What Love Is

It pains me that it has been over a month since I have been at my computer to write. So much has happened, including two children's birthdays. I can't even count the posts I've written in my head over the past month, wishing myself to the keyboard to record precious thoughts and feelings over moments I don't want to forget. And yet those moments have passed, and I cannot recall them now. But today, no matter how far behind I am due to the fact that I have been out of town for a week due to a Hawaii vacation (which I will hopefully share more about later), I am pushing it all aside to write something too important to forget. And it's so fitting for today anyway. After all, it's Valentine's Day, and this is a love story.

Yesterday I saw firsthand what love is. I attended the funeral of a man who would have been 91 years old if only he had lived three more days. It was not a large funeral by the world's standards, yet it was one of the most beautiful ones I've ever attended because every word spoken was so truly representative of this man and the full life he lived. He loved horses and trading cars; he loved garage sales; he worked in all sorts of various jobs and tinkered around building different projects; he was meticulous in his work; he was faithful in his beliefs; he was prayerful and honest. To me, though, the most remarkable thing about his life was that there was someone right by his side through every thing he did--right until the very end--his wife of nearly 72 years, my grandmother.

Stanley Nate--I wish this picture was better and that I had one of my grandmother. Beautiful people.

 I don't know about you, but it's hard for me to even imagine living 72 years, let alone being married that long. Most couples don't live to celebrate that anniversary, but my grandparents had a very special kind of love. I honestly can't count the number of times we wondered if we would lose one of them due to one health concern or another, but love prevailed and brought the other back each time. When my grandmother had a massive heart attack, followed by a stroke many years ago, the family thought for sure this might change things forever. Grandpa had to learn to do things for himself he had never done before, like comb his own hair and get his own breakfast (Grandma loved to wait on people), and we thought it might be the end of them both, but instead, it just made them both stronger.

Theirs is not the typical love story. At least not in the beginning. My grandma's mother was not a lover of Mormons and so my grandparents decided to do the only thing they could at the time--elope. With my grandpa's mother and my grandma's brother as witnesses, they drove to the nearest courthouse 40 miles away and were married by the judge there. As unromantic as it may sound, they then went home to their respective homes, my grandpa with his mother and my grandma with her brother. They didn't even live in the same town, so they only saw each other on weekends. They lived this way for the first five or six months of their marriage, keeping it a secret from my grandma's parents as long as they could. When they finally did decide to live as  a married couple, they were then sealed together in the Logan temple. However crazy this beginning to a marriage sounds, it must have worked! They stayed faithfully together for ove seven decades afterwards!

I had the privilege of living with my grandparents for a few months while attending Beauty School in Logan before I was married. I have wonderful memories of Grandma's gourmet breakfasts and her sack lunches. All my friends at school gathered around me every day at lunch to see what she had packed for me. She loves to bake and always had wonderful food for me. Grandpa's favorite movie at the time was "Pure Country." He used to watch it over and over and cry at the climax every time. I think it's because he he was a true cowboy at heart and appreciated a good love story when he saw it. I'm so grateful for those memories.

Two weeks ago I was just getting into bed when I got an unexpected phone call from my dad. He told me my grandpa would probably not live through the next day. I had just taken some pretty hefty medication that would normally prevent me from driving, but I knew I could not risk missing the chance to say goodbye to this great man. I showered, offered a prayer for my safety and drove to the hospital in Logan, arriving just before midnight. It is a decision I will always be grateful I made. I walked into a scene I have witnessed many times before--my grandmother sitting by my grandpa's bedside. And beside her, my Aunt Colleen, who has tirelessly taken care of everyone her whole life. What amazing women!

My father soon arrived and I had the privilege of hearing my grandfather whisper his love to us. He then took my grandmother's hand in his and lovingly winked at her. It was the most precious scene I think I have ever witnessed. I will never forget that moment. I told my grandpa how much I loved him and he cried. He didn't actually leave us that night but passed away one week later. I just know that in a hospital bed on a cold winter's night in February, I witnessed what love is.

a little closer --this is so beautiful to me

And yesterday at a funeral I saw it all over again as my grandmother, completely worn out, sat at her usual place--right by my grandpa's side. I looked at her and couldn't help but wonder what she would possibly do with her time now that her sweetheart is no longer physically with her. It seemed like a light had gone out inside her and my heart just ached for her. For the first time ever, this strong amazing woman seemed frail and oh, so lonely. I mean, what does one do who has just lost a spouse of 72 years, really?

And so today, on Valentine's Day, I am so grateful to know love in my life--to have people of my own to love and to have people who love me. And I'm especially grateful today for two people who, through 72 years of undying commitment to each other, taught me what love is.

Notes

When I was young, one of my signature moves was to leave notes for family members, usually on their beds. I just loved the idea of my mom or one of my siblings walking into their bedrooms and seeing a love note on their bed, telling them how much I loved them and how great I thought they were. It thrilled me. I determined that when I was a mother, I would leave love notes all the time for my husband and children--in lunch boxes, on beds, in pockets--everywhere I could think of. I love this little way of communication that is personal and thoughtful.

Anyway, I haven't been super amazing at following through with this goal, but I do leave a note for my husband every time I leave town and I do put notes in my kids' lunch boxes, although they seldom eat home lunch. I also leave notes spontaneously whenever I can. Although I'm not the world's greatest at it, apparently some of my note enthusiasm has worn off on my children, which just makes me happy clear to my bones.

Here are a few examples of the things my children have written to me the past few weeks:

What mom doesn't want to be her 7-year-old's BFF?

Below is something I found in Regyn's backpack when I cleaned it out over Christmas break. It's actually not a love note or a note at all, for that matter, but it tickled me and warmed my heart, so I'm sharing it anyway. She was writing Christmas wishes. My personal favorite is that she wishes there were no pranksters. Kids are so hilarious! It's the last wish that pulls on my heart--"I wish that there were no devorces." Isn't it something that a seven-year-old girl whose parents are still married would understand enough about the pain and sorrow divorce causes families that she added it to her Christmas Wish List? It causes me to pause and swallow hard, as another small reminder of the difficult world my children are growing up in, presents itself. I love Regyn's soft heart and her thoughtfulness of others. She makes me want to be so kind and so pure.

Now from Nate:

He wrote this poem about me at school. I found it in his backpack, and it made my whole day--week--month, that is. Let me just rewrite this little poem because the picture isn't great. It is an acrostic poem that spells MOTHER down the side and then he uses descriptive words. Here it is (with original spelling):

Marvelous, magical, crazy, mom
Optomistic, on time, overdrive, mother of 5
Totally awesome, she's the bomb
Hyper, hilarious, helpful, loves to be alive
Entertaining, elegant, earings
Rosy cheeks, wonderful feelings

I mean, I love this poem! He captures so many pieces of our relationship. My personal favorites are the words, "magical, crazy, overdrive, mother of 5, loves to be alive," and best of all, "wonderful feelings." I hope he meant two things by using that phrase: first, that he knows I have wonderful feelings about being his mother; and second, that when he thinks of me, he has wonderful feelings. Either way, I love this kid and I love this poem (have I mentioned that already?) It's one I'm keeping forever.

The cool part about the above poem is that he also wrote one about his older sister, Hallee. I know. I was shocked. They used to fight incessantly, and it's so nice now that they are growing up a bit and becoming friends. Here is what he wrote about Hallee (the acrostic spells her name down the right side):

Happy, fantastic, cook (I noticed he didn't say the same about me--LOL), best sister alive (I made sure his litte sister, Regyn didn't see this poem)
Apple (I have no idea what this means in regards to Hallee--he must have been desperate for a word), caring, smells good, beautiful (is that sweet or what?)
Laugh, lovely, wonderful, smart
Learn, cool, fast, amazing
Enchilada (again, not sure where that word came from), good artist, November (her birthday month)
Each day she is awesome (my personal favorite)

This little poem just made me smile clear to my toes. I think it's magical when siblings share their true feelings of love and admiration for each other, even if it's just in writing. So awesome!

Lastly from Nate--this note I found on the shower wall when I went in to shower the other day. He used Berkley's bath foam letters to leave me a message. It brought tears to my eyes--not because it's that profound or anything, but because he was thinking of me, and the thoughts he had for me were positive. Man, moms need notes of encouragement like this regularly! It was such a great way to start my day. I just smiled all day long every time I thought about it.

Hallee and I also have a note-system we use from time to time, one I've come to love. In fact, just recently, I had a really bad day. I felt awful inside and decided to go for a little drive to clear my head. When I got back, our signature notebook was on my pillow with a note from Hallee telling me how much she loved me and what a great mom I am. I appreciated her words of encouragement more than she could know. Her thoughtfulness gave me the courage to keep going, to not give up.

How I love these children of mine. I know I say it all the time, but I can't help it. Every day, the wonder of this life I am living as their mother overwhelms me and fills me with purpose and love and deep, deep gratitude.

So, if you haven't left a note for someone you love lately, why not do it today? You never know when it will reach to their very cores and help them realize their worth and potential. I am learning that love--no matter how it's expressed--is what makes life so great.

I Insist!

Man alive, I am having a hard time getting to my computer to write! Every day I think of things I want to share, but before I know it, the day is gone, and I haven't recorded a thing. I've decided Blogger needs to invent a way to simply talk into a little handheld speaker and the words magically appear on your blog. Wouldn't it be great if you simply tapped on a picture from your phone and said, "Insert here, please"? Okay, okay, I am way off topic here. Anyway, so much has been happening. Life moves at lightning speed--it's really no wonder I cannot get it all recorded. Here is a little blurb about how persistence can really pay off.

Regyn came up to me a couple of weeks ago and told me we were going on a date. On Saturday. To Subway. She didn't ask. She demanded. Then she told me Dad was coming along, too--no ands, ifs, or buts about it. I did a quick overview of our week in my head and told her it was impossible that day, as we had a ton of other obligations. Frustrated, but not one to give up easily, she chose a few more dates, until we finally landed on one we thought would work. Saturday, January 5th at 5:30 p.m.

I dismissed the whole interaction, grateful to have appeased her intensity in that moment, but little did I know, this girl was very serious about this date. The next day I saw a note on the whiteboard on the fridge that read, "Date with Regyn to Subway, Saturday at 5:30." A couple of days later, a note was on my bed with the same reminder.

As Saturday approached, and the day was looking to be fuller and fuller, I mentioned that maybe only one of us could take her on this little date. Well, she would have none of that. Dan and I were both going, no matter what. I finally realized this girl was serious and stopped trying to get one of us out of the obligation. We were both going. Period.

Saturday came and was a blur of activity, beginning early in the morning. We drove to Provo for a baptism, rushed back to Ogden for Nate's basketball game, then on to Costco, finally arriving home at 4:45 p.m. I must admit, I was pretty tired by this time. I hadn't been feeling super well and thought I had given the day a pretty good effort, but I was ready to call it good and get my jammies on and relax. I seriously considered telling this sweet seven-year-old that I just couldn't make it on the date, but then I looked into those hopeful blue eyes and knew I couldn't let her down. She had insisted on this date, and  I needed to make the sacrifice to be there.

So, at 5:30 p.m., the three of us hopped in the car and drove to Subway. On the way there, I asked Regyn what she would like to talk about. It was an interesting conversation, I tell you, but one that made me smile clear to my toes as it continued. It started with, "What is your favorite color?"

I tried not to roll my eyes. I mean, is that the best she could come up with? She has her parents alone  and can talk about anything she wants, and she asks us some trivial question? But, I took a breath and went with it. "Black," I answered. That's when Dan said, "Black isn't even a color." We argued playfully back and forth for a minute before Regyn moved onto her next question. "What is your favorite food?" Then, "What is your favorite holiday?" I told her my favorite holiday was Christmas and then looked to Dan for his answer. "My favorite holiday is . . . Martin Luther King, Jr. Day." I couldn't help it--I laughed right out loud! Not that it isn't an important holiday, but it's nobody's favorite, especially Dan's since he doesn't even get off work that day! His quick wit and humor were cracking me up as he answered each question. We were not even to Subway and were already having a great time.

More questions followed, like "Where is your favorite place to eat?" and "What is your favorite dessert?" We ordered our food and sat down together. Regyn felt especially privileged because we had a coupon that allowed her to get pop to drink--something we just never do. I don't remember the rest of our conversation that night, but I remember distinctly thinking I was sure glad I didn't miss this date. For that hour we were together, I was happier than I'd been in days. It was wonderful being with this child one-on-one and just listening and laughing together. She told me over and over that night, "Mom, I love you." I told her I loved her, too, and I meant it.

Dan still had his church clothes on from the baptism that morning. See that smile on Regyn's face? It just never left.

We tried to take a self-portrait, but apparently, none of us knew exactly where to look. 

She is still smiling--I love it!

When I did finally make it to bed Saturday night, I realized that the highlight of my day was our date, without a doubt, and I was so thankful Regyn had insisted on it happening and insisted that both Dan and I go. I truly think it's the little moments of happiness in our lives that make it meaningful. That's why I want to take note of each one and appreciate it for what it is. Sometimes it's a funny comment from one of my kids; sometimes it's a look from my husband; sometimes it's a hug or a love note; Saturday night it was a date to Subway. These are the moments I am thankful for my life and for each individual child I call mine.

And I've decided the next time one of my children insists on a date, I will not try to back out!

Cokeville

I grew up in a tiny little Wyoming town named Cokeville. Population? About 600, I think. My graduating class had 16 students--10 girls, 6 boys, but one was a foreign exchange student who was only there for one year. So, when I say I'm a small-town girl, I mean it! Now that I live in the suburbs, I must admit I love being closer to modern conveniences, such as banks, stores, doctors, etc. It would be an adjustment to move back to Cokeville and have to drive at least 30 miles to the closest shopping or doctors. Having said that, I must admit--I still absolutely love visiting there! And thankfully, so do my kids. Their eyes light up like Christmas trees whenever we plan to go, and we try to do it as often as possible.

That may sound crazy to most people. I mean, what in the world could be so exciting about visiting a small town with only a little park and no other entertainment? Well, I'll tell you. Cousins! Lots of them! And there's nothing better than that. Seriously. My kids adore their cousins, and when we are in Cokeville for a few days, I hardly see the whites of my kids' eyes because they spend every waking minute playing with cousins.

Here are a few pictures from our last visit--in October.

A dance party. So fun! These girls are best of friends and they've got some great moves, I tell you.

Regyn, Mylee, Kaybree

Now they are getting into it a little more.

Regyn is definitely not camera shy--she loves to be the center of attention. The other girls--not so much.

A few more cousins join the scene. Kaden, Boston and Mireya. It's a party!

This is what Makyla thought of it all. Lol!

And Berkley wasn't sure what to think.

 The girls have the best imaginations. They spend hours playing store or school or dressing up. Berkley even got into a little bit last time. Don't you just love the way her hair matches her jammies? (hee, hee)

My sister Katie promised them all cotton candy. What a woman! The kids loved it!

 Until the machine stopped working and smelled like it was burning up. We soon found out why. . .

Oops! Apparently, you have to clean the sugar out of the rim every once in a while.

And then there was the impromptu football game in my parents' front yard. I love how Braxton, the 16-year-old cousin, totally includes all the other kids, no matter how young they are. At one point, I watched him hold the ball for one of the 4-year-olds to kick off. Just when the little guy was about to kick, Braxton swooped him up and kicked the ball for him, then they ran down the field. It was so cute! Even Berkley got involved.

Kamille and Nate are the same age and have been great friends since they were little. Don't you love how they are strategizing together? Nate is drawing a play on his hand. That's Kayden standing by Braxton.

I wish I could have caught the looks of delight on all their faces as they played.

Because most of my family still lives in Cokeville, I enjoy it as much as my kids. It's such a needed change of pace for me. Starting with the drive there, I begin to breathe a little deeper and smile a little broader. The mountains that surround this town are beautiful to me. I feel "home" as soon as I spot them. I love the wide open spaces, the fresh, clean air, and I especially love the time spent with my family. We sisters/sisters-in-law have a wonderful tradition--we sit in my mother's living room and chat for hours. Of course we have to get up every once in a while to wipe a nose or get a snack for a toddler, but other than that, we just plop ourselves down and enjoy talking about everything and nothing.

My Grandpa Perkins (my mom's dad) lives with my parents, which is a fabulous perk. We get to see him and soak him up while we are there, too. The kids just love him. Sometimes he will join us in the living room and simply listen to all of us women try to solve the world's problems. It's wonderful just having him there!

Sometimes we go to high school football games or basketball games, especially since my dad coaches (high school football and high school girls' basketball) and Braxton plays, and sometimes we watch a roping competition in my brother's arena, and sometimes we go to school plays or events. But mostly, we just soak each other up. It's absolute heaven!

And so, Cokeville will always be a special place for me, a place where I can go to clear my head and enjoy my family. I laughed when I saw a man's t-shirt recently that said the name of a place and then this: "Mosquitoes 3 months of the year, Winter 9 months of the year." That describes Cokeville perfectly! And yet, we just can't stay away. There's so much more there than I could explain, but my kids feel it, too, and I'm so glad.

This year we are going to spend Christmas in Cokeville, which is something we haven't done for 10 years. It's a ton of work to travel somewhere for Christmas, let me tell you, but something has driven me to do it this year. My kids have been counting down the days until we pack up the Pilot and head to one of the happiest places on earth--Cousinville!

Now, if I could just get Dan to catch the vision!

TODAY

A couple of days ago, I felt compelled to begin a blog post about something that has been on my mind a lot lately. Truthfully, it's on my mind all the time and has been for years. But sometimes, without warning, it forces itself to the forefront of my thoughts and actions, and actually, it's sort of become a mantra for me. It's simply this: Make TODAY count.

My life has been so incredibly blessed. As I have put my hand in the Lord's and allowed Him to guide my choices, I have found all of my dreams and goals being met, although not always in the ways I had envisioned. My most fervent desire was to be a wife and a mother. So simple, I know, but I had this fear growing up that, for one reason or another, these blessings would not be mine. Now, I sometimes fear these children I love so much might be taken away from me for some reason. Maybe it's because the world is so violent and bad things happen regularly. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that when I was only 11 years old, I went through a life-changing, traumatic experience. In one single event on one single day, my parents almost lost three of their five children. This experience left me appreciating the very fact I was alive and that also left me promising to never take one single day for granted. Now that I am a mother, it reminds me to appreciate each day with my children, knowing life can change in an instant.

Without going into a lot of detail, let me explain just a bit. On May 16, 1986 our small elementary school in Cokeville, Wyoming was held hostage by a man and a woman with a homemade bomb. They gathered 154 of us--students, teachers, etc.--into one small classroom and demanded $2 million/person. Their plan was to  blow us all up and rule us in what they called a "brave new world." We were hostages for over two hours before the bomb was accidentally detonated. Through a series of tremendous miracles I cannot begin to mention here, we all made it out alive, although many were seriously burned and underwent burn treatments for many months and even years. Only the captors lost their lives. (I was recently asked to speak about the events of that day and I put together this short video--click here to see it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjF06vHtIEc.)

I went home that day a different person than I was when I left for school that morning. I was 11 years old at the time, old enough to understand the reality of what had happened and to internalize the tremendous blessing of all of us surviving. I determined to never forget that and to take advantage of every day I was given, suddenly realizing that life is indeed very fragile and can change in an instant. Hence my mantra: "Make TODAY count."

So simple, right? I mean, of course I should make today count--that's obvious. But is it really? And if it is, then why do I often find myself realizing my razor-sharp focus is actually a blur of non-vital activities and time-wasters that leave me feeling dissatisfied? I don't really have the answer to this question, but I do believe it has something to do with the ever-attractive, enticing allurements of what I simply call "the World."

I think it's a bit different for everyone, but some of the things I get caught up on are things such as these: TV (I'm a sucker for singing competitions--"The Voice," etc.), a good book (I can neglect my kids, house, husband and more if I get too caught up in a good read), e-mails (I recently unsubscribed from a dozen sources of daily e-mails--and I have a lot more to go!), and more. For some of us, it's social media, such as Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest. All wonderful connections to fabulous ideas around the world, but can definitely be a distraction.

The problem with these activities is not only that they can suck up our time, but more importantly, they divert our focus and attention away from weightier matters, such as service to others, spending that one-on-one time with a struggling child, really listening to our children or husband when they tell us about their day, keeping our thoughts centered on our families and their needs.

A man I love and respect dearly, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, said this in a conference talk about "Regrets and Resolutions": "Why, then, do we devote so much of our time and energy to things that are so fleeting, so inconsequential, and so superficial? Do we refuse to see the folly in the pursuit of the trivial and transient?"

I'm afraid sometimes I do. And darn it, I don't want to. The thing is, I know better. My life itself is a reminder that I have been given a gift--a sacred gift--one I simply can' squander away. To be married to a man I love and respect like no other person alive; to be the mother of five amazing children who teach me every day is not a light thing. It is amazing! So I have to make it count.

I have to show love to my children TODAY. I have to forgive them for making the same mistakes over and over TODAY. I have to show patience with a struggling child TODAY. I have to hold them and read to them and comfort them and whisper my love to them over and over, and I have to do it TODAY. I cannot wait until a difficult stage has passed, or the children become easier, or life becomes less busy, or even until tomorrow, because reality is, those things never really come. My biggest fear is that I will look back one day when my children are grown and I will realize I did not enjoy them enough, laugh with them enough, hold them enough, talk with them enough, listen to them enough, soak them up enough while they were right here under my nose. That, to me, would be a regret I could hardly stand to live with.

President Uchtdorf said it this way, "Sometimes in life we become so focused on the finish line that we fail to find joy in the journey." I have a feeling that finish line isn't nearly so satisfying if we haven't enjoyed the path we took to get there. I think that is especially true in regards to motherhood. What is the point in accepting the awesome, sacred role (and yes, difficult, too) of Mother if we don't take the time or effort to appreciate the opportunity to enjoy the process of learning and growing and loving that comes with it?

I like this thought as he continues, "Perhaps we should be looking less with our eyes and more with our hearts. I love the quote: 'One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.'" I have to agree. When I am following my heart, my priorities are much different than when I am simply allowing lists of to-do's and tasks to rule my time. The fact of the matter is, parenthood is all about heart--hearts bursting with joy, hearts beaming with pride, hearts breaking at times with sorrow and disappointment, and especially, hearts exploding with love like we've never known before.

Lastly, President Uchtdorf says this, ". . . We cannot take for granted one single day."

Amen.

I shooed my kids out the door for school today and then collapsed on the floor in front of my husband, in an effort to exaggerate how difficult and chaotic the morning had been. My husband nodded in agreement, but as I lay on the floor and thought about those children of mine, I couldn't help but say, "Yea, but they are all worth it." And I meant it. They are absolutely worth it. And my life would not be the same without each and every one of my children. That's why I must appreciate them and all that comes with them--even the chaos, the tantrums, and the utter craziness--TODAY.

I just found out that today, in a small Connecticut town, lives have been changed forever. Parents sent their children to school this morning without a single idea that they might not return home this afternoon, but according to reports, 20 children  and six adults were killed in a school shooting there earlier today. It's hard to even comprehend that kind of loss, and as I have wept for the children and families involved, understanding in a small degree what they are feeling and what they must face in the future, I am reminded once again of how important it is to appreciate today. When I think of my life in terms of what I might lose, suddenly my perspective becomes so much sharper and I see clearly where my priorities lie: in snuggles with my children, in patient teaching of a new skill, in supporting their endeavors (even when it's painful to watch, like beginning basketball:), in noticing their growth, in playing with them, laughing with them and showing my love for them.

And so, when my children walk in the door from school, I cannot wait to wrap them in my arms, to whisper to them how very much I love them, to tell them how amazing they are and remind them what a gift they are to me. And at times when I feel completely overwhelmed by all that motherhood entails and I feel like I just don't even know if I can go on, I hope to remember to not take for granted one single day--even if it's a hard day. I hope to be able to sift through the struggles and find those golden moments that make it all worth it. I hope to make time for the things that really matter and let the rest go. I hope to . . .

. . .  make TODAY count!

Daddy Love

A couple of weeks ago, I was brushing my teeth before bed when I heard the door close on our baby's bedroom. I thought that was odd as she had been asleep for a couple of hours. I rounded the corner to see who in the world dared go in her bedroom at night and risk waking her up, only to find my husband was the culprit!

"What are you doing?" I spat. I thought surely he was smart enough by this time to know that it was near insanity to take such a huge risk, knowing how important it was to me that the baby not be disturbed once she was down for the night. I can handle most anything during the day, but by evening, I am exhausted and therefore more than thankful there is such a thing as bedtime. I am not a mother who drags out bedtime rituals or has long routines for snuggling my children in. I pray with them, hug and kiss them, express my love to them, hug and kiss them once more (okay, so I also often read to them as well, but not for lengthy periods of time), then say "goodnight" and leave, not expecting to hear from or see them until morning. Period. This practice has been the only thing (and nap time, that is) that has kept me sane during the past 13 years of motherhood. So, what was my husband possibly thinking?

"I was holding Berkley for a few minutes," he responded casually.

"What????" My eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious? How often do you do this?"

"Every night."

I was stunned! I seriously couldn't believe it. Where had I been the past 18 months? Oh, right. In bed. That's where I go once my kids are down for the night. After all, I'm tired. I thought about being mad but I found it way too endearing to be anything but heart struck. It was just a few nights later that I snuck in to snap a quick photo.

After all, I think it's a memory Berkley will always want to have. There's just nothing like genuine Daddy love.

Thirteen

Thirteen.

It's a number that has always frightened me. Not because I'm superstitious or anything, but because it is the dawning of the teenage years, and I've always been certain I would not be ready for what lies ahead. And because I remember my siblings and I being pretty tough on my parents, I thought I would surely hate being the mother of a teenager.

But this teenager happens to be pretty incredible.

And I happen to love her so much my heart just about bursts every time I think about her.

It's still so hard to believe that my sweet little Hallee is already 13 years old. To say it has flown by would be an understatement. But then, I always knew it would. And I'm also fully aware that the next five years will disappear faster than I would ever want them to, and so, my goodness, I sure have to be in the moment today, to love her and soak her up every minute I can.

Hallee was born the day after Thanksgiving. I was pretty sure I was getting close to delivering my baby when Thanksgiving rolled around; however, all the more experienced women in my life told me not to get my hopes up--that it was far more likely I would be overdue than deliver early (my due date was December 5). I was sure they were right, so even though I had been having contractions all night long, I got up early and braved the Black Friday sales with my husband and mother. It was when I was in a very long line at Shopko that I realized my contractions were less than five minutes apart and steadily getting closer. I did the only thing I could think of under the circumstances--I handed my mother my items and left her in line while Dan ran me up the street to the hospital. Hallee was born several hours later. It was one of the most beautiful, sacred, and wonderful days of my life. I was finally a mother.

To be honest, I had no idea what to do next. Getting married and becoming pregnant hadn't been too difficult, but now what? This beautiful baby girl was completely dependent on me, and I felt clueless. All the hours of babysitting I'd done in my life suddenly seemed to mock me, as if to say, "Did you really think taking care of other people's children for specified amounts of time would prepare you for full-time motherhood? I don't think so!"

Regardless of my inadequacies and fears, I soon realized, that although my skills were not yet developed and honed, the most important thing of all came completely without effort--undeniable, unfiltered, unconditional love. Man, I loved this child! I was worried I would never be able to love another child as much (which thankfully wasn't true, of course).

Best Christmas ever--a brand new baby.

Dan and I were sure we had never seen such a beautiful child.

Since that day, Hallee has only continued to bless my life. Being the first child, she has patiently tutored me through all the firsts in parenthood (and there are tons more to go, poor girl!). She has forgiven me time and time again; she has loved me when I have been so unlovable; she has been my friend when it felt no one else was; she has been a wonderful daughter.

And so, although the teenage years still make my heart race a little, I am to the point of recognizing they can be some of the best years ever. I'm looking forward to the journey ahead, anticipating there will be bumps in the road, but knowing this girl can do anything she sets her mind to and that she has great things ahead.

Happy 13th Birthday, Hallee!!

Her lame mother forgot to buy candles so there weren't enough to put on her cake. Thankfully, this child doesn't get caught up in the details and easily forgave me. Next year, I will be ready with 14 candles, however.

Dan's father, Reed, drove all the way up from Logan to take Hallee to dinner. She chose Subway (so easy to please, I love it). I thought that was so thoughtful of him.