18 Summers

My bloggy friend, Amy, wrote a post yesterday on her delightful blog that made my heart ache.  18: How Many Summers Do You Have?  You should wander over there and read it because it happens to be the inspiration for this post.  

Isn't that the thought weighing heavily on everyone's minds lately!  How Many Summers Do You Have Left?  That seems to be the topic of conversation with everyone I meet these days...perhaps it's because I'm the one always bringing it up.  But even after I do, my friends chime right in with their own lamentations about how quickly time has flown in their families, too, and how few years there are left to fit it all the things that still have to be done.  

Savannah is graduating in December, so this is our LAST summer with her!  This may have been a big part of the reason for the impulsive Memorial Day church history trip.  There are clearly NOT enough summers left for all the trips we wanted to take with the kids.  When they were little, Craig always talked about taking a family vacation to France so the kids could see where he served his mission, and so his mission could see the kids!  We haven't yet made it to France or to a lot of the places that were on that original list...Canada, New York, Washington DC, or...Hawaii!  (ugh...how many Hawaiian kids do you know who have never been to Hawaii?? I'm pretty sure that's some kind of cultural irresponsibility that I'm going to be accountable for at some point in the future.) 

It feels like I'm trying so hard lately to hang on to the little pieces of today without fretting too much about how they're going by faster than I would like them to.  But as much as I try to suppress the desperation, I can still feel it lurking beneath the surface.  Every shopping trip...  Every last day of school tradition...  Every family prayer... makes the countdown in my head more and more apparent.  18 years seems like a shockingly short amount of time when your oldest daughter is 17 1/2, and the others are not far behind.  

But...as I was writing my very long comment on Amy's blog post, I had this little moment of clarity and personal revelation...

Craig and I may not have covered the whole list of stuff we wanted to accomplish before our kids leave the nest, but we've done a lot, and they have seen and experienced A LOT in those 17 1/2 years.  They've been to the Everglades, Rushmore, Carlsbad Caverns, Zion, the Grand Canyon, Teton, and Yellowstone.  They've slept in a tent, caught a fish, driven a golf cart and a tractor, and hiked for miles.  They've seen oceans and mountains, lakes and deserts.  They've experienced snow pants and snorkeling gear, ferries, cruise ships, and jet skis.  They've seen alligators up close, had monkeys untie their shoes, and had a picnic with a bear.  And in 2012 they saw the world's largest ball of twine!  But while all those trips are definitely memorable and fun, they're not the only way we can make an impression on our kids.  Even though our days are flying by and filled to the brim with so many demands and responsibilities, these kids are STILL HERE.  No one has actually left yet.    

So, instead of regretting what we don't have time to do, I've been trying to look for the things I CAN do.   I've said yes more often.  Yes to otter pops.  Yes to snuggling.  Yes to staying up a little later.  I've been trying to flop on their beds a little more often, and hang out at the pool WITH them instead of sending them off with friends.  I take the long way home when I have just one kid in the car with me and look for opportunities to hear what's on their minds.  I crawled into a fort made out of blankets last night and just listened to McKay tell me all about his dream car.  And hopefully, one day when they're all out of the house, we can look back and say, "We didn't do everything, but we did enough."

Perhaps those unchecked adventures are still possibilities in our future.  Maybe one of the kids will want to go to BYU Hawaii and we'll get to make a family trip out of setting up a college dorm room?  Maybe we'll just have to take some sons-in-laws and a daughter-in-law with us to NY or DC.  Maybe we'll take GRANDBABIES to DisneyWorld!  Or...perhaps all the things we didn't get to do will become the things that make it on our kids' FUTURE bucket lists for their own families.  

There are lots of stages of our lives that are over, and many exciting ones left to come, but oh, how happy I just am for today.  For this summer.  For these days.  And for the way life looks at this moment.  

20 Years

Dear Babies,

Today is the 20th anniversary of the day Daddy and I got married.  Oh, how the days have changed since February 19, 1994.  We didn't know then that we would have all four of you, where life (and jobs) would take us, or how our lives would look in 20 years.  But we had high expectations and we were anxious to start our life together, whatever it looked like.

In 1994, my head was spinning with excitement and the thought of all the possibilities that were ahead of us.  A hundred people traveled all the way to San Diego to be part of our day.  Nana sent gorgeous flowers from Hawaii even though she couldn't make the trip.  Grandma and Grandpa George were busy running around the Del Mar Hilton making sure all the reception plans were coming together.  The Grs had a room full of Thunells who were anxious for a wedding and for a week of playing in California.  Aunt Nance helped me get ready, and then everyone made a huge fuss over my dress and my hair and my flowers.  There was more food at our reception than I think I've ever seen in my life, but we didn't eat any of it because we were so giddy and happy.  Who could think about food?  It was a spectacular day.

Twenty years later, our day looks a little different than it did in 1994.  Daddy and I had breakfast with you and read scriptures, just like every other day.  We folded laundry together after everyone left for school.  I didn't even get to talk to him for very long before he started a conference call this morning.  At 9:00am, I am still in jammies and slippers and no one is making a fuss over me.  Our anniversary dinner will have to wait until tomorrow night because I have Cub Scouts this afternoon and he has YM tonight.  The schedules take precedence these days.  But today will still be as perfect a day as the one we spent together 20 years ago.  

I want you to know that as amazing as our wedding day was, it is the thousands of ordinary days that we've had since then that I am most grateful for.   It's not the grand vacations or the expensive gifts or parties full of people that I remember and cherish the most about the last 20 years.  It is sitting in church next to Daddy with all of you beside us.  It's the dinners around the kitchen table, the diapers changed, the sleepless nights, the endless road trips, the crazy, not so reverent FHEs, and the furniture moved into and out of a handful of homes.  It's yard work and birthday cakes and fingerprints and the sound of Daddy snoring.  

Daddy and I have become a great team over the last 20 years.  I design and he executes.  I have an idea or a vision or an inspiration, and he believes in it and brings it to pass.  I cry and yell and get frustrated and he is the calm voice of reason that puts everything back into perspective.  I procrastinate and become overwhelmed and he makes a list.  He brings us all together and I make delicious food.  He gives a great Sunday School lesson and I tie the little spiritual bow around it at the end.  He is consistent and reliable and I am hilarious and emotional.  He cleans bathrooms and I take care of sick babies.  He plans road trips and packs the car and I make a beautiful, organized nest out of the hotel room.    
    
That balance didn't happen overnight.  It has taken 20 wonderful, challenging, difficult, joyful years to create that and to appreciate it.  I would not be me without Daddy.  And he would not be himself without me.  There are two of us for a reason.  We are better together than we would be apart.  And we would not be who we are without all of you.  

I am grateful for who we have become over the last 20 years.  And I am so grateful for that February day 20 years ago in California because it was the beginning of a beautiful life with all of you.   

I love you so much,

Mommy

Menu Planning

Do you know what I'm SO excited about this week?  The MONTHLY Menu Plan that I worked on while I was pretending to scrapbook last weekend.  I have sporadically used weekly menu plans in the past and I LOVE them, but somehow Friday always rolls around and I'm not prepared for either the weekend or the following week.  So I thought a plan covering a longer period of time might be a better option.

Here's what I did…

I went through all of my Pinterest recipes and all of our "family favorites" and made a list of 30 different dinners that my family either already loves or that I've wanted to try.   Surprisingly it wasn't that hard to come up with 30.

Then I made a MASTER LIST of all the groceries needed to make ALL of those recipes.

And then when I got home I transferred all those recipes onto a giant desk calendar that now lives on our fridge instead of on my desk.  

Craig prefers dinners with meat in them, so I made sure to plan all of our pasta favorites and meatless dinners on the nights when he's traveling.  I scheduled mostly crock pot dinners or quick dinners on Wednesday nights because of the small window between Cub Scouts and YM/YW activities.  And easy, prep ahead meals for Sundays.  

After a week of this menu in place here's the reality of it...I've only stuck with the plan for three out of five days…and the weekend will look slightly different than it does on that calendar, too.   I try to have all of our events scheduled on the calendar, but variable things like Savannah's work schedule, and missionaries popping over, and camp outs that I forget about, make flexibility a good thing. Wednesday night's dinner wasn't a hit, so I ended up with tons of leftover chicken.  So for dinner last night, instead of quiche, I just got rid of the yucky stuffing part of Wednesday's dinner that no one liked, diced up the chicken breasts and made a double batch of chicken pot pie for the missionaries' impromptu visit.  I had everything already on hand for that and all of those quiche ingredients will be fine until I decide to rotate that back into the schedule.  (I also whipped up a yummy Dr. Pepper cake, because really, where is that stuff not delicious??)  The menu isn't exact by any means, but I do have a rough idea of what meals will look like around here through mid-February which is awesome.  And…the best part is that I have all of the pantry ingredients for all 30 of those recipes!  The only thing I might occasionally have to do is fill in with the fresh produce. 

I thoroughly enjoy my job in this house as chief meal planner and executive chef.  It is extremely fulfilling to make food for my family and the other people who come through my kitchen on a regular basis.  And to know that all of the planning is already done for the month is such a huge help.  Having a plan makes the schedule stay together, it makes people feel comfortable, and it keeps all of us sane (ok, mostly it keeps me sane.)  It's such a relief to be able to consult the calendar in the morning and know what the evening will look like.  That way, when those unexpected trips to the doctor's office for strep tests, and changes in rehearsal schedules, and frigid winter weather no one wants to leave the house in, threaten to disrupt the week, no one has to panic.  The pantry is full.  There is a plan for dinner.  And if necessary, we can shift to tomorrow's plan.  

I feel strongly that there is great value in having meals together around the table at a regularly scheduled time.  We connect in a different way at the table for breakfast and dinner than we do anywhere else.  I love to have that time with my  kids in the morning before they leave the house and again in the evening when they come home.  They spend so much time away from us that it's nice to have those end caps to our days when we can listen to them, instruct them, hear their funny stories, and rejoice together in their accomplishments.  The kids feel it when we get casual about meals.  We all do.  

I'm grateful to have the opportunity to stay at home and I feel the weight of the responsibility to be doing meaningful, purposeful things with that time.   Dinners are meaningful and purposeful.  Food equals love.  

"What your kids really want for dinner is you."  - Dallin H. Oaks, Good, Better, Best

Reminders

I've felt pretty great for the last few days...like better than I was expecting to feel this soon after surgery.  Since Christmas, I've felt better and better everyday.  More mobile.  Fewer headaches.  Less pain.  More clarity.  I've actually been looking forward to my post op doctor's appointment so I can tell her that I'm pretty sure I don't need to wait a whole 6 weeks to get back to my normal schedule.  And then this morning came…

I was up most of the night, then up for good at 5:00am with the worst raging headache since I've been home from the hospital.  I felt draggy, sore, reluctant to get out of bed, nauseous, and just generally crappy.  

I finally forced myself out of bed to eat breakfast, which didn't really help much, but at least I had something in my stomach so I could take pain meds.  Then I forced myself to get ready for the day, but even lipgloss didn't do much to improve my disposition this morning.  I felt really disappointed in myself that I wasn't continuing to improve.  

And then it occurred to me that this has happened before in my life…

When this little sweetie was born, I really had no idea what to expect.  I didn't know how long I would hurt, how long it would be before she slept through the night, how long it would take to get into some kind of schedule, or how long until my life became normal.  I was determined to be amazing, though, and get things on track as quickly as possible.  How hard could it be, right?

In the same week that we had our first baby, Craig and I also bought our first home.  While I was in the hospital, Craig arranged for all of our worldly possessions to be moved from our little apartment into our new little house, so that it would be ready for our new little baby to move into.  Old carpet was ripped out, rooms were painted, and furniture was moved in just in time for Savannah and I to come home from the hospital.  My parents had also driven in from Texas to be with me for as long as I needed them.  

All of that sounds perfectly wonderful, right?  

Well, it was perfectly wonderful until about the third day when we all started tripping over each other and my dear mother tried to help me unpack boxes and organize my kitchen.  Have I ever mentioned that I am slightly OCD?…especially about my kitchen??  Well, it was all I could do to sit there and let her try to help me.  I endured it for an entire week before I finally thought, "I'm feeling so much better than I think I should be at this point!  I'm just going to let my mom hold the baby and I'll unpack by myself."  

For four or five days, Savannah mostly slept.  My mom mostly held her.  And I mostly unpacked like a crazy woman so that my house would at least be in order.  I went back to church that Sunday, too, with a brand new Baby Savannah.  People marveled at how amazing I was.  My YW fought over who would get to hold Perfect Little Savannah.  And I lived up to that ridiculous ideal that I had in my head about what amazing should look like.  I felt pretty great.  I was a remarkable new mother.  I could not only bring life into the world, but I could set up a brand new household, too.  Success.  Validation.  Confidence.  

That lasted until Day 13 when all the magic wore off.  My parents had left to go back to their lives.  Craig was back at work.  The Relief Society had stopped bringing dinners.  There were empty moving boxes stacked up to the roof in the garage.  And Savannah had decided that eating every 3 hours was a better schedule for her than all that constant sleeping she had been doing the week before.  I was draggy, sore, tired, and so frustrated that I couldn't keep up the pace I had set for myself.  

I had thought that I had it all together.  I had thought I was awesome and that I had been blessed with a ridiculously easy baby.  I was totally wrong.  I spent that whole Day 13 and probably Day 14 in bed, alternating between crying and feeding my little insatiable baby.  I felt sorry for myself and like a failure as a mother.  

After having that experience with three additional babies, I now know that the recovery process is pretty much the same with all of them.  They fake you out in the first week and sleep for 24 hours a day because being born is HARD WORK.  They have to sleep as much as you do just to recover from the trauma of leaving the womb.  And when they wake up, they're HUNGRY!   I didn't try to be as amazing with the babies that came after Savannah, and I was more prepared for the round-the-clock feedings.  I stayed home from church longer than I wanted to.  I didn't try to organize a household during the first week after coming home from the hospital (although we did manage to schedule MAJOR moves within a few months of each of our other three kids' births.)  I still had a little bit of that OCD drive to be amazing, but I was more patient with myself and more willing to let the babies determine how quickly any of us got back into a normal routine.  

Apparently in the 10 years that have passed since I've had to recover from anything strenuous, I've forgotten about pacing myself and being patient.  I was so excited to be back among the living last week, that I jumped right into EVERYTHING way too soon.  

So, on this last day of 2013, I'm trying really hard to remember to be still.  There are people coming over tonight because I invited them before I remembered this little recovery lesson.  But I think I can be still anyway.  Be still and listen to my body.  Be still and let my family do things that they're more than willing and capable of doing.  Be still and just enjoy the people around me and the amazing year that has passed.  Be still and not worry about being amazing and perfect.  Be still and be grateful.  

I'm looking forward to spending New Year's Eve with people I love, who won't mind if I'm in my jammies and not venturing too far away from the couch.  

I hope that tonight, you're also surrounded by people you love and who love you, and that the upcoming New Year is as great as the one that has passed.  I'm so grateful for all of my wonderful friends, bloggy and otherwise, who read this blog and write their own and inspire and encourage me to look for the blessings around me.  Happy New Year's Eve!
    

Christmas Day

I know I'm supposed to be recovering still and taking it easy, but it's Christmas for heaven's sake.  I'll sleep later…

We blocked out the entire day on the missionaries' calendar about 6 weeks ago.  Have I mentioned how much we love these two Elders??  This is how they showed up at our door at 8:30 on Christmas morning.  So cute!

Craig was in charge of Christmas breakfast.  Hot chocolate bar, orange rolls, and his mom's traditional Swedish rice pudding. 

Have I written anything about rice pudding before??  Probably not, because we've never actually tried making it.  Whenever we spend Christmas with Craig's family, though, his mom makes a giant pot of this and we have it for breakfast with orange rolls!  My parents tried making it for Craig once when we spent Christmas with them.  But we have never actually made it in our house…until this year!  Craig texted his brother, Mark, for the recipe, because Mark is the rice pudding expert these days.  And bright and early Christmas morning, Craig woke up to start cooking.  (Can I just tell you how shocking and wonderful it is to write that someone else woke up bright and early on Christmas morning and started cooking??) 

Here's the fun part about this tradition:  Just before everyone is ready to eat, all the bowls are set out on the counter.  Into one of the bowls, Craig's mom sneaks a blanched whole almond.    And then a scoop of rice pudding is ladled into each bowl.  They are randomly distributed to the family for garnishing, and whoever finds the almond has good luck for the upcoming New Year.  We modified this slightly because Megan is allergic to nuts and we used a chocolate chip.

Every year that we celebrated Christmas with Craig's parents (and there were several) Savannah ended up with the almond…Every.Single.Year.  We made sure this year that it was an equal opportunity chocolate chip, that none of the kids were even in the kitchen with us when we served the rice pudding, and that everyone randomly grabbed a bowl and didn't stir it (since that chocolate chip melted almost instantly and would have changed the whole color of the rice pudding.)  But despite our best efforts, guess who ended up with that lucky bowl of rice pudding??  Yup…Savannah!  That girl never ceases to amaze us…for lots of reasons, but the rice pudding thing is becoming a bit of a legacy in our family.  I'm not sure what we would actually do if someone else got it one year?? 

Here's the recipe for rice pudding in case you're feeling like you need a new Christmas tradition in your family, or if you just want to try it.  I understand that Mark Thunell makes this a couple of times a week!  

Rice Pudding

6 C whole milk
1 1/2 C long grain rice
4 oz butter 
3/4 C sugar

Put all ingredients into a large stockpot and let it all come to a boil.  Turn heat to low and stir constantly while mixture simmers and thickens.  About 45 minutes.  Serve with heavy cream, cinnamon, and nutmeg.  

After breakfast, we asked the missionaries to take our annual Christmas picture on the stairs.  It's been awhile since the whole family was in this picture.  Nice to have impromptu missionary photographers available on Christmas morning.  

And then we moved on to the presents!

 (yep…the paint test colors are still up on the dining room walls.  I decided that I can't decide, so I'm just going to wait until the pain meds have worn off, the holidays decorations are put away, and the dust settles a little.  And then maybe I'll be able to make a decision.  For now, it's kind of a fun conversation starter. )

I always feel so much pressure to make sure everyone gets everything they ever wanted, or wished for, or subtly hinted about during the year.  But that's so not what Christmas is about.  This year, since I was distracted, the kids really put a lot of time and thought into buying presents for each other and for the missionaries.  They weren't huge, impressive presents, but they were sincere and thoughtful, which made it so much more fun for everyone.  Each time someone opened a gift, the person who gave it to them would be riveted to their reaction.  And these kids know each other really well.  Megan used money from one whole babysitting job to pay for a lava lamp for McKay because she knew he would love it.  And he did!  McKay got Emma princess shaped Spaghetti-O's (because this is the year of the mermaid around here) and Emma was thrilled.  

The girls spent an entire afternoon shopping at every dollar store in town to make sure the missionaries had plenty to open on Christmas Day.  They got scripture markers, little book lights for late night scripture reading, Christmas ties, and boxes of crayons.  We all had a really great Christmas Day. 

After presents, the missionaries asked to have about an hour of quiet time to study the life of the Savior.  Again, I love those guys!  What a great example for all of us to see these two 20 year old boys stop celebrating and read their scriptures for an hour.  I used that time to be still and catch up on a little rest before heading into the rest of the day's festivities.  

Megan has a cute friend from church whose family had planned to go to AZ for the holidays, but at the last minute got sick and had to change their plans.  They had already had their Christmas and opened all of their presents.  Matt was lamenting to Megan about how it was going to be such a boring Christmas and that they had nothing to look forward to, so I called his mom and invited them over for a super casual dinner and games afterward.  They arrived around 3:00.  Craig had a ham in the oven.  The girls made mashed potatoes and rolls.  And Emma helped make two pies on Christmas Eve.  Matt's family brought drinks, a giant salad and green bean casserole.  It was a bounteous dinner, for sure, and I didn't have to do a thing. 

After dinner the kids played Just Dance 2014 and the adults played Settlers of Catan.  We ended the night with a huge game of Scattergories with the whole group.  

I am so grateful for the awesome day that we had.  I'm grateful for a house that comfortably holds a lot of people.  I'm grateful for the awesome friends and family that surrounds us, for an abundance of food, and for lots of helping hands.  And I'm especially grateful for this beautiful and sacred season that draws all of us together.  

Christmas Jammies

The Christmas Eve festivities were pretty quiet around here this year.  

Megan made the traditional quiche for dinner since I couldn't really do much more than direct the process.  They turned out beautiful and delicious and I think her kitchen confidence increased a ton!  She kind of loved how everyone raved about her food.  (I kind of loved that, too!)

After dinner, the kids opened their Christmas jammies.  We do this every year and they love it!  I think it's their favorite tradition.

We finished the night by reading a handful of our favorite Christmas stories.  

I love Christmas Eve.  I love the joyful anticipation that fills the house.  I love the quiet night to reflect on the birth of the Savior.  I love the traditions that we look forward to each year.  And I love being in a house filled with people I love during this amazing and beautiful holiday season.  

Surgery Update

If you're in that category of people who just read the disclaimer of my last post and ran screaming to find another blog, you can just walk right on past this post, too.  I totally understand.  But over the weekend, while I was sitting on the couch with way too much time on my hands, I thought about how awful it was that I blasted out that pre-surgery post and then just left everyone hanging for over a week.  

If all you care to know are the highlights, then just read this…

The surgery went well.  I'm fine.  

For the rest of you, and probably so I'll remember some aspect of this experience in the future, here are the details…most of them…minus the lovely pictures of my uterus that somehow Craig ended up with.  ???

Craig and I got up at 5:00 Wednesday morning, left the kids last minute notes of instructions and love messages, threw my little bag in the Jeep, and drove to the hospital.  My surgery was scheduled for 7:30, but we had been advised to get to the hospital 90 minutes early to get through all the prep.  There's A LOT of that!  There were papers to sign, insurance questions to answer, copays to be made, a lovely hospital gown to change into, more blood to be drawn, an IV to be put in (blech…), medical history questions to answer, an endless parade of nurses, anesthesiologists, and technicians, more medical history questions to answer (no, I have never smoked…no, I don't drink…no, I've never had anesthesia before…no, I've never had any surgery of any kind, not even a C-section.  It was a little exhausting, but everyone was so nice and so patient, because as it got closer and closer to 7:30, I got more and more nervous.  

When everyone was finished interviewing me, the doctor came in and gave me a short briefing of what to expect, the anesthesiologist added "something to take the edge off" into my IV, I said goodbye to Craig, and they wheeled my little mobile bed into the OR.  

I was freezing in the waiting room.  I was even colder in the pre-surgery room in that flimsy little gown.  And as they wheeled me down the long, sterile hall to the OR, I could feel the temperature dropping even more.  How do doctors and nurses even work in sub zero temperatures like that??  The giant doors to the OR swung open.  They wheeled me into a little corner and I remember saying, "This doesn't look anything like Grey's Anatomy??"  There was some giggling in the room.  I looked up and commented on the enormous light fixtures and the little ice cube-shaped light bulbs in them, and a nurse who I couldn't see patted me on the shoulder and said, "Yes they sure do, honey."  And that's the last thing I remember after that.  

I thought there was supposed to be counting backwards from 100.  Or something??  But there wasn't.  Just ice cube lights and then… ???  I have no idea what happened after that.  

I remember waking up in what I thought was the same room, with something that felt like a show horn in my mouth.  I was trying so hard to focus on the clock so that I could tell if they had even done the surgery yet, but I couldn't tell what those hands were pointing to.  A few minutes later, a nurse was talking, things were being taken off of me, and I was once again being wheeled to some other location.  

They wheeled me into my little hospital home for the next 48 hours and I was so happy to be able to read the clock finally.  12:30pm.  And the nice nurse pointed out that Craig was there…sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.  I hadn't even noticed him.  

There were instructions, but I don't remember them.  There was a cup full of water.  Another cup full of ice chips.  And a remote control with a bright green light in my hand that they said was for pain.  Anytime I felt any pain, I could press that little button.  So I did…a lot.  The first 24 hours after surgery, morphine is definitely your friend.  

Sometime after the anesthesia grogginess wore off, the doctor visited and told me the details.  That fibroid they thought was the size of a grapefruit was actually closer to a cantaloupe (blah…) so the surgery which typically takes about an hour and a half took them close to 4 hours.  I lost about a liter of blood and she kept tossing around the word transfusion.  I heard something about not having to do that if I bounced back quickly and they could see some good progress in the next 48 hours.  So I willed myself to progress.  I got up the next morning.  I let them take my morphine friend.  I went to the potty all by myself.  And by 8:00 the next night, I was walking down the hall with Craig and the kids to peek at the babies in the nursery.  (That was the best part of being housed in the maternity wing of the hospital…the nursery!)  By Friday morning, when the doctor visited, no one was talking about transfusions anymore.  Just release papers.  Hooray!

I stayed in that little hospital room until late Friday afternoon.  48 hours is a long time to live in a hospital.  I know, I'm a baby.  Some people have to stay in hospitals for a lot longer than that.   Sleeping was hard.  Being woken up every four hours for vitals and meds was hard.  Being there by myself was hard.  

The staff was so nice and so accommodating that they made the whole experience a lot more tolerable.  I loved the cute nurses who kept marveling that I was so young to have had a hysterectomy.  None of them believed me when I said I was 43.  It was right there on my ID badge!  I'm plenty old enough to have a hysterectomy.  

Craig and Savannah brought me home Friday afternoon, and I can honestly say, HOME IS THE BEST PLACE TO BE.  I crawled right into my perfect bed and fell asleep for about two hours…Savannah slipped in there next to me because she was relieved that I was home, and relieved to have her finals over with.   It was a long week for all of us.

There are things they don't tell you before you have surgery.  Like that anesthesia is a crazy powerful thing and that it has lingering side effects.  Food tastes gross for about a week.  There is this yucky taste in your mouth that no amount of teeth brushing will get rid of.  Protein is your friend.  Sugar is not.  If you happen to get the raging headaches that I had, the only thing that even remotely helps is caffeine.  There were mega amounts of Diet DP consumed after I found out that little helpful tip.  

Overall, though, I feel really good.  I'm so happy to have this part of my life over with (both the surgery and the girl responsibilities that have left along with my uterus.)  Craig and the kids have been such a huge help.  I really had no idea that my family was capable of everything they've done in the last few days.  I'll have to figure out some way to incorporate a lot more of their help into my regular schedule from now on.  

I'm grateful for helpful family and thoughtful friends who have brought dinners and flowers and treats.  I'm grateful for modern technology that allows this to even be an option.  What on earth did people do before anesthesia, pain meds, and modern medicine???  And I'm so grateful to be out of the hospital and back at home for the rest of this (hopefully) speedy recovery.   

Grandma Thunell

Craig's grandmother, Florence Thunell, passed away last Friday at the age of 99.  

I loved this dear, sweet woman.  She was exactly the kind of grandmother I would like to be when I grow up…spunky, cheerful, positive, adventurous, tireless, and generous.  

Her home was always open, at any hour of the day or night, for visitors and she had a steady stream of grandchildren and great grandchildren every time I was ever there.  The best thing about going to Gr Thunell's house was that there was always food…always!  I have a giant emotional connection with food.  Food equals love.  Cooking for people means you love them.  Offering food to people means you care about them and want them to be comfortable.  Grandma Thunell always offered us food when we came to her house, no matter where we had come from or how long we were able to stay.  If she didn't have anything ready, she would find something or make something.  I remember going to her house once when I was uncomfortably pregnant and exhausted.  She took one look at me, asked me how I was feeling and didn't even bother to wait for my answer.  She just walked into the kitchen, made me a ham sandwich (which I happily devoured) and then put a blanket in the guest bedroom and told me to go take a nap.  I think I slept through that entire visit.

And in case you were ever feeling too polite to bother Grandma for a sandwich, she made sure there were treats scattered abundantly around her house.  The kids always knew exactly where to find the peanuts, candy, mints, containers of freshly baked cookies or rolls, or some other delicious thing…and somehow, whenever I was there, that sweet woman had some homemade divinity stashed away in a secret spot for me.  Oh, I loved that stuff!  For me, Grandma's house meant warmth, food, and comfort.  I'm sure I will never look at shrimp salad, orange rolls, eclairs, or divinity without thinking of Grandma Thunell.

By the time I came into the family, Grandma was no longer driving.  But she never turned down an opportunity to go an adventure.  She loved to go for long drives with her sons.  She loved family get togethers.  She loved being in motion and trusted all those sons and grandsons completely with her safety.  I'm sure that in her later years, it became much more uncomfortable for her to get into a car or go to a wedding reception or family function, but she never missed one, and she never complained.  I would like to be like that some day.  

Grandma had an amazing memory, too.  She always knew the latest news about every single child, grandchild and great-grandchild in the family.  She knew where her missionaries were serving, who was graduating from high school, and which kid had which talent.  She knew every new baby's full name.  She remembered every birthday in the family.  And she had that sweet way of making every grandchild who visited feel like they were her favorite.   

I am so grateful for the legacy of love, warmth and boundless energy that Grandma Thunell left for all of us.  I absolutely adore this woman.  And if, in my 80s and 90s, I am still energetic enough to host giant holiday dinners for my entire family complete with homemade rolls, I will attribute that to the influence of Craig's lovely grandmother.  I miss her already.

Florence Esther Wallace Thunell

June 25, 1914 - December 6, 2013

Impromptu Family Pictures

While we were out in that field yesterday, we had the great idea to go back after church and take some shots of the kids.  And luckily, when we pulled up to that wheat field at 4:45pm, we ran into another family from the ward who had the same inspiration.  We happily handed the camera over to the other family photographer and he took these.  I am in LOVE with them.  It's possible you may see them again around Christmas time, or hanging on the wall in the family room.  :)

this one might be my favorite!

I LOVE almost-summer in Dallas.  I LOVE these awesome kids who are happy to have their pictures taken.  And I LOVE spending the entire day running around through wheat fields.  (We were careful not to trample too much of it.)

Photo BOMB!...Impossible to avoid with Savannah around.  :)