A New Direction?

There are people in my life that worry not only about tomorrow, but next week, next month, the next hour...but, somehow, I missed that gene. It's not to say I have nothing to worry about, but simply that my brain is such that I must compartmentalize by the moment. I don't think too far into the future. I don't like to make plans too far in advance, and I can't focus too heavily on something if there is something else that needs to be taken care of first. I am neither advocating nor ashamed of this mindset. It seems to be a mix of trusting in God and procrastination, both positive and negative. 

As a working mom in the midst of raising teens, I am discovering more and more that this might be considered by some, survival mode. I rarely make plans with friends because something might "come up" that I will need to attend to. I am much better at spontaneous and spur of the moment plans because I can determine right there and then if my absence would jive with everyone in the household. Is this normal? I don't know, it's my normal.

To mom's of teens, does this sound familiar? Opposite of your life? Let me know in the comments how life with teens affects your planning, social life, sense of self.

Also, to those of you who have enjoyed reading this blog, what are some things you would like to see more of? What topics are of interest to you? I think a question answering post would be fun, what would you like to know about my life? Ask, and I'll answer.

An 'Un'-alarming Start to the Day

The alarm went off. Not the one I set on my phone...the one in my head that told me, "It's light outside, why are you still in bed?" I bolted upright and stared at the clock in stark confusion. 6:38. I stared at the time in my reluctantly conscience state and tried to make sense of what that meant. My thought process went like this, "6:38.......six.....thirty-eight...6:38!!!!!! CRAP! We are supposed to be out the door at 6:30 to get Sam to school on time!"  I vaguely remembered, and still can't say for sure whether it was a dream or not, angrily pushing the snooze button on my phone as though wanting to stab a whole through the darn thing for waking me up! I'm guessing it wasn't a dream.

So I sprung from my bed, went from room to room jiggling one kid after another awake with urgency in my voice, "I overslept, we are supposed to be on the road...NOW!! Get up, get dressed, we have to GO!" I got myself dressed, ran a brush through my frizzy hair, brushed my teeth, threw on some mascara in an attempt to make myself look awake and poured my coffee.

The kids were out the door in record time without breakfast and grabbing random lunch food items as we head out the door. On the way to Sam's school, 35 minutes away, I made sure to tell everyone how awesome they were. Providentially, Samuel's teacher was late that day and he ended up waiting for her to arrive instead of vice versa. And by the grace of God, we still arrived at school with 2 minutes to spare. As I made my way down the ramp to my classroom a dozen sprightly 6-7 years bounded my way. I knew I would need another cup of coffee to handle their energy.

When I got home after a pretty good day, I had a text from my sons' teacher. It said, "I hope (so and so) can get some sleep. He was kinda cranky today. (not being bad, just CRANKY!)" I responded like this:

Yes, when I saw Cecelia at lunch time she was eating a bag of chips and a string cheese. Samuel didn't have lunch, I have no idea what the others ate and yet, not one of them complained. Most days, I am frustrated with my kids because I am practically dragging them out the door after innumerable reminders to get dressed, pack lunch, eat breakfast, brush teeth, grab homework etc., the list goes on and on. But sometimes they remind me that they can work as a team and when they do, they are fabulous!

A Miracle Cure

There are a couple bugs going around right now, and as a teacher, I am exposed to all of them. There is the stomach thing; dizziness, weakness, nausea and possible vomiting . Then there is the face thing; sinus pain, stuffiness, and runny eyes and nose. One of my students recently succumbed to the first bug. She was sent home.

By that afternoon, another student seemed to be a victim of the same thing. With a vivid explanation of how he felt, ("My stomach feels like it is moving up to my throat, and I feel really, really weak, even weaker than my baby brother. My head feels spicy and I'm dizzy.") I thought, "Oh great, it's going to go through everyone!" I tried to contact victim #2's parents, even though it was nearing the end of the day. They were unable to come early, so I had him lie down on our reading rug and try to rest.

It turns out is was another student's birthday this day and she brought cupcakes to share with the class.  While the class, excepting sick child #2, were out at P.E., I sat at my desk to enjoy a few moments of silence and prepare for the remaining hours of the school day. #2 had much to say...a LOT to say. Now, I cherish the few minutes in the day where I can sit in peace and not speak to another living soul, but he had so much to talk about. Finally, I had to say, "You know, when I'm as sick as you are, I can never talk as much as you are doing right now...." He seemed to take the hint and rested quietly for a few moments until the bell rang and the rest of class came clambering in.

Upon finishing our afternoon routine it was time to pass out the cupcakes. It was in this moment that I believe I discovered the cure to the stomach bug that is going around. CUPCAKES!! In an instant, that child was off the floor, smiling and cheering with the other students at the prospect of feeding his sweet tooth. Now, I'm no expert, but I believe even scientists haven't come up with a cure that works this fast. It was amazing!

Now, as for the "face thing" going around. I caught it Friday and felt so miserable that I'm pretty sure I caught the 'man' version of it. Not much got done over the weekend, but I'm feeling better now. Here's to good health, everyone!

It's Summer....and Pouring Down Rain.

We are eight days into our summer vacation from school. One whole week was quite warm and on Sam's birthday I had the sprinkler going just to give the kids something to cool off with. Now, into the the second week, it's not just raining outside, but it's raining cats and dogs. The kids are at their dad's, it's late evening, and the sound of the downpour all together make for the perfect recipe of creative juices flowing strongly enough to entice me to pick up my writing again.

Looking back on my blog, I realize that Thanksgiving was my last post! What happened, was life. Between mothering and teaching and the blurry line that exists between the two, the desire to put my thoughts into words lost out to the desire to put my thoughts to rest. The truth is teaching young students takes a LOT out of me creatively and when I got home on a school day, my brain needed to go to sleep. This is why the kids and I live for summertime!

I realize my life is changing rapidly and I am trying to not only figure out how to deal with the changes but to relish them as well. One big change is my oldest, Samuel, has graduated from Eighth Grade at St. Mary's and as I try to figure out where his best option for high school is, I struggle with the idea of,  "What if I make the wrong choice for him?"

On the other end of the spectrum, Cecelia is seven years old now and doesn't need me to help her go to the bathroom in the early morning hours while we are camping anymore. This may seem like a strange thing to some, but it was an eye-opening moment for me when, in the cold morning air, before anyone else was awake, she announced to me that she was going to go to the bathroom. Now, we were tent camping at my sister and brother-in-laws property and the only facilities was the "tent toilet" hole in the ground. I asked if she needed me to go with her (secretly hoping I didn't have to crawl out of my warm sleeping bag) and she said, "No." With that, she was unzipping the tent, zipped it back up after herself, and was gone.

In my half conscience state of morning grogginess, so many past camping trips flashed before my eyes. All the times, of her sleeping with me, waking me up to go to the bathroom not only at the crack of dawn, but all hours of the night. The nights of nursing her to sleep and ever so gently lying her down so I could sneak back to the campfire. The nights of lying her down in our tent and worrying whether or not I would hear her if she woke up. The pictures of her sleeping cuddled up next to her cousin or her sister. The night of her getting sick all over me, all over the bed, all over the trailer. Those days are in the past as she gets more and more independant every day.

I smiled to myself as I heard her zip the tent up behind her. How easy my life was now! I miss my babies, but I want to freeze them in the age they are right now.

After I got up that day we were camping, as we stood around the morning fire to warm ourselves, I mentioned to Cecelia how proud I was of her for being able to take care of herself. That was when I found that she didn't make it to the toilet tent. She thought the tent shed used for sheltering tools to clear the land was the bathroom and popped a squat in there....without toilet paper.  Her older cousin ended up having to burry her waste.

So, yes, my kids are growing up fast, but to my satisfaction they still need my guidance and I hope to always lead them in the right direction...whatever that may be.

My favorite thing is to see my children snuggled together.

Hiking then....

a little later....

Hiking now!

and now with the boys....I'm the one lagging behind.

"Mom....mom! Listen to me! What are you doing!!?"

 I paused and thought about it as I stood in front of the stove reaching in the cupboard above for a cookbook. 

"I can't remember."

Four years ago, my oldest son took me by the hand and led me to the couch. I sat down and in a daze I realized my tongue was sore, extremely sore. My head spun and my temples began to throb with an oncoming giant of a headache. I didn't recognize the fact that my five young children, the oldest being nine years old, my youngest only three, were all scared, crying and in shock.  Slowly, the realization that I had just had a grand mal seizure began to sink in. I felt sick to my stomach, both from the seizure itself and from learning that my children had witnessed it for the first time.

It had been at least 12 years since I first found out I was epileptic. Still, to this day, although I have to take anticonvulsants twice a day, I can't even call myself by that word...epileptic. To me, the definition of that word is "someone who seizes uncontrollably all the time and has to take the bus and wear a helmet everywhere she goes." That's not a title I want to wear. The truth is (and this is a hard pill to swallow) I am epileptic, but I thank the Good Lord everyday that He has kept me safe and has allowed my seizures to be medically controlled.  As long as I take my pills religiously, day and night, I am seizure free. 

Going back to the night my kids saw me have a seizure for the first time...I have been thinking about that night a lot because for some reason my children have been talking about it recently. Hearing them describe the moments of time that are lost to me forever gives me the chills. I try to put myself in their shoes and can very easily imagine how horrified they were.

We were sitting around the table eating dinner. That is where my memory escapes me. I remember nothing else until I was brought back to consciousness standing in front of the stove. The only other thing I could tell you is my tongue was swollen and hurt like heck and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. 

This is the kids' version, told to me by Samuel and Benjamin:

"We were sitting around the table eating dinner and then all of a sudden you got stiff and leaned over onto the windowsill. We all thought you were playing around but when you didn't stop when we asked you to, we started to get worried. Then you fell over onto the ground and began stiffly shaking. We saw blood drip out of your mouth and everyone started screaming.  I (Sam) stepped outside because everyone was screaming and I had to get away from all the noise.

I (Ben) saw you stand up and thought you were fine, but then you went to the kitchen with a blank stare like you didn't recognize me. You went to this cupboard and began to look through these cookbooks that you never used.  Sam said he was going to call 911 but you said, "No, I'm fine." and then you sat down on the couch and started to talk to us."

The thought of my babies having gone through such a terrifying scene saddens me. I was supposed to be their security, their safe haven, their rock.... but they witnessed my frailty. I had been low on my medication for weeks and was taking half my usual dosage and sometimes skipping a dose altogether at that point. I had had trouble with my medical insurance and my pharmacy, and half the time, since I was feeling fine, I didn't even think about taking my pills. This is the pitfall of being epileptic but having the seizures completely controlled by medication. Sometimes, it would be so long since my last seizure that I would start feeding myself the fallacy that I was fine and probably didn't need the medicine anymore. The truth is, I do. There have been too many close calls and too many scares for me to even go down that line of thinking anymore. 

Having seizures has never scared me, how can I fear what I don't remember? The fear that my children have felt, however, thinking about that brings up an emotion I don't even have a word for.  It is an emotion somewhere between heartache and horror. One thing, my kids do for me, however, is they tell me their fears without giving me their pity. This I can handle. I can help them calm their fears but I don't handle pity very well. I don't ever want anyone to say, "Poor you!" I don't want to look into well-meaning, though pitiful eyes that feel sorry for me. 

Tonight, I had a scare of my own. While kneeling to pray the Rosary with our block Rosary group at my parent's house, Hunter fell flat on his face as we were praying the last prayers. I rushed to his side surprised, but knowing that he had fainted. He has a history of fainting, syncope they call it. But this time, as I tried to awaken him, he appeared to seize mildly, take a deep breath and then fall back into unconsciousness. He gradually, sluggishly came to, but it took him longer than I remember it taking him before. Getting him into the van, he was clinging to me as though he could barely walk. When we got home I opened the door and he was sprawled on the seat asleep. I had to wake him up again and guide him up the stairs and into his bed where he quickly fell back to sleep. I am praying he will feel fine in the morning.

Let's remember to thank our Guardian Angels for all the overtime they put in. I am convinced that not a day goes by that at least one of the six Angels that live in our household has not saved somebody's life without us even realizing it. Good night.

The 'Single' Most Difficult Thing

It's been a long dry spell when it comes to writing posts for this blog. I think it has become stale and may be time to think about doing something new. I've been mulling over in my mind what are the posts that I have gotten the most feedback for, what are the topics that touch the most people? Looking back they are the ones that reveal the most about me. The 'honest-till-it-hurts' type of posts that people really relate to.  Then, I began to think about the reason I started this blog in the first place, a memoir, more or less for my family, friends and especially my children. It became something more than I ever imagined; a little bit of laughter in someone's day, an inspiration to someone who thinks (quite rightly) if she can do it, I can too! And it became something else, my memory.

I will be the first to admit, I have an incredibly horrible memory. The other day I was on the phone with my car insurance and they asked me what my previous address was (the one we only moved from in June) and I couldn't for the life of me remember! The rep asked sheepishly, "You're trying to remember the one you just moved from, right?" To say the least, I was quite frustrated.  So, looking back at the details of things that I have done with the kids, those precious things they might have said, and the way I felt while raising them, to me, is priceless.

This year was a milestone for me. Cecelia turned 7 in August, which means I have been a single mother for seven years. My husband left in our seventh year of marriage. So now I have been a single mother for as long as I was married. The thing that surprises me the most is how fast the last seven years have flown by compared to the seven years prior.

I remember a specific moment when I had maybe two or three kids. A rough day was always made better by the fact that when my husband got home from work, he'd play with the boys for awhile, relieving me of being their sole source of everything! When that time of day came around, I could breathe a sigh of relief, parenting just got easier (at least until the next day). In a conversation about this with my sister, I remember saying to her, "I do NOT know how single mothers do it! It would absolutely be the hardest thing ever." She agreed.

Another memory I can recall was when I had four kids, and one on the way. I was sitting on the couch with my husband right after he told me he was moving out. "How can I raise the kids by myself?!" I said with a fearful heart and tears in my eyes. He tried to assure me I wouldn't have to do it alone, but deep in my soul, I knew he was wrong.

Another conversation comes to mind, this one with God.  The kids were in bed, my husband had moved out. I was sitting on the floor in my bedroom, tears streaming down my face. I was filled with doubt, fear and anger. I doubted my abilities, I feared my future, I was mad at God. I followed the rules of my faith, I had done things right by saving myself for marriage and got married to a Catholic man in the sacramental rite of the Church, why wasn't He saving my marriage!!??

I threw a fit right there on the floor. I pounded the ground with my fist and begged, "Why?! Why?! Why are you allowing this to happen?" Then I looked for comfort from the very God with whom I just doubted. I opened a book that was never far from my bedside, "My Daily Bread". The worn, little, red book has been a spiritual comfort in times good and bad. I did as I usually did, trusting God to move my hands to open to the page I needed to read in that moment. It was Chapter 78, it read:

My Child, believe in Me. Put your trust in My love and mercy. Many a time, when you think that I am far from you, I am very close to you. When you feel as though everything is going wrong, then it is that you can give your best proof of your faith and your loyalty to Me. You are not a failure just because things turn out differently from what you desired. Do not judge things by your disappointment or dislike. Keep discouragement out of your heart, no matter how hopeless matters may appear. Do your best and accept the results as My Will. I am your Maker and your loving God. Your most hidden thoughts are clearly seen by Me. Your eternal salvation is My main interest.....

and the last paragraph I finally understand;

What I do to you is done because I love you far more than you love yourself or anyone else. When I send you any trouble or affliction, do not complain or become sad. Peace and contentment will come to you as soon as it is for your best interests.

It was in reading this, that my conversation with God changed. It went from fighting His will to completely giving in. I flew the white flag of surrender over myself and insisted since this was His will He had to take care of us. I told God specifically, "You are asking this of me, now you have to give me the grace to get through it." I went to bed mentally exhausted that night, but the tides had shifted and I went from being a helpless victim to someone who was going to slowly begin to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and place them together to make a masterpiece mosaic, not by my own skill, but by the skill of the Great Artist.

That's certainly not to say that I didn't "complain or become sad" throughout the process. There were waterfalls of tears along the way. But never once, have I felt like God didn't have my back. Even through some of the most difficult times, I have been given the grace to be able to look back and see the reason behind it all.

So, was I right in thinking years ago that being a single mother would be the most difficult thing? Yes. But it's not as difficult as I imagined, and I don't consider myself single in the term of doing it 'alone'. I know I have the help of family and friends and, most of all, my Heavenly Father who promised He would be 'very close' to me. I feel like the 'peace and contentment' has come to me now in ways I'd never have imagined possible.




Thanks for reading,

Gina.

A Change of Pace

An occasion arose yesterday that required me to bring all five kids to Seattle. Now, I love going to the big city every now and then to take in the sights and sounds and even to smell the air...salty sea, mixed with yummy foods, tainted by the exhaust of traffic, but never did I think taking five kids to the bustling city by myself could be found anywhere on a scale of fun.

What I did find, however, is that not only taking kids to the city really was a lot of fun but that it wasn't all that different from taking them hiking in the mountains. 

It's a good idea to hold hands. To thoroughly enjoy the experience one must do a lot of walking!

Both have a way of letting you feel the beauty of insignificance.

You can find waterfalls in the mountains....as well as in the city. Both places give your legs a good workout!

Both off opportunities to practice your balance, and to climb like monkeys all over stuff.

Lots of opportunities to observe wildlife!

Both have signs to important places....

There are of course, some things that would never be seen in nature, and these things are what make the city a fun change of pace for us:

The Hammering Man stands tall outside of the Seattle Art Museum (SAM)

From top, clockwise: In from of Pikes Place Market, the biggest pizza we've ever seen, Ben showing his love of pigs, Isabelle excited for the Seahawks in front of the 'Clink' and again, Ben loves pigs.

And, of course, this is something you should never see while hiking in the mountains....but should check out while scoping out the city!!

Lesson taught, lesson learned.

“Life provides ample opportunity to test our mettle. When circumstances call for it, let’s give ourselves a break and ask for help.” 

― Gina Greenlee, Postcards and Pearls: Life Lessons from Solo Moments on the Road

Moments that teach my children valuable lessons are usually moments that come at a somewhat painful cost. Like today for instance, two of my boys went out riding their bikes barefooted. I told them to put shoes on but they only really learned the lesson after they both hobbled home with scrapes on the bottom of one foot. Before I even had to remind them that "I told you....," they were saying "I know, I know".

When I have opportunities to teach my children things they will need to know, I prefer to make the most of them rather than let the moment be wasted. Well, I had the "opportunity", the other day, to teach Samuel how to change a tire on a car. It's a lesson that I would prefer their dad teach them, but I don't know if that "teaching opportunity" would present itself with him so I felt the burden had fallen on me.  

To start off the day, I began to make breakfast but was short something (I can't even remember what it was now) and when I started to back out of our driveway, I noticed it felt and sounded different. I got out to look around and saw right away that the back, passenger-side tire was completely flat. "Ugh." 

So I headed back inside the house to call Kia's roadside assistance hotline but stopped myself short when I understood I was presented the perfect opportunity to teach Samuel something he would someday need to know. The weather, though quite warm, wasn't wet and we were at our own home. These circumstances beat being stranded on a busy freeway in the pouring rain. So, yes, I decided to show my oldest son how to change a tire (then maybe next time I wouldn't HAVE to be in the equation at all)

Some of the steps I had to learn as I taught, like how to lower the spare from underneath the van, and where exactly to jack the van up from. Did I say it was "quite warm"? What I meant is it was pretty DANG HOT!! By the time we got the hang of the jack apparatus, we were both dripping sweat and frustrated for no other fact than that it was SO DANG HOT! We made sure to loosen the lug nuts in the right order, but not all the way until it was ready to come off.

"Phew!!" Flat tire off. We noticed a large piece of metal (bigger than a nail or screw) lodged in the tire tread. That explained it. Now to put the spare tire on. I read in the manual that the tire went on "Bevelled side out". What the HECK did that mean? Bevelled....who says that?!! I had no idea what bevelled meant in regards to a tire.....so I guessed.

We managed to get the tire on, screw on the lug nuts, lower the van....then, and ONLY then, we noticed the tire stuck out a good four inches farther than the other normal tires. "That does not look right." I told Samuel. We were worn out on account of the heat and filthy from the dirty tire, but the reality sadly sunk in and we knew we would have to take this tire off and turn it around. Before jacking the van back up I tried loosening the lug nuts. All but one loosened right up. One was being stubborn, it acted like the child who, upon not getting the exact piece of dessert he wanted decides to fold his arms and plant himself in the middle of the floor instead of heading off to the bathtub. NOTHING I did worked in moving this stubborn piece of metal. I tried one last time. We attached the lug wrench, I stepped up on it, jumped, and "FLOOSH!!" it was off, I was down.

I knew instantly that something was wrong. The nut had flung off the wheel and part of the bolt was now lodged in the nut...broken off of the vehicle. Upon realizing this, I sat down in exhaustion and felt tears well up. I didn't want Sam to see me so worked up so I abandoned the project and left for the house. After regaining my composure, I called the Kia Roadside Assistance hotline and they suggested that I get it towed to a shop. They asked what dealership I wanted them to tow the van to; the one five miles away or the one I got the van from, 16 miles away. Although, I would've preferred them take it to the farther one, I was too exasperated to care and simply told them, "Whatever's closest."

Long story short, my dad came over, the van got towed, they couldn't get to it that night, as they suggested, we went to the dealership for a loaner car, they didn't have one, the next day they told me the tire was unfixable and for a new tire and labor it would cost me $144. I called Dad, Dad called dealership, yelled at them, we went and got the van, took it to trusted dealership and they fixed it all for $20. What should've taken half an hour turned into a two day affair.

So, yes, a teaching opportunity arose. I took it. Sam learned to changed a tire but the real lesson was one I learned: Ask for help.

I am Supermom!

My kids often ask me, "Mom, if you could have any super power what would it be?" They always give me certain boundaries, however, such as: I can't have the 'power to have all powers, and I can't have something boring like "the power to take a nap whenever I want" (which is one I'd really like!). I usually rack my brain and almost always tell them I'd like to be able to fly.

Lately though, I've been thinking to myself that I'd really like to have the power of Disney's Elastigirl from The Incredibles. Here are some of the ways it would come in handy for me:

• When I finally find a sweater that I like at the mall and realize all the sizes that are bigger than extra-small are hung dang near the ceiling, I wouldn't have to wander around to find someone who could come and use the special hanger-grabbing, ten-foot pole thingy.
• When I'm at Mass during the school day with eleven Kindergarten and First Graders I could do things like; pass the children two pews up from me a tissue, get them to the right page in their prayer books, wake them up, tell them it's time to kneel, warn them to get their fingers out of there noses...all without leaving my pew!
• When my kids get into a bickering match while I'm driving in heavy traffic I could stretch one arm all the way to the back of the van and slap each one along side the head before they even knew what hit them.  They'd be so shocked that they'd bond in a shared moment of creepiness and the bickering would come to an end....forever!

Those are just a few ways Elastigirl's power would help me. Yes, that is the power I want. It's just so much more practical than flying...at least during this stage of my life.

In all seriousness, I have a friend who frequently calls me Supermom (Leah H!!). I usually brush off her flattery because, most days, I feel anything but super. One thing she said to me, at least five years back, however, has stuck with me to this day. After calling me 'Supermom' and me scoffing at the title, she said, 

"No, really. You know why you are Supermom? Because you get FIVE little kids to bed every night and FIVE little kids out of the house in the morning! That's quite the feat."

She said it with such genuine sincerity that the thought has never left me. Yes, they are older now and, in some ways, things have gotten easier, but she was right, I AM Supermom, dagnammit!  Every mom knows that simply getting out of the house is an enormous task.  Now, Leah is about to have her third child and she, too, is a Supermom, as are all moms that take on the task of raising adults. That's right, adults. We are not raising these little humans to be children, but respectful, caring, responsible adults...and that is super.

I might fly one day. Across the seas to far off lands....

But for now, I will find my power in....naps.

"Dinner can wait, just give me ten minutes....please?"

Our Next Big Adventure.....

"Children are a lot like elephants; they have big ears and they don't forget a thing." -Me

For this reason, I never tell my kids that we are going to do something until I am certain that it will happen.  And the reason of this post is because I told my kids something...something big, and now I need to make sure it happens. I am posting this for my accountability.

In the process of talking to several people this week, my mind began to hatch a plan to take a road trip with the kids this summer. It was totally out of my control. Once the thought was there, it consumed me. Before I knew it I had priced RV rentals, half of our itinerary was planned and, yes, I mentioned it to my elephants.

So here I am, four hours before they return home from a weekend with their dad and I find myself thinking about everything that needs to come together for this to happen. I believe it is possible, and I intend to take steps from now until then to make sure I don't disappoint the fabulous five.

Any advice on taking a road trip that doesn't break the bank would be much appreciated. This summer I was saying, "Happy Trails, everyone!" Next year I will be humming to the tune of, "On the Road Again!" Until then,

God bless you....and may He please help me!!

Gina

 

 

Mission: Possible

"Shoot For the Moon, Even If You Miss You'll Land Among the Stars." 

- Les Brown

There have been times when I've used this blog as tool of self-motivation. I've written about goals that I set forth to accomplish with hopes that, in fear of appearing a failure, I'd accomplish them. I've written about getting healthier by giving up sugar, about my goal to live a contented life by starting the Happiness Project and about all the things I planned on doing the summer of 2012. To be honest, I eat sweets like it's no body's business, I followed through with 3 or 4 months of the given outlines of the Happiness Project and I only went on 1 of 6 adventures I planned last year.

The outcome? I still want to eat healthier, I am happy, last summer was great and another one is just around the corner with new adventures waiting. Do I consider myself a failure because I didn't accomplish all my goals? Absolutely not. I consider myself better off for having made them in the first place because had I not made them, I never would have done the things I did end up doing.

There is one mission, however, that has been given to me that is non-negotiable. It began nearly eleven years ago this June. This mission, which I chose whole-heartily to accept, is where I find my entire purpose in life. The details of this mission weren't entirely clear to me when I accepted it and as I took it on its level of difficulty became clear.  At times, throughout this mission, I felt fear, fear that it was beyond me, that I was far from qualified. I felt inadequate to perform the tasks involved. I felt I was a failure already with so many goals still to accomplish. Then, I realized, I was inadequate, I wasn't meant to fulfill this mission alone.

It is the mission of raising my five children. Not just raising them, for people raise chickens all the time, no problem. They are born small, you feed them and they become full grown. Anybody can raise a chicken or a child for that matter. My mission is to form the souls of my children to "do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with their God." (Micheas 6:8) so that they will grow into like-minded adults.

I have a long way to go. When I had one child run in crying because her brother 'hit her on her back' and another child angry that her sister 'wouldn't play with her,' I thought to myself, 'do my children love kindness?' And again, the only thoughts towards justice I've heard lately are along the lines of, "Finder's Keepers!" and "That isn't FAIR!" And do they seem to be walking humbly with God? HA! Is any child truly humble?

But the truth is, where my inadequacies come into play, God's grace suffices to fill in the gaps.  In this I am entirely confident that my children will grow to retain the same great loves I am teaching them now: love for God, love for family, love for life itself, and love for truth. I believe that they will become what Christ called all of us to be, "wise as serpents, and innocent as doves." Are these lofty goals? Impossible? Not if my expectations of them remain high. I have seen first-hand that children will either grow up to our expectations or down to them, and so I plan on keeping them high.

The next 14 weeks we will be undertaking an intensive immersion of learning about and practicing the following virtues: faith, hope, charity, prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance. I will spend approximately two weeks on each virtue until they become part of the makeup of who we are as a family and as individuals. This will be our summer's spiritual adventure that will accompany all of the physical ones we will have together.

I plan on documenting our goals, and the means by which we put the virtues into practice. I am still fine-tuning the details so we will begin this Monday, May 13th. I pray for God's guidance in this mission, because in and of myself, I can do nothing.

I wish I wrote this on Saturday, National Star Wars day, so I could end by saying May the 4th be with you, but I will stick with gist of today's post and say simply, 'May the grace of God be with us all.' Good Night.

Gina.

Greener Grass??

It has been so long since I logged in to write a post that I had forgotten my password and had to go through the ever so annoying process of setting up a new one. The truth is, I haven't written in so long because living hasn't left me room in my life to contemplate or reflect. I have missed that. However, with the Lenten time upon us, due to activities I have given up for the next 30 days, I have some time to "catch up".

I guess I thought that I no longer had an audience since my blog had become stagnant, but according to Blogger, people are still checking in, so I thank you for that.

I feel like my life is on the brink of change. My family is on the fence about something that would change our lives dramatically. Actually, my family, is not on the fence...I am. Everybody else has hopped the fence and is running free where the grass appears greener. I am standing there, sceptically looking at that green grass and wondering if it was sprayed with green chemicals to make it look luscious and inviting.

A few months back, my mom brought to mind the idea of finding a multi-family house to rent that would be big enough for the kids and I and her and my dad. I thought it over and the more I looked online at available houses, the more it seemed this was a plausible possibility. Those houses included; two kitchens, multi-levels, separate entrances, many bathrooms and a nice big fenced-in back yard with puppy possibilities.

Then my mother found a house, fell in love, and all but packed the moving vans! The only thing is...we haven't been in this house yet, and some of the things I thought would be necessary for it to work, aren't there.

There are so many concrete pros to moving into this house (at least if it is laid out exactly as it was described to me) that it almost doesn't make sense not to do it. The kids and I would have four bedrooms instead of three allowing for Samuel to finally have his own room, the backyard is HUGE with get this: a tree fort and a playhouse (boys vs. girls), the kitchen, though not separate, is supposedly large and newly remodeled, it's just as close to school/work as we are now, and I would be saving quite a bit of money a month. Seems like a no-brainer, right?

So why is it weighing so heavily on my heart? The answer is two part, and it lies within my past.

When I moved out to be on my own at 19, I discovered my love of anonymity, liberty and independence. Nobody had to know where I was at all times, I had the liberty to come and go as I pleased...wherever that was, and I had the independence to chose whether or not I would do the dishes at night, what color curtains I put up and how loud and frequently I listened to the soundtrack of O Brother Where Art Thou.

When I got married, I gladly gave up some of that in exchange for the duties of my chosen vocation.

When I was on my own again, I rediscovered that love of freedom, though it was a different kind of freedom. "Popcorn for dinner?" "YAY!!", "We are going camping today!", "YAY!" "Go outside and play so I can have some peace and quiet." "YAY!" "We're going to Mass in 30 minutes." "But it's Saturday, why do we have to go to Mass today?" "BECAUSE I SAID SO".

The choices that need to be made are mine to make and I haven't had to share that responsibility for almost 5 years. That, although sometimes burdensome, is freedom to me.

The second part of the answer has to do with the house we live in now. I had no idea about this part until I spoke to my mother about my reservations about moving and in one sentence she almost had me in tears. She spoke about how it might be difficult to move on account of my sentimental attachment to our house. Every fiber of my being wanted to refute this idea. I never considered myself a very sentimental person. I love getting rid of stuff and there isn't much that I own that I would be sorry to lose. I have no desire to own my own house because I never want to be so attached to anything or anyplace.

I left that conversation with a heaviness on my heart. When I got home that day, I walked through my front door and suddenly my house seemed to give me one of those big understanding sympathetic hugs that break down the floodgates and force the waterworks to flow freely. I sat down and so many memories came pouring into my conscience mind, memories that I didn't realize I associated with our home.

This house was here to greet us on the sunny morning of July 1, 2008. It's doors opened wide like welcoming arms. It was as though it was saying, "I know you are broken and imperfect, but so am I, we will do just fine together." My four kids and I moved in and the house kept us all together at a time when I felt I was falling apart. A month later, I brought Cecelia home from the hospital to this house and the six of us settled into our new life.

The furniture has been rearranged so many times in hopes to find the most space efficient arrangement and the scratches in the hardwood floors have stories to tell. The walls have literally been climbed, and every square inch has been lived in to the fullest. So many times I have cursed this house for its cramped quarters, it's noisy furnace or the persistent moles that have mansions under the lawn. But the truth is, this house has been good to us. It has been good for us.

As of right now, I don't know if we are moving soon or not. It will take some adjustment in my way of thinking, and acceptance of the sacrifices that will have to be made. The grass may be greener on the other side, but at what cost?

 

Not much from the outside...but with the love of a family, it's home.

A Boost From the Ghost of Christmas Present

Two days before the beginning of the third week of Advent I had the opportunity to go shopping for our Christmas tree. I wasn't sure if I wanted a pre-lit artificial tree with is re-use ability and convenience or a real one with it's fresh pine smell and nostalgic memories. After talking with my cousin, however, about the necessity to water, and the constant need to vacuum up the needles of a real tree, I chose to find one I can retrieve with great ease from my garage year after year.

Thanks to our neighbors giant fir tree that hangs over my driveway, I am already sweeping up pine needles several times a day, I didn't need any more. So a trip to a nearby Kmart brought us an unexpected delight. As the kids and I browsed through the Christmas trees that were on display at the store we agreed that one in particular was not only very nice looking, but it fit our budget and the slim style would fit our little home. I looked for the box with the coordinating tree number on it and to our dismay, they were sold out.

I asked the customer service worker if there were any stored in another area and she informed me that the one on display was the only one left. She did say, however, that they would sell me that one, without of the box. I hesitated because it was heavily decorated and I didn't want to wait around as they removed all the beautiful ornaments and ribbons. As I stood there, indecisive, hemming and hawing about what to do, the sales associate simply said, "You can have everything that is on the tree as well." I asked how much they would charge for that, but to my utmost surprise she said, "No extra charge." What?!!! How could this be?

And so, I watched as several employees wrapped the tree, ornaments and all, in Saran wrap and loaded it up to take it to the back of the store until I could get my dad to come and pick it up in his truck. I couldn't really believe what I just did....bought a tree fully decorated. All I would have to do is get it home, unwrap it, and plug it in!

Now, I have always enjoyed taking my time and meticulously deciding where each ornament should go to look perfectly asymmetrical, all the while listening to Christmas music and sipping hot cocoa. But the reality is this: once my kids got old enough to want to 'help', it became an event that brought something close to dread in my heart. The bickering, the broken ornaments, the bickering and the bickering were just something that could put a damper on the best intended plans. So, this was perfect!

I did put Christmas music on, and we gathered around to ceremoniously unwrap the tree. Each kid took a turn holding the plastic wrap and making one lap around the tree, then they passed it off to the next one until our first Christmas present was 'opened'. They were so excited and really felt like they were helping decorate. We straightened out a few branches, cleaned up one shattered bulb that fell off and plugged in it! Waaaaaa-laaaah!!

They even gave us the shiny red tree skirt. It was the most fun I'd had putting up our tree in years, and the kids enjoyed it too. I even had energy to put lights on the house outside and after it was all over, Sam told me, "Thanks for all the hard work you did to make our house Christmassy." That brought a smile to my face.

Then we watched 'The Christmas Story'. Is it just me or does that movie get funnier every year? I was literally laughing so hard I had tears and my kids were like, 'What's so funny, mom?'

I truly sympathized with Ralphy when he had his "Oh Fuuuuuuuuuudge" moment. When I was taking out the porch light to install an outlet adapter for the Christmas lights, in slow motion the light bulb dropped to the concrete stairs and out of my mouth came a very loud "S#!t!!" with Samuel standing right next to me. I'm not one to swear, especially in front of my kids, so I don't know why such a word would  instinctively escape without effort.  It must have been the fear that arose due to the fact that those newfangled energy saving light bulbs that you cant throw away and contain deadly amounts of mercury was falling out of my control to the hard ground below....ya, that must have been it.

Merry Christmas and Happy Decorating.

Gina.

Supermom is out of Reach

"I'd like to be the ideal mother, but I'm too busy raising my kids." - Unknown.

Sitting in the lobby of the chiropractor's office the other day, waiting to be adjusted by Dr. Mike, I took a deep breath and was so happy to just be...waiting. It was so peaceful to have one and only one task to do...sit. I secretly hoped that the doctor would be running late and I would get to wait a really long time. That didn't happen, but I still relished the short reprieve from the break-neck pace that life has been lately. I've realized that I need to make the best use of every spare moment like this. What I actually realized is I need to create more moments like this rather than wait for them to come to me.

I had a crushingly humble moment a few weeks ago. I was feeling satisfied in knowing that all the tasks that had been filling my mind with unease had been accomplished and, finally, I could relax knowing that I had gotten through another year of costume and presentation preparations that accompanied Halloween and All Saints Day. My moment of humility came when I turned on my computer and, seeing pictures posted on Facebook, I realized I had just missed Benjamin's den's tour of the fire department; a requirement for the Wolf year of scouting.

Seeing the pictures of the other scouts' huge smiles as they climbed on the big red truck and getting to 'rescue' a firefighter, I felt like I had let Ben down in a big way. He would have loved that. I also felt an internal temper tantrum begin to rage from deep within me. "How can I do ALL of this by myself??!!" I took a deep breath and before the anger bubbled to the surface, I realized, I simply cannot do it ALL.

I feel like for the past four years, I have been compromising my sanity by trying to keep up with those damned 'Joneses', for my children's sake, so they wouldn't feel the pain of living in a single parent home. But I finally realized that if we don't feel the pain of living then when will we really learn to live? Yes, my kids go without. They go without making it to every fun event, they go without joining every team, without the latest video games, and sometimes they even go a couple days without a bath or shower because I am too tired to deal with the hassle, but they never go without love. They never go to sleep without me tucking them in to bed at night with a blessing and a kiss goodnight.

I pray that where I fail them, God will pick up the slack and fill in the gaps.

Love and prayers,

Gina.

 

Are You Normal?

My post titled, 'Six Confessions of a Single Mother' has scored more views than any other post. In fact the second most popular post has less than 30% of the audience of my 'Confessions' post. When I discovered this last night, I wondered what about that post draws the most readers, and why would I want to read that post more than any of the others?

I thought of two possible reasons. One, people love gossip, and a 'confession' is a good place to find some. Or two, people are looking to see if some of the things they feel guilty for are included, which would justify in their own mind, that they are at least as normal as me (no comment). Truth be told, I am as nosy as anyone else, and I too, would want to know if someone else out there is guilty of the same 'sins' as myself. After discovering what people are curious about I decided to amass a list of things I consider oddities about myself and my family, that way my loving readers can decide for themselves whether or not they are 'normal' ;) (or rather, whether or not I am).

• Saturday is our family's day to be as lazy as we want. While we try to observe Sunday as a day set aside for God and family, Saturday is a day to sleep in, do laundry in our pajamas....actually, we frequently do everything in our pajamas on this day. However, this is also the day that random people tend to spring surprise visits on us. Picture this: we are all in our pajamas and the house is a wreck because everyone is busy doing their own thing. Our house is too small to have a room that is always clean and ready for visitors, every room in our castle is lived in profusely. A knock is heard on the door. My children are brainwashed trained to be silent, no sudden movements until I decide whether we 'are home' or not. Everyone is huddled in the hallway as I check the peephole in the door. If I do decide to open the door, it is either someone we know, or because my pajamas could double as casual wear and my hairs are all pointing in acceptable directions. If I don't answer the door, we all hunker down in the hallway until they give up and drive away.
• I have to start this paragraph off with a disclaimer: boys are weird, they just are. There are several days of the week when we aren't home from the time we leave for school until long after the sun has gone down. We have one bathroom. Six people. One throne. Oftentimes nature calls all of us at the exact same time, as soon as we get home! That's a problem. In cases of urgency, I give my boys permission to make good use of the thin strip of our property located behind the garage where the tall weeds grow. Shhhhh!!!
• I have a few legs and the smudged remains (not the fat body, that's just gross!) of a spider I killed in my room....over a year ago. It's partial corpse is located on one wall near the ceiling. I seriously believe that it will scare away other spiders who don't want to share in that spider's fate....so far, it's worked :)
• I want to imitate the virtues of Jesus and Mary, but I'm afraid to pray for patience for fear one of my children will come down with ADHD; and I'm afraid to pray for humility for fear that I will grow a goiter. There I've said it. So, I've become very specific...."Please, God, help me to be patient when my child still can't spell 'necessary' no matter how many times I go over it with him, and when so-and-so commits the ultimate crime at the breakfast table and looks at so-and-so, please grant me patience then, as well." Also, "Please grant me humility to NOT say "I told you so" when one of my children falls out of her chair and bumps her elbow right after I told her not to sit on the chair that way."
• This one is really weird. Sometimes, I worry that I don't worry. Did you get that? My grandmother (whom I love with my whole heart), worries when she doesn't have something to worry about, which is the exact opposite. I worry that I never worry because I wonder if that means I don't care.  I don't think it does, so I won't worry about it.
• I sleep very well. So well, in fact, that it seems like a mere second from the time I fall asleep to the time my alarm goes off telling me to rise and shine. Most mornings I wake in the exact same position that I fell asleep in, sore and stiff. Tonight, I am going to set my alarm for the middle of the night so when I wake up and see that I still have three hours until morning, I can roll over with a smile on my face and thank God for the 'extra' sleep.

Tomorrow is All Hallows Eve, because I have stayed up too late as it is, I will be walking in a zombie-like state after I step out of bed and I will probably look and feel that way all day long....at least I won't have to dress up.

Happy Trick-or-Treating,

Gina

Taking Charge...Again

In the movie "We Were Soldiers" a character asks Mel Gibson's character "Can you be a soldier and a father?" Gibson's reply was, "I believe that being good at one makes me better at the other."

I think that is starting to happen to me. I'm not a soldier in the military sense, but I am a soldier fighting the moral war that society is waging on children. Today, I put to use a discipline practice that we use at school. When the kids get in trouble they are expected to write an essay containing four major points:

1. What did I do wrong
2. Why should I not do it again
3. What rule did I break or what virtue do I need to work on, and,
4. My apology

I had one particular child who got in trouble today for not doing his work....and then throwing a major fit when he was forced to give up his recess time to complete what should have already been done. Because of the trouble he gave his teacher, I insisted he write her an apology letter that contained these four parts. He had to do this last week and I told his teacher that I wanted to know every incident where his behavior was out of line, so I could reinforce the lessons that are being taught at school.

Of course, this did not sit well with him. He dawdled, fiddle-farted and boondoggled until I informed him that he now had to write a letter to me, as well, for disobeying. That got the water works started! I sat with him and helped him with his letter to his teacher. When his jaw tightened, and his lower lip hung in floppy defiance, I took the few words he had written down and crumpled up the paper. Having been forewarned that if his attitude was bad, he would have to start over, I was forced to follow through with his consequence. Now he knew I was serious. Over time, I believe, my own lack of consistency has led my children to think that they can push me to a point where I give up and eventually ease off the consequence, but I am resolving to persevere from this point forward....again.

His handwriting had to be neat and his attitude had to be good. He got it done without further ado and without my help (but with my prompting) he began the letter to me, which went as follows:

Sorry Mom I bisodabe you and I had a bad adutood. I will work on having a good adutood, love XXXXX.

(Looks like he still needs work on his B's and D's) What this does, is make him think about not only what he did, but what he needs to do differently in the future. When he finished, he gave me a big hug, and was in the best of moods during dinner.

Later, another child was being mean to this child and was made to write him an apology letter; it went as follows:

Dear XXXXX,
I kicked you in the stomach. I won't do it again because it's not being nice. I was disobeying the rule, hands, feet and objects to myself. I am so sorry.
From, XXXXX
 

As you can see, we had a wonderful evening..... Anyway, soon homework was completed and everyone was getting along marvelously.  I am encouraged to persevere in these types of disciplines at home because I have to enforce them at school as well, and because of this, I believe that being a teacher is making me a better mom.  I saw an old teacher of mine at the school the other day and she handed me an article she had printed off from a newspaper clipping. It was about how mothers used to be in control of their children but how, nowadays, the children seem to rule the roost. I think maybe she was trying to tell me something....I'm not sure. I don't want my children to fear me...I just want to be able to give them "the look" and get an immediate shift in behavior.

 I think I'm on my way....however....last night I experienced one of those weird twilight zone moments where a memory of my childhood was reenacted only I was the parent and my children took the place I held long ago. As I was in the girls' room, reading to them on Cecelia's bed, the boys kept sneaking into the room, thinking I didn't see them. This had them thinking that they were the funniest things since sliced bread (when was sliced bread ever funny?). I yelled at them a couple times to "knock it off and get in bed!!" That didn't work. They kept sneaking in and laughing their annoying "I'm doing something naughty hahaha" laugh. After the story was over and the girls were tucked into bed for the night, I went into the boys' room and swatted each one on their behinds. They all began howling like they were about to die. I sat and stared at them thinking, "I know I didn't smack them that hard...why in the world are they crying?" Then, one by one, the fake cries turned into laughter and I sat there with my 'trying-hard-not-to-smile' mouth twitching spontaneously until it gave way to the real thing. Defeat. It tasted bad.

Cheers to life, through trials and triumphs!

Gina.

This is what I wanted to do today....before I took control. 

 

a

An Apointment With THE Mountain

"There's a certain amount of risk in life. When it comes down to dying I want to know what it's like to have really lived." - Lou Whittaker.
 

Mount Rainier has a powerful grasp on my heart. I think about her every day...really. Just thinking about her brings peace and calm to my mind. On a clear day, when her rocky blue and snowy white presence is visible, I feel secure in knowing that she is close and I can visit when needed. On Saturday, I needed to.

It had been a month since the kids had been to their dad's and I longed for the serenity that comes along with silence and lack of obligation. Finally, I had one and a half days to do with as I saw fit. Having hiked up to Camp Muir the past two years, it was definitely on my summer bucket list of things I wanted to accomplish this year. However, life throws curve balls and it hadn't happened yet, so this was how I was going to spend the first day of fall.

Friday, after school let out, the kids got picked up by their dad. I kissed them each farewell and breathed a relaxing breath of freedom. After cleaning up my classroom, my house, and my backpack, I went to the movies with my sister, Emily, and then to Safeway to by light, packable food for the climb.

By the time I got home it was after 10 pm. I packed up and laid out my clothes for the hike and fell into bed knowing it may be difficult to wake up early enough to be at my parents at 7 am to meet my fellow hikers. I am fighting a head cold, but my stubborn temperament was determined not to let it get in the way of my plans.

My 5:30 alarm came awfully early. Struggling to get out of bed, I text Emily to bid her Good Morning (actually I text her to make sure she was still coming, I worried she would back out of our plans due to her own worsening cold). She, however, was already drinking her first cup of coffee and motivated me to get out of bed and make a cup of my own. Barely able to breathe out of my nose and ignoring the nagging beginning of a sore throat, I got dressed, drank my coffee while reading a book written by legendary mountaineer, Lou Whittaker (whom I met last week). This both energized me and filled me with excitement for the day ahead of us.

The climbers today would be Emily, Aaron (to my surprise due to his cold also), and Maura, a family friend that goes back to my infancy. Maura has inspired me more than she knows. Originally from Ireland, she is a healthy and active grandmother, and the neatest lady you'll ever meet. I never tire of hearing her talk and listening to stories of her adventures both near and abroad. She is a true inspiration.

I drove my trusty van, which has become the adventure bus. The way up to Paradise, on Mt. Rainier, we listened to Maura tell of her ghostly experiences and hiking with Sherpas in Kathmandu. The hour-long drive went by quickly but our anticipation morphed ever so slightly to hesitation as the fog became thicker and thicker the higher we drove. About half a mile from the parking lot, we could barely see the road. It hasn't rained in over sixty days, but my windshield wipers were needed. We figured we'd hike what we could, but not push it.

Much to our delight, no more than three minutes after we parked the van, the fog cleared and the sun shone through on the mountain. We all stood in awe of the beauty that surrounded us.

The shock of the colder air had us piling on layers of clothing, and soon we were loaded up and ready to go; but only five minutes into the hike we were shedding the layers like a dog in the summer sun. The first 100 yards of the 4.5 mile hike is oftentimes one of the most difficult parts. Not only did our lungs have to get used to thinner air, but the paved trail that leads to the rocky trail further up is just so darn steep we were all panting like we had just ran a marathon!!

Before long our bodies adjusted to the altitude enough so that our hearts calmed down and our breathing slowed. Each one of us hiked to his/her own pace. Nobody minded that although we came together, it was as though we were on a solo hike. Every now and then we'd regroup and see how everyone was doing. About half-way up to Camp Muir at Pebble Creek right before the rocky climb turned to a snowy/slushy walk straight uphill, Maura decided she had gone as far as her body would allow. She was smart to know and respect her limits.

The rest of us chugged along. We had reached the Muir Snowfield and, being late in the season, all of the clean white and packed snow was melted and what remained was slushy, dirty, and wet snow that gave way to large and small crevasses here and there. All around we could see water running in little rivulets that will eventually form crevasses if the snow doesn't start falling. When we reached the point where we could hear water flowing directly below the ice under our feet, Emily decided she didn't want to go any further. That, and having forgotten her asthma inhaler, she was feeling the effects of high altitude more than Aaron and myself were. She insisted we continue and decided to rest on the warm rocks and wait for us to return.

By this point the landscape around us was other-worldly. It looked more like something you'd imagine on the moon than anything you'd normally come in contact with on Earth. The trees were gone, all you could see was ice, craggy rock walls and snow. The mountain grade was so steep that you could not see further than the white ridge above us; and beyond that ridge awaited.....another ridge. I remember thinking to myself. "Ok, I know I'm out of shape...but I don't remember it being this far!"  When one gets up that far on the mountain, their strides become incredibly short and the pace slows way down. A technique call "rest steps" is used, and that is basically focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. It didn't help that with the snow so slushy, many steps forward slid backward half a step. We were moving in slow motion.

As slow as I felt we were going, we kept pace with a crew that was climbing to the summit of Rainier. The nine person team left minutes before us and we actually beat them up by a few minutes, so I guess, we went at an average pace. The distance between Aaron and I increased as my legs seemed to acquire a hundred pounds each. Once I reached the dirt that surrounds the actual camp. I was so tired I could barely lift one foot in front of the other. I had to call on every last ounce of energy I had to climb the stairs to the top where I collapsed on the warm rocks and laid down. My body was spent. Nothing was clear to me and I couldn't focus on anything. Lying down I could have fallen asleep right there amidst the other climbers, but I knew, if I did, I could possibly be there for quite some time. I tried to sit up to feed and water myself and as I did, I could hear Aaron snoring nearby. I woke him up and we sat in silence for awhile...too tired to speak. The thought of standing up and making it the whole way down was more than I could dare think about. After awhile, however, we knew we should be leaving and our energy slowly returned.

Less than in years past, but in several spots, the snow was cooperative enough to make great glissading chutes. We simply sit down, shove off and away we'd go!!!!

 

What took us about six hours to go up, took only about two hours to descend. We reached Paradise by 6:45 pm....exhausted beyond words. My legs felt like rubber, like at any moment they would buckle from my own weight. My clothes were damp, my toes were wet and my fingers were numb, but I never felt better. The process of climbing Camp Muir when you are out of shape and fighting a sinus infection isn't exactly what I'd call fun, but the feeling of accomplishment is so worth it.

The day was a delight to my senses....well most of them. My sense of smell was a little disapointed. There is some wild weed that grows in the mountain that gives off a disagreeable scent. It is reminiscent to the smell of stale laundry....when you've forgotten to take the wet clothes out of the washer and they end up sitting in there a couple days (come on now, I know I'm not the only one who has done this....right?). Yes, I didn't take pleasure to the mountain smells. However, after you get above a certain altitude, there are no smells...and your other senses take over. The sound of rocks or ice falling on the other side of steep ridges, the water bubbling under the snow, the cool alpine breeze on my face as I reach the top of a new ridge, the sight of the summit...so close; all these things added to the enjoyment of the day. Above all, knowing I pushed myself to my limit, and that now, my limit has expanded....

I plan on climbing Mt. Rainier, my only hesitation is my children. When I told Isabelle I plan to climb the mountain, she burst into tears, fearing I would never return. Many people have attempted it and never returned, and yet, many more have climbed it many times. How easy it is to risk your life when you have only yours to look out for, but my children came to mind many times the day I climbed to Camp Muir. There are many risks I would have taken if their little faces hadn't entered into the forefront of my conscience mind. My life holds more value now than it did in my past so I plan on exploring my mountain with caution.

There will be a time to ascend it's icy ridges and look out at the world from its crystal clear heights, but for now, the only mountain I will be climbing is the mountain of laundry that threatens to turn stale if I don't attend to it soon.

Happy Fall Everybody,

love,

Gina.

P.S. I had to add the picture of the kids and I with Lou Whittaker taken the week before at the Rainier Mountain Fest. He was an amazing climber and is the nicest guy. I asked him if he does any climbling anymore and he responded, "Til the day I die....in and out of bed!"