lulu

This maxim, translated from French, was recently emailed to me by Louise "Lulu" Davis. She is in her 80s and was my Primary teacher when I was eight. The phrase is quoted by Louisa May Alcott in Eight Cousins. I loved it enough to spend three hours reacquainting myself with Illustrator and gradients to do it justice. What a wonderful way to view life.

Lulu has a great sense of humor because she signed off quoting Sinatra:

You can bring Pearl, she's a darn nice girl

But don't bring Lulu

You can bring Ruth with the rubber tooth

But don't bring Lulu

You can bring Rose with the turned up nose

But don't bring Lulu

She's the kind of smartie who breaks up every party,

Hullabalooloo, don't bring Lulu, I'll bring her myself.

Vacancy

I'm ready.

I'm ready because I finally picked a stroller and car seat. Holy choices, Batman.

I'm ready because yesterday I went to Fashion Place Mall and stocked up on enough Bare Minerals (20% off sale!) to ensure that even if I never leave my house for a solid year my complexion will look good. I also got the NARS blush that has been on my wish list for some time and a bag of Sephora's standard free samples. On my way out of the mall I spied with my tired eyes those massage people that rub you for a dollar a minute in a sit-down chair. Hallelujah! I straddled that chair and let my belly hang like a ripe mango in a tree while I power napped for 15 minutes. After my sensory delicacy I treated myself to a Chick-Fil-A cookie sundae while I read the Paper Source catalog alone at a food court table. I took tiny bites and tried to savor what felt like one of my last few "me moments" before Baby comes. Incidentally, not one person knows our baby's name but he manages to get called Ebeneezer, Carl Reuben, Pip, Little Prince, or Joey by people in my life. I am glad that none of these names are correct.

I'm ready because Greg hung a hammock in our back yard yesterday WITHOUT A STAND. It is significant because four years ago we bought two wiry chokecherry trees and planted them 12 feet apart. We planted them 12 feet apart because we planted for the future and I knew that the future would morph spindles into support structures strong enough to hold my dream hammock. My dad says newly planted trees take three years to be ready because they SLEEP-CREEP-LEAP, meaning the first year they take root, the second year they show marginal growth, and the third year they go gangbuster toward the sky. This being the fourth year our trees proudly graduated to holding a net full of two spooning humans whose dog sat precariously balanced on their sideways hips. This seems to be the year all of my long-awaited dreams are coming true.

I'm ready because the nursery is finished. It is the new family lounge. I can't believe it was ever a guest/craft room combo. Hasn't it always hosted the four-poster crib and the hot air balloon wallpaper and the glider? Hasn't it always displayed a changing table staged with freshly laundered swaddle blankets waiting for first use? Every night I sway in the glider and daydream about the smell of a post-bath newborn while Greg sits against the wall reading his iPad and RE stretches out on the carpet teasing Lucy with bundled baby socks. Lucy fetches the sock bombs until she is tired and then even she brings her bone in and chews it next to us in the "flying frog" position. We pass the evenings away like illustrated figures in Goodnight Moon.

I'm ready because a week ago for FHE (Family Home Evening) I read Greg's written version of RE's birth story aloud for all of us to hear. What sweet memories came back. What a sweet feeling filled our home. What saliva filled my mouth when I remembered that I get Lorna Doone shortbread cookies at the hospital. (Those buttery gems are the pot of gold at the end of the labor and delivery rainbow!) What sweet conversation we three had about the eternal nature of families.

I'm ready because after so many years of being unsure if something else belonged in this house the answer is clear: there is a vacancy. Something is empty and we are all waiting for him to fill it. In 23 days or less.

*photo lyric from "Heart Vacancy" by The Wanted

Golden Ticket

 

I found these in my spiral notebook I used to take notes in. You know, nesting and all. I'm even going through spiral notebooks that are three years old...

I remember RE coming to me with her hand concealing most of the page asking if I would sign my autograph on the line. I played along and signed, she quickly uncovered the contract and revealed how I was now entrapped in her evil plan to get gum for life. (I like how she scribbled out the 3 and made it a 10. Good for her. If you're gonna go for it, go for it!)

I got her back when I asked her to sign her name on a blank piece of paper weeks later. I drew in the rest of the coupon after the fact because moms are sneakier than kids. She HATES washing pans from gross congealed meals.

Oh, kids. For all the cranky, sick, picky, emotional days there are just as many golden ticket days. I love being a mom.

Dot to Dot

 

Once upon a time I wanted wood floors in my kitchen. That time was shortly after our white vinyl floors started cracking and peeling and my new baby was crawling over the cracks and peels. Every day that I stood and cooked on ugly vinyl increased my lust toward hand-scraped walnut. Wood floors were all I could think about. I sold old baby clothes and used vacuums on eBay for two years until I had saved up enough money to buy them in full.

One fine day the planks were installed and I smiled in my sleep for two weeks. Oddly enough, after all that wanting and all that work I eventually forgot about my new wood floors and began drawing up plans for a built-in wall unit and desk in our living room. New focus. In the last five years I haven't hugged, kissed, or body surfed on my wood floors to show them how much I love them. Truthfully, I forgot I ever wanted them.

Same deal with wanting a baby. It was a 12-year saga of intense desire, all-encompassing emotion, investment, hard work, and grueling installation to get a baby into our house. Yet the instant I found out I was pregnant those years magically poofed into a mere minute. Eight more months have passed and my memory of the pain and yearning has waned to a foggy enigma.

Because once you get what you want you forget about the wanting.

Bearing that in mind I have had a distinct impression that I need to get cracking and record the truth of it all for my son, my Ponce de León, my boy that has led me to the fountain of youth and erased all the hardships that made me haggard. My little miracle needs to know what I went through to get him here as much as I need to preserve what I learned from this storm before the downpour evaporates and my heartache is all but vanished.

I love maps and often view events in my life as points on a map. Twelve years ago I planned on getting pregnant when my baby girl turned one so she and her sibling would be best buddies growing up. I was going to go from Point A (baby #1) to Point B (baby #2) with ease because, as they say, the fastest way to get from Point A to Point B is with a straight line.

What ended up happening is that I went from Point A to Point B via Points C, F, W, T, R and M. It was not a straight line. It was a dot to dot. A crazy, beautiful, intense dot to dot.

The dot to dot comparison was introduced to me at the five-year infertility mark as I was beginning to realize that a baby might be more of a challenge than ever anticipated. I will never forget sitting on the floor of our shower sobbing while Greg was a few feet away in front of the vanity getting ready for work. I cried and cried and he kept asking what was wrong. I told him I was so discouraged that every new idea and plan we tried wasn't working and it seemed like we were being misdirected. He quickly told me to remember the pioneers and how the Lord moved them from one place to another several times before they finally reached Zion. He also emphasized that good things happened to the pioneers at all the stops and not just in Utah.

This seemed wise but I wanted it in writing. I asked Frenchie's husband, Matt the Megahistorian, to make me a list of the pioneers' chronological dot to dots along with something good that happened in each locale. This is what he gave me:

• Palmyra, NY: The Book of Mormon- the plates were there
• Harmony, PA: Emma. She was a very good thing. Also, the priesthood is restored
• Kirtland, OH: House of the Lord, sealing keys restored, there is no Nauvoo without Kirtland
• Far West, MO: law of tithing, Joseph Smith learns who his friends are and who he can trust
• Nauvoo, IL: founding of the Relief Society, temple and temple ordinances
• Winter Quarters, NE: Brigham Young sustained as the prophet following Joseph Smith's martyrdom, construction of cabins and planting of crops that became essential for thousands of European immigrants over the next several years
• Zion (Salt Lake City, UT): the refuge in the wilderness where the Church could grow

Keep in mind that all along the standard was to get to Zion, Far Away in the West, but the Lord had planned multiple stops along the way to bring about His purposes. The Lord had just as many stops for me between my Point A and Point B and good things happened at all of them. It is with hindsight that I name my stops as follows: No-Hands Trading Post, Fossil Peak, Dead End, Wild Beast Slaughterhouse, Rock Pit, and Mouse Station. (They are detailed in separate posts following this entry.)

Each of these life lessons have been thankfully gathered, polished, and stored in my quiver should I need to shoot a new oncoming trial in self-defense.

Photo quote by Steve Jobs. Full quote: "You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect your future."

My pins mark all places I've shipped eBay sales to. I want to get all 50 states. I have eight left. I fear the Dakotas are going to hold me back from realizing my cyber potential.

Hands-Free Trading Post

Oysters don't have hands. If they did they would pluck out that grain of sand that was bugging them and let it fall to the ocean floor. Nature forces them to withstand annoyance and irritation, to deal with it, to stick it out, and in common hours* a premium pearl is discovered inside.

Dieter Uchtdorf said, "Satan's purpose is to tempt us to exchange the priceless pearls of true happiness and eternal values for a fake plastic trinket that is merely an illusion and counterfeit of happiness of joy."

If you realize life has planted an uncomfortable (and possibly long-lasting) trial in your sphere DON'T necessarily look for the quick fix or the easy out. This grit might be the gift of a lifetime. Walk right past the trading post, protect that vexing grain of discomfort, and trust that the continuing rocky road will transform it into rare treasure.

If I had rid myself of the conflict of infertility I would have missed out on the pearl that grew from within. My pearl was created from what I learned about my body, my health, others' trials, sympathy, empathy, angels, miracles, sacrifice, trust and love. Pain, persistence, and the passing of time produce priceless pearls.

And priceless beats plastic in the long run.

My dad's favorite quote: If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. -Henry David Thoreau