The other day I walked with Aiden partway to his bus stop. On the way he just looked so dejected as he quietly asked, “Do I really have to ride the bus? I hate the bus.” We got to the park and he went one way and I went the other to continue on my morning walk. As I got to the other side of the park, I looked back and I could see *all* these 7th and 8th graders waiting for the bus, standing in groups and pairs, and I could hear them talking, laughing, and joking. And I saw Aiden. Alone. Looking around and kind of holding/wringing his hands (like he does when he gets anxious). It broke my heart to see my wonderful, funny, friendly, smart child feel so alone.

After dinner last night Dallin declared that he is lonely, that he doesn’t fit in anywhere, and he’s just so tired of being different from all the other kids. He has one good friend, but that’s really it. Again, it broke my heart.

This morning Parker was frowning as I drove him to school and he just kind of sat in the van for a minute. He is sad because he says his best friends are saying mean things to him lately. Parker is definitely my most outgoing and friendly child, and to see him so sad that when we walked slowly into the school with his head hanging down, it took everything I had not to run out and grab him and say “We’re going to have a special day of just us!”

I know that once Aiden is at school with his friends he is totally fine and happy. I know that once Dallin is with his one good friend he is having the time of his life and feels great. I know that once Parker gets on that playground and sees all his friends and starts playing their silly games, he’ll be smiling and running along with them. But in those moments the past few days? It hurts me so much to see them hurting like that. And I don’t know what I can do to make it better. Partly because I, too, just feel so lonely and dejected so much of the time. I have my friends, but when I’m in the house and haven’t seen my husband in what feels like years (when it’s just been since this morning but he gets up and leaves something like an hour before I do and doesn’t get home until waaaay past bedtime, saying I haven’t seen my husband in a few hours just doesn’t feel correct)… when I’m stuck with just a 2 year old who doesn’t know how to talk other than his adorable 2-year-old gibberish… It’s just lonely.

I wanted to avoid a lot of the loneliness I felt as a child for my children. My family moved (a lot) growing up and while I was pretty content starting new schools and attending new churches and meeting new people and making new friends, sometimes it’s just plain lonely. I never had roots. Even today my oldest friends (from high school… I only have one friend from 8th grade and that’s as far back as my friendships go) will sometimes post the Throwback Thursday pictures that include many people from our circle of friends. They went to kindergarten together and had First Communion together or went to the same Vacation Bible School… I don’t have any of that. I don’t have a history with anyone and I don’t have roots to a place or with a particular group of people other than my immediate family. Even then, we all live so far away from each other (I’m in Arizona, I have one sister in Georgia, one sister in England, one brother in Utah, four brothers in different parts of Idaho, parents in Idaho, parents in Texas, and a brother on a mission in New Mexico). It’s not like we can have a family dinner or I can call my sister and say, “Hey, wanna bring the kids over for lunch today?”

So I really thought that by living in one place and working hard for my kids to go to one school and live on a street and in a neighborhood with lots of kids their ages would be an advantage to curb the loneliness. Right now it doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s not always going to be that way, I know that. It’s just… right now.

And my heart still breaks. I don’t like to see my kids hurt and not be able to fix it.

Kids These Days…

At the risk of sounding like one of those crazy, old, “get off my lawn!” geezers, I’m gonna talk about kids these days. Specifically… teenagers. I was a teenager once, I coach teenagers, I worked with the teenager girls in church for a few years, I teach teenagers… So, yeah. I’m an expert on teenagers. Pretty much.

I have these two girls on my high school color guard. Neither girl would be considered a star performer. They aren’t bad at all. They just aren’t great. I have some girls on my guard that are great. These two girls aren’t girls I would give a solo to and they often have to be given extra instruction and corrected many times before they fix a technique issue. There is a huge difference in these two girls, however, and that is desire.

One girl wants to be great. I mean, she really, really wants it. She takes her equipment home every day and practices every. single. day. She hasn’t been put on the weapons line yet, but she still works on her rifle and sabre technique. She goes with other girls to practice in the park. She signed up to help teach at a middle school and an elementary school so she could learn how to write choreography and how to teach basics, all while improving her own. Over the summer, she traveled to California to attend a clinic put on by the Blue Devils (one the best drum corps out there who has, hands down, the best color guard). I don’t think there is a single girl on my guard who wants it more than this girl. She will do anything to improve. She has made goals to be in a drum corps and wants to teach guard one day. She wants this.

The other girl has been doing dance and guard for a while, and she says she loves it and guard is her life. But I have noticed that rather than wanting this, she expects it. She expects that because she is an upperclassman, she will be on the weapons line. She expects that because she has been dancing for x many more years than someone else, then she should be the dance captain. She expects to come to rehearsal and learn all the technique and all the choreography and just be able to do it. She rarely takes her equipment home, and she rarely spends any time practicing (I’ve taught guard and private music lessons long enough, I know when a student has practiced.). She skips rehearsal because she’s “sick” or “has too much homework”. She never volunteers her time to help other, newer, younger students out. She trash talks the student leadership and acts as if she could do a better job, but never applies for the position herself. She gossips about her fellow members rather than calls them to meet with them. She never tries to do anything extra. She just expects that she will get it. She expects that leadership positions will be given to her. She expects that people will respect her because of the years of “experience”. She says she wants it, but she has shown me that she expects it and isn’t willing to actually work for it.

In my middle school guard, I have many girls who leave rehearsal frustrated and upset. They come to me and say, “I’m no good at this! I’m not a natural. I want to quit. This isn’t fun.” This is after the first or second rehearsal, friends. Not at the end of the season. No one is good at color guard in the first rehearsal! No one is a natural! It is not natural to spin a flag or toss a rifle. These are techniques and skills that have to be taught, worked at, practiced, and perfected over a long period of time. These girls expect to come to rehearsal and just get it and have tons of fun. I have to teach them that if you don’t have to work for it, it’s not worth doing. No one has told them that.

It’s a shame, really, because I see so much talent and promise in these middle school girls and so much talent and promise in those high school girls. But when they just expect it to happen? That’s when things don’t happen. Rather than taking their lack of training or ability as a kick in the butt to work harder, they whine and cry and threaten to quit. Many girls do quit. They won’t put in the effort. They just don’t want it. And that makes me sad.

I don’t expect anything. Ever. It really isn’t worth having if it’s handed to me and I don’t have to work for it. I can’t savor my success the same way as when I know I have put in all my effort and all my desire. The result is truly sweet when I get my wants that I’ve worked for.

Marriage Advice

I think the best piece of advice I got when I got married was this:

Never say anything bad about your spouse publicly.

At the time, it didn’t mean that much. I was in love and he was awesome and would I ever have anything bad to say about him? I mean, like, ever?? But of course the honeymoon was over and suddenly I was living with this other person and we didn’t always see eye to eye or maybe I didn’t like that shirt or maybe it annoyed me when he would try to help me in the kitchen (I was not a cook. He was great at it. I know now it was intended to be helpful but at the time I found it condescending. We laugh about it now.). I could have called my mom and my friends and my sister and  complained all day long. Any time we had a fight, I could have gone to someone else and whined and cried about how bad I feel. I’m sure I would have gotten the comfort I needed and the validation I needed at that time.

But then, a week later, when everything is wonderful with us, how would my best friend be feeling about my husband? Knowing intimate details about our fight? Or thinking that he is a horrible person for treating me so badly when it was actually one little misunderstanding and he and I worked it out, but of course I didn’t run to my friends to tell them how awesome and nice he is and how he made me dinner and hugged me for half an hour while I just cried or how he randomly brought home a movie that I love and have been wanting to buy…

Thankfully, I never put my family or friends in the awkward predicament of having to choose sides over issues. If there is something serious going on, we went to our ecclesiastical leaders or to a professional. Not to my friends or his friends or my mom…

In this day an age, we have Facebook and Twitter and Snapchat and Instagram and… I don’t even know. There’s so much. And with all this social media people are breaking down walls of what they say. People aren’t afraid to get into arguments with complete strangers. And it seems like people are willing to risk friendships over stupid and trivial matters. Everything has become life of death and if you don’t agree with me, then I’m unfriending you and blocking you. And I’ll let everyone know what a crappy person you are.

I have seen so much personal stuff just thrown out on the internet because “It’s my Facebook and I can post what I want!” The last few days I have been devastated to read a friend making some vague and some not-so-vague digs at her husband’s family. They are definitely warranted, but I have to wonder if this is really the right venue to do so. I’m really uncomfortable. To top it off, things are being said about her husband now. I saw a comment thread go on and on as people talked with this friend about what her husband needs to do. Her husband even got on and half-heartedly tried to comment and yet more and more people got on and told him what he needs to do for his wife.

I really feel this should have been a private matter between them. I don’t live in their house and I have no idea what’s going on behind closed doors. I can shout my opinions about the the limited information I have gathered from Facebook, but how is that actually helping them? If I were to have this on my Facebook and I had 15 people jumping all over my husband, telling him what I need and what he needs to do, Ches would feel completely betrayed by me. I wouldn’t blame him for walking out, honestly. It is not the business of my friends to comment in a public manner on what I need to my husband. There are other, better, more effective avenues to take.

And another thing… if you have confided in me terrible things about your significant other and you went through a LOT of emotion in a break up, please don’t expect me to be able to just pick up and be happy when the two of you get back together. I’m super cautious. This person hurt you. And I love you and I get protective big time of the people I love. It’s hard for me to forgive all the hurt they caused you because I. Am. Not. There. And I’m scared they will do it again. I have to worked very hard to be happy for you.

I’m not saying don’t ever confide in me. I’m not saying I’m not here for you. Just know that once a person has been put in that position of “we hate so-and-so”, it’s really hard to get out of that position. I can’t switch gears that quickly. I love that you think enough of me that you come to me when you need a moment to vent. I get needing those moments (I have them. A lot.) and I encourage it because it’s not a good idea to just keep everything inside and pretend your life is all happy happy joy joy. I may talk to someone individually from time to time about my frustrations, but I don’t think you’ll ever hear me talk badly about Ches to a group or in a public forum of any kind. I love him and our marriage too much.

Overall, I think we all need to be careful of what we say in public and who we say things to. Do we want to betray that person we love? Do we want to risk damage to a relationship that will be harder than ever to repair?

Book Club

When we moved into our new house, we honestly had no idea what kind of street we moved on to. We hit the jackpot. Seriously! It’s so fun on our little street. And I’ll brag about life on the cul-de-sac another time. Tonight, however, I wanted to brag about how I decided to get out of my comfort zone a little so I could make friends.

Like I said, this is a fun street. The kids will all be out playing in the street and the moms stand in a driveway and talk. Or bring chairs to the end of the cul-de-sac and talk. I often feel like I have a hard time actually talking to other women without being awkward (I make a lot of self-deprecating jokes, thinking their funny, but in retrospect are probably just uncomfortable). I wanted to find a way to get to know the women on my street and be comfortable while doing so. I did find one thing in common: reading. We all like to read. 

So I started a book club. At first I started it for just our street, but I stated at the beginning that was just because I didn’t know anyone else, so feel free to invite other women. We have had four meetings now (and read three books: “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian” by Sherman Alexie, “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society” by Mary Ann Shaffer, and “The Ladies Auxiliary” by Tova Mirvis… This month we are starting “Edenbrooke” by Julianne Donaldson) and while I had to miss the last one because of a fundraiser for my winter guard, I am having so. Much. FUN.

Book club is great because I get to read. I know this from past book clubs, too. Sometimes it’s something I’m really excited about reading and have wanted to read for a while. Sometimes it’s something I would never have picked up in the first place but end up loving (hello, “Ender’s Game”!). It’s just good to have something new to read. And then knowing your friends are reading it, too? Bonus! We get to talk about it! I love discussions at book club. We don’t always agree and we don’t all take the same things away from the book. That’s great because then we learn from each other, too. We get to see new perspectives and find out more about each other and our different backgrounds. And when it’s a book that we all just LOVE? Well, the discussion actually is kind of boring. It’s way more fun to have something that divides us a little bit.

And then there is the food. It’s not book club without food. Everyone makes such yummy food. You would think it would be a competition on who can come up with the yummiest treat, but that’s not it at all. There is no competition. Just excitement for the book, the discussion, and the food.

Most of all, I have enjoyed having a time where I can really get to know these other women on my street. Hang out with them without having to chase the toddler down the street at the same time or whatever. Just sit, eat, talk, joke… it’s my favorite night of the month. I’ll tell you a little secret: I’d do this without the books. The reading part is a bonus. I just like these women and I’m so glad I convinced myself to go for it. I was scared when I sent out the first message about starting the book club. I was scared people would laugh and think it’s stupid. I was scared no one would show up. But show up they did. And it’s growing. And no one thinks it’s stupid. And everyone talks about it all month long: “Have you gotten the book yet?” “How far into the book are you?” “I have to tell you about what I love so far…” It’s exciting to be just to be a part of things. 

Life is good on the cul-de-sac.

Playing Catch Up… A Little Bit…

As I sat down to write tonight I was suddenly hit with a crippling case of writer’s block. I have been meaning to return to my blog for quite some time now and have had several ideas of what I could write about floating around in my head. Yet, when I opened up WordPress and clicked on “My Blog” it was like I had erased my mind.


So I decided to read past blog entries and see if I was inspired. Well, I have to say that as insecure as I am about myself, I actually quite like my writing style. I have no idea if I’m any good, but I enjoy reading my stuff. I have forgotten a lot of what I’ve written and some of it gives me a good chuckle, some of it makes me sad, and some of it makes me think. Mission accomplished. (Hopefully it does the same for others. If not… Oh well. My blog. Not yours. I don’t have a huge audience and I’m not getting paid for any of this. Doesn’t matter if other people like it.)

I still haven’t come up with anything to write about except this:

I’m here. I’m alive. I’m fighting with myself every day, but I’m winning. My kids are growing and learning and succeeding. Ches and I are awesome. I have a wonderful life that I’m trying to be an active participant in and trying to enjoy much more than I have in the past. I don’t always succeed at happiness (as is painfully obvious in my previous posts), but I’m still trying. I have found how easy it is to fake it for the world on Facebook, and by faking it for so often, I’m starting to believe it’s all true. Maybe, just maybe, that’s a good thing.

Also, I’m really, really tired and have a headache from staring at the screen for so long. This has become a filler post. New goal: Write at least once a week. It will happen. (Timber, you can bug me about this if you want. Someone has to keep me in check!)


It’s just so hard to sit down and write out my thoughts for my blog. I’m not sure why. It’s not like I don’t have the time during the day when the kids are at school and it’s just Collin and me at home. I guess I have let my priorities shift. I do find time to share a quick little status update several times a day on Facebook. I’m a lot less wordy there than I am here, but I still say the same things there I would have said here. Sooooo… I’m going to share a few of my “gems” of late (statuses and some comments). Most of my blog readers are my Facebook friends, so it’s not like this is going to be anything new for you to read. However, my blog is a lot longer lasting and I have visions of printing it all off into book (journal?) form someday. Not so with Facebook. There are so many things there that I share that I don’t want to forget. Here are a few of those things.

Sept. 1
Listening to the MoTab station on Pandora this beautiful Sunday morning when Parker runs out of his room and excitedly asks, “Is today General Conference????”  You would *think* he’s excited to hear the Prophet and other leaders speak, but no. General Conference means no church clothes and having to sit in church for 3 hours.

Aug. 31
Hand wash only clothes are dopey, stupid, and dumb.

When I was a kid and I ate Lucky Charms cereal for breakfast, I would try not to eat the marshmallows until the very end. Then it was like eating a bowl of marshmallows and milk. Yum! Now, as an adult I eat Special K Chocolatey Delight and all the chocolate pieces fall to the bottom of the bowl so I get to save that for the end and it’s like eating a bowl of chocolate and milk. Yum! Moral if the story? I’m still a kid and I save the good stuff for last.

In response to Karen:  Well, I say Lucky Charms, but it was pretty much whatever store brand. And when I say “when I was a kid”, I think I mean, “When I went to college and bought all the sugar cereal I could”.

Aug. 27
Watching a cute little girl while her mom runs to the doctor this morning means I get to watch My Little Pony on Netflix. Livin’ the dream, folks.

6:30 am orchestra for the almost-11 year old is going to kill me. If I don’t kill the almost 11-year old first. — feeling irritated.

Aug. 26
Got to have rehearsal in the middle of a dust storm tonight… until the rain drenched us and we went inside. That was fun. (Actually, it really was kind of fun!!)

Looking up sparkly/shiny headbands for my Higley guard. Who needs daughters? Between my two guards, I have 11.

Aug. 23
Oh man, kids using air quotes. Life is so “great”. 

Aug. 16
When my 10 year old is running after me to get my attention (because I’ve started driving away and he left his trumpet in the van), he looks an awful lot like Kermit the Frog. Arm flail!!! Aaaahhhhhhhh!!!!! (I’m still giggling over it.)

Aug. 14
Note to myself:
Perspective. Gain some because your happiness is riding on it. Hey Sariah… breathe, relax, and quit comparing yourself to an ideal that doesn’t exist. Also, your kids are smart, funny, and downright good kids. Ease up on them and don’t forget to tell them how great they did today and that you love them. One last thing… take your medication, Sariah. It will help. 

Aug. 6
Why yes, that was me, playing outside in the rain with my toddler. And yes, I did indeed let him sit and lay down in the gutter puddles. He had a blast and was adorable. I drew the line at him trying to drink the gutter puddle water…

Aug. 1
So yesterday I’m shaving my legs when I find this giant, hard bump on the back of my leg and I think, “What the heck is *that*??” and then I realize… It’s my calf muscle!!! Friends, my calf muscles are getting so awesome! Thank you, marching band/color guard.

June 24
The kids played with two of their cousins outside in the grass, jumping over a creek, and racing pinecones and sticks down the creek and under the bridge. Now *this* is a summer vacation!! — feeling nostalgic.

June 17
I got told over and over again today by an intermediate flute student that I am “AWESOME”. Totally made my day. (Man, I miss teaching private lessons!)

May 30
“This is not a democracy. This is a MOMocracy.”
Oh yeah, I really said that tonight. Bring it on, kids.

May 23
The kindergarteners in Parker’s class were all asked what they want to be when they grow up and where do they want to live. Parker wants to be a dad and live in Idaho. 

May 18
Baptism Day for Dallin!!! 

May 2
Isn’t it great?? Dallin is EIGHT!!! Happy birthday to my wonderful, precocious, smart, funny, active, not-so-little boy. 

May 1
Collin is ONE YEAR OLD!!! Wow!!! This first year went far too fast.


A Tail of Two Fishies

(Oh man, I think I’m hilarious. Come on. That’s a good title, right?? Laugh with me, folks, not at me.)

For April Fool’s Day one of my guard girls (“C”) put a bunch of paper fish cut outs around the band room, saying that’s what they do in France. She thought it would be funny (and I suspect she thought it would bug my husband a bit, which it kind of did. So… mission accomplished?). Ches said he doesn’t really care what they do in France.

A few weeks later “C” and another girl bought a live goldfish for Ches, but it was probably just one of those cheap Wal-Mart fish that aren’t taken care of at all and it quickly died. So they tried again, buying another fish and leaving it in a jar on Ches’ desk. At the beginning of the day when Ches has to teach for several hours straight. With the lid securely on the jar. So yeah, that fish died, too. They tried one more time.

This time they bought a beautiful purple beta fish and Ches opened the jar while it sat in his office. He brought the fish home and while Ches wasn’t too pleased with bringing home a pet (seriously, don’t try to give us a kitten or a puppy. Ches will kill you.), the boys were ecstatic and we got out our fishbowl (back when we had Brenden the goldfish and then Darth Fish, the beta fish) and started discussing names. Ches got the final say because it’s his fish, after all.

Doc Severinsen. That’s right. Our fish is named after Doc Severinsen. It’s Ches’ fish. Are you at all shocked?

The boys love him. I think he’s beautiful. Ches tolerates the idea of a pet (I think he enjoys it more than he’ll admit. I see how carefully he feeds the fish and makes sure the water is just right…). And Collin goes nuts for the “fishy” (I’m trying to teach him to sign or say “fish”, but all I get are smiles and giggles. I’ll take it.).

On Saturday, Dallin got a “gold” fish (it’s actually brown) from a birthday party. We all know how likely goldfish are to live long, but this is a living being and Dallin is excited. We can’t put the new fish in with the beta fish because Doc Severinsen would try to eat the gold fish or something. Kill it, seriously maim it, something. So we just kept it in the jar for the time being. (Ches got a good laugh when he saw Doc Severinsen trying to get to the new fish, who’s jar was placed right next to Doc’s fishbowl.)

Yesterday Ches discovered the “gold”fish in his jar, very still, near the top. Oh no! He quickly got out a bigger jar (the one we received Doc in, actually), put in some fresh water, and switched the fish to the new jar. After a couple of minutes, he was swimming around, just fine! Yay! Resurrection!! We almost lost the fish, but Ches saved the day. What a great dad!!

Dallin still needs a name for his fish. So I suggested Lazarus. I thought it particularly apropos, however Dallin pointed out, “But he wasn’t all the way dead!” That immediately made me suggest naming him Westley. Because “you’ve been mostly dead all day!”. Then, you know, the boys can yell “Aaaaas yoooooouuuu fiiiiiiish!!!” while feeding Westley. Hey, at least Westley got a laugh from Dallin. I think it’s a real contender.

Phishing For Some Common Ground

I was having a conversation the other day with three people who are in their early 20’s. We were talking about Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and how they have yummy flavors and cool names. I mentioned “Phish Food”. One person said she really liked that particular flavor with the yummy “fish” in them. Another person said something about how funny the name is spelled.

“Well, yeah,” I replied. “It’s named after the band.”

The three people looked at me blankly. There was a long pause.

“You know? The band? Phish?”

Again, blank stares. Another long pause, then, “Who?”

I feel really, really old now.

Life Lesson: You Never Left Junior High

True story. No matter how old we are, we’ve never left junior high. I’m 35 years old, but I still feel as insecure as a 7th grader. I think I’m all grown up and the women around me have also grown up, but no. It’s all the same.

A couple of weeks ago I went to the park for our “official park day”. I pick Parker up from preschool and we walk across the street where we know all the kids and moms from church. It’s supposed to be fun. I don’t usually have a lot of fun, but I’m there for Parker. He loves it. I try to make an effort. I do. I just don’t feel comfortable around most of these women, try as I might. I know it’s just one-sided, but if you don’t feel like you fit in, why push yourself, you know?

Anyway, I sat there for an hour, listening to conversations where I had little to contribute, and trying to just be friendly and happy and enjoy the good weather. The women then commented on my pregnancy, and one woman asked, “So, are you having a baby shower?”

I thought it kind of an odd question. I mean, the baby isn’t due for months yet, we don’t know the gender, and it’s not like you throw yourself a baby shower, right? But, whatever. So I just answered with an, “I don’t know…”

Woman number two pipes in with, “Well, you want to know what the baby is, right? So people can buy blue blankets or pink blankets. You don’t want green or yellow. That’s just ugly.”

Ummm, okay. I like green and yellow. I’m fine with gender neutral things. But whatever.

So this whole other conversation is going on and on about how I need to know the gender of the baby (seriously folks, not my fault I have such an active baby that was moving too much during the 19 week ultrasound and we couldn’t get a look!! Also, not my fault that the doctor won’t try again until my 28 week ultrasound. Like I can afford to just have extra ultrasounds anyway. We can be patient… so can you!). And while the conversation was directed toward me and about me, I still felt like I wasn’t actually part of the conversation. I couldn’t get a word in!

Woman number one asks me again, “So, are you going to have a baby shower?”

Are you fishing for an invitation or something? Geez. I decided to be a little snarky. “Well, I don’t know because it’s not like I can go up to someone and say Hey, will you throw me a baby shower?

I got the desired chuckles and thought that would be the end of it. (Or perhaps an offer to throw me a shower? Because I have nothing for this baby!! I know it’s baby number 4, but my personal belief is *every* baby should be showered. And it’s been years since I had a baby. We gave just about everything away. And yes, I just want the attention. I’m an attention whore, just like everyone else!)

It wasn’t the end. Woman number two said, “Well, I’m sure someone will give you a baby shower. What about [named three woman who were not at the park that day]? You’re in their group. I’m sure they’ll throw you a shower.”

Woah. “Their group”??? We have definite “groups” now? And I have seen these three women, other than passing them in the hall at church or cub scouts, in months.

I’m sure nothing mean was meant by it, but I went away from the conversation feeling icky. That’s right. Icky. I felt like I had blotchy skin (oh wait, I do!) and a bad perm (thankfully, no) and wore last year’s style of clothes (yup). Or I wore orange on Pink Friday and the Mean Girls were about to go write in their slam book… four pages, just for me.

Park day is tomorrow. I don’t really want to go. But Parker looks so forward to it. I will spend all morning picking out the perfect outfit and packing the best snacks and try out a new hairstyle I found on Pinterest in the hopes that I will be accepted into this group. Or any group.

Can we put Park Day on my Murtaugh List???

What If I Could Write A Letter To Myself?

What if I could write a letter to myself? My younger self, that is. With all that I know now that could help erase some of the pain of back then? Or what if my future, older self could write me a letter that I could get today that would tell me yes, everything really will be okay? Would it help me now to get through all our trials? And what seems so huge today… will it seem that huge in 5, 10, 25 years?

Today a couple in my ward blessed their baby. They had been trying for a long time to get pregnant. It got to the point where they were just about to give up and were looking into adoption, when she got pregnant. And stayed pregnant. It wasn’t the easiest pregnancy (really, are there actually easy pregnancies? I don’t believe there are, no matter what some women say!), and several weeks before the baby was due, the mother and her father were in a car wreck. It was bad enough that the mother was in the hospital and they were trying to prevent an early labor. It was too early to have a healthy baby. Thankfully, everything turned out just fine the worst that happened was her baby shower had to be rescheduled. The couple has a healthy baby boy a few months ago.

When the mother got up to bear her testimony during Sacrament Meeting today, she said, “If someone had told me a year ago I would be here today, blessing my baby boy, I would have laughed in their face. No, I would have cried in their face and thought it a cruel joke.”

I remember those feelings all too well. I remember how long it felt we tried (unsuccessfully) to have a baby. I remember feeling the desperation as I watched friends and family members seemingly have an easy time of it. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t get pregnant. And when I finally did get pregnant, it resulted in a miscarriage. It was such a tough time. I sometimes wonder how it was the Ches and I made it through that because there was so much strain. So many tears. And then… Aiden. I couldn’t believe we actually got this little miracle who was so perfect and so lovely. I didn’t know how I could ever be so happy again. I never forgot the pain of the years before Aiden came to us, but the pain was lessened so much by that little being we were blessed with.

And now look at us… three boys. Three wonderful, active, smart, funny boys. After a long break where we thought our family was complete, we found ourselves blessed again. In the next 15 weeks we will have our fourth child. FOURTH!

Has it been easy? Not by a long shot. Am I a good parent? I try. I don’t think I am (not what this post is about, however), but I try. Is everything perfect since we got our long-awaited for children? Not by a long shot. We still have so many trials and tribulations. Sometimes it feels like we are bogged down so far into the muck there is no way of pulling ourselves out. But I don’t know what it will be like a year from now. Will I be able to look back at this year and say, “I am so blessed. We kept working and trying, and things are better. We are happy.”

That’s all I really want. To be able to acknowledge that life isn’t always great, but we’re still happy. I have Ches. I have my kids. We’re still working and we’re still trying to pull out of this muck. Little by little, we’ll get there. Maybe I don’t need a letter after all. And maybe I need the pain to make the reward that much sweeter.