pocket full of prose

Man Card

2013-06-16T23:23:00.003-06:00

For Father's Day, I would like to share this poem that my friend wrote and dedicate it to the wonderful fathers in my life who have made such a difference just by being there. The world needs dads like you.

Man Card

by Jeromy Caballero

I have solder.

Using heat and strange alchemy,

I have secured prongs and wire to a circuit board.

I have fed it power, and by Jim, it works!

I beat my chest and howl in triumph.

O gods upstairs, I am coming after you,

for I am man!

At least until the endorphins fade.

Because I have also learned that the lasting victory

is facing a screaming toddler at 3 a.m.,

calmly.

I have learned that my wife correcting me

is not the same as being trampled on,

even if it feels like it.

And I have learned that I am no less of a man

if I keep my macho shoved deep in my pockets beneath my fists.

And although swallowing my pride is like swallowing the sun some days,

there's no other way to keep the world from burning up.

And yeah, when I get my Lambourghini it won't be powder blue,

and I still like football,

but I've seen too many guys confuse manhood with adrenaline

and I'm here to reclaim the man card

for the guys who stick around.

I'm speaking for the guys who have never picked a fight,

but never stop fighting.

The guys who can't remember the last time they ever lived,

but live anyway because someone needs them to.

I'm speaking for the guys who understand that the faster you want to run,

the more you have to leave behind

and that finishing first sometimes means carrying nothing at all.

And if you think your toughness must always be on trial,

then by all means, there are contests tailor made.

Climb a wall with no handholds,

or run through fire,

or leap a gator pit,

and if that's not tough enough, do it in the rain!

And when you're finished, fold your arms to hold in the rush.

Consider your man card punched.

Or,

forget you have one

and stoop to restore someone's dignity.

Wear out your knees because lifting others is heavy work.

Wait without grudging the hours because to someone,

it meant you were there.

Say I love you and mean it

because you're handing her not just flowers

but a bouquet of years of thick and thin

of shoulders used to carrying all you can

and of feet that,

while they may never have stepped onto a podium,

kept walking on.

I hope I am the tortoise.

Because while the hare will beat me nine times out of ten, remember:

As much as he beats his chest,

I crossed the line with my house on my back.

Noelle's Kemen

2013-06-07T01:28:00.000-06:00

On May 9, Noelle turned one. In Marshallese culture, the first birthday is celebrated with an event called a kemen. It's a huge celebration that entails a ton of food and all the community. We did our best to replicate that, but we just had a small family party with a ton of food. :)

Red Lobster for dinner. She loved the cheddar bay biscuits

I made one of those giant cupcakes for her. Chocolate with whipped cream frosting and sprinkles. It had a peanut butter chocolate crust "cupcake holder" crust.

Joci helped blow out the candle. We were out pretty late with dinner but Noelle was happy missing bedtime as soon that big cake was set in front of her.

She ate it like a champ

Party decorations. Justin made the palm tree.

Presents!!!

We served Marshallese food for dinner - chicken and rice, sweet potatoes and fried bananas, and baked papaya.

We love our little girl so much. Her personality is really shining through. We are so blessed to have her in our life. I am the luckiest person in the world. I wouldn't change my family for anything. Love you, Noelle!

Joci Turns 4

2013-05-19T20:49:00.001-06:00

It's been two months, but how about some pictures of Joci's birthday? She has been anticipating this birthday since about Christmas. I had to tell her back then that all the snow had to melt before it was her birthday. Time and waiting is hard for 3-year-olds.

And finally, the birthday came. I have never seen a happier kid. When she went into the living room the morning of her birthday she was so excited to see streamers, wrapped gifts, and a rainbow wall hanging.

She had breakfast with me at my work that morning. She told EVERYONE it was her birthday.

Barbie game from cousins

Moon Sand, a last gift from Grandma Normandie. My mom usually thought ahead a bit and we found a sack with a couple toys. There was Sharpie writing on the sack saying which toy was for which grandchild.

One of the easier cakes I have made. Why do I try so hard on birthdays? Lots of layers, but cute.

I love the grin this girl gets when we sing Happy Birthday to her.

I asked her if she made a wish. She said yes. When I cut the cake and put a slice on her plate, she squealed and said, "That was my wish!!!!"

That weekend, Grandma and Grandpa Z came. Of all her gifts, Joci loved the singing birthday card the most. She took it everywhere. Even to bed. It died after only a few days. She also really loved her pink cowgirl boots. They light up when she walks. For about four days she wore them everywhere and even slept in her boots.

Joci had her first friend birthday party. Attendance was a bit abysmal and that disappointed me but she didn't notice or seem to mind. We went to a party place called Blast-Off.

Even Noelle got in on the action

Joci was really uncertain at first and scared of the tiny tunnels and rooms, but finally warmed up.

About to eat cupcakes. Landon, Joci, Alex and Alyssa, and Paige.

Rainbow cupcakes

Noelle had her first taste of cake and loved it

Alyssa showing Joci how to play with the doll she got her

After her friend birthday party, Joci was convinced she was 5 because she had two birthdays. :) It's taken us awhile to convince her she is only 4. We love our little girl. Every year is just more and more fun. I love having a four-year-old.

If You Love It So Much, Why Don't You Marry It?

2013-05-18T08:29:00.001-06:00

Joci just saw a wedding picture of William and Kate on my computer.

Joci: Why are they getting married?
Me: Because they are in love.
Joci: Why do the boy think the girl is love?
Me: When you get married, you start a new family and you always want your family to love each other. So you always marry someone you love very much.
Joci is thoughtful for a minute and then says: I love cake.

Mother's Day Without My Mom

2013-05-12T22:40:00.000-06:00

This has been a very tender Mother's Day for me. Last year, I was *supposed* to spend Mother's Day with my mom. She had plans to come up to Idaho to spend the weekend with my brother and me. But my little baby Noelle came earlier than expected and I spent Mother's Day in Arkansas while my parents stayed in my house and watched Joci.

No one on this earth would know that my mom only had six more months left in her life.

I am not coping very well today. I push away thoughts and memories because the crying gets really ugly when I let them come to the surface. But I do want to honor my mom with some favorite memories.

* I was maybe 6 or 7. We went to Arctic Circle. We ordered our food then hung back to wait for our order. There was a half-wall separating the ordering area from the eating area. I noticed a wallet on that half-wall. I looked around. No one was near the wallet. I was concerned that someone had lost it. So I reached out to grab the wallet with every intention of turning into the Arctic Circle employee and report it missing. As my hand hovered over the wallet, a sketchy looking man with a dirty tee shirt, grizzled long beard, and crazy eyes slapped my hand and called me a thief. I instantly started crying as I tried to explain what was going on. My mom finally clued into what was happening and she went full-on mama bear crazy. You don't hit someone's child and expect to get away without a massive verbal evisceration at the Arctic Circle.

*I was 16 and my mom took me to lunch at Mi Casa restaurant. Pretty cool for her to just take me to lunch one random day in high school. We started talking. I told my mom a lot of stuff, but I always kept my romantic life pretty private. But this time I opened up to her about a boy I was in love with. I was embarrassed and expected her to tell me I was to young to be in love. Instead, she commiserated with the pain of it all and told me that young love is very real and very strong.

*One time in high school my dad was out of town and my mom said I could have a big party. Like the kind of parties you see in the movies when the parents are gone. But no alcohol of course. And so I did. Almost the entire school came over. My mom even set up the TV and VCR on a picnic table out side and like 10 kids were piled on the trampoline watching the movie. My mom, of course, was in the garden weeding and planting flowers by only the porch light.

*I remember looking out at the sea of parents' faces during the kindergarten Christmas pageant and comparing them all. My mom was the most beautiful out of all the moms.

*I always told my mom that I picked her to be my mom. I've said this since before I can even remember. I think it's true.

*My mom was really nervous about our first adoption. She was nervous about the prospect of an open adoption. When Joci was born and we drove to go get her, I could hear the apprehension in her voice almost more than the excitement. She seemed to be prepping me for a heartbreaking outcome. She also seemed to view Joci's birthmom as an obstacle to be overcome. I don't say that as a bad thing. Unless you've had an experience with an open adoption, it's natural. Well, we got to Boise and me the baby and the birth parents in the hospital and then went to Applebee's for lunch. I called my mom on my cell phone to tell her that we held the baby and things were going well. At that moment she was shopping at JCPenney for clothes for the baby. Suddenly the line went really quiet. With a choked voice, she told me to thank the birth mother and tell her she loved her. It was such a special moment, knowing my mom loved my daughter's birth mom.

*I still feel guilty about this. My mom made me an amazing, elaborate dress for preschool graduation. As a 5 year old, I had a hard time with the abstract idea of a picture of a dress on the pattern and different fabric and modifications. I wanted my dress to be just like the dress on the pattern. She finished the dress and had me try it on. The dress had some little detail I wasn't happy with. Like there were little bows on it instead of rose appliques. Something like that. I threw a fit. I was not kind. Instead of telling her snotty 5 year old to just be grateful for a beautiful new dress, she spent all night redoing it to make it right for me.

This is the dress. My niece wore it at my wedding.

A few more memories. I'll be brief.

*When I went on vacation to NYC and she came to my house to watch Joci and she made Halloween costumes for me and my friend.

*When I was in college and we had a truly honest discussion about relationships and disappointment

*When she was so proud of the work I do as a copywriter that she made me pose in front of a sign I had written that was on display at my company and took my picture with it.

*The many times she let me stay home from elementary school just because I was her baby and she wanted to spend time with me.

I still can't believe you aren't with me, Mom. You were so healthy and vivacious, I fully expected another 25+ years out of you. Your mother lived that long. I always imagined building an apartment for you in our house and making a lot of special memories with you in your golden years. I'm still coming to terms with life without you. I don't like it one bit. But you were such an amazing mom and I know that heaven missed you and needed you back. Nothing gold can stay.

20 Things You Need to Know About Infertility

2013-05-02T06:18:00.000-06:00

You know someone who struggles with infertility. The statistics vary from 1 in 10 to 1 in 8 to 1in 4, but even at the smallest percentage, that means one out of every ten people you know struggle with infertility.
Infertility is embarrassing. People make bad jokes. I was asked if my husband and I knew how to “do it” right. I had to keep a chart for my ob-gyn marking every day that we “did it”, marking my temperature every morning, marking my cycles. Someone gave me a Sex for Dummies book—I normally take jokes really well, but it was humiliating.
Because infertility is embarrassing, many people don’t talk about it. I promise that you know more than one person struggling with infertility. I also promise that you won’t know everyone in your life who is struggling with infertility.
Infertility and sterility are different. Infertility is not being able to conceive a child after twelve months of trying. Infertility can sometimes be overcome through medicines or procedures. Sterility is the inability to procreate. No amount of medical intervention can change sterility.
Infertility is not always a female thing (even though Henry the VIII always blames his wives). Male infertility happens just as frequently as female infertility.
Most insurance plans do not cover infertility treatments.
President George Washington, the Father of Our Country, was likely infertile. He never fathered any children, even though his wife Martha had four children with her first husband.
Infertility can be caused by many different things—hormone levels, glucose levels, polycystic ovarian syndrome, low sperm count, sporadic ovulation, low sperm motility, endometriosis, irregular menstruation, infections, scar tissue, and much, much more.
Secondary infertility is when someone who has already had a baby has difficulty having another baby.
Secondary infertility is just as devastating as primary infertility. The fact that someone should be “happy with what they have” and be glad they already have a child does not lessen the blow that their hopes and expectations have been pulled away from them.
In vitro fertilization is not the only course of action for infertility. Treatments depend on the underlying cause and will vary based on that. Many treatments are as simple as taking a pill a few times a month or changing your diet. Less than 3% of infertile couples are treated with in vitro fertilization.
Alternative health care like acupuncture or herbal remedies seems to be beneficial at treating infertility.
Infertility is a physical disease and must be treated as such. “Relaxing” won’t get rid of someone’s lupus or diabetes. It won’t get rid of infertility. However, learning to cope with stress is an important part of dealing with infertility, just as it’s an important part of dealing with any long-term disease.
Depression rates in people with infertility are the same as in people diagnosed with cancer.
Adoption is not a cure for infertility—it a cure for childlessness, which is not the same thing.
Infertility increases with age. While society may think that 30 is the new 20, women’s ovaries haven’t got the message.
There are only about 600 reproductive endocrinologists (reproductive specialists) compared to over 28,000 ob-gyns.
Baby showers and birth announcements can be really hard for those who are struggling to have children.
Hormone therapy used to treat infertility can make people extremely moody and sensitive with a penchant to get upset easily, rage astronomically, and cry uncontrollably. They don't act like themselves. They are usually aware. They don't feel like themselves. They don't like themselves either. Show them extra patience and love when this happens.
People with infertility like hugs as much as everyone else. Give them one.

I Think I'm in Denial About Infertility

2013-04-23T01:23:00.000-06:00

My official cause of infertility is unknown.

It could be my body.

It could be my husband's.

Doctors have been surprised that we haven't been able to conceive so I think there is just something about the two of us together.

I've known this for years. Adopted twice. Been off birth control for over a decade. Had surgeries. And yet there is a part of me that is still in denial about my infertility. Especially since it is unexplained, I think that maybe it will just go away. Or maybe there is a 3% chance of me conceiving and it may just happen. Maybe I'll be 46 like Halle Berry and completely taken by surprise. Joci will be in college.

When my friends talk about their birthing stories, there is always a voice in the back of my head that makes plans for when I have the chance to give birth.

My endometriosis has the unpleasant side effect of really heavy periods. My sister told me to get an IUD. It would really minimize them. I dream of how nice that would be...but I just can't justify any kind of birth control. If there is that tiny chance I might get pregnant, I better not prevent any pregnancies no matter how painful and awful my periods are.

Lately, I've developed an allergic reaction to certain brands/types of tampons. I keep praying I won't have a problem with ALL tampons because I don't think I could do this without them. See the above paragraph about super heavy periods. I've semi-joked about getting a hysterectomy if that were the case. Part of me thinks, heck, why not? That uterus is done broke anyway. If it's causin' so much pain, get rid of 'er. But then again...what if?

I am so hung up on the "what if" that I can't consider the idea of birth control - temporary or permanent. In a perfect world where I had perfect control over my fertility, I would probably be done having children by now. Or at the very oldest, 35. I would be more than happy to put my uterus out of commission until menopause decided to kick in. But being saddled with unexplained infertility, I just can't do that. Maybe someday, I'll feel differently. Maybe when I am 35 or encroaching 40 I'll decide that I'm done with hope and I'll be ready to purposefully block the teeny, tiny chance of a miracle pregnancy. But for now, I'll deal with the pain of periods and the pain of the unknown.

Hope is painful.

How Adopting Prepared Me to Become an Author

2013-04-10T18:17:00.000-06:00

I’m not sure I would be an author if I weren’t an adoptive mom. That’s because adoption taught me how to seek after and embrace Plan B.

How to put this delicately…I mean no offense to any other adoptive parents, birth parents, or adoptees—including myself or my children—but adoption was my Plan B. I was going to get married (check!), get a house (check!), get a stable income (check!), get pregnant and have babies and be a mom (uh…roadblock).

The getting pregnant part of Plan A just wasn’t going to happen for me. But did that mean I had to give up on the part about having a house full of babies and being a mom? After thinking about it a lot, I knew that getting pregnant was not really as important to me as being a mom. I could be a mom without being pregnant through adoption. Maybe that makes it Plan A ½ instead of Plan B. Is that a thing? Can I mix fractions with a letter? I pretty much coasted in Algebra but I do remember numbers and letters mixing in equations, so I will allow it. Adoption became Plan A ½. I hit a roadblock but I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Call it what you will—I found a loophole, a cheat, a backdoor, an alternative route—but I became a mom.

As long as I can remember, I wanted to write books. Well, not just write them. I wanted people to read the books I would write. I wanted to be an author. So I made a plan. I was going to write a book (check!), I was going to see if beta readers liked it (check!), I was going to query agents (check!), an agent would pick it up and sell it to a publishing house and I would be an author and people would read my book (uh…roadblock).

I had a lot of positive feedback from many literary agents, but no one offered to champion my book. I can’t say why. I’ve heard that the recession was hard on the publishing industry and no one wanted to take a risk on a new author. Maybe I never found the right agent. Maybe the publishing industry as a whole is changing. I suspect all those things.

I thought that my dream of being an author hinged on an agent’s approval of my work. But as I thought about how I “unconventionally” became a mom, I decided that I could unconventionally become an author. I was tired of people telling me no! I wanted to be in charge of my own destiny, and not be the victim of some external factors (like a bad uterus or a doctor’s opinion or an agent’s opinion).

And that’s how I decided to become an indie author. I wanted my work to sink or swim on it’s own. I wanted readers to decide what they read—not some agent or publishing house. I didn’t want to take no for an answer. I didn’t want to give up my lifelong dream just because I hit a roadblock. So I turned to Plan A ½ and found a “cheat” or a “backdoor” and became a published author. And when it comes down to it, I am more pleased with myself for the courage and tenacity I had to muster to become an indie writer than I am off the money I have made doing it.

Don’t take no for an answer. Plan A ½ is out there. Find it!

Her Hands

2013-04-02T16:37:00.001-06:00

I miss her hands. Soft and warm with long graceful fingers. Ridged with blue veins I would squish down with my fingers. The always-elegant nails filed into long ovals and gleaming with a coat of clear or neutral polish. The thick gold ring on her left hand that she so rarely removed. A few of the joints grew gnarled with age in the past few years. A smattering of brown spots appeared. But her hands were always soft. Always ready for a squeeze or a caress. When I knew she was dying, my only prayer was to get to her in time to hold her hand while it was still warm. I did. I was holding it when she died.

Today I miss her hands.

I Live with an Angel

2013-03-26T22:20:00.001-06:00

I am sometimes overwhelmed by the amazing little girl I have in my home. I am beyond lucky to have the privilege of being her mother. Beyond lucky.

Today was just full of magical moments with my almost-four-year-old.

We were driving home from work/daycare and chatting. I sang a song to her and she said, "Mom, you sing so beautifully."

"I do?" I was genuinely surprised. She normally says that my singing hurts her ears.

"Yes. You can sing at my ballet." I have no clue what she is talking about but I am flattered anyway.

She said something else that was just adorable. I want her to know she is more than just "cute" and "adorable" so I told her this, "Joci, listen to me. You are clever. Do you know what that means? It means you are smart and funny and you are good at so many things."

She beamed. "I am clever." Then she got a sheepish look on her face. "But I lost a ticket." (That's a consequence at her preschool.) I told her I knew she lost a ticket. And then she said, "We all make mistakes but it just means we can try again tomorrow."

We pulled into our driveway after daycare/work and Joci got out to help me open the garage door. A beautiful gray cat was hanging around like usual, mewing loudly. This cat has been sneaking into the garage for months for something to eat. I do not know if she has a home or not (I will give her one!). Joci has dubbed her Seraphina. The first thing Joci noticed was that the cat was wet from the rain.

"Oh, no! We have to dry the cat off!" she said as we lifted the garage. I knew the cat wasn't too bothered by the weather - it was more excited to get some food. I pulled the car into the garage while Joci stood to the side watching to make sure the cat didn't dodge in front of the wheels. I got out of the car and told her it was okay to move, and before I knew it she had her coat off. "Pink coats can dry off cats," she said as she wrapped her little coat around a soaking wet cat who seemed grateful.

Inside the house chaos as usual erupted. Noelle is always hungry and ready for bed. Joci is hungry. As am I. And I have to go to the bathroom. So Noelle was on the floor in the hall while I took a half a minute use the bathroom. Without even having to ask her, Joci danced for her baby sister and played patty cake to stop her from crying.

Later in the evening, I was reading in a bubble bath while Joci was doing her own thing. She came to visit me and said, "You don't have any toys!" She proceeded to open the cupboard and dump her entire toy bucket on me. She hiked up her pants and dipped her feet in the water. She was begging to get in but I didn't want her to. I instructed her to get out and go back to her movie. She climbed out and sank down next to the tub, her arms resting on her knees. "Can I just sit here and talk to you?"

How can I say no to that? In the end, she ended up in the bath with me. These moments are precious and she is such a precious soul. I should take advantage of these sweet, innocent years. The cherry on top of the night was when she looked at my bare chest and complimented me on my beautiful nipples.

10 Reasons I Should Totally Be a Celebrity

2013-03-20T23:28:00.001-06:00

A couple of months ago I wrote 10 Ways You Can Tell I Am Not a Celebrity. Here are 10 Reasons I Should Be One.

I have no regard for my privacy (hello? Blogger!).
I know I would make a darling millionaire.
Since I’ve never had a DUI or drug charge, I’d be a stellar role model by Hollywood standards
I wrote a book. Don't all celebrities write books?
I adopted my children, which is pretty trendy in Tinsel Town right now. I’d totally fit in.
I would have no moral qualms about wearing $5 million dollars of jewelry to a charity event where I would help raise $1 million for suffering children - oooh, pretty!
I’d be pretty entertaining on a talk show (at least I think I would).
I would be that staple on the red carpet worst dress list that you always looked forward to mocking.
I put my foot in my mouth quite often and I don't even have to have taken a shot (like Jennifer Lawrence).
I've had a documented public nip slip.

Fixing the Hole in My Heart

2013-03-10T19:54:00.003-06:00

My heart surgery was this past Thursday. We arrived at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. and got all ready to go in. The morning had been rushed and stressful, our tempers were a bit short. Honestly, I think it was fear that was doing that to us. The last time either Justin or I had been in a hospital was when my mom died. And here I was having a surgery meant to spare me from a similar death.

When I laid too long on the bed in the quiet, memories of those dark days in December came unbidden and tears spilled from my eyes. At least three times that day, different medical professionals asked about the symptoms of my heart condition and I had to explain that I never had any symptoms and then answer their quizzical looks with the recounting of my mom's death and the subsequent discovery of my heart defect. Justin asked how I could do it - retell the story so many times with a steady voice. It just about killed him to hear it again and again. It's funny...I can talk about the facts. I can tell the story. I can say the words. "Stroke." "Never woke up." "ASD." "Died." It's the pictures behind those words that I have to push away just to finish the conversation.

It was one of those surgeries where privacy was only an attempt at courtesy. I had an EKG and two echocardiograms. Sensors placed all over my bare chest. My groin shaved, examined, checked, and rechecked.

This was a simple procedure. We were told that time and again. I didn't care. I was still scared. My mom's shoulder surgery was routine. We even had discussions about death and wishes and life insurance and all those things you should talk about from time to time, especially before a surgery, but there was a realness to those talks that has never been there before.

The procedure went really well. No complications or anything. I was barely under anesthesia for an hour. Almost right away, I was encouraged to eat and drink. After about three and a half hours, the nurse said I could try standing up and if I felt okay, I could go home. Within just a couple moments on my feet, I saw a dark, red spot on the bandage covering my femoral vein. I was in the restroom, so I finished my business, watching with interest as the BB sized drop of blood grew to the size of a nickel in only a minute or two.

The surgeon accessed my heart through the femoral vein and having it bleed was the biggest concern post-op. It wasn't stitched or glued or anything. Just bandaged with a sticky patch. I laid back on the hospital bed. The nurse put pressure on the vein for ten minutes and I was instructed to remain bed-ridden for a couple more hours.

It was time to try walking again. After a short walk around the hospital floor, the vein seemed to be staying closed. I went to the bathroom to change my clothes and go home. I stared at my bare chest in the mirror. Somewhere under the pale skin, flesh, and bone my heart was beating differently. I stared at my chest. There was no scar. No sign of anything different. I placed my palm on my chest, wondering if I would feel a different rhythm. Things were supposed to be different now. But everything felt the same. I thought about the things I had inherited from my mom. Her height. Her eyebrows. Her fingernails. The tendency to collect extra calories around my middle. And her heart defect. Beneath skin and bone and muscle and sinew beat the same traitorous heart she had. And it only took half a day to fix mine. I was angry staring at the mirror for the millionth time thinking how everything could be so different right now if my mom had known about her heart and had the same minor surgery at some point in her life.

With a smoothie in hand, I went home and I have been recovering quickly ever since. I get a little weak at times and I cannot lift my children or anything over 10 lbs for a week (this is going to make evenings fun when I am home 2 hours before my husband!), but of the four surgeries I have gone through, this by far has been the least painful and has had the easiest recovery.

Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers during this time. They're working.

Whatcha Doin' Tomorrow?

2013-03-06T22:16:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna get up kinda early, but I am going to skip makeup and probably skip wearing a bra and go do this:

Then probably sleep a lot.

But when I wake up, watch out because I'm returning as an unstoppable bionic woman.

St. George and Aladdin

2013-03-02T15:31:00.004-07:00

I got very behind on posting family pictures so it's time for a LOT of backtracking. :)

Random picture of Joci falling asleep reading scriptures. She would ask for me to leave my scriptures with her to go to sleep and I was so nervous because the pages are so delicate, but I risked it and they were always fine. I would usually find her like this. So sweet.

Over Labor Day we went to visit my parents in St. George. We hadn't been there for about 14 months so it was good to go. I am very glad we went. However, I regret that I don't have any pictures of my parents from that trip.

Swimming at the clubhouse. I really dislike swimming so I watched the baby on the sides as Justin and Joci swam. Even my mom got in the pool. I remember her and Joci swimming and playing - Joci was Ariel the mermaid and my mom was pretending to be the sea witch.

This was Noelle's first trip to St. George. My mom got her in this little stroller and took her all over her neighborhood to show her off to her friends and neighbors. Such a proud grandma.

My mom was also so good about getting thing like this swing down from the attic and setting it up. I told her she didn't need to worry about it because we were only there for 48 hours - Noelle could easily survive without a swing. But my mom would always bend over backwards for anyone even if you told her not to. So the swing came out of the attic and Noelle certainly loved it.

We took Joci to her first play - Aladdin at Tuacahn theatre. I was really nervous. The tickets were pretty pricey and I was afraid she would be so restless that none of us would enjoy it. But from the moment the first chords started, she was thoroughly enchanted. After the first number, we clapped and the lights went dark and asked if we could do it again - she thought it was over. When Aladdin and Jasmine flew right over us on their magic carpet, she held up her arms to catch them in case they fell. She was so well-behaved, just in awe of the whole spectacle. At intermission we bought her a frozen lemonade and popcorn. Not the most flattering shot of her legs above (I swear she is wearing shorts!) but look at that grin!

We had a great trip.

Losing a Birth Father

2013-02-28T21:57:00.000-07:00

Last month I received a text message from the translator who helped us with Noelle's adoption in Arkansas. She relayed some very shocking news. Noelle's birth father had very tragically died. It was sudden and unexpected.

My emotions surrounding the event are confusing.

I met this young man and loved him instantly. He was always smiling. Noelle was his first/only child and he was such a proud papa. He snuggled her, kissed her, rubbed his nose on her soft newborn skin. I very much remember him showing off all the pictures he had taken on his tablet. When there is a language barrier, pictures and actions speak louder than words.

He had a light about him, an energy that was just contagious. Noelle looks just like him and I feel like she already has that same joy that lights her from within. She has a part of him in her. It is a tragedy that he is gone from this world so young.

At the same time...I barely knew this man. I met him a few times. Never had a real conversation for him. My sadness over his death isn't my own. It's a sadness for what might have been. The relationship I could have had with him. The relationship Noelle could have had. The pain and loss and emptiness that Noelle may or may not feel one day over her birth dad.

I know our presence was desired at the funeral, but it was not feasible for us to make a trek from Idaho to Arkansas in such short time.

Our prayers have been with Garry's family and his girlfriend, Noelle's birth mother. I pray for my little girl too, to be able to accept this part of her identity with the grace she will undoubtedly need.

The Ivory Dress

2013-02-22T22:25:00.001-07:00

When my mom got sick, I packed a suitcase of clothes and flew down to be with her, not knowing I would need a dress for a funeral a few days later. I purchased a dress while I was down there in southern Utah and wore it to the three funerals we had.

And then it remained in my closet for over two months.

Last week when I was running late to work, I stood staring at my closet when a brilliant idea crossed my brain - if I wear a dress, I don't have to put together an outfit. I stared at the dress. It's a nice dress, and new. It's just a dress. It's not haunted. Right? So I put on the ivory dress.

I got more compliments on that dress than maybe any other ensemble I have worn. Maybe that's just what it felt like. And the compliments weren't like, "hey, nice dress." I swear I got a "You look like you're going to a wedding!" And I even got a "What a playful outfit!"

Every compliment stung.

Every single one.

But it's just a dress. Right?

Things I Am Craving Right Now

2013-02-20T21:08:00.001-07:00

Craft Macaroni and Cheese
Famous Dave's macaroni and cheese
BBQ potato chips
Hot chocolate
Garlic bread
Raspberries
Brownies
Mashed potatoes and gravy
Crackers
A good panini
A nap

I've been avoiding carbs - hence the cravings. Boy, they are intense!!! Also, I was up to 2 a.m. last night because I drove to Salt Lake last night to watch the Utah Jazz play a basketball game and drove back home. Hence the nap.

Let's see if I can hold out against the cravings. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

Flaming Fromage

2013-02-12T23:32:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you have to see to believe.

After reading about a brunost cheese fire that burned for days in Norway, I wanted to see this super special cheese with my own eyes.

Thanks to the internet and refrigerated shipping, I ordered a pound of brunost cheese for a fair amount of money (my mom always said I liked waste...she wasn't wrong) I set about trying to burn this cheese. I'd read that it took high temperatures. I tried three different methods.

Cheese that looks like peanut butter and tastes like caramel-flavored Cheez Whiz. Those silly Norwegians.

First things first though - be safe!

Start basic - try lighting it on fire. Sizzles, but does not ignite.

Try campfire style with bits of tinder and paper. The "kindling" burns but the cheese does not.

Method number 2: direct heat in a skillet

Method number 3: thin slices on a cookie tray right under the oven's broiler

It's smokin'! And let me tell ya, my husband was THRILLED with this experiment: "You spent HOW much on cheese and my house smells like this WHY?"

Melting, bubbling, and smoking

And finally - FIRE! The cheese in the oven combusted from the high temperature. Less than an ounce of cheese burned for over ten minutes.

I finally put a lid on my skillet and there was a flash fire, but it would go out every time I lifted the lid. While the cheese in the oven turned to complete ash, the cheese in the skillet looked like a lava rock.

I really liked the cheese. Supposedly it's great on venison, in soups, and on desserts. What does it taste like? You know how there is bacon-flavored Easy Cheese? This tasted like caramel-flavored Easy Cheese. With the consistency of fudge.

Operation Burning Brunost - SUCCESS!

P.S. For the record, I really liked the cheese. I thought it tasted great on apple slices. I shared it at the office and 4 out of 5 people liked it. The others strongly hated it.

2013-02-01T21:41:00.005-07:00

I still am building up my readership on my author blog, so I am cross promoting here. Hope you don't mind. Here is my February promotion for my book OCEANSWEPT and some of its followup pieces.

I'm ready to try a new promotion. Something in it for me, something in it for you.

Here's the challenge:

Create a reading list with OCEANSWEPT in it.

Here's what you get:

The winner, drawn at random, will get to be a beta reader for my short story in the OCEANSWEPT CHRONICLES and the first few chapters of UNDERTOW (the sequel). What exactly does that mean? You get to read these pieces in their draft form before anyone else. You give me your input on the story, give me suggestions on how to make it better, identify mistakes, etc. I only have about five beta readers. It's a pretty elite group. Super special. Honors and benefits. Wowee. There is a responsibility that goes with this though. You cannot distribute the manuscript to anyone. It's illegal. So it's just your special secret. :)

Here's how to do it:

Create a Listmania list on Amazon.com (Here are instructions)

and/or

Create a Listopia list on Goodreads.com. I couldn't find a good link for instructions, but it's pretty easy. Log into Goodreads.com and on the top right area of the page next to the search bar is a link that says "Create a list." Click that, and it's pretty easy to figure out.

Make any list you want, put as many books on it as you want, but you need to include OCEANSWEPT. You can create a list called "Good Summer Reads" or "YA Romance" or "Books that Would Make Great Movies" or "Books with Sweet Covers" or "Terrible Indie Books You Shouldn't Waste Your Money On." Anything you want. Create a list, fill it with books, include OCEANSWEPT. And then, let me know about your list. You can leave a comment here, leave a comment on my author blog, or message me on Facebook or leave a comment on my Facebook wall (Facebook.com/LaraHaysAuthor).

You get an entry for each list you make.

Ways for More Entries:

You get additional entry every day you share your list. So Tweet it, post it on Facebook, blog about it, whatever. So if you do all three things - Twitter, Facebook, and blog - you can potentially get three entries every day per list. Again, leave a comment on one of my sites or message me with the link of where you shared it and you'll have your entry.

At the end of the contest, I will use Random.org to randomly select the winner and my new beta reader. This contest goes through March 1.

Clear as mud? Good! :)

P.S. If there is another website/location besides Amazon.com or Goodreads.com where you can make a reading list, you can do that and get credit for it too.

Is Infertility a Fight or a Loss?

2013-01-28T10:58:00.000-07:00

I saw this secret on PostSecret yesterday.

It's had me thinking.

Do I agree with what the person is saying?

Should infertility be referred to a "fight" like cancer?

I'm just going to write down my meandering thoughts about it and give you a warning in advance that I haven't come to any conclusions.

I think cancer is a "fight" because it is often a life and death situation, like a war or battle. To win the fight with cancer, you live. It goes into remission and you are cancer free. Many losses happen along the way, but no one really counts those as long as you live in the end. People lose their body parts, years of their life, health, and money. But in the end, if you live, you won the "fight."

Infertility is not life-threatening. Yes, it threatens my way of life. But it won't kill me. I may lose body parts, years of my life, health, and money, but I am not really at risk to die. And how would win a "fight" against infertility? By becoming pregnant? Naturally? Does it count if it took serious medical intervention to become pregnant? Without that intervention, that person would never get pregnant, so they are still infertile. If you have a baby with medical intervention, did you win? Even though you'll have to go to those extents all over a gain for a second child? Your body isn't better. You didn't overcome anything...you just kind of circumvented it. If you are "infertile" and then a couple years down the road you are able to naturally conceive and have a baby (several times), then were you really infertile to begin with? Does adopting a baby win the fight against infertility (I am here to tell you that it does not - adoption is a cure for childlessness, not infertility). So if there is no way to win this "fight," is it really a fight?

But calling infertility a "loss" isn't right either. A loss is something you had and you lose. You lose your belief that you'll be able to have children. You lose your hopes and dreams. But you only halfway lose them. Because you can do things to gain those things. Like medical intervention. When I think of a loss, I think of losing my mom. She died and she is not coming back. I can dream about her. I can think about her. But I can't go to a doctor and see if he can find a way to circumvent her death. The cruel thing about infertility is that it comes with a bit of hope. The lose isn't complete in many cases (some people - those who are sterile - have complete loss). Month after month, there is a twinge of hope. It bubbles up again and again, no matter how hard you try to keep it down. And the devastation of "loss" happens month after month too. So I am not sure infertility can really be called a "loss" either.

Infertility takes fight, that's for sure. Going through that pain every month. Deciding to close your heart to a lifetime worth of dreams or going to a doctor and having your intimate life analyzed on a calendar, taking hormones that make you crazy, torturing your body and heart, all with the slim chance of getting pregnant. It takes a warrior's heart to be able to do that.

So what is infertility? A fight? A loss? A mountain to climb? A disability? I live with it every day and I find it...undefinable.

What are your thoughts on this postcard?

P.S. I had been thinking of the "fight" vs. "loss" on an individual level. When looking at it from a societal level, I do believe infertility should be a "fight" and have more attention. Infertility rates are going up. That is terrifying. Whether that's from some kind of environmental issue, toxicity in food/poor nutrition, genetic mutations, whatever, I don't know. But it is scary. And it isn't very well supported. Very few insurance companies cover infertility expenses - because it's not a health issue, right? Insurance covers Viagra. Because obviously the inability to maintain an erection is seriously devastating to your health and life, but not being able to reproduce doesn't matter.

I Miss You

2013-01-26T19:42:00.002-07:00

My talented husband wrote and recorded this song and then put this wonderful video together.

10 Ways You Can Tell I Am Not a Celebrity

2013-01-18T21:08:00.000-07:00

Even though I am drop-dead sexy enough to be a starlet...

1. I own five pairs of shoes.
2. No one notices if I gain five pounds.
3. I am registered as a Republican and I own a gun
4. I have never eaten quinoa in my life
5. My vacations are in places like Island Park, Idaho, or maybe Las Vegas. I have never been to St. Tropez.
6. I only have 300 followers on Twitter
7. I arguably have the cutest kids ever and no one pays me millions for their pictures. In fact, I post them online for free (but they are so cute, I really could start charging money to look at them)

8. I have to wait in line
9. No one gives me golden, naked figures when I am particularly adept at my job
10. I wear underpants.

Noelle Blowing Raspberries

2013-01-16T01:37:00.000-07:00

Raspberries are in season!

It's sure a lot more fun to wake up to this sound in the monitor every morning than crying. So cute. :)

By Dying, My Mom Is Saving My Life

2013-01-09T21:46:00.000-07:00

A month (and an hour and ten minutes) ago my mom died..

I have never gone this long without hearing her voice. I know that seems like a no-brainer, but I have probably gone three weeks without talking to her before. Stretches like that weren't unusual. But never a month.

My mom officially died of a stroke. But there were contributing factors. One of which was an atrial septal defect in her heart--a hole in her heart that allowed blood clots to bypass the normal clot filtration system and go to her brain, thus causing the stroke.

If only the doctors knew about this heart problem before the surgery...

When I learned about this, I silently vowed to myself that I would insist on having my heart thoroughly checked out before having any kind of surgical procedure again.

After Christmas, I had my annual physical. Upon hearing about my mother's death, my physician was very inquisitive about the causes. Because holes in the heart can be genetic, he listened hard to detect a murmur in me. We tried all kinds of positions and activities - sitting down, lying down, up-side-down, jumping up, and crouching down. He did not hear one. Still, just to put my mind at ease, he got me an appointment for an echocardiogram before the new insurance year rolled around.

The next day I went in for an echo and a bubble study. It was interesting in and of itself, but also interesting knowing it was the exact type of test my mother had just a couple of weeks before while she was in the coma.

I didn't get the results back until last Friday.

I have the same defect.

The doctor recommends heart surgery to close it.

I meet with the cardiologist next Monday. I expect his recommendation to be the same. The procedure should be able to be accomplished through a catheter going through an artery--no need to open my chest up or anything.

Justin's a bit of a worried mess about it all. I'm pretty chill about it, though I feel like Edward Bloom from the story Big Fish who saw his own death in the witch's eye. A clot would go to my brain and I would have a stroke, same as my mother...same as my grandmother. But really, now that we know about the heart defect and we can correct it, that scenario is being erased and my end is being rewritten.

Upon learning about my mother's heart and her subsequent stroke as I sat by her side in the hospital, I felt angry at her body. It had betrayed her. It had betrayed us all. It is not an unfamiliar feeling. I felt (and sometimes still feel) that way about my own body that refuses to get pregnant. And now I just discovered another way my body was ready to betray me again.

But a friend said to me that my mom saved my life. I am glad Ryan said that because I hadn't thought of it that way. I suppose she died because it was her time and all that, but her death pushed me to have my heart checked out. Now I will have it fixed and it will never be a worry. And my diagnosis is prompting all my siblings to have their hearts checked in the near future. More lives might be saved. Part of me wonders if she had any say in how she died. And if any part of her spirit knew that her death could prolong her children's lives, I know that should would have chosen to lay down her life.

All I know is that I will not die the same way my mother did. Her death has quite possibly saved my life.

Joci's World 2

2013-01-06T21:47:00.000-07:00

I was tucking Joci into bed, anxious to get her settled so I could get on with a child-free evening. I sang three songs, told a story, and all that. As I was getting ready to leave, Joci kept saying, "Mom! Mom. Mo-om."

"What?" I asked, a little exasperated.

"You need to be patient and just lay by me."

How can you resist that? The Big Bang Theory can wait five more minutes.

****************************

We were camping and Joci noticed a yellow moon shining through the trees.

"The moon is stuck in the trees!"

"Yes it is."

"We need it get it down!" she said, concerned.

I always think it's best to let kids come up with their own solutions. "How should we do that, Joci?" I asked.

"I know," she said confidently. "I will turn into a cow and then I will jump over the moon."

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"Everyone has a bum....And clothes....And a closet."

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One morning we were going to go out to breakfast together after I took Noelle to daycare. I explained this to Joci. "I will drop Noelle off and then we'll go."

"No, Mom! You don't drop Noelle!"

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Another literal interpretation. One day when picking the girls up at daycare, as always, I told Joci to wait on the sidewalk while I got her sister taken care of.

"Stay here while I put Noelle away in the car."

"No! She is not a toy! You don't put her away!"

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We were leaving our ward Halloween party, and Joci was reluctant to go because she was having so much fun. She sat down on the grass and rested her cheeks in her hands (so dramatic!) and said, "Are you kidding me?"

We laughed so hard. We kept asking her the same thing, "Are you kidding me?"

She would say stuff like, "Are you kidding my mom?"

So then Justin asked, "Are you kidding my wife?"

And then Joci retorted, "Are you kidding my life?"

We laughed so hard and that saying has stuck. Now everything is answered with a cheeky, "Are you kidding my life?"

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We were driving in the car in the dark. Joci had some books she was trying to read. She asked me to turn the light on. I explained that I couldn't, I needed the light off to drive in the dark. Then she pertinently said, "You ruined my life!" She went on and on about that until a passing car shone it's headlights on her book. Then she was happy (even though the light was only there for a split second). I asked her if I had ruined her life anymore. "No, my life isn't ruined anymore. Just a couple minutes were ruined."

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