HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

I think you either love Halloween, or don't like it so much. I'm on the don't like it so much side. BUT - I do love treats so that's a bonus for me. This is a picture of my neighbor's house and I think it is the most clever decoration I've ever seen. That is to say if it's not really a dead guy they're waiting to bury! If that's the case, I don't think I'll let my girls baby sit for them anymore.

One Foot Out The Door

My oldest son is 17. He is a senior in high school. I never see him. He leaves in the morning to lift weights with the football team before school, then goes to school. By the time he gets home from school I'm walking out the door to take younger siblings to dance and football practice. When I get back home, he's gone to football practice of his own. When he gets home, I'm going to bed so I can get up at five a.m. and take my daughter to dance. We do get a moment in the morning when I mix up his morning breakfast and again at night when we say good night and end the day with a prayer of thanks.

I'm a lucky mother because every day for the last several years my son has said to me: "I'll tell you about my day." He then proceeds to give me every and any detail of his day. (I know, I'm lucky). I know where he ate for lunch, and with who. I know which teachers are driving him nuts and what he's got to do for the next day. They say knowledge is power and boy howdy is that true when you've got teenagers.

So when this new school year brought us dueling schedules, I suddenly noticed a void in my life. My knowledge and power were out the window and my boy was flying solo. I hated my lack of control. He had one foot out the door and I almost wished he'd just walk out and shut the door behind him. It was too hard having him here, but never seeing him and not being able to help.

Then it hit me. This is what I'd been working towards his whole 17 years of life. I'd been teaching him how to use his wings these many years so that when the time came, he could fly solo successfully. And you know what? He's flying beautifully!

Instead of hating the fact that we never have quality time together. I'm negotiating time. I'll stay up later than I'd like so I can hear his "I'll tell you about my day" stories. We'll make a quick trip to a nearby gas station for an ice-cream cone after school before we go our separate ways. We even planned a trip to see his favorite team the Denver Broncos play in a Monday Night Football game. We had a blast and made memories that will last long after he's gone off to college.

I also realized that your kids will always be your kids. Lucky for me, it will never end. Families are forever and I look forward to hearing stories about my kids' days, and my grand kids' days, and so on and so on for all eternity.

Haven't Met You Yet

Last Friday night I watched my beautiful 15-year old daughter perform at half-time of the high school football game. She is on the dance team at the high school and she is amazing. As I watched her dance, I thought to myself: "Some lucky guy is going to get swept off his feet by her. I wonder what he's up to tonight."



After the game my 9-year old daughter and I drove home together. As we negotiated the twists and turns of the roads that led us home, we heard a new song on the radio by Michael Buble (another one of our favorites) called "Haven't Met You Yet." Watch it on YouTube here.



Ironic - how I was just thinking about the great guy that's out there who will one day walk into the life of my darling daughter and then that song came on - don't ya think? Hopefully it's a sign she'll meet someone as cute and talented as Michael Buble!

Meet Harvey

Two weeks after getting the news that my son would need to start wearing a back brace, and one week after being casted for it, and $2,500 later, we finally got it. The instructions were to start wearing it at night, while sleeping, to get used to it.

Like sleeping in a two foot piece of plastic cinched on you like a girdle is going to get you used to it.

Further instructions were to care for the brace like we would our son. For example, if we wouldn't leave our son in a hot car, then we shouldn't leave the brace in a hot car either. We made our way home and I dropped my son off to hang out with friends. I put the brace in the front seat, so as to care for it like a son, and I continued to run various errands around town. At the end of the day, I had nicknamed the brace. He was, after all, going to be part of the family for the next six years and I was going to be caring for him like a son. I call him Harvey, after the film of the same name starring Jimmy Stewart. In the film, Harvey is an invisible white rabbit. I felt like the name fit since Harvey is not real, but will be a very real part of our life.

My son is a champ. He has been wearing the brace full time now for two weeks and I've not heard a complaint from him - except when his skin got pinched and he yelled "Harvey bit me!" I guess my next task is negotiating sibling rivalry.

One, Two, Dancing With You

My 12-year old son was diagnosed with scoliosis at age one. We've monitored it closely ever since. This past August was his most recent check-up. It was the last week of summer. We had to travel from our home in Southern Utah to Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City for the appointment. My four kids and I enjoyed the drive while listening to some of our favorite tunes. Mindy Gledhill is one of our favorites so when her song "Dancing With You" came on, my 12-year old, who was sitting solo in the very back seat, started singing along with Mindy.

A moment later my phone was vibrating in my pocket. "Hello?" On my phone I heard my son serenading me from his phone in the back seat. "One, two, dancing with you. Oh and three, four, my face touches yours. Five, six, seven - oh heaven - eight, nine, ten comes too soon when I'm singing and dancing with you." I must have had a grin similar to the Cheshire cat. I thought he was hilarious and loved looking in the rear view to see him singing and swaying as he sung to me.

The next day we went to his check up. As we sat in the waiting room I told him he would never have to wear a brace as he had had his curves since birth and they hadn't changed yet. 20 minutes later I was trying to keep myself from falling off my chair as the Dr. told us his curves had indeed worsened and he would now need to wear a plastic body brace until he was done growing - so maybe for the next six years.

I fought back tears for my son. I didn't want him to think it was time to panic. We left the hospital and I told him of all the things that could be worse, then we drove in silence for a time. Again my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. This time a text. It read: "One, two, dancing with you. Oh and three, four, my face touches yours. Five, six, seven - oh heaven - eight, nine ten comes too soon when I'm singing and dancing with you." Cue the tears that now flowed unstoppable the rest of the way home and into the next two days.

Love can negotiate anything.

Motherhood - My Secret Life As A Hostage Negotiator

I've been a mother for almost 18 years now. During those 18 years I've yearned to write a book titled "Motherhood - My Secret Life As A Hostage Negotiator." I pictured on the cover a mother and child. The child would be holding a permanent marker and the mother would be saying "Put the permanent marker down and no one gets hurt!" Why we mothers even purchase permanent markers is a question for the ages.

My book title got me thinking about life's negotiations and how motherhood really is a constant negotiation. It starts the minute you're pregnant. You negotiate with the heavens that you'll never make another wrong choice if you could just stop throwing up for a couple of hours. Or childbirth where you negotiate your husbands life if someone will just get the child out of you. And soon you're negotiating with the powers that be that you'll be eternally faithful if your child would sleep for several consecutive hours. Then the negotiations start with child. You have one more bite of broccoli and I'll let you go from the dinner table. You don't scream in the shopping cart at WalMart and I'll buy you a treat. You get dressed and I'll not care if it doesn't match.

The hostage in the scenario is, of course, me. I'm constantly negotiating myself out of difficult situations in order to save myself from collateral damage. I'm the one who will suffer the most if I don't negotiate carefully. The trick, I've learned over the past 18 years, is in the give and take. Mostly in your willingness to surrender more give and take less.

Since my book has been floating around my head for 18 years now, I figured I better start getting it on paper - or at least on computer. Thus my blog "Life's Negotiations" where I'll keep a record of my negotiations in hopes that my posterity can look back on my life and learn something from all my hard work and effort.