Shifting from Independent to Dependent Children

I know one of my strengths: raising independent children. At probably 9 weeks, I had all of my kids sleeping through the night, because I had followed routines that taught methods of self-soothing. Starting from pretty young, I got the kids in routines that had them getting dressed, making beds, and getting breakfast mainly on their own. (To be fair, I've always cooked my kids breakfast and probably always will for as long as they let me. But they know how to get themselves a bowl of cereal or make toast or whatever.) When I go out of town, they rock their morning routines and can make it out to the bus on their own. They know their night routines of pjs, potties, brush teeth and can easily get themselves and each other to bed. It makes it very nice when we have a babysitter because they're independent. The other day I was reading this blog about someone's adoption story. The family has adopted multiple kids. Anyway, the mom was documenting the following weeks after adopting another child. She talked about how important it is at the beginning to establish dependency with the new child. She said kids coming from orphanages know how to do everything for themselves- soothe themselves through discomfort, hunger, pain, know how to put themselves to sleep, etc. The challenge becomes to teach them to let people into their lives and create a dependent relationship. It has been so interesting to think about that, especially in my own realm at home. One reason I'm such a hound for raising independent kids is because it makes my life a lot easier. But reading this really stopped me in my tracks and made me think about areas I could improve on to create more of a dependent relationship with my kids. With all the kids being between the ages of 5 and 10, we've entered a different stage where needs have shifted from less physical to more emotional. And emotionally, I want more of a dependent relationship with the kids. I want them to approach Yosh and I when they are having problems with friends or image or decisions or just figuring out life. It's going to be something interesting to think about over the next little bit but it's definitely an area where I want to make strides. Anyways, food for thought and I love food of any kind. 

On Enduring

When we first moved to Texas, I remember this one specific morning taking off to run a couple laps around my loop. I got to moving and was quickly aware of my sloooow, heavy pace. Not a single step was easy, smooth, or fast. So at the very beginning of my run, I fell into a rhetoric of positive self talk that I was oh-so-familiar with, "It doesn't matter how fast you're moving, what's important is that you're out here and making forward progress. Trajectory. It's all about trajectory, not pace." I've mentioned so many times how running has acted as a conduit for so much learning in my life and in     the next 30 minutes I came to understand life and God better. I'd always been pretty unclear with the commands in religious contexts (whether in scripture or church meetings) to be perfect, yet with also understanding that the purpose of life was to come here as very imperfect people and get better. I was very confused about the gap between one's knowledge and one's discipline to implement said knowledge, and other things that related to that. Other things also being life and goals, etc. As I was pep-talking myself about things I knew to be true- i.e.: go forward the best you can even if it's slower than it used to be, move forward even if you don't want to, just move forward. I thought as life as a marathon and definitely knew that God could care less if we  finish that marathon in 3 hours or 16. He's there waiting at the end, so proud. No prouder of the first finisher than the last finisher. All he cares about is that we don't give up and keep moving.  That parable, if you will, made a lot of sense to me. There are a lot of things in my life that I need to and want to get better at, whether it be a characteristic trait or other physical habits. Sometimes I am going to make fast and furious progress in an area before it slow's down to snail pace. It's very hard to be satisfied with a snail's pace when I was just sprinting and getting far fast. In fact, it's hard for me to be okay with going at a slow pace. It makes me fall into negative self-talk, how I'm not good enough, not disciplined enough, and too lazy. I'd been failing to remember trajectory. Am I on the right path going in the right direction? That's what really matter. Is it as exhilarating going slowly? No. But it's getting me where I want to be. So, that was like part 1. Fast forward to about a year later. It's somewhere around May or June and I'm out running as I had been for many previous months. But all of a sudden I felt like I could barely breathe, after runs I was having major headaches and seeing double vision. Convinced I had a brain tumor or something (not sure I'm exaggerating....) I was googling my symptoms and found an article where the writer was saying many people had been writing in with similar concerns and that there was an answer...heat and humidity! She then showed a humidity chart that illustrated certain paces and then put that same effort level in different humidity percentages and how the same effort translated to much slower paces. And it all made sense! Last year I assumed that I was out of shape (and probably lazy and undisciplined) when really there were these unseen forces (heat and humidity) applying pressure and making forward progress harder and slower. It added an even deeper understanding to the previously learned lesson! There's often reasons why our progress pace is slowed (added obstacles, more responsibilities, less time, etc) and we rarely see the why, we only feel that we're failing. We remember the sprint portion of progress and realllllyyy liked that and feel that we should be able to maintain it. None of us would try to maintain a sprint pace for a long distance race, but it's hard to apply that to real life as well and be okay with it. I struggle big time with this. Just a couple weeks ago, it also hit me what all this really was. And when this was the topic in Church today I knew I needed to write it down! All this lesson is enduring. I think I've always had a negative connotation with the word enduring. Like, it was a very tangible, miserable state of being. That's what enduring was. Now I don't see it like that. Enduring is just committing to forward progress even during the un-gratifying (not to be confused with miserable) times. It's learning to be ok when you have to downgrade from running to walking. It's finding the value of not giving up and staying present even when things are unpleasant. It's giving time for processes to take place. Enduring applies to a lot of things. Anyway, this insight has been very valuable for me. It's helping me with things as small as getting through 3 hours of church when I don't want to or am super tired and know I won't get as much out of it as potentially available. It's helping me to keep towards goals as simple as cooking dinner at home more, and laying with the boys at night, and I could go on and on. It's helping me not beat myself up when I'm struggling in different areas. Some day we may have the luxury of seeing and understanding why certain periods of our life were slowed down, just like the unknown of the heat and humidity that is now so obvious to me and makes me completely shift my expectations.  Just got to keep on keeping on aka enduring and the bonus being that it's not all that miserable of a thing to do.

Learning on a Prayer

  We had had a good first day of school. There were lots of smiles, decent excitement, and not too many bumps.
I was laughing as I was putting Deeter to bed- he was talking irrationally and emotionally, saying things like, "No one in this family even likes me," and any nicety I said to him was met with, "I hate you, mom." You get the idea of what we were dealing with! I knew Deeter was very tired and had exhausted a lot of energy doing something new that day and I knew his talk was a direct result of that. After all, that's not his usual temperament. That is his I'm-tired or I'm-hungry temperament. I generously allowed him the luxury of unwinding from a full productive day- even if that meant ugly talk- without repercussion or even mention of it. I was proud of him and what he had done that day and I love that he has a soft landing place where he doesn't have to be at-attention all the time. I was also very thankful for the years of raising kids I have under my belt that allowed me to realize it was nothing more than that- a tired, exhausted boy talking nonsense. I didn't know about these kind of things when I started this gig.
That night I was saying a prayer before climbing into bed. In my prayers, I was making mention of Deeter, and reminding myself that I was putting in all this hard work- planting seeds, if you will- that sure weren't producing any immediate, visible results. But, the gift of having kids before him, I knew that most likely this wasn't fruitless work. In fact, in my prayer, I said, "…and I know one day we'll be BFF's--"
And that's when I abruptly stopped. I caught myself. I saw the error in where I was going with this thought process. I'm not putting in all this hard work so that Deeter and I can be BFFs. And thank goodness for that, because, what if it never happens? I'd hate to gauge all my work as failure if me and Deetz don't have a heart shaped necklace, cut jaggedly down the middle, to share in the end.
That thought entered my mind, and then my prayer, because of Porter. I've mentioned a million times before how hard I've worked with Porter and knew pretty quickly after that I'd have to repeat the same work-intense pattern with Deeter. But what has happened with Porter and I, I realized in that moment, is an absolute gift. The fact that we can sit and laugh and that he wants to cuddle with me every spare minute he has, and that it's super hard to ruffle our feathers, was never guaranteed. It's not an entitlement to have a friendship with my kids. My job is to teach principle, to provide opportunity to employ said principle, to provide a forum where they can have a soft landing place for when they fall and then help them get up and try again and again and again, and to love them through it all. That is my responsibility and no where is it written that if I do all these things that I will have a great relationship with my child. Still the same, those are my responsibilities.
I will do it all for Deeter. I will give him my all regardless of what he dishes me back in return. I won't expect the precedent to be followed. But if the day comes where I am handed that gift of good friendship with Deeter, I will open it up and enjoy every single second of it, just as I am with his predecessor.
Life is good. I am completely infatuated with our family these days.

Summer's End

Here we stand at the day before the first day of school. Also known as the last day of summer vacation.
Although my mind doesn't narrow in on specific moments of this from my own childhood, I still remember the reoccurring event. Summer is always a hard one to say good-bye to. I don't know if it's the freedom, the lack of schedule, the opportunity for adventure, the constant change of pace, or simply the warm summer nights but there is something so unique about summer. So unique that having the carpet yanked from underneath you, i.e.: school starting, is probably the only way to let go of it and move on to the next phase.
The kids have loved the summer. The other night as I sat in the living room after putting the kids to bed, I could hear Dallin and Porter chatting through their barely cracked door. They were recapping their summer favorites. (FYI, the river rafting trip was at the top of the list.) I'd personally chronicle this as one of my best summers ever. With it winding down, there is one thing I'm sure of- as a family unit we are more bonded now than we were 3 months ago. That may simply be from the mother's perspective (and my perspective is surely tainted by the fact that I'm actually included in the bonding activities over the summer) but I'm probably the only one paying attention to details like that anyway. 
There is an air of excitement from the kids for what tomorrow holds. I've heard some of them articulate that they are excited for the beginning of the school year, followed up by commenting that in a couple weeks they'll already be looking forward to summer! Smart little cookies are already catching onto life's cycles.
I'm excited for the school year too, but also dreading parts of it. This summer has helped me to realize why I struggle during the school year. It's so much harder to connect with the kids and I'm a big must-have-connection person. During the day, I don't feel super productive or on task and then when the kids get home from school, it's kind of craziness with not much quality time. I'm trying to streamline the after school schedule and also change some things this year so that I can find more satisfaction. I don't want to dread the school year. Aaaaaannnd I finally took the plunge and signed up to be a room mom. We'll see how that goes as far as helping feel involved!
So ready or not, that's about what we're going to have going on!

The Omen- a pregnancy announcement

My current read is The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho. Man, is this a gem of a book! I'm totally pulling an AJ and taking notes as I go. But the quotes are too good and have too much potential to enrich my life so, you know…
Anyway, in this novel, the boy learns about omens {possibly defined as small signs or acts to let one know they are on the right path?} While this isn't a completely new idea to me, the way in which the idea was presented and articulated allowed for me to grasp a deeper understanding. With this richer understanding, I've been much more aware of the omens directing my journey.
I've said it a million times before, I anticipated the stage of bearing kids and motherhood my whole life.  My goodness, a newborn baby is what my dreams have always been made of. And I have taken care of my four with a lot of joy. I consciously had a goal and priority of enjoying that time, of accepting the gift of my dream coming true, and I think I did a pretty good job of achieving it- I enjoyed those babies.  And then we made the decision to close shop. It was a decision I always dreaded having to make, the definite nature of closing a chapter that had been my most anxiously-awaited one.
Recently, the past 6 months, I have flirted with the idea of having a couple more babies. (After Kaia turned 3, I knew that if I were ever to have another baby, that I would want two more.) Mothering has gotten so less hands on over the last two years, I can tangibly see and feel these dang kids growing up right before my eyes, and the perspective has made the prospect of doing it again oh so tempting. Not to mention, a couple of friends and my sister are having another baby and I am shocked how I long to be in that "group" with them.
The other night I had a dream. I was pregnant with my fifth child, a thought I had allowed many a times into my daydreaming while completely conscious. But we all know a night dream while in an unconscious state is so different from a somewhat directed daydream. And this was the first time pregnancy number 5 had entered nighttime dreaming.
The dream was vivid, the details were vivid, and the feeling was vivid. I woke up the next morning very aware of the overwhelming feeling and knew that it was my omen.
I was soooo sad in my dream to be pregnant.
Shop is officially officially closed.
Maktub.

Wait, maybe life is good

The flip side to the arrival of homesickness... Because there's always a flip side. have you noticed that about life? The most current, obvious emotion/situation might be a negative one. But take a moment and you'll realize something else is going real good. And vise versa. Is something real good going on in your life? Did also bring something a little negative with it? It usually works out like that.
So even though we're out of the honeymoon stage of moving and dealing with everything that accompanies that, other parts of life are absolutely amazing. Take Yosh and I for example. We were chatting the other night and both commented on how good things were between us. That we're way into each other and have just been clicking for a good spell now.

And the same with the kids. Feel like we're enjoying the whole parenting gig and taking advantage of more moments and proactively doing more things. I had a few goals regarding the family when we moved to Texas (i.e.: start cooking Sunday dinners with them, do FHE, weekly family dates where kids take more of an initiative planning, etc) and believe it or not, we've been doing decently. Even three months later. Watch, now that I'm getting all cocky everything's going to go to pot!

So yes, life is good. A little unsettling? Yes. But the good life coexists quite comfortably with unsettled areas.

I Love LA

I have very few memories of feeling homesick. When I think back to college, here's no isolated memory that stands out. My mission definitely has a couple. In the MTC on multiple occasions I remember wishing that I would get hurt severely enough that I would get honorably dismissed from the whole mission deal but that the injury wouldn't have a really lasting affect....of course. When I got to Uruguay, day 3 was super hard. I remember being in the shower just crying, homesick. But I can't think of many more times. This month marks a year that we found out a move was most likely in our future. After finding out, I kept waiting for the reality of it all to hit, for the sadness that I was surely going to feel to emerge. Months passed. But it didn't hit me. And then we were down to weeks. And, finally, days. Still, with the exception of a few brief moments, there was no surge of emotion. We made it to Texas and transitioned very well. Almost seamlessly. Funny enough, there were certain words and pictures that triggered waves of homesickness: Coronado. Hearing that word made me feel sick to my stomach knowing I wasn't a short two hours away. I remember reading a magazine and seeing pictures of Dana Point. The same pang came and stabbed at me. But once again, these were mere moments. Deeter, Kaia, and I went back to LA on October 17th for a visit.  And let me tell you, flying into LAX I was downright homesick. The view, the buildings, the familiarity....all of it made my heart just hurt. As I drove down the PCH, all the build up of the previous 11 months finally found the surface. I felt absolutely homesick.
That feeling made every detail of the trip so much more acute. Instead of smelling good, it literally smelt heavenly. Seeing the Santa Monica "Mountains" rolling down to meet the ocean felt like I had just stepped into a dream. Then being with my people face to face...  I felt on the verge of tears, as if I was reuniting with long lost lovers that I had thought to never see again. While they are my lovers, it had only been two or three months and I always knew I'd see them again!
So it was awesome to be back.
Today I'm writing honestly and admitting that I miss California. I miss home. A lot. I do like Texas. But I love Southern California. And I love the community I had there.
I try not to put timelines on my life and I try not to look forward to future events too much in an effort to enjoy the now and adjust to the here. But this weekend I'm reminding myself that Austin is a three year gig. Whether or not that is a lie is TBD and, really, not all that important. Sometimes all you need is a little bit of hope to keep you going and enjoying. Even if it's false hope.

My two traveling buddies.
We went from the airport, to get the car, to the Desai's where we spent the first three nights.

After reuniting with my lover, aka Christy, and my second lover, aka Cafe Vida, we went to Kaskade's Atmosphere show. Chelsi came also. {Note to self: pray I don't have stupid teenagers that do the standing Provo push for hours on end.}  Somehow we ended up at Kaskade again on Friday night. Show starting at midnight. Yes, Chelsi and D and Yosh and Darshan went as well. That's how us Hansen's do 2 am apparently! Fun fun night{s}!

The babies and I took advantage one last time of still having Disney passes and spent a few hours there. Loved it! And love having passes where it's completely acceptable to stay for only 5 hours!

Saturday Yosh and I went to one of his co-workers wedding. It was an amazing ceremony. The father of the groom had recently passed away. There was an added tenderness and genuinely felt in all the words and memories shared.

Sunday, Yosh headed home and the kids and I continued on up to Camarillo to stay with the Nielsen's and kick it with the valley crew. Sunday night was Stonefire. Monday was hanging with the girls and kids before our nanny, aka Jono, opened a window for escape and we snuck off to lunch. And of course finished the day off with a girls dinner at Umami Burger. Where we ate lots of food. No, really...we ate a lot. But do we seriously not have a single picture, girls??? Well, you know what that means.....
DO OVER!!!!

ASK GAY: Dream Job, Dream Big

The cards were stacked against me to get a post out yesterday. I surrendered when I looked down at my cookie sheet filled with chocolate chip cookie dough balls, anxiously awaiting a sprinkle of fleur de sel before being slid into the piping hot oven. At first glance, I thought something was off. At second glance, I knew something was off.  And then it finally dawned on my why... Not a single chocolate chip was to be found in the 16 perfectly shaped cookie dough balls. Someone forgot that last step of stirring chocolate chips into the dough...
But I'm not giving up. This will be a Saturday post. ASK GAY is a day late, but not a dollar short! Here we goes!

What is your dream job? If you could do anything- time, money, everything else aside- what would you do?
Oh well let me tell you, this question came at a very appropriate time as I have had a fire lit under me as of late! If I could have any job I wanted, I would be a public speaker. I would be a recognized writer. I would be in a position where my message would reach many hearts. You want to know the message I'm dying to share???

HOPE.

That's what I want to preach about.

Let me share a little something with you.

I love God.

I also love religion.

I think both God and religion offer a flame of hope.

I also think those two things, misinterpreted, kill hope.

It's an interesting conundrum.

Lately I've had unexpected conversations with people that fall in different places on the religious spectrum regarding different issues they're going through. But the ending concern seems to be similar-- they feel somewhat cut off from God because they're "messing up". And the deeds of messing up vary greatly. Like some things should hardly be termed as messing up.

This makes me so sad!

For awhile now I was just keeping my mouth shut under the assumption that I apparently see things so differently, and probably more "liberally" which isn't always acceptable. 

Well lately I've decided to stop keeping my mouth shut.

I think this life is a playing field to develop characteristics that collectively build solid character.

What are some of those characteristics?

Patience, sympathy, empathy, understanding, love.

There is a journey in gaining and strengthening these characteristics.

There is a huge learning curve.

And do you know what a learning curve entails?

Messing up.

Messing up is part of the journey.

It's part of the molding.

Messing up may always appear to be two-steps backwards, but I'm not completely convinced that's the case.

Sometimes messing up simply reveals a vulnerability or creates a space for more learning.

It's an opportunity!

Opportunity is a beautiful thing.

Opportunity is the opposite of standstill, opportunity is far from damming.

And yet I think a lot of our minds see messing up like that and therefore we're not open to learning the lesson and growing in the way that we could be.

Instead we take on guilt and cloud our minds with self-appointed negativity which then does act as a dam.

I remember being 19 years old attending Ricks College (before it took on the prestigious name of BYU-Idaho!). I was sitting in a religion class where the professor was talking about unpardonable sins. Sins that we couldn't repent from, sins that effectively stop our progress.

As a young 19 year old girl, I was scared to death that I fell into that category.

I remember timidly approaching the professor after class and being all, 

"Well tell me specifically...what are unpardonable sins?" 

I wanted specifics.

I remember him looking at me and saying,

"Believe me, nothing you have ever done qualifies as unpardonable." 

There was more in the conversation but the gist of that situation was that I- a recovering, out of control, rebellious teenager- was afraid that my chances at a God-pleasing life were already ruined. At a young 19 years old, I definitely thought there was a chance my fate was already doomed.

How sad!

Where is the hope, the motivation, the incentive to live a full life?

I feel lucky that I didn't get trapped in that mentality.

I feel thankful that my perspective on God and religion has evolved to where I no longer think of God as a dictator and His commandments as mere measures of success.

I'm glad that this evolution has lit a fire of HOPE that I want to spread,

to let others see that we just need to be moving forward, striving for good, extending our best by just a little each day. 

Forward movement, y'all!

That's what counts and that's something that each and every one of us can do.

It eliminates comparison as we each have our own starting line.

It eliminates guilt because we get that our paces will vary from day to day.

It allows for messing up because we understand that it's a journey rather than a race.

We start believing that we are creating something therefore allowing us to respect and accept the process.

Hope is beautiful!

Hope in the right things is freeing!

Living life at peace in priceless.

This what I want to share!

I want to share the different aspects of our lives that can be affected positively by appropriate hope- our relationships, our ambitions, our spirituality. I want to share how we can stop impeding our own growth.

I, in fact, want to tell anyone and everyone, through writing and public speaking. I want to use my story, my LIFE, my journey of messing up a million times, as an example of hope. Hence this is why it is now my dream job!

Do you have any ideas how I can start?!!

K, I'm now coming down from my soap box. But do share, what is YOUR dream job? If you could do anything- time, money, and everything else aside- what would you do? Do me a favor and please share in the comments section! Have a question for ASK GAY? Please email me at agirlnamedgay@gmail.com. Or if you just have a question or something you want to chat about but don't want it published, email me all the same.

Prison Break

Among many other things, moms are known for embarrassing their kids. It's just a fact of life. I still remember one specific incident where my mom was super embarrassing... but I was so scared I couldn't even feel the embarrassment.
 I was a junior high kid- and based on what happened, I must have been a grounded junior high kid. But if there's one thing you must know about me, it's this: this free bird was not meant to be caged! Word on the streets was that my neighbor was having a raging party that night. Her mom was out of town which is an unfortunate, obvious invitation for tons of teenagers to take over the grounds and turn it into their playground for the night.  (Swear my kids will never do that. And double swearsies that never happened at my house....)
Well, La Ajcita- as we sometimes affectionately call my mom- left the house on that Friday afternoon. I don't know where she was going or when I thought she would be back. But apparently, I definitely thought it was perfect timing to slip out of my jail cell unnoticed.  So slip I did, and trotted through the trails until I arrived at the party. And there I was, the young junior higher, mingling with all the big people. I was feeling cool, I was blending in. Now it's hard to say if I lost track of time or if I suddenly could have cared less about rules and regulations. Those two excuses often get blurred in my life. Which ever one of the two it was, it resulted in me staying at the party longer than my window of freedom allowed. And next thing you know,  there was a low rumbling sound that quickly gained strength.  The crowds of crazy teenagers started to split, and when the opening was clear, it wasn't Moses who was standing there. Instead it was AJ, shamelessly yelling out, "Gaaaaaaaaaabey........ Gaaaaaaaaabey."  There was no trepidation in her, no intimidation to be found despite the critical crowd she was among. Huh uh, she was on a mission and homegirl was out to accomplish.
I remember my eyes growing in size, my head quickly bowing, and my feet shuffling as fast as they could to move my body into that 13 passenger van that was waiting to escort me back to my cell. The rest is history. (Think beating, being locked in the basement for days, you know. Just kidding just kidding!)
Like I said, I was so scared I didn't even have time to be embarrassed. But please make no mistake-- it was an embarrassing mom moment!
I've been thinking about my mom lately. Being catapulted into the role of mom myself, has made me reflect on her a lot.  As I'm sitting there reading to my kids, I often catch myself imagining my mom with her littles all gathered around. Did she feel the same way about us as I do about my own kids? Did she enjoy this part of motherhood? What all did I learn from my mom? What parts of her were passed down to her fifth child? These thoughts pass fluidly through my mind.

The other day I was breathing deep after finishing doing something really hard and uncomfortable. (Why is it that doing hard things isn't easy?!!!) And the realization hit me like a ton of bricks-- the reason I know how to do hard things is because I have watched my mom do hard things for years. It was never her vocalized mantra, nor was it something she pounded in her kids' heads. She simply lived her life doing hard things: confronting uncomfortable situations, standing up for truth, listening to her heart and following it, walking through throngs of teenagers in order to find her stray daughter, etc. She was no stranger to hard. But she did it. She does it. Time and time again.
And that silent message has infused it's way into me. It has given me strength to do things that allow for inner peace. It has given me strength to take on new adventures. It has also been the reason that sometimes I feel sick to my stomach! All in all,
it has been the means to let me live life at a higher level.
I'm thankful for a mama that does hard things.