"Mom, did you ever feel loneliness after we were born?"

When my youngest daughter recently asked me about giving birth and how it went, for a class she was taking, I decided to send her an email because I couldn't possibly explain it all by text message. Once the floodgates were open I was shocked to find myself back in those early days of motherhood. 

When I explained each of my three deliveries, how they differed, how they were the same, how I felt, what I wish had been different, etc., she then emailed back, "I can't believe you ate a whole block of cream cheese in one sitting!" and "Did you ever feel loneliness in the first year after we were born?"

It was really hard to write back. 

I never want my children to feel like things might have been "off" in their childhood, however the reality and sticky, messy part of parenting is that it isn't always easy.

What I discovered as I wrote the story of my journey into motherhood is it was harder than I like to remember. It's nature I suppose, how we survive those early years and somehow as time goes on and kids get easier we forget how really hard it all can be.

This is how I replied:

"Yes, I was lonely with our first especially because we moved away from home, to Idaho Falls 1 week after he was born and I didn’t know anyone but your dad who worked a lot. We moved to Salt Lake City when he was 4 months old and there were two ladies there that I’d known from dads work when we lived in Boise, so at least I had them but they weren’t very nice to me. They had kids and they were both overweight as a result and they were just mean about the fact that I wasn't. One of them left out these super tiny curio things all over her house and “taught” her kids not to touch them. Alex didn’t do well at her house.

We also lived near Steve and JoAnn but they didn’t have any kids so we didn’t get together often. I didn’t work outside the home and we were super poor and I could only shop on triple coupon days. I loved being a mom but I was so lonely for family and friends. I’m sure I was depressed looking back. One day JoAnn said that she couldn’t understand why I’d want to be home with a baby. It kind of hurt my heart because I felt like she thought I should be working and that what I was doing wasn't important. When she delivered Lindsay, her first, she called me crying and apologized and said she totally got it now.

I went to the Catholic church hoping to find fellowship and friends. No one ever approached me or talked to me and I was too shy to put myself out there. I thought having a baby with me would help, but it felt more lonely to be with people who I thought should be MY people in the heavily populated Mormon state I lived in but I left disappointed. Your dad didn’t go to church back then so again I felt isolated.

Before he was born I never understood how a parent could be abusive. I had one of those moments when he was about two months old and he wouldn’t stop crying that I looked at our balcony and thought about just tossing him off of it. I started to sob at the thought of it so I put him in his crib and went and took a shower and sobbed for about 30 minutes. I kept thinking that I now understood how bad things can happen and that I was lucky enough to have the capacity to problem solve that moment and do something to take care of myself. When I returned he was sleeping peacefully in his crib. I cried until he woke up and I could hold him again. I never had that again with any of you.

When we moved away from Salt Lake City he was just over a year. I realized I didn’t have anyone to call to say goodbye to. That broke my heart and I promised that I would never let that happen again. When we got to Reno, I joined the Welcome Wagon and became very involved because I recognized I needed a village and I’d gone way too long without one. A year later I was getting a divorce and moving back home."

So yes, I experienced loneliness as a new mother. Which could be part of why I built a village around myself with the other two. A place where I would never be lonely and I could help others who perhaps were, especially other new moms.

Happy mother's day to all moms, new, and old but especially to those experiencing loneliness right now.  

Sauerkraut and Christmas

 My grandmother was a Brunner so I suppose she learned young how to make a mean sauerkraut, a richly inexpensive, labor intensive German dish made from cabbage. As a young child my mother gave it a go on occasion, probably as a nod to our German heritage, expecting her five children to love it as much as we oddly enough loved liver and onions.

I don't recall if I was the only one that despised sauerkraut but I do remember having to sit at the table and choke it down because coming from a large Catholic family, if we didn't eat what was put in front of us, we were not given seconds of what we liked and often "strongly encourage" to sit until we finished our plate. I sobbed when we had sauerkraut, I begged when we had it (almost as much as when we had peas and eggplant) but to no avail. I ate the nasty stuff and hated every minute of it.

My mother figured out that it was easier and less stressful to make and serve food we all liked so I spent many a happy years not eating my least favorite food, the dreaded sour-beyond-belief-sauerkraut that tasted like my brothers' socks smelled.

When I first got engaged and we spent 7 days at the future in-laws house for a week during Christmas break from college, I was thrilled. My future mother-in-law was the consummate hostess. She loved having family near. She balanced an ex-husband, a current husband, three kids, her mother, her brother and many beloved friends during the holidays. Their house was the place one wanted to be.

The house was decorated, the cookies were baked, the food was plentiful and we played games every night. The tree was bursting with new gifts and memories in each ornament of years gone by. The fireplace was roaring and everyone ran to the door when someone arrived. It was a place filled with love, laughter, joy and a reason to celebrate how lucky we all were to be under that roof.

The holiday arrived and we all had more gifts than anyone deserved. We had amazing meals and we all watched as Judy conducted the show. The kids ironically talked about how "Mom always blows up during the holidays." and took side bets on which day that would happen. At the time I foolishly thought it was kind of amusing and wondered why it happened but didn't take the time to try to understand why. It would be many years before that piece of the puzzle found it's way to me.

After a week of amazing dinners and late night celebrations on our last day Judy announced we'd be having sauerkraut and sausages for our final meal. I was instantly a 7 year old child who sadly felt it was appropriate to express on several occasions how I felt about sauerkraut. As it slowly simmered on the stove I was relentless in my rudeness about my distaste for it and as I reflect back on my 20 year old self, I am ashamed.

I inwardly cringe when I think about the fact that my rant was the cause of my future Mother-in-laws meltdown that year.

Up to that point I had no idea what her kids had been talking about then I found myself deservedly at the center of it. She blew up. She put me in my place and let me know how ungrateful I was and how hard it is to cook for a house full of people for a week and to make everything perfect and to decorate and have no one help and to stay up late playing games and doing everything possible to make it perfect for her family (deep breath here) and to spend all that money and time and effort and to make a very special family meal (she was born a Freytag) and to have someone be so rude about it.....you get the picture. I'm six feet tall and I felt about three feet tall.

Fast forward 35 years.

I can't help but cry when I take down my decorations. I cry because of the treasured memories encompassed in not only the decor but in the act of taking it all down and reflecting on the season and the many memories of celebrations gone by. I am certain that when my then future MIL took down her decorations that year, it was with a mixture of sadness, anger, happiness, relief and resentment.

After 30 plus years of recreating the story book Christmas for my own young and many family members and friends, with the women in my life; my mother, my MIL and generations of loving women leading families as my example, I now understand.

I show love to my family by making my home, my meals, my time and my presence the present during the holidays. It takes effort. It takes time. It takes money and it takes planning. It takes it's toll, one that my ancestral females all simultaneously suffered from and treasured.

I don't know if there is a local bookie that annually secures my children's bets on when I'll melt down, but from their gentle teasing I know they expect that it might happen. Some traditions just carry on no matter what we do to prevent them.

So while taking down the decor and tucking away the seasons newest memories I'm reminded.

I remember that fateful day that I was the straw that broke the camels back. I'm reminded that my own clan is too young to understand my own experience of the season and that our own sauerkraut moments are bound to happen.

I know with certainty that someday I will pass the baton to one of my unsuspecting daughters or daughter in laws and I will sit back and remember.

I will know that the joy they experience is worth the moments they won't be proud of.

I will know that they do it out of love for the season and for their family.

I will know that they too will cry when they take down the decorations that represent so many decades of memories both to be treasured and carefully tucked away into a space of shame with the promise of doing better next year.

I will know that they will hope for the perfect holiday but that the perfect holiday means someone will likely blow up and that it will most likely be them.

I will know that in 30 years, they will have the grace to gaze lovingly upon their young and know and understand the future baton holders aren't capable of understanding that sauerkraut at Christmas might just be a part of the equation and that it's a dish best served in the warmth of family, love and tradition.

My first and second husband: Part III

For those that have been or are married for any length of time, it's no secret that marriage is hard. It's work. Think of your last roommate and about the simple things like negotiating who is paying for what, who is doing the dishes, who does or doesn't pick their towel up off the floor and who doesn't know the nuances of proper toilet paper installation. Negotiation is a part of relationships that begin when we are kids, siblings, mates of some sort, then a permanent partner.

Knowing this doesn't make it easier to repair a broken relationship especially years after a divorce.

So when I began dating my ex husband without anyone's knowledge and sneaking to counseling with him, I was skeptical at best but felt it was worth the "old college try" for a few reasons as follows:

1) After dating several other men I realized that there was really only ONE man in the world that would love my son as much as I did and it was his father.

2) After dating several other men I realized that the one I'd originally chosen wasn't as bad as maybe I imagined him to be at several points throughout our marriage. I hope you know that the word "several" is an exaggeration on all counts. 

3) After time worked it's magic anger was replaced with things like respect, excitement to see him take on responsibility I wished for before and affection. There is nothing sexier than watching a man parent his child...nothing.

It was a very sweet time in our lives. There was no pressure, from each other or anyone else since no one else knew what we were up to. (Keep in mind there was no Facebook or gasp....should I say internet during this time period.)

It was peaceful, restorative and healing.

It was fun and it felt like we were doing something uniquely our own that shut out the world and was focused only on us as a couple and our future as a family.

Joe's work had an annual event in McCall so we decided to go together and while I arranged for Alex to be taken care of by my family, we snuck away for the weekend with his company filled with people who didn't really know that much or care about our history and were not surprised by my presence. It was fun to be incognito and to practice being a couple again. I don't remember the second "first kiss" in our relationship but I remember being nervous about it. Evidently things went as one might expect, swimmingly.

It was just what we needed. We decided to give it another try and still didn't want to tell anyone until we were "sure". It wasn't long after this that my mom said we should take another family photo.

Faced with the dilemma of taking a family picture without Joe who I literally thought might be BACK IN THE PICTURE presented a challenge.

I still didn't feel like it was the right time to tell my family we were giving it another "GO" but by the same token I was reluctant to get family photo's without Joe in the picture because I was filled with hope.

I mustered up the courage to ask my mom if she cared using the excuse that Joe was Alex's dad so would always be a part of his life and therefore he should be in the picture. She fell for this clever ruse and said yes, My siblings looked at us like "what the hell" when Joe arrived and either my pleading looks or my mom's silent "mother" glare that can only silence her own children worked. There were questions after but I still didn't fess up. I just wasn't ready to hear what other people had to say about it.

For a woman who thinks she doesn't have good intuition,my mom's radar was going off like mad. Oprah was a new program on the TV and my mom called me one day and told me about how there had been these divorced couples that wanted to get back together but their biggest barriers were their families. She told me that if I ever wanted to get back together with Joe she didn't want to stand in the way and neither would anyone else in our family. I still didn't say a word.

I'm incredibly grateful for that time together to just focus on us as a couple without the scrutiny of others. While I'm not a big secret keeper unless it belongs to someone else, I kept this one close to my heart. It reminds me of that brief time after my dad died that only our family knew...no one else. It's intimate, precious, without prying eyes, judgement and without the opinions of others or the world crashing in. It was just us, deciding about our future.

In that future we envisioned a bigger family, a happier family and hope for a future yet unborn.

Just three years earlier I'd stood in Alex's pediatricians office in Reno, Nevada and told him we were moving to Idaho because I was getting a divorce. This man gave me a gift that day I'll never be able to repay.

He said, "See that little boy who looks so much like his father? As he grows up and looks in the mirror he will see the reflection of his dad and what you say about his dad and how you talk about him to others is how he'll see himself."

What a gift. Really, what a gift.

My thoughts and anger and frustration and all the things we spew when we end a relationship, Alex was shielded from as much as humanely possible. So when we told Alex we were getting married, while he didn't completely understand what that would mean, he was happy and couldn't wait to be a part of the ceremony.

We set our date for May 31, 1989 which was a Wednesday. We decided that we didn't want two dates to remember and it seemed fitting. When we went to the Catholic church to plan the wedding, we were informed that according to the church we were still married and had only been civilly divorced. Head shaking ensued and we commenced with the planning of our renewal of vows.

The big day arrived and as I walked down the aisle toward my two fella's standing on the alter I was struck by how lucky we were to have a second chance. How lucky we were for forgiveness and grace and for the love we just couldn't deny. How very lucky.

When Joe and I clasped hands to renew our vows, this little person came up and stood between us, looking up at us. There is not a picture of this anywhere I know of other than my mind. The audible gasps and aww's from the crowd gathered to bless us that day echoed what was in my heart. Perfection. A little family restored.

Our second marriage began that day and we now count from the first date, not the second. We call those the growing up years that helped us grow together again. If we hadn't had that time to work on ourselves it might never have happened.

I'm not sure I have any sage advice on how to keep a marriage strong, or going or even how to avoid a divorce. All I know for sure is even the second time around, it's still hard, it's still work and it's still terribly rewarding and wonderful all at once.

For us it's a matter of knowing we CAN live without each other but daily choosing not to. It's not something we fantasize about, it's not something we imagine, it's something we lived and by living it made a choice that we are better together than apart.

My friend Janet's mom has an assortment of sayings that resonate with me. The one that perhaps is the best piece of advice, if you will, goes something like this:

"A successful marriage is one where you don't want to get divorced on the same day."

Getting remarried didn't and doesn't make us immune from wondering sometimes why we did it again. It's that choice that is made every time one has the thought that they may want to throw in the towel. 

We both know we can throw in the towel but we both know what life is like without our matching Mr. and Mrs. towels side by side. It's been 34 years since that first vow taking and I'm planning on at least 34 more if he'll have me.

My first and second husband PART II

Divorce is both an ending and a beginning. While the possibilities of how things will turn out are both fascinating and terrifying it's a precipice we stand on for some time before we know where we land.

I was 27, divorced with a two year old (read last blog, Part I for details) and terrified yet fascinated by what my new world would bring. They say divorced adults act a lot like teenagers without most of the reservations we had as teens. I would say this is somewhat true, but will also spare you the details other than to say my sister Jeanine and I loved going out dancing on Friday nights while mom took care of our kids.

After a year apart Joe, my first husband, whom I was now divorced from, moved to town and life got more complicated.

I had settled into a routine with our son, Alex that included arriving at work at 6:30 am, leaving at 3:30 pm then riding my bike with him on the back through the parks in Boise. I lived in a lovely home on Bannock after a brief stay with my mom who graciously allowed us to live with her for awhile. I was saving for a house and I had two jobs.  

One was at a childcare center that was very expensive (I could only afford to have my son there because I was a teacher) and launched my career in early childhood. The other was at J.C. Penny's selling housewares which was my Friday night and weekend job that landed me downtown near my home on Bannock.

Repairing relationships takes many things, most of which are really, really hard, much of which simply takes time.

When Joe moved to town, I wanted one thing. A routine that was predictable and that Alex would benefit from. At first it was sporadic and I would arrive at his center (by then Alex had moved to another branch so he could benefit from some separation) and I would arrive to find out his dad had picked him up. Our first of many negotiations ensued.

It was the hardest thing we'd done to date. We sat down and worked out a schedule that we promised to stick to. We were all about Team Alex and while we didn't like the restrictions, we knew he was at the center of our decisions and worked hard to be adult about it.

Joe's parents had been divorced and set a wonderful example of communication and togetherness and compromise that we tried to follow. In fact one of my favorite memories of this time was when his parents called me and asked if they could bring Alex a gift. They knew I had a yard at the Bannock house and asked if they could bring him a swing set.

It was one of the most touching moments of my life.

They showed up in their pick up truck with a swing set for him. In a gigantic box that took all three adults and one toddler to heave out and carry to the back yard.

My Mother-in-Laws husband, Jon, spent an entire day putting it together in our back yard while Judy and I visited and she basked in the presence of her grandson. She expressed her fears that she worried I wouldn't want them in our lives anymore and how much they still wanted to be a part of our lives. We cried, we hugged, we made promises that were kept.

Healing occurred that day. Healing that was both important and necessary for our family to restore it's brokenness. 

By family I mean everyone. We put off telling our family because as the first married on both sides, we knew how disappointed they would all be. We knew that facing that disappointment and seeing it in our families eyes would hurt...and we were right. It did. They grieved and adjusted too.

When my mom told her best friend, who was the mother of my best friend and Maid of Honor, she replied, "I would do anything if my daughter could call and tell me she was getting a divorce."

Her daughter, our Maid of Honor had passed away in a car accident just a few years before.

My mom said this changed her entire perspective...there are worse things than divorce. 

It's odd watching your ex spouse date other people and there was always Alex to think of. How long do you wait before he meets someone? Should he ever meet someone? Should the ex be able to introduce him to other women and if so, when? These are all important questions that divorced parents face.

For us, it boiled down to trusting that the other person was firmly and forever Team Alex. That doesn't mean there weren't fears, or concerns, or jealousy or anger. What it means is we tried hard to trust that the other parent would make the best choice possible and that we had to let go because, after all, we'd created this.

We both ended up doing what the other wished we'd done all along. I had to work and build a career. I couldn't be at home, sulking, wishing for more involvement from my spouse. I guess it should've been no surprise when Joe sent me a huge bouquet with a congratulations note when I became the Director of the childcare I worked at. In the meantime, he was parenting more.

I was so proud of him each time he took his sons hand and walked away from me to their life together but it also broke my heart that I wasn't a part of it. To share your child with anyone, even if it's their biological parent just doesn't feel right. When you're away, you want them, when you're together you think about when you'll be apart and figure out ways to enhance your own life and fill it with meaningful things until you can be together again. It was both brutal and good for me.

I was a better parent by far, and so was he. Our respect for one another was growing each day.

I did buy that house and as parents we struggled along and did our best and when I asked Joe if he wanted to take a parenting class with me, he agreed. Alex was having some behavior issues and we wanted to co-parent in such a way that we would all benefit. We blamed ourselves. If everyone is doing the same thing, then how could we lose?

So we signed up and off we went. There was a single mom who was a widow. There was a couple with the grandma who was too lenient. There was a mom and dad and the new step-mom parenting 3 kids together. We were a motley crew, but our collective goal was to have healthy families no matter what those families looked like.

Toward the end of our class, we got the proverbial question, "Now why are you guys divorced?"

It was said often and we didn't always have an answer. We were both dating other people and when we had our party at the end, a round robin of games, he brought her. I'd met her and he had reassured me that she was wonderful with Alex. She seemed nice enough.

So we played and played and played games all night and the winners of each game kept ending up at the same table and those winners were consistently Joe and Lori. She was in another room, playing different games, working hard I'm sure to reunite with her boyfriend who was having a blast with his ex wife. 

Is this where I admit that I was wickedly enjoying her angst?

It was only a few short months later that we went to my sister in laws wedding. Both Alex and I were in the wedding and so was Joe. Odd to think we were all up on the alter together being altered together in that moment.

After the ceremony the family priest asked my mother in law what was going on between us during the wedding ceremony while Joe's girlfriend sat in the pew watching? She saw it and wondered too.

While I was aware of the moment, to me it was one more step toward healing. Sure I looked at him as if to ask, "What happened to us? How did we let this happen?" He looked back with the same question in his eyes. 

Sure we succumbed to the moment that everyone does at a wedding where we feel hopeful and loving toward everyone and excited about futures and were misty eyed doing that.

Sure we were in the wedding photo's but also careful not to stand near one another for fear of giving anyone, including ourselves hope.

The next day, the girlfriend flew out, and I was putting Alex down for a nap. Alex kept asking for his dad and Joe overheard so he came in and laid down on the other side of our baby, now almost 4. Alex was basking in the joint attention of his parents which hadn't happened before as far as he could remember. Then something happened.

Alex took my hand that he was holding and he took his dads hand that he was holding and he slowly and deliberately brought them up above his body and put them together. The adorable smile on his face when our hands met had us all giggling, albeit nervously. It wasn't long before we all fell asleep.

Love lies in many places, but it always lies where our children do. 

A few short days before, Joe had taken us to the wedding (2 hours away) and was now driving us home. On that ride home, he said, "Promise me that if we're still doing this five years from now you'll think about marrying me again."

What bravery men have. They are usually the one to muster the courage to ask a woman on a date. They are the ones who ask a woman to marry them. Even harder, they may be the person who asks a woman to marry him again. That's putting your heart on the line. That has to be many moments made up of sheer terror.

I said "No." I didn't shout it, I wasn't angry, I was resolved and not ready to possibly fail again. I reminded him that when we were married, I wanted to go to a counselor and he didn't. I said that if we were to try to do it again we couldn't do it without help. I knew he would not go to counseling with me, so I had a valid excuse and thought the conversation was over.

The next week he called me and asked me if I could meet him at Milt Klein's office. I asked him why and he told me Milt was a counselor and he had set up an appointment for us.

He called my bluff.

I cried and railed against possibilities I wasn't ready to consider again. He had a girlfriend after all and what if we tried and failed again, what about our family, but most importantly, what if we got Alex's hopes up? What if I got my own hopes up and we failed again? I did not feel ready for that. I was the don't-look-back-be-realistic-girl.

Joe is a salesman and a really good one. He told me he broke up with the girlfriend. He suggested we not tell anyone including Alex. He told me it could be our little secret and if it didn't work, no one but us would be the wiser. I wasn't sure my heart could take it but I foolishly, I thought, said yes.

It was then that I started sneaking around with my ex husband unbeknownst to anyone but him.

My first and second husband: part I

Not many people know this but my husband and I have been married off and on since 1980. 

When we do tell our story we often hear, "That's so cool, what a great story." while all I can think of is how hard it was and how it's not a cool story at all.

Joe and I met in 1977 at his Halloween fraternity fundraiser, he dressed as Frankenstein in his platform shoes making him 7 feet tall, when he grabbed me and said, "Whatcha doin' after the show?"

After the show I went on one date with him before summer happened. When we returned in the fall of 1978 we saw each other the first day back, went on the hill above our homes and talked for hours. When we came down I knew without a doubt I would marry this man someday, whether he knew it or not. I was going to be the bride of Frankenstein.

In 1980 at the ripe old age of 21 we got married. We each had some school left, but we knew what we wanted and we began to plan our future. We talked about kids (4 was our magic number and the names all began with J's). We planned that I would teach school all year and be home with our imaginary kids during the summertime. We had it all figured out.

We settled in to finish our degrees and had to establish rules with his frat brothers who would show up at inopportune times for newlyweds, so we had a signal; if the outdoor light was on you could knock, if it was off, leave us alone. 

We lovingly called these the salad years, when in reality we couldn't even afford salad and they should've been called the Top Ramen years. We both had retail jobs, lived in a one bedroom, one bath house, were full time students and we had so much FUN.

After graduating we moved to Boise for "real jobs" which happened for him, but not really for me. I couldn't get a teaching job and worked for an insurance agent who got rich because I became his personal assistant who went through hundreds of files and filled his calendar for $4.25 per hour. Joe worked for a retail store located in many states and became what they lovingly called, "The Wonder Boy."

After two years of unsatisfactory work for me and no teaching job in sight we decided a family might be in order. We'd been married for three years and it was the natural next step and I couldn't imagine, and still can't, a higher calling in life, so we got pregnant.

Alex was the best thing to happen to us. We understood and appreciated our parents in a whole new way. We reveled in him and marveled at what we'd done. We couldn't have been more in love with him and our own love deepened. Parenthood was the bomb. We thought we had this thing called family down.

Then it started. we had a bouncing baby boy and we moved 5 times in the next 2 years.

Each move took me further and further away from career and family and each move "Wonder Boy" had a familiar home in his workplace and I had to start new. He drifted off to work each day where he was the hero while I was isolated in new homes, trying to make new friends, and feeling resentful that he was never around. We were young. We didn't see alternatives, so...we divorced after almost six years of marriage. 

The grief I feel when I say we divorced is still crushing. It means we failed. It was the death of our dreams together. It was the death of my dreams as a young wife and mother. There was nothing cool about it whatsoever. I was suddenly alone, scared and unemployed with no job prospects in sight. I moved near family in Idaho. 

Whenever I said "I'm divorced" I felt like I was actually saying, "I failed". I felt like a walking failure and was frantic to make my world right again.

The panic I felt is still with me at times. I couldn't read a book, watch TV or engage in small talk very much. I was driven to make things better and frivolous things took too much energy because I needed to restore my world and that of my son.

That first year was one of the most brutal years of my life that could only be trumped with the year following my dads sudden death when I was 16. Not cool at all.

If you've ever been divorced you know what I mean. It's an ever increasing club we belong to but each person has their own experience nonetheless. I think it's the grief of the dream you had when you first married or committed to that person that is the hardest to overcome.

This does not mean you should be afraid to commit. Did you hear how much fun I had? Did you hear that I had a son? Can you feel that I'm horribly sad and the only reason I am is because of all the love I experienced as a result of this commitment?

That first year I was divorced I was determined not to look back. It was over, and I moved on with a determination that propelled us forward into owning my first home, running my first childcare center and owning my first car. I had to make things better and by God I would. I grieved, I worked hard and I changed. 

Alex and Joe on a visit in Nevada Alex and I, year one

One thing I would praise about my husband ex or not, is that he was, and still is, a great dad. I had no doubt that he loved his son more than anyone else ever could (besides me of course) so after a year apart he moved to Boise to be near his little man and there  begins our story...again.

My Emily

My Emily was the direct result of my second marriage to my first husband. Details here.

My Emily

It's complicated but not really. We'd been apart for long enough and were excited to add to our family and knew that our kids would be six years apart as it was so off we went getting married a second time, and 11 months later Ms. Emily joined our brood.

She was a delight from the get-go. A good sleeper, often content and an overachiever. Her benchmarks were ridiculous. Sitting up alone at 4 1/2 months, walking at nine months, chattering in Emilish which means zero back sounds, a cute lisp and soft r's but boy could she talk. If you spoke Emilish you had insight into her active and inquisitive mind that never stopped. She was a complete delight and the apple of everyone's eyes.

Her grandmother used to say, "Emily will turn on you like a rabid dog." Yes, this perfect little princess had/has a temper, but as she will say, only when it's really important. She has a wealth of patience and will give many passes especially to those she loves, but when too much injustice or taking advantage of her good will ensues so does her volcanic reaction. One does not want to be on the receiving end of that wrath, but back to My Emily.

This little body contained prolonged bursts of energy followed by long needs for rest and quiet. She fought every nap I ever tried to give her and actually screamed daily until finally we decided to park her under my desk with a pillow, a blanket, a binky and a book. While this worked on occasion, more often than not, she was too afraid of missing something interesting or fun so she imposed her iron will upon herself to stay awake "just in case." then she crashed and burned and slept through each night as if her life depended on it...once she finally fell asleep.

She would reason and cajole and charm her family each evening to keep us busy with her. There were two things she loved most, interactions with others and clothes.

I read somewhere that a parent should use the things that a child is motivated by most to elicit desirable behavior. Emily's grandma, the one who lovingly called her a rabid dog also had a penchant for fancy, lacy dresses that she bought for each of her granddaughters. We treasured them for special occasions until one day I realized they were the key to Emily's motivation to stay in bed.

We allowed her to choose one each evening at bedtime and she would lay out her "project" consisting of most often a dress, tights, her undies, shoes, hair accessories etc. As long as she stayed in bed, she was able to wear her dress the next day. If not, the dress sadly went back in the closet and an outfit of my choosing; a pair of pants or overalls of course, were what she wore the following day. It worked like a charm.

Not much has changed. She is still my one that loves pretty clothes, that burns the candle at both ends, that never wants to sleep but when she finally does can sleep for days. She loves her family and friends so much that she sacrifices much to spend quality time with each and she embodies an old soul. Her heart is as big as her stunning smile and her inner beauty is equal to her outer beauty.

There was that brief period during high school that Emily AKA Emster had her Napoleon Dynamite phase. She wore moon boots, sweat pants, t-shirts from grade school summer camps and little makeup. Her friends were getting dolled up and working at attracting male attention while she attracted male friends with her smarts, her wit and her spunk to be brave enough to buck the system.

Boys and dresses and her inner diva did win out and she lost the moon boots and sweats and traded them for makeup, curling irons and perfume. It didn't matter. The boys still loved and still do the same things; her smarts, her wit and her spunk. The big heart and smile are compelling as well.

Entrepreneur and Philanthropist from day 1

She was a dancer, a bossy girl scout, a ski racer, participated in competitive speech and broadcasting competitions; took honors and AP courses. She had five broken bones as a young person due to roller blading, skiing, jumping on a trampoline, and most daringly, walking.
She started a hot chocolate stand on her own borrowing the money and paying me back every year, giving 50% to charity.

She helped me plan elaborate birthday parties and loves event planning even today. We have many a wonderful memory of fantastical birthdays and family events.

When she got older, she became our Spring Break baby as we always celebrated her birthday in places away from home to include Brundage and New Meadows, McCall, Targhee with dinner in a yurt along with a sleigh ride, Jerome, Florida, Sun Valley, Spain, and Hawaii. Yes Jerome was on that list of amazing places, but hey it's one of our favorite places and the hometown of half our family.

She went to the U of I for one year and met her best friend and moved home to be near her little sister and her family. She traded black and gold for orange and blue and with her usual determination wanted to live the college life, so got an internship and worked while going to school full time living in an apartment nearby. Extreme candle burning (at both ends) ensued and the elusive degree is close.

She now works for a nonprofit full time and makes us proud every day. That little bundle of femininity that landed at our doorstep 24 years ago has never ceased to amaze and delight. She is the quintessential middle child, a loving daughter and sister, a dedicated, determined, smart, witty, spunky, compassionate, passionate, changer of the world.

She's the person one always wants in their corner.

She's the one person you'll be lucky to call friend,

She's the one person you can trust with your secrets.

She's the one person you can count on to make you laugh (just check out her twitter if you don't believe me.)

She's the one person I always have been, and always will be so very proud to call My Emily.

She makes me look good by her very presence in this world because when I look at My Emily I know for certain we did something right.

Happy Birthday darlin'.

My Emily

I am lucky indeed.

It is a rare person that is able to experience the joy of watching lives unfold over several years through their work.  I'm one of the lucky few that meets people, often at their worst and get to see their lives transformed right before my eyes.

You see, I never just meet a mom or a kid or a dad and their kid, I meet families.  People come to me as a parent and a child or two parents and a child or two or three (parents or kids).....No matter what that family looks like when they arrive, I get to meet them when they are young.

By young I mean the family is young.  That parent might be 40 or that parent might be 14.  It doesn't matter because both of them have just started down a journey that hopefully...if they are lucky...never ends in the adults lifetime.

This week in particular I was struck by conversations with parents who have been with us in the past or even currently but for several years because their kids are older and what they said.  It's what they say that blows me away.

One mom was bragging about how her child can now jump on the couch and say bad words and he just turned 5.  Most parents would be appalled at these behaviors but she's celebrating that he has made strides despite his disability and wanted to share her joy with us.  She recognized that she will someday have to tell him not to do those things but is also so excited that he is now doing them...the things most parents take for granted, she simply doesn't.  It was heart wrenching to go through the steps of helping she and her partner to realize he had a disability but I'm happy I was there.

Another came in and congratulated us for receiving the BBB Torch Award for Ethics.  She has brought 4 kids to our centers and said she wouldn't take them anywhere else.  They are all in private school except for the baby and her words of affirmation meant so much.  This mom can take her children anywhere, but she chooses us.

Another mom reached out to me just to send good thoughts my way.  Her children are in elementary school now and she lives in another state but wanted me to know she was thinking about me.  My gosh, how lucky am I to have this family in my life?  One would think our connection would simply be over as her children aged out.  Was it because she had breast cancer when they were little and we collectively worried while her kids were little or was it fate that we met and still adore one another?  I don't know, but I'm grateful for that life line and friendship.

Then there is one of my longest connections with a woman that I admire and equally love for just being her.  She told me that when she and her best friend who also had a son at GL would have a problem they would say, "Let's call Lori, she'll know what to do."  Just like all of us, myself included, we don't always want to listen to our moms, so they had someone else they would listen to (even though I probably gave the same advice) don't we all need that non familial voice?

This one is special to me though.  Her son was a baby when he arrived and we haven't lost touch even though he's in college now.  The warmth I feel when I think about her and the connection we have is based on mutual respect, admiration and genuine love.  She was a scared and young mom when I first met her and she is no longer that person.  I was able to see her grow into herself and her vision of the best version of herself, but also watch and hear about her son growing into a person that she is proud of and that he is proud of.

I don't always get to see things start to finish.  I often lose touch or they move or I wasn't their go-to-person, but there are enough that I do see start to finish (even though we're never really finished) that I know it's good.  I know I'm lucky.  I know they're lucky too....that we found each other and that our spheres get to intersect for this span of time when we need each other the most.

"People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care."  John C. Maxwell.

I get to share a little bit about what I know with parents when they need it the most.

I get to share my passion for families everyday of my life.

I get to be a part of the most important part of a persons life, when they are young and their family is young.

When my own children become parents I know they will think that my advice might be outdated (even though I spent time this morning coaching a new mom with a 6 week old through her concerns).  But that's okay.  I hope they all find their Lori who will give them advice and help navigate them through their fears and insecurities and whom they will connect for a lifetime.

I am lucky indeed.