem to care and walk around with their little bum hanging out of their backless gown, I remember how easy it is to lose your dignity in a hospital. And I just can't laugh. Not yet.

So when Janson tells me about his old lady patient that sees his elbow near her door and says, "Oh Dr. Holm, oh Dr. Holm, please come here!" I fully understand. When I was in the hospital, I had my family on "doctor watch-out" for anytime they saw my doctor in the hallways.

And when Janson is three hours late, I remember when I begged my doctor to stay "just one extra hour in case symptoms changed." And he did stay, and the symptoms did change, and he released me from the hospital instead of making me stay through the weekend. His sacrifice of an hour got me out of the hospital three whole days early. (Which, in hospital time, is three whole decades.) I am grateful for the extra hour that doctor gave me, so I cannot complain when Janson works an extra hour with his own patients.

My favorite doctors were those that would sit down, learn my name, and not just tell me what was going on, but answer my questions. I know this took up valuable time, but when Janson is late coming home, I am hoping that he is being like my favorite doctors.

I am now learning how to share my husband. I can empathize with those I share him with, which makes the sharing a little easier. And when he tells me about treating an ingrown toenail so the man can once again go back to work and support his family, I am happy to share. I loved the health care professionals that understood when I said, "I just want to get home to my girls!" I know that sometimes Janson probably thinks that same line, "I just want to get home to my girls!" but I am glad he sticks it out, for us and for those I share him with.

Dear Rental DVD...

Dear The Pink Panther 2 Rental DVD,

I liked you a lot more before you got run over by the car.

I thought your humor was just the therapy I needed, but alas, good therapy never comes cheap.

With only the slightest affection,
Lynn

Smile with your eyes

From July 2009

Oh man, I love this picture. Just have to share. Have a great day everybody.

CREATE

Lately I have been thinking about the need to create and contribute. Today I was reminded of President Uchdtorf's absolutely fantastic thoughts on creating in his talk, Happiness, Your Heritage.

I know it is slightly ridiculous (possibly hideous) looking, but it makes me happy.

I have spent the last couple months carefully taking every single material possession we own and organizing, packing, unpacking, and reorganizing it into it's right, proper and meticulously clean place. While my husband thrives on such order and neatness, the confined limits slowly wear me down. So when the girls went to sleep uncharacteristically early tonight, I decided to create without thought to limits or boundaries.

Here are some good quotes from the talk:

" The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul."

"We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty- and I am not talking about the process of cleaning the rooms of your teenage children." (Woohoo! What fantastic words!)

"Don't let the voices of critics paralyze you- whether that voice comes from the outside or the inside." (Voices that say things like ridiculous or hideous.)

"The more you trust and rely upon the Spirit, the greater your capacity to create... As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you."

Blast From the Past

Just came across this totally random picture from high school. This was Girls Camp when I was 15 or 16 years old. Good times. :)

Heidi, the frizzy hair contest is on! :)

The Hess Family

Ryan Hess, a fellow alum from Janson's podiatry school, was recently diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. Like us, he is a podiatry resident and his wife is a young stay-at-home-mom of two kids. When Janson entered podiatry school four years ago, Ryan was assigned as Janson's "big brother" to help orient him. It is heartbreaking for us to learn of their current trials. It feels good to know we can help in a small way by sharing their story.

For the past couple weeks Janson has been doing orientation for residency. As a wife I have attended a couple of the social functions. Every time I am introduced to a doctor, resident or spouse at these events, I get a comment or look that equals this, "Are you ready for three years of hell?" All I can do is shrug it off, but inside my fear grows. Janson's schedule is supposed to be grueling, along with work to take home and many hours on call. I already hate his pager! :)

With word of the Hess family struggles, I am humbled. We have had our own share of learning opportunities from major health crises, but nothing life or death. Read of their commitment to press on gives me hope.