Generational Trauma

Once upon a time when I was young my grandpa had to have open heart surgery. My mom was traveling to Salt Lake to be with him at the hospital and leaving my sister and I at home with my dad for a few days until she got back. There was a blizzard and I remember being so worried about her traveling safely. I knew she needed to go, but I didn't want her to. I remember vividly that she drove us out to the bus stop the morning she was leaving. The sun hadn't come up yet, and the snow flakes flurried around in the light of the car's headlights. As we waited for the bus to come my mom started singing us a haunting song. As the words, "I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again..." came out of her mouth both my sister and I burst into tears. It was a poor song choice for sure. We cried and cried, and nothing my mom could do would stop us. Eventually the bus came so we wiped our tears and gave a sorrowful goodbye to my mom, who now, we weren't sure we would ever see again. My mom did travel safely, and did make it back to us a few days later...

Fast forward twenty three-ish years (MAN, that makes me old!) I'm the mom now. I've been traveling a lot for work lately and I didn't realize what a toll it was taking on my kids. One night after we had finished scriptures and family prayer we were talking about our plan for the week, and how much we would miss each other. I started singing "Cups". As I sang the words, "When I'm gone, when I'm go-on, You're gonna miss me when I'm gone..." both of my kids burst into tears. It was a flash back to that day, all those years ago when I was traumatized in the very same way. They cried and cried, until finally I wiped their tears and tucked them in to bed with a promise to bring them a surprise from my trip.
It was a lesson for me... No more singing!

What the Flag Means to Me. By Ethan

One day Ethan came to me wanting to enter a writing contest... What? That is not something that Ethan really does. He doesn't even like writing his full name, so writing an essay is a little out of his comfort zone. But I'm all for new adventures, especially when it has an education componant to it, so we decided to try. Eventually the truth came out, and the prize is $5000, so there is the real motivator. But still, it was worth a shot. He has been so committed to doing this, and it has been fun to see his creative process. When he finished the final product brought me to tears. It is too beautiful not to share, so here goes:

What The Flag Means To Me

By Ethan Eberling

What the flag means to me is freedom. Every part of my life is affected because of the freedom the flag represents. Let me tell you a little bit about me to show you what I mean. My name is Ethan, and I have some special needs called Autism, and Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, and Reactive Attachment Disorder. That makes it hard for me at school, and sometimes hard for me to know how to have friends and to do the right thing. In some places, because of my special needs I might not be allowed to go to   school, but here in America, I am free to go to school, get special help, and have friends. Because of what the flag represents, I am an 8th grader. 

I was adopted when I was three and a half years old. My birth parents didn’t know the right ways to take care of me, so I was sent to lots of different homes. In some places I might never have found a family to love me and a place of my own, but because of the freedoms in this country I found a mom and dad who care about me and who work every day to help me achieve my dreams. Because of what the flag represents, I am loved. 

I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I love the church, and I like going to classes to learn more about Jesus Christ. It helps me want to make good choices and to be a good person. Last year I was given the Priesthood in my church, and that made me feel happy. The Priesthood comes with a lot of responsibility, but I am proud that I have it and can use it to help other people. In some places I wouldn’t be allowed to be a member of my church or have the Priesthood, but here in America I have that freedom. Because of what the flag represents, I am a follower of Christ.

I live in a house with my mom and my sister. My parents are divorced, and my mom takes care of me. My mom is in graduate school, and that is sometimes hard for me. My whole family has to make some sacrifices in order for her to be in school, but if we do that for a little while, it will help her have a better job so we can have a better life. In some places my mom wouldn’t have that opportunity, but because of what the flag represents I know I can learn, grow and improve my life.

When I grow up I want to be a video game designer. That is going to be cool. It will be hard for me to achieve that, but if I work really hard every day I can do it. I will have to finish middle school, and high school, and even college. In some places I wouldn’t have the opportunity to do those things. I might not get to go to school or get to choose whatever job I want to do. But here in America I have the freedom to be whatever I want to be. Because of what the flag represents I have dreams.

I have grandpas, uncles and cousins who are or used to be members of the military. Sometimes some of them have to leave their family and go to war to fight for our freedom, and the freedom of others. That is hard for all of us, but it is a very important job. They risk their lives every day, and they sacrifice a lot. They are an example to me and teach me to help and serve others. This isn’t an easy job, but because of their hard work, and the hard work of all military men and women we are free. Because of what the flag represents, the military makes this sacrifice willingly. Because of what the flag represents I live in a free country. 

I am so lucky to have all of these freedoms in my life. Without them I wouldn’t be who I am and I wouldn’t have the opportunity to become the person I want to be. Every time I see the flag waving I am reminded of the freedom it represents and I am grateful for the sacrifice of those who have fought for those freedoms. That is what the flag represents to me.

People react to being called beautiful

Have you seen this? It's beautiful! I often wonder what the world would look like if we not only saw the beauty in others, but told them what we saw. Let's try it!

Vulnerability

I recently went to a conference that got me thinking about vulnerability. The presenter was sharing a program developed by Bren’e Brown (You might recognize her from THIS TED TALK - if you don’t, go watch it, it’s worth your time.) It was talking about the power of relationships. In my work we believe that healing happens in relationships. And aren’t we all a little bit broken in some way or another? Don’t we all need a little healing from time to time. The kids that I work with are a little more so than most of us, but this message applies to everybody, I think. A quote from Bren’e that really spoke to me is this, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, accountability, and authenticity.” Those are things I definitely want and even NEED in my life. And vulnerability is where it starts. 

I think these days we misunderstand what vulnerability is. In the age of social media -in your face 24/7 - wear my heart on my status bar - post every thought that comes to my mind - it is easy to get confused. Vulnerability is not live tweeting your bikini wax, vulnerability is not attention seeking, vulnerability is not dirty laundry. Vulnerability is about intimacy, it is about connection, it is courage and raw and truth. Vulnerability is being brave enough to open your heart and offer what’s in there to someone else with the knowledge that anything could happen. But it’s only through getting to this place that  you can experience true, healthy relationships. It is only through being vulnerable that you can experience the happiness and success life has in store for you. Being vulnerable is different for different people. It could mean saying hello to a new person in your neighborhood, it could be allowing yourself to cry with a friend who needs some empathy. It could be standing up for something you believe in, even when it isn’t the popular point of view. It could mean being the first one to say I love you, or addressing an addiction you’ve kept with you for far too long. It is yours, whatever you decide. 

But here’s the thing about vulnerability. It’s hard. It’s scary. I don’t like to do it. I like it when other people do it, in fact part of my job is to get people to do it, but when it comes to me, I like my heart packed away neatly with the rest of my baggage thank you very much. I’ve been hurt and stomped on and betrayed and rejected, and that makes it hard to open up again. But here’s the other thing: I want relationships with my family and friends and even people I haven’t met yet. I want to be able to do relationships well. I want joy. I want success. I want to be genuine. So I am pushing myself to be vulnerable. Recently I have had an experience professionally, and one personally where I raked up what little courage I had and ventured waaaaaay out of my comfort zone. I’ll let you know how it turns out... What about you? Do you dare? 

Beautiful

I saw this today, and just fell in love with it, so I wanted to share it. What a great lesson for all of us. 

The MAN!

This happened a while ago, but I forgot to post it and I don't want to forget the wonders of puberty, so even though its a bit inappropriate I'm sharing it with the world. Ethan is so lucky!

Ethan is growing up. Yikes! One day he discovered a chest hair. One lone little chest hair. He was thrilled. Evidently the ability to grow chest hair is the thing that determines whether you are a boy or a man, and Ethan was officially a man. Not only that, he was THE man. The man of our house. And apparently that meant that he was now in charge. The chest hair had given him the power, and unfortunately it was going to his head a bit. He was bossy, and sassy, and one step away from dragging a club around and grunting, "Woman, get me some food!" It was getting old fast, and was certainly NOT the kind of attitude I want to encourage in our home. (Don't get me wrong, I believe that men need respect, and honor, and that they fill a very important role in the home, I just don't think women are the servant and less than just because we don't have any chest hair.) One day, Ethan had just gotten out of the shower, and was dancing around in his towel pointing out the lonely chest hair once again. I had been trying to think of a tactful way to honor the changes he is experiencing while still not raising a male chauvinist, but Adia had reached her limit and decided to take matters into her own hands. She marched up to him, ripped the hair right out of his chest and said, "In this house, girls rule!" I died.  Then I pulled it together, and we had a talk about gender equality, and the fact that our home is one of mutual power and respect... and that if we had any more questions over who is really in charge, in this house, for now anyway,  MOM RULES! :)

Love where you're at.

A few weeks ago Adia was super sick. Like, sick enough that she didn’t want to watch TV or eat, she just slept for days- that kind of sick. I’m way lucky that I have the kind of job that allows me to stay home with sick kids, so we were home together for two week days plus the weekend, and then Monday was a snow day, so it was five stay at home days in a row. I loved it, we cuddled on the couch watching movies, and we read together for hours, and I got to just love on her and serve her and nurse her back to health, and Ethan and I sledded and made snow ice cream, and built a snowman, and shoveled the snow out of our drive, and all the neighbors’ drives, and it was a blast! It reminded me of something that I had forgotten, or maybe that I never really realized to be true before. I kick butt at being a stay at home mom! I do. I’m a crafting, cooking, cleaning, volunteering, homework doing, DIYer. I loved that job. LOVED it! I wasn’t one of those moms who complained about being a mom. I didn’t want to have a part time job like some moms do, that was my very favorite job, and I loved everything about it. I didn’t get down or overwhelmed, or burned out. I just liked it. I did fun things with my kids, I made up sentimental traditions, I celebrated everything, I met my kids at the door with milk and homemade cookies. Being home from work for those few days, being able to get so much done, trying new projects, having some order to our life, those kinds of things were really exciting, and reminded me of how much I loved that job and how much I wish I could do that job again… and I started to get sad about it. But then Tuesday came, and I went back to work, and I loved it. I realized that I LOVE what I do. Is it hard? YES! Is it emotional? YES! Does it drive me crazy sometimes? Yes!!! But I get to make a difference in people’s lives. Every. Single. Day. I get to help people, and make their lives better, and help them function, and change lives AND GET PAID FOR IT! I literally save babies- I’m a freakin’ superhero! (Yes, I realize that this is a bit of an exaggeration, I in no way see myself as a super hero AND that is not how everyone in the world views my job, AND truthfully, not everyone thinks that sounds like the best job ever, but I do. I honestly, with my whole heart, love my job) My job makes me feel fulfilled and whole, and like I can change the world, or at least my little corner of it. So that made me think about my life a little. Yes, I love being a stay and home mom, and if I could choose any job, that’s the one I would choose. But, that’s not the life I was handed. And I can be happy right where I’m at. I love life, just how it is. I’m not sad about not being a stay at home mom, I’m happy that I was able to experience that, but I’m happy I get to experience this life too. I’ve had some great successes personally as well as employment based that never would have achieved in my old life. I have witnessed miracles and seen people at their worst, and also at their best. I fully understand what it is to be human, and also humane. This life and it’s opportunities are a gift. As I’ve been thinking about that I have thought about my whole life, and times when I wasn’t happy where I was. And I wonder if a little change in perspective, or some inner reflection would have made me get more out of the experience. I wonder if there is some beauty in those experiences that I missed out on; that I refused to let in simply because I didn’t love where I was. I wonder how many more relationships I could have built, how many experiences I could have had, how many interests and talents and gifts I passed up because I wasn’t present. Because I didn’t engage with the life I was living at the moment. Because I was too busy waiting and hoping for something better to come along. So after coming to this realization I’m committing to be in the moment, and be happy where I’m at. I’m loving this life. This one. Right now. 

Happy Pi(e) Day!

It's Pi(e) day! You know, 3.14... March 14th. We aren't math people, but we are pie people, so this is one concept we can really get behind. We love this "holiday" and every year we celebrate happily. This year we chose to celebrate with a peanut butter variety, and since it's one of my favorites I thought I would share the recipe. And since it is quite seriously one of the easiest pies I have ever made, all the better!

You start out with a chocolate graham cracker crust. I usually make my own - crushed chocolate grahams and a little butter - perfection. But we've had one of those store bought ones rolling around the pantry for months now, so I decided to use it up. That makes this pie even easier!

So now, for the filling:

1- 8oz package of cream cheese, softened.
1 Cup cream peanut butter. (I'm normally a fan of the chunky, but for this recipe creamy gets you much                   better results.
1/2 C sugar
1teaspoon vanilla
8 oz whipped cream

In a mixer combine the first four ingredients and mix well. It will seem grainy, and not so good, but that's okay, the magic comes next. Once those are mixed, add the whipped cream and gently fold it in with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula. As you fold, the peanut butter mixture gradually becomes more like a yummy mousse. Once you're done with that scoop it into the crust, spread it out, and top with garnish. We have tried whipped cream and chocolate shavings before, but this time we used some hot fudge ice cream topping drizzled over the top - just do what you feel.

It's best when cold, but it's good at any temp. It's really rich, so you might want to pair it with some cold milk. One thing we've also done is make individual servings in muffin tins. This takes a little more work, but if you pipe the filling in with a pretty icing tip it looks super nice and it is the perfect portion size.

Stash of Cash.

A lot of people have been asking me about how I have been able to afford brain integration for my family. It’s expensive, I get it. I used a lot of different methods to make it work, but because it’s close (ish) to the beginning of the year I wanted to share this fun Idea that helped.

Last January I found this chart. You put one dollar in the jar the first week of January, two dollars the second week, etc. for the whole year. I did this, but sometimes I didn’t have exact change, so instead of putting in, say, $3, I would just put in a $5. I was careful to always round up, not down in those situations. So by the end of the year, when we had seen so much improvement in Ethan and I knew Adia needed it, I checked the jar. There was plenty for the entire integration, the motel stays, gas, food, PLUS a mani/pedi for us both. I liked that it never took too much. It wasn’t going to break the bank, even during the most expensive week.  It takes some time, but if you are hoping  to save some money for whatever reason, this might be a fun answer. 

Whipping Cough

Usually Ethan takes a long time to come out after school. He's social and has to talk to people. Plus he's usually left his stuff all over the entire school, so he has to go from class to class to pick  up pencil's books, notebooks, coat, etc. But Friday he came scooting out of the school before the bell had even stopped ringing. He ran strait to me with panic all over his face, and gasped, "Mom! There's a Whiping Caugh outbrake at school!" He was terrified! After talking to him more in depth about his fears (And hearing him tell me about his friend Benny who's dad "gave him a whipping cough and he couldn't sit down for two weeks") we finally got to the bottom of things. He thought that an outbreak was kind of like a prison break. And whooping cough (which is what we were REALLY dealing with) was whipping cough. So basically in his head some scary prisoners had broken out of jail and were running around the school whipping kids until they cough. We talked about it, and things got worked out, but that didn't stop him from asking everyone who even cleared their throat around him if they had the Whipping Cough. He also took the paper that the school handed out and was a public safety announcement to everyone we met. He approached all kinds of people, showing them the information, and giving them advice - avoid going places if you start coughing, cover your mouth with a tissue, then throw the tissue away, wash your hands with soap often... Just doing his community service you know. The city of Blanding is safer and healthier with Ethan around!