Things I get from Santa.

It's been a very Merry Christmas with my Splendid Cities coloring book.

If you ever want me to talk you into using coloring as a method of anxiety management, just let me know. 

War

Sometimes when dads aren't home moms have to sub in for a game of War.

Brainwashing 'em young

Apparently this is a contest for school. Good thing we love The Google. 

I have messages, I think.

What the what?!

Picking up shifts

So that happened last night. The fun part is that we are headed to Moab. Now. At seven am. After a night shift. 

Thank goodness for caffeine. ✌🏻️

Phonetic Spelling

For those of you who don't read six-year-old, "Hi and how are you Dad. Why did the chicken cross the road? To watch a movie."

Maybe I made myself into a Peanuts character maybe.

Boxer Puppy

My new favorite picture in the whole wide world is this. Because maybe I like to look at puppy pictures every single day maybe. 

Jenn, I can't find who to attribute the picture to because all of the links are to random Tumblr accounts and such and I am terribly sorry about that.  

Dog Language, as described by a six year old.

I do not know how to say Gracie in dog language. Dog language is so hard! Like they bark and it means like can we be friends? Or can I  have some food? Dog language is so confusing!

Scary Things In Scary Books

This! I found this! on a page from Gone Girl, the book I am reading because I am CRAZY. And by crazy I mean the book is well-written and I love it and also I'm a little terrified, so I don't want to find a dark stain on its pages because, hello! I need to sleep at night. That's why I'm reading a suspense novel. 

Airports

I'm sitting in an airport, flight delayed for nearly two hours, and reading The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan. There's an entire congregation that hates Amy Tan almost as much as it hates waiting in airports. I am not among it. So far, (page 23) Tan has been easy to read and includes sentences like, "Can you imagine how it is, to want to be neither inside nor outside, to want to be nowhere and disappear?" And "That's when I thought I needed something to do to help me move." And if those aren't the most astute descriptions of depression I've ever seen, I surely don't know what it is. 

As far as airports go, I don't mind them either. Airports for me have always been an excuse to read, eat candy, and sleep on the floor. Not to mention the buying of books in airport bookshops because, notably, in spite of the elevated cost of candy and snacks, the prices of airport books equal those of books purchased at Barnes & Noble.

My husband, not much of a reader himself, surprised me once when he told me that he loves flying because he can purchase a book at the airport bookshop and read the entire flight. Today, I purchased a chocolate bar, peanut M&Ms, Swedish fish and a copy of The  Martian by Andy Weir knowing that given my two hour flight delay, I would likely need it upon my finishing of Amy Tan.

My only regret is that I didn't bring a jacket.

That awkward moment when you think your sea salt hair spray is Chloraseptic throat spray.

Hot?

What is happening?!?!

I just want to walk my dog but I'm dying of humidity, and do you see how "hot" it is? Guess I'm not moving to Arizona anytime soon. 

Happy National Dog Day

Naptime

This is how we celebrate our strenuous workout together.  

Don't tell the hubs that she is in our bed. Oh wait, I already did. But at least she's only on my side?

Pink Bows and Cuddle Time

I took little lady to the groomer and when I picked her up she was wearing this on her head. I literally died of adorable. 

And this morning, I caught my favorite little ones in a tender moment. 

Remember how my life was good when I was single? Climbing and school and traveling was fun. But having my main man, a little man and a puppy in my life has helped me be so much happier than I realized it could be. (It's also taught me more about patience and charity than I thought was possible). I highly recommend it. And if all else fails, get a puppy. Pet therapy is better than just about anything. ❤️🐶

Blue Nails

Well that nail polish was a bust. 

Rolling our eyes

Once he tried to roll his eyes at me and we discovered that this is a thing. 

You guys, it's the funniest. I even got it on video. 

School is back in

The start of school means bedtime which means basically I'm failing at life which means tonight when the pizza truck wasn't working at the food trucks, the hubs and I did some multitasking to feed the kiddo. And yes, my six year old has bags under his eyes. Surprised? Don't worry. I didn't know it was a thing either. 

Haircut

That awkward moment when you text your mom a picture of your new haircut and she says, "Are you tired?"

Can We Make This Quick?

Husband: Okay bud, time to do your hair. 

Son: (sighs) Can we make this quick? 

Also, remind me to get a picture of little man trying to roll his eyes. It's the best. 

Footprints

Well, this is still a thing that I do sometimes. 

Real Life Conversations With a Six-year-old

Dad: Sorry bud, we have to go home early because Liz is feeling sick. 

Little man: That's okay because if you need to throw up you can just throw up on the road, remember? (Fun aside, I did remember! Throwing up on the side of the freeway is the best!). 

Me: That's not very nice bud to make me throw up on the road. 

Dad: When people are sick they want to go home and lay down and not throw up on the road. 

Little man's cousin: So we're going home? 

Little man : Yeah because it's not nice to make someone throw up on the road because it could get on other people's tires, and that would be gross. 

So, obviously we're making a lot of progress in the empathy department, thanks for asking. 

Matt Matt

I was walking home from campus one summer evening while Cate was away at camp. I saw Matt, her long-time boyfriend coming up the stairs. Matt was awesome. I knew it because Cate had told me about him. His liberal thinking and his wit. The way she had gone out with him even though her roommate was crushing because when it's love, it's love.  He once made perhaps the wittiest joke I'd ever heard in an email and it involved iPods and Lite Brites.

But that night he and I sat on the stairs and talked until he irrevocably had my blessing to marry her. Not that he really needed it, but it sure didn't hurt. We went to exchange numbers at the end of our chat in case we needed to get in touch while Cate was away for the summer. 

"Looks like she already gave me your number. Look, 'Matt Cate,'" I said. And in a sincerity that altogether describes why he still gets the 6 best husbands my best friends have ever found award, he said, "Don't you think that I can be known just for being Matt now?" And so he became Matt Matt, a term which I accidentally googled today as I was headed to those very same steps at BYU at the same time of evening. So Cate and Matt, here is a shout out for being such a great match, for figuring out how to do law school when law school was hard, and for all in all being as we called it then, "super fabulous awesome great."

I Just Want To Sleep Guys, Please.

I might have given up my rights to sleeping when I got a puppy, but these two sure didn't.

A Child and a Puppy

The great news about having a child and a puppy is that when the child fails to pick up his things, the puppy will quickly dispense with those things, and you will ever after find them strewn about the house.

Me Before You

The last book that made me ugly cry harder than The Fault In Our Stars, was Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. I found out on Goodreads that apparently there is a sequel. I have VERY mixed feelings about this. VERY MIXED. But I do think this comment from the Goodreads page  probably sums it up the best. 

Now I think I'll go grab some Kleenex. You, go read the book, and be prepared to feel ethically unsettled by the content in a way that will leave you more uncomfortable than I could possibly explain. But in like a good/bad way. Also, bring Kleenex. I have never cried so hard from a book, never. But really, read it. And when you finish sobbing, give me a call. 

Clipped

Clipped in yesterday for the first time in at least 12 months. 

And what's more, I did it wearing (gasp!) horizontal stripes.

 #rockingbody 

Six year old sympathy

The great news about having a six year old is that if you ever want sympathy for having to get say, bilateral hip injections, you can just tell the kiddo you had to get TWO shots, and their little sympathies will be all over it. 

Why can't adult life be more like that sometimes? Where are pains can be worn like shots on our sleeves and the sympathies of those we love like band-aids trying to take that pain away? 

Amazon

How does Amazon know me well enough to recommend that I purchase timers? Also, why is it that I love timers? Because I do. I absolutely love them. 

That extra five minutes

Talking myself into swimming today was not easy, and when I got to the pool, I looked at the clock the entire swim.  Sometimes it is a battle, like really, a battle to get myself to workout. But sometimes on days like today, I reach my allotted time and then keep swimming for an extra five minutes just to prove to myself that I can. And sometimes, just sometimes, that last five minutes is the best part of my swim. 

I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere. 

A Followup Post On Insomnia

No one is sadder about my difficulties sleeping than this guy. 

"Liz, it's one a clock in the morning. Will you please just let me sleep?"

But actually, I guess you could include the hubs or even me above ye old puppy  on the "Votes Against Insomnia" petition that I'm sure someone will be starting up any minute. 

My New Alarm Clock

Yesterday I was sleeping in (I've been working a lot of nights lately). Little man was ready for me to get up, but I was stalling. Finally, he came in and said, "Liz, I'm going to tickle your feet until you get out of bed." 

And then he did. He climbed right up in my bed and started tickling my feet. When I tried to move them or hide them, he pulled the blanket off and tickled my little toes until I got myself out of bed.

I think it goes without saying that he makes me happier than I could possibly explain. 

When Moms Say Stuff

Yesterday little man wanted to open a package before we got home from the store. He asked me if he could, and I said, "If it were me I wouldn't because I wouldn't want one to get lost or broken, but if you want to open it you can." He said, "You know what my mom says? She says that when moms say something you should listen. So that's why I choose not to open it." 

Good choice buddy. 

Jane Austen

I think this means I'm officially a grown up. Not only am I reading Jane Austen, thanks to Mrs. Nixon who told me to remember that it's a social satire, but it's in LARGE PRINT. Thank goodness. 

Now, let me go get my spectacles.

Bleeding to Death as a Mechanism of Standing for What You Believe.

Tonight on my desk there is a folder: Clinical Strategies To Avoid Blood Transfusion. Provided to our trauma office by a Jehovah's Witness minister in Salt Lake City, whose card is in the cover.

A few years ago I had my first experience caring for a Jehovah's witness patient who was bleeding. In nursing school this had come up, in discussions of childbirth, of ethics, of cultural awareness and sensitivity. Of the way that Jehovah's Witness patients do not believe in accepting blood transfusions. Of my friend who cared for a woman who was bleeding to death and chose to accept blood, and then felt that she had lost her eternal soul.

But this was my first real life encounter. The man was bleeding internally. Bleeding excessively. I walked with my surgeon into a room full of the man's family and listened to my boss explain to the family that he was going to bleed to death. That we could surgically stop the bleeding, but that without a transfusion, the man would die. The surgeon had discussed this with the man and the man looked him straight in the face: that would be okay with me. The family, without hesitation agreed. And the man promptly and quietly bled to death.

I sobbed. I sobbed so much that I had to leave work early that day. I wanted so badly to tell his family how blessed I felt by having been able to encounter someone who acted with such conviction. But I was sobbing. So I did what I often did in such situations, I called James, who has always been a great supporter of my sobbing, among other things. I had to tell someone that a man just died for what he believed, and that he had done it stoically, unwavering and unflinching.

During Nap Time

Great news! Nap time is officially play with paints without adult supervision time!

So there's that.

Chamomile Tea, or In Other Words, Insomnia

If I had a dollar for every time I've gotten up in the middle of a sleepless night and made myself a cup of chamomile tea, I'd have a handful of dollars. The thing is, I literally never, ever drink the tea. It's the idea of drinking something that smells so terrible that holds me back. So I usually make a box of macaroni and cheese and eat more or less the entire thing because,  I'm sure there are multiple studies showing that mac and cheese is as effective in curing insomnia as any herbal remedy. I'm sure of it. 

Happy St Patrick's Day

Green nails, green drink, green snack, and earrings reminiscent of my 2004 style (read: ostentatious and ridiculous). 

St Patrick's Day for the win. 

Homemade Birthday Gifts

You haven't really lived until you let a six year old choose what he wants to give Dad for Dad's birthday. Basically paraphrased as, "A folder where we could cut out a cheetah with rectangle legs and body and a circle head and rectangle tail, and a bunch of other stuff dad likes."

Also a paper airplane because, who doesn't like a nice, fast paper airplane? Name one person, I dare you. 

Dad also likes stories authored and illustrated by little man. You'll notice that when our six year old writes stories, he numbers the pages. Every single time. 

Needless to say, Dad was thrilled, and I nearly died of adorableness overload when little man sent Dad on a "treasure hunt" to find his present. 

Birthday Shenanigans

All the hip young things wear black to their husbands' birthday parties. In other news, the Mr. is getting up there in years.

Lent

I deleted Facebook from my phone for Lent. And that turned out to be awesome. Granted it's like not even the middle of Lent yet, but hey, so far, so good. Although I did have to approve the posting of this picture through Instagram yesterday because, really, how could you not? 

And also, no phone Facebook means more actual time to enjoy moments like this. ❤

OCD (Part 2)

Sometimes I think I don't have OCD.
Sometimes I catch myself walking down the hall counting my steps.
Sometimes in this moment of realization, I have unconsciously made it to the 80's.

Hypothetically.

See also: here and here.

Yoga

Today I went to my first yoga class since hip surgery last May. It was a bit of a wake up call, to be honest. The way my hips struggled to move into warrior one, the way that chair pose was difficult, and even moving from down dog to standing. The thing I have learned from years of yoga practice is to approach my practice from a place of self acceptance. As I wound down the practice, I lay in savasanah, and as I often do, repeated in my mind, "I have only ever know and love and peace and happiness," and "I love and approve of myself." At the end of my practice, I bowed to say Namaste, and gave gratitude to my body for the things it does for me. 

Like so many things in life, it was not perfect, but it was a start, and it was good.

#RockingBody

I Go Down To The Shore

Please allow me, if you don't mind, to post some brilliance by Ms. Mary Oliver, the poet I have recently been spending some time with. 

How I Feel About Eating

A few years ago, I spent a weekend with some cousins. Girl cousins to be exact. And you know what I realized once again? How much girls talk about food and calories and exercise and bodies and weight. Oh.my.gosh. One day we went on a tour of a cave with a total of 440 stairs. On the way out, one of the girls began talking about how, "this should burn off those 20 pieces of licorice that I ate." And then the discussion of calories began. I can hang with the best of them in the calorie counting game, but I just don't think that's how it's meant to be. I believe that food is fuel and obsessing about calories will, in the end make you a sad fatty or a sad skinny, but either way, it only makes your end up sad.

The thing that was most disconcerting about all of this discussion from the girls is that later that night, their 10 year old sister began talking about exercising to burn off the calories she had eaten. What?! A ten year old who is slim and healthy and hasn't even hit puberty and therefore has about 5% body fat is well on her way to developing the body image issues so prevalent in the women of America.

I've noticed a trend on Pinterest. My friends have tons of  "skinny" recipes pinned. Everything from black bean burgers to avacado wraps. These are the acceptable foods. The foods they "should" eat. Alongside this righteous world of slim, there are hundreds of pins of desserts. Desserts they will pine over, but never eat unless they are doing so in binge quantity. It's the world of obsession played out in front of me.

Now I'm pretty obsessive about when I will eat and what I will eat and how I will eat it and all that. If you ever want to get bored, ask me to tell you about inutive eating.

Let me tell you something about our culture as American women. We like to talk about dieting. If someone refuses dessert we either hail them as disciplined and priase their self control or we take the opposing stance telling them we hate them for their discipline and that really they should just give in on their new diet and have a brownie.

Well I'll tell you what, I've had enough of it.

If I want a brownie, I'll eat one. Really, I will. I don't care if it's made with butter (gasp), in fact I don't care if it's made with lard. If I eat a brownie because I want to, I don't want to talk about how many calories are in it or how I'm going to have to bike it off later that afternoon. I don't want guilt or shame or elation or anything else. I just want to enjoy the brownie because I wanted it. The same goes for the things I don't wat to eat. If I don't, I don't, and it's not crazy and we don't need to talk about how I can work it off later or how it's okay to indulge once in a while or how they have a "skinny vegetarian option." If I want to eat  it, I'm going to eat it, regardless of how healthy it is or isn't. And that is neither crazy nor ridiculous. It's intuitive.

Why not eat what we want, when we want, without explanation?

The end.

We Made A Friend

We found this little guy on the way home from work today. Makes me feel better about the times our dog takes it upon himself to venture out and about without permission. 

Don't worry, "Waston," as little man calls him, found his way safely back to his owner, much to the delay of little man who can only say of the experience, "I wish we had a dog like that."

The BABE

First bike ride since surgery, you guys, since MAY.  It was bliss. 

#RockingBody

The Park

If you've never had the experience of walking, ahem...being walked by our dog to the park, let me tell you, you are missing out. 

Monday I took these two to the park where a responsible (read:the opposite of responsible) dog owner felt it was best to keep their girl lady off a leash because hey, there are children and other dogs around, hello. So ensues a little dog "fight" where Sarge maybe ran little man over and at the very least was growling and all that jazz. It was SOOO great. At the end of it all, I feel like little man summed it up best, "That was not awesome!" 

The Giving Tree

When I was a teenager I was really into the idea that I should get a whole collection of children's books together so I could read them to my kids someday. Luckily for me, my mom is one of the best supporters of childhood literacy and took it upon herself to teach all of her children to read. At home. Prior to starting kindergarten. She supported my desire for good children's literature by purchasing good literature for me for every birthday and Christmas I can remember. 

This evening little man was distressed in bed. I went in and offered to read him a bedtime story. He chose one my mother gave him for Christmas. One you can only read with a flashlight. Like I said, my mother is a winner. When we finished, I asked if he wanted to read another. He did so we chose The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. A gift from my mother many years ago. Little man said, "Oh yeah! They have this at my library school." He then proceeded to tell me the plot of the entire book. And then I read it to him.

It may have something to do with being snuggled up to a six year old who teaches me daily how to give and how to be less selfish, or it may be something else, but during that last little part where the tree is recounting everything she's given to the boy and how she has nothing left to give, I started crying. Not like tearing up, like full on crying. And how at the end, all she wants is to be with the man. Tears, I'm telling you. And we talked about how the tree was happy when she was making the man happy, but how she was most happy when they were together. 

And I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere, but if nothing else, I'm grateful to have a mother who taught me how to love good books, and I'm grateful for the little man in my life who gets to benefit from her influence. I'm also, naturally, grateful for bed time snuggles and the purity of goodness he brings into my life so effortlessly. 

P.S. If you're interested in being a mother like my mother, may I refer you to the following book, which she used to teach us all how to read.  http://www.amazon.com/Teach-Your-Child-Read-Lessons/dp/0671631985

Totes Adorbs

Christmas Eve Eskimo kisses. This little lady is so cute sometimes I think I can't stand it.