Aunt Becca and Uncle Becky's Visit

My sister Becca and her husband Preston flew out to NC to visit last week.  When family visits, there are a few things on the "Must Do List" that we never skip.

1. Go to the lake.  Swim.  Eat yumminess.  Kayak.  Try not to scare people as we try to remove the sand from our swimsuits.
2. Eat too much NC BBQ (I won't mention how sick I got or how much weight I gained).
3. Go to Busch Gardens if it's summer time.  Eat German food for lunch and Canadian smokehouse food for dinner.  Go on as many roller coasters as possible. 
4. Talk way too much.  Lose sleep because we talked too much.  Talk some more because we're too tired to do anything else.
5. Eat more BBQ.

 Here are just a few pics that summarize the trip:

 At the lake Lily and Skyler were typical: she had to be on the sand and Skyler had to be in the water.  They never cease to amaze me by how opposite they always have to be. 

 A fabulous photo taken by either Becca or Preston.  I love this picture, though, because you can see how beautiful her eyes are.  They are this really unique bluish green color that is rarely captured well in photos.  I imagine that this is the face she'll pull one day when we introduce the topic of the birds and the bees. *As a sidenote, cover half of her face with your hand at a time.  Her left side looks sad and her right side looks happy.  Weird, huh?!

 Everybody adores Auntie Becca.

Captain Handsome Pants enjoying the water...... and throwing it on people..... OK.... just throwing it on me.

 I don't really know anyone else who grew up kayaking so I think it's kind of funny that Ben did it too. 

Watching Lily and Skyler golf was hilarious and frustrating at the same time.  When we didn't get our ball in on our first try, one of them would run up and get our ball and throw it in the hole and clap.  They were so happy with themselves that they were "helping" us.  :)

Busch Gardens is full of impressive rides, but this lame little bug ride was Lily's favorite.  The lady who ran this ride was so sweet and let Lily ride it 3 times in a row before Ben and I forced her to get off for dinner.

"Can I ride the bugs again, Mommy?"

As I just said, Skyler and Lily are opposites.  Lily loves rides, Skyler hates them.  Lily hates the waterpark, Skyler loves it.  *sigh*  So the boat ride was something in between for Skyler.

When we got to ride the carousel Lily was laughing her head off enjoying the ride. I stood next to Skyler because he was freaking out as his horse went up and down.  He was close to tears yelling, "THE COWS!  THE COWS!"  Poor kid always calls horses "cows."

Lily also turned 3 while Becca and Preston were here.  She was spoiled by family and this picture shows the one present I requested for her birthday: UNO Moo!  It's a preschool version of UNO and it is so much fun.  Lily played it with her speech therapist and I could not get over how perfect this game was for her age.  She also got a Singamajig (thanks Grandmum and Pop Pop!), a Rapunzel Doll (thanks Becca and Preston!), more art supplies, and (as is the tradition in our family) another special book. 

Ben and I decided early on that we wanted to give the kids a special book on their birthday each year.  So far they've been given The Giving Tree, My Goodnight Book (courtesy of my parents), a collection of other stories, and this year we're doing Dr. Seuss.  Lily got Oh, The Places You'll Go! and in a month Skyler will be getting Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? 

One of the most entertaining parts of the visit was that Lily and Skyler had a hard time naming Becca and Preston.  Lily thought that Becca was Preston and vice versa.  It took a long time for her to realize that Preston is a boy and Becca is a girl.  On the flipside, Skyler called Becca "Becca," but Preston was too hard to pronounce so he called him "Uncle Becky."  Ah, Becca and Becky?  I think it has a nice ring to it.  I may possibly let my kids call them that for the rest of their lives.... ;)

3

Miss Kim, Lily's speech therapist

Dear Lily,

on Friday we celebrated your 3rd birthday.  And 3 is a big deal.  Because now you're starting to remember.

"Remember" has been said to be the most important word in the dictionary.  And I know you don't remember a whole bunch, but that's OK.  Because I do.

I remember having you 2 weeks shy of turning 20.  I remember the awkward stares and the "Oh.  Good luck with that," kind of comments and turning to look back at you and knowing that it was more than worth it to have the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms.

I remember how you cried the first 2 hours of your life and then Daddy stuck his pinky in your mouth and you were instantly his.  Ironically, you instantly had him wrapped around your pinky.

I remember how you first started walking when I was in the hospital delivering Skyler 13 months later.  I remember thinking, "DANG IT!!!  I MISSED IT!!!!"  But that's alright.  I was able to rejoice with you when I got home.  Little did I know then that those little legs would never stop running.

I remember when you popped Skyler's fallen off umbilical cord in your mouth.  And I will never, ever, ever forget that morning.  Or stop laughing over it.

I remember when you spoon fed Skyler his rice cereal even though you were new using a spoon yourself.

I remember Daddy flipping you for hours on our bed without you ever getting tired of it.

I remember worrying about you, wondering if you were developing correctly, wondering if I was a failing mom.  You weren't developing correctly.  But that's OK.  We got to choose a speech therapist and that's how you got to meet and love Miss Kim.

I remember when you started reading books to Skyler.  Go, Dog, Go! and A Fly Went By have never been narrated so cutely before.

I remember lying in your bed with you as you rubbed your blankie softly across my face so that I would fall asleep with you.

I remember in Sacrament Meeting how you handed Skyler one of your oreos when he already had his hands full of them.

I remember so many things about you.  And now I know why remembering is so important: because by remembering the past, we make a better future. 

I can't wait to remember your future, too.

4 Years

4 years ago Ben and I made a pretty important deal in the Salt Lake Temple.

We were (and still are) pretty excited about it.

And it's been worth it.

One thing that confuses me (apparently I talk about how confused I am a lot on my blog... sorry) is how people avoid marriage because it's supposedly hard.  I also get confused when they get married because "it's the thing to do."  Also when they care more about the wedding than the marriage itself.  My list could go on...

So after 4 years (which isn't that long...) this is something I've learned: what you work the hardest for is what you come to love the most. 

I don't believe that anyone can know what true love really feels like until the storms hit and you can feel someone else holding your hand, because they want to help you and you want to help them. 

This is one of the many reasons why marriage ROCKS.

So what did we do to celebrate our 4 years? 

Prepare yourself.

Because we're quite adventurous.

Wait for it.....

We went to the Farmer's Market. 

It was one of the BEST.  DATES.  EVER.

We bought blueberry bushes and flowers (I finally got some hydrangea to plant in the backyard that I have dreamed about my whole life!)  You should have seen me on our drive home.  I was practically hyperventilating I was so ecstatic (I'm kind of a plant fanatic).

So here's to 4 years, Hubby.  Can't wait for the rest.



Papala

Once upon a time, in the mysterious land of Pennsylvania, was born a boy named Papala (OK... fine.  He was actually named Dave Whale but I'm the one telling the story, so deal with it.)  He grew up.  He became the smartest person I know.  He married my mom.  He had 3 girls (probably so that we wouldn't pass on the name) and now he's a grandpa, or "Papa," as the grand-kiddos call him.

He looks like Steve Martin.

He surfed every morning BEFORE early morning seminary.

He could probably perform brain surgery on me without even studying for it.

He has been to 8 of the 9 planets, because I'm sorry, Pluto is still a planet to me -- dwarf or not.  (OK.... this is obviously an exaggeration.  He has been to 7.  OK... that's a lie, too.  He's only been to 1.... BUT he did show me the others through our telescope, so THERE!)

He has excellent survival skills since he was in the scouting program for 5 bazillion years.  To prove it I could tell you countless tales of when he tried to wake me up in the morning.  OK, close your eyes and envision my patient dad vs. a bed-headed Medusa with smeared mascara and that's a pretty close comparison.

He and my mom let us move in with them when we were unemployed.  May I mention that Lily was still in her "Hurricane Lily" phase and Skyler still wasn't sleeping through the night (and he didn't learn how to do that until we moved to our new house a few months ago).  There was a lot of lost sleep for everybody.


The man is amazing.  I'm lucky I got him as a daddy.  If you don't know him, you should.  If you hate the crusts on your sandwiches, he'll eat them.  If you want to go swimming in the afternoon, he'll go to work a few hours early so he can come home a few hours early to take you.  If you can't figure out your biology homework, he'll go over the lesson with you 5 times even though you're not really paying attention (sorry, Daddy).  If you're not very computery and something's wrong with your laptop, he won't make fun of you.  He'll use easy words a preschooler would understand and guide you through the fixing process. 

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.  I love you.  Like even more than I loved dancing with you during movie credits when I was 8.

Fashion Bashing

 When I was little, and it was time to go to bed, I'd head into my parents' closet, pull one of my dad's t-shirts off its hanger, and wear it as a nightgown.  Call me crazy, but I think a dad's t-shirt looks way cuter than any ruffly nightgown ever could.

 Lily and Skyler are inheriting the tradition.  We call this the "Jedi Look," which they actually started sporting when they were newborns in their hooded towels.  We'd always hold them in front of the bathroom mirror when they were wet and call them our little Jedi as they'd beam to themselves in delight.  I may or may not have made light saber sound effects in the background.

WARNING: THIS POST MAY OFFEND YOU.  THIS IS NOT MY INTENTION AT ALL.  PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

One thing that has really puzzled me is something called "What I Wore Wednesday."  You may or may not have heard of it.  It's common on many blogs for the writer to take a picture of herself every day of the week and then post all the pictures on her blog each Wednesday. 

How dumb.

May I take a whack at "WIWW?"  Thank you.  Now I realize that I could use some motivation to get out of jammies when inside I'm saying, "I'm not leaving the house today.  What's the point in getting dolled up when I'm about to get smeared in freezer jam?"  Yes, I do believe that beautifying is a fabulous way to boost confidence.  Yes, I do believe that we should make an effort to not scare people with how distorted our hair can be in the morning.  Yes, we should look nice and absolutely nothing is wrong with putting on a schnazzy pair of stilettos.  But I think that there is a line that we unthinkingly cross too often -- the one that defines whether you care about who you really are or whether you care about how you're perceived.

Let's stop attempting to be Barbies.  And I believe we have all seen Toy Story 3 and we know that Barbie's life isn't always perfect, no? (In that same point, Ken isn't always so fabulous either.  Excuse me whilst I go flush my childhood dreams down the toilet).

So, here is my suggestion.  I am going to be implementing a new Wednesday tradition.  Let's call it, "What I DID Wednesday," in which we do something out of the ordinary, something outside our comfort zone, something we wished we did that we normally wouldn't have without proper motivation.  My idea is to somehow uplift someone, whether it be by serving others or whether it be by letting ourselves indulge in a personal goal.  Maybe you can compliment someone you've been too shy to talk to before.  Or write a thank you note.  Or randomly make dinner for someone.  Do one thing a week or 20.  I don't care.  But I think anything is better than nothing.  And anything is better than looking at 7+ pictures of your clever wardrobe combos.  When I look back on my life video footage I don't want to see myself straightening up a tripod to get the best angle of my flabby mom tummy, thank you very much.

So maybe I'm a party crasher.  Whatever.  All I know is that I've already lived a quarter of my life and that I've wasted it on so many things that are ridiculously unimportant.  Let's do a little less TV time or facebooking, and a little bit more uplifting*.  Deal?

*Yes I do realize that fashion bashing is not uplifting.  Touche.

Epiphany

We've been in the high 90's for a few weeks now (which is kind of, sort of, extremely annoying).  Let's just say we've spent a lot of time in water. 

 I was sitting inside in the nice A/C, watching.  Yes, I think that's cheating, too.

Peekaboo.

Writing my last post made me think about the accident I was in.  I was rear ended by a school bus (along with 3 of my friends who were in the car with me) and had to go through months of physical therapy to heal my back.  You know the point when your back sits somewhere between excruciating pain, numbness, and muscle spasms?  Yeah, that's where I was for months.  I had to take muscle relaxants to rid myself of pain and I always say that I pretty much slept for a month after the accident.

Well..... on Saturday I had an epiphany.  I haven't had back pain in a really, really long time - since sometime after I had Lily or Skyler (those years are kind of blurred together).  And then I realized something very important:  my physical therapist told me that my back problems would go away as soon as my core was exercised regularly and strengthened.  I had really strong abs but my back was a joke.  If I really wanted to heal, I had to put some serious effort into becoming stronger.

So naturally, my pains went away after I became a mom.

So when people always say, "Your kids are 13 months apart?!  CRAZY!" I'm now going to respond with, "Yep, and because I often have a 30 pounder in one arm and a 34.5 pounder in the other I've been healed of a pain."

So, thank you Lily and Skyler for coming so close together.  Y'all have healed me.

What Being Mormon Means to Me

I've been Mormon my whole life.  My parents have been Mormon their whole lives.  I come from a long line of Mormons, and non-LDS people might think I'm crazy for saying this, but I'm glad to be Mormon.

I've had a testimony of our gospel since before I even knew what "testimony" meant.  And although I always knew that nothing could sway me from the gospel, I didn't always outwardly express that I was LDS.  OK.... maybe I said that wrong.  Let's just say that one of my goals in high school was to make sure that no one found out what religion I belonged to.  Horrible, I know.  And lame.  And stupid.  And I regretted it then just as I do now.


But then I had an experience my senior year of high school.  I had just been in a bad accident and was recovering at home.  I had missed close to a week of school and I was on the line about whether or not I was ready to go back.  Now, let me tell you that normal Heather would have said, "I am totally skipping school."  But for the first time in my life I felt a strong impression that I actually needed to be somewhere.  So I went to school, obeying my feeling. 

When I got to my 2nd period Sociology class I knew why.  We were studying religion and on the overhead projector was posted: What are Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses and why are they cults?  My stomach lurched and my heart started pounding.  I said a quick prayer in my mind and felt instant peace even though I wondered why someone would consider us to be a cult.  My teacher handed out small pamphlets and each row was either to study Mormonism or the Jehovah's Witnesses.  To my luck, I got to study Mormonism.  It was all from LDS.org and I even got to read some of the first few chapters of the Book of Mormon.  Easiest assignment ever.  After she gave us time to read through the pamphlets she asked us what we learned about Mormonism.  No one raised their hands (including me).  Frustrated, she asked, "Heather, why don't you tell me what you learned about the Mormons."

I shrugged and said, "Well, I am Mormon."  The whole class shifted in their seats and stared at me.  Over half my class had their hands raised, asking me the most basic and bizarre questions.  People were surprised by how similar we are to other Christians.  We take bread and water each Sunday to remember Christ's sacrifices for us.  We celebrate holidays.  We're allowed to dance (in fact, our church holds social dances often) and have blood transfusions.  We believe the Bible as well as the Book of Mormon.  Of course not everyone thought I was in my right mind (I'm pretty sure I heard someone talking about how I was brainwashed).  And people didn't seem to comprehend the purpose of why we don't drink coffee or alcohol (which I think is understandable). 

But when questions started popping up about the Book of Mormon my classroom morphed into almost a battlefield.  I explained that the Bible is the recorded testament of Christ in the Eastern Hemisphere and the Book of Mormon is the recorded testament of Christ in the Western Hemisphere.  People couldn't put their heads around how ancient Americans in the West could possibly know about Christ.  I explained about revelation and how Christ visited the Americas after he died.  Someone in my class said, "He can't do that."  I remained silent but I remember thinking to myself, "How sad is it that you can believe that he died for you, taking upon Himself all of your sins, but he can't possibly visit another land after he was resurrected."

I remember going home from school that day crying.  And that's when I learned a real life lesson.  I didn't want to keep my religion secret because I was insecure about it.  I wanted to keep it secret because I didn't want people to mock what I hold to be very dear and sacred. 

I had a Sunday School teacher once tell our class that even though she knew the gospel to be true, if the day came when she learned that it wasn't true she would still harbor no regrets.  I thought about it and realized the same.  My church doesn't make me feel like I've missed out on life, but instead, I feel like I have had a better, more fulfilled life.  Instead of learning to focus on ourselves, we learn to uplift others, to mourn with those who mourn, and "...to stand as a witness of God" (Mosiah 18:9). 

Everything in our religion points to Christ.  Our goal is to become Christlike - as impossible as that may seem.  And when I realize our gospel's purpose, I don't understand how people can claim that we preach blasphemies and teach false doctrine.  Is my blog post considered blasphemy because it was written online instead of in the Bible? 

I am grateful for the church and for the impact that it has made in my life.  I am thankful for Christ, that He willingly sacrificed himself through life and death for our own happiness and welfare.  I am thankful for the gift of the Holy Ghost, that through years of practice and patience I have been able to receive my own inspiration and retain the blessings that followed.  I'm thankful to know that life will not end when I die and that I will be able to spend eternity with my family. 

If you have any questions concerning Mormonism (or rather, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) please go to the church's official website, LDS.org, or email me at puebar at gmail dot com.

Consider Yourself Stolen

I've been weighed down lately.  Really, really weighed down.  At first I couldn't figure out why.  I could just feel some kind of heaviness.  So I went down the typical checklist to see if anything was wrong.  I couldn't find anything.

Then it hit me: I didn't want to be me.  I wanted to be a puzzle made up of little bits and pieces of all sorts of people that I admire.  I wanted to choose all the little factors that I think equal one awesome human being. 

Sometimes I let myself believe lies.  Here are some of them:

• She's so gorgeous I bet she doesn't even have to shave her legs.  Or make an effort to lose baby weight.  Or touch anything to make her house clean. 
• Their blog so awesome!  I wish I had a life like that!  I mean, their life is apparently perfect after all!
• They have everything.  I bet they have no debt while Ben and I still have a mortgage and his student loans to pay off. 
• They know how to do sooooo many things.  I must not be very talented.
• She is so perfect with her kids.  I bet they have no tantrums or troubles at their house.

Yep.  I'm retarded like that.  But that's why I make my blog about the good, the bad, and the ugly (remember when Lily purposely rubbed vaseline in our carpet 4 days after moving into our new house?  Yeah... not so awesome).

Now I can't say that I'm ever going to stop collecting puzzle pieces but I can say that I am going to be a lot more careful about how I perceive people, especially when I want one of their puzzle pieces.  I'm wrong all the time.  And, most likely, you've been wrong about me (probably for better AND worse). 

So I'm just going to be me.  I'm not even close to being the person I want to be.  I'm getting there bit by bit - and it's going to be a lifelong process - but eventually I'll get there.  For now this is what I am:

• Wife
• Mom
• Daughter
• Sister
• Cleaner/boo boo fixer/cook/Dr. Seuss reader/baby pool filler and lifeguard/teacher/ball finder (this one is a very big deal for Skyler who always needs at least 3 balls at a time in his arms)
• CTR 4 Teacher
• Writer (in case you missed my biggest secret ever go HERE ).
• Blessing Counter

So I'm not going to pretend to like desserts that don't consist of chocolate (because I'm sorry, they're just gross), or to enjoy sewing (hand me a pick so I can tear out my bad stitching job), or pretend to understand how most sports work (if I wanted to watch 2 teams battle against each other and run back and forth I would just watch my own kids at home any given day).

So instead I'm going to keep checking out library books with my kids.  We'll eat popsicles and make cookies without counting calories.  I'll still high five Ben when we finally get the kids in bed and then he'll have to drag me out of their rooms when we check on them once they're asleep.  I'll probably still hide myself in the bathroom and turn on the fan when I need a break.  I'll still try at least 2 new recipes a week because there is a whole world of food for me to explore.  And I'll keep writing my book, because it's pretty much the coolest thing ever (and I had a dream this week that I read its description on its book jacket.  Too cool.)

If you're reading this, consider a piece of yourself stolen.  Odds are you're already a part of my puzzle.