Feeling Nostalgic

Sometimes I hear a song that takes me back to my childhood and makes me feel all nostalgic. This morning that song was "Dig Your Roots" by Florida Georgia Line. I heard them play it a month ago at the concert in Cheyenne and loved it then and it was finally available to buy in iTunes this morning. I might have listened it to it on repeat the entire way to work. It just reminded me of all the good times I had growing up and the important lessons I learned, and am still learning, from my grandparents and parents.
Growing up in a small town is something you can't really explain unless you've done it. As much as I love the convenience of living in place where the store doesn't close at 7 p.m. I wouldn't trade my youth and growing up in Altamont for anything in the world.
There is something special about being able to go home 10 years later and talk to people in the store like you never left. Something awesome about knowing that no matter what you do with your life there is a whole town of people who know you and love you and are proud of everything you've done. People who care about your kids and your husband and want to get to know them just like they know you. It's something I've probably taken for granted more than a time or two, but also something I know is unique and special, and something I'll treasure forever.
I didn't just grow up in a small town though, I grew up on a farm in that small town. Nothing has taught me more about life, love, family and hard work than working next to my sisters on the farm. We spent our summers picking rocks, moving cows and turning hay bales in the fields (with plenty of time to play in the river left over) and winters feeding cows and shoveling the sheep barn. I might have hated every minute spent shoveling poop out of the sheep barn and cursed the days I had to get up before dawn in below freezing temperatures in middle of winter and go feed the cows, but I can honestly say I wouldn't trade those experiences either. They made me who I am today and hopefully made me a better person too.
If there is anything Grandpa Bob and Grandma Connie taught me it is that nothing is handed to you, you've got to work hard for everything you want and sometimes even then life has other plans but you just keep on working hard. All the years of working on the farm taught me that if something is worth doing it is worth doing right and nothing is more important than family.

Writing makes me happy

Writing is something that has always been second nature to me, seriously, my Grandma Kay told me that when I was a little girl and would come stay with her she would always find scraps of paper around her house with half-written stories on them when I left. In seventh grade, my first "short story" was 10 pages long. It's no wonder that when I got to college I eventually decided to major in Communications and become a journalist, a newspaper reporter to be specific, a job where I could write every single day.

Since I left the newspaper world my writing has come and gone in spurts but I've recently started writing again and I have to say I've missed it. There is something soothing to me about clicking away on the keyboard, putting words on paper and creating a story.
While I'm sure this definitely classifies me as a nerd I have to admit writing gives me an adrenaline rush too. Nothing will ever compare with the rush of writing a story on a tight deadline and pressing send with just seconds to spare, but I still get a rush when I start a new project or finish something I've been working on for a while or even when I write a really good scene.
I've spent years writing down the short stories or ideas that float around in my head but now I'm excited to be working on what I hope will become my first published book. I've wanted to write a book for a long time, but to be honest I was afraid. Afraid of what other people would think, afraid people wouldn't like it, afraid that I might fail. But now that technology has made self-publishing a relatively easy task and I've finally gotten brave enough to let a few friends read some of my stories I'm going to do it.
I'm in the early stages of writing but I've got the idea and few pages written and I'm excited to write more. Stay tuned and don't let me chicken out this time!

We Have to Stop

Today I had to drive to Provo for work and while on the freeway saw a man driving a shuttle service van trying to read a stack of papers on his steering wheel while driving (yes, I did call the company to complain) and a woman curling her eyelashes, again while driving.

This is not my first and probably won't be my last post about distracted driving but we have to stop. 

It's not okay to curl your eyelashes or put on mascara (or any makeup for that matter) or brush your teeth or eat cereal or read a newspaper or write in your planner or shave while driving (yes these are all things I have personally seen happening on the freeways before). It's not okay to text and drive or Facebook and drive or even play with your fancy dashboard navigation system. I'm not perfect, I've sent texts while driving, but since I had Mason, something clicked, and I have made an active and conscious effort to not do anything that will distract me from driving and getting to my destination safely, not to mention making sure my precious passenger gets there safely too. I'm still not perfect but I'm trying really hard! 

I saw a UDOT sign a few days ago that said 41 people have died on Utah roads in 2016, 41! That is 41 families who's loved ones will never be coming home, 41 people who needlessly lost their lives. Nothing is important enough to jeopardize your own life or those of everyone else on the road. I guarantee that arriving alive and well is more important than arriving with your eyelashes curled. 

Put down the phone, the make-up, the newspaper, your breakfast and anything else that may be keeping you from paying attention to what is happening on the road in front of you and just drive, your life depends on it. 

I just have to vent...

I know why the U.S. spends more on health care than any other industrialized nation. It is because, at times, our system is incredibly wasteful. I have been having some knee issues for a while now, so I finally went to the doctor a few weeks ago, he said he wasn't 100% sure what was causing the pain but that I could get an MRI or try physical therapy. I opted to try physical therapy because my insurance deductible had just reset and that was the cheaper option but my doctor said to call him if I changed my mind and wanted to do an MRI. After two sessions of physical therapy things were getting worse not better, so on Friday, I call the doctor and said I'd like to get an MRI scheduled. His medical assistant put on hold and came back and said the doctor had said to schedule an appointment to come into the office and he'd do an ultrasound to make sure it's not a cyst first. I said okay, because an office visit is still cheaper than an MRI. I get to the doctor's office today and he comes in asks me a few questions and this is how the conversation goes.
The doctor says, "I think it's time for an MRI."
"I called on Friday and wanted to schedule an MRI and your assistant told me you said to come in and you'd do an ultrasound to see if it is a cyst first."
"I don't remember saying that, I can do an ultrasound but a cyst is usually caused by something else that I won't be able to see on an ultrasound, so we need to get an MRI."
I almost freaked out on the doctor. So you're telling me I left work and came in here for no reason! Instead of just scheduling an MRI when I called on Friday, I had to go in, pay $130 out of my own pocket and take up an appointment space that could have been used by someone else, just to be told I needed something I was already asking for. I am seriously so mad!
I am sure I am not the only person this has happened to and I am sure I am not the last person it will happen to either. We need to figure out a way to eliminate medical waste like this, so the cost of health care doesn't continue to increase.

I have a confession to make...

I have a confession to make. I never tried to breastfeed my baby, not even once. His dad fed him his very first bottle in the delivery room while I still having repairs made. I didn’t struggle for weeks with latching on and a poor milk supply and then switch to formula to save my baby and my sanity. I don’t have a medical condition that makes it impossible for me to breastfeed, I don’t have a terrible workplace that discriminates against breastfeeding moms, I don’t have a “valid” reason for not doing it; I just didn’t want to.  

I’ve known for years that I wasn’t going to breastfeed. For a few short months in college I worked at Motherhood Maternity. I heard horror stories about breastfeeding, sore, bleeding, cracked nipples, babies that bite, days spent doing nothing but breastfeeding, leaking in public, getting terrible infections or clogged ducts that were excruciatingly painful. I sold pumps that reminded me of the machine’s I’ve seen milking dairy cows. I tried and sometimes failed to find women a nursing bra that fit and wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing they had ever worn. As an impressionable 20-year-old all I could think was, “I’m never doing that.”  

I have yet to see anything that gets women so riled up as the debate about breastfeeding. I’ve read countless blogs and articles about women who also made the choice not to breastfeed and based on the comment sections you would think they just told the world they feed their baby gasoline. Selfish, uninformed, naive, stupid, lazy, terrible mother... all anonymous insults hurled at formula-feeding moms through cyberspace.

Whenever the topic of babies and breastfeeding came up, I kept my resolve and told people I had no intention of breastfeeding. I would justify it by saying things like, “I can’t pump when I go back to work, the news isn’t going to wait for me while I pump,” or “I’m not sure I’ll be able to with the medicine I take every day.” Which is true, I do take medication every day but based on a simple google-search it probably wouldn’t keep me from breastfeeding and I don’t work in news anymore, so that “excuse” is out.

I was afraid to just admit that I didn’t want to breastfeed. I didn’t want to be called a selfish, horrible, bad mom. I didn’t want to have to defend my decision. I have always felt that it isn’t good enough to want my husband to be able to feed the baby in the middle of the night too or be able to go back to work without worrying if I’ll produce enough milk to feed the baby. It isn’t good enough to want to be able to take an uninterrupted nap in those first few sleep deprived weeks while someone else worries about feeding the baby or be able to go out with girlfriends and have a few drinks. It isn’t good enough to just not want too. I was afraid of being attacked and hounded by women who didn’t even know me.

When did women start being so hostile toward each other? When did what I choose to feed my baby boy, who is perfectly happy and healthy, become the topic of public conversation and debate? When did it become acceptable to berate and degrade a person you know nothing about based solely on how they feed their baby?

Let’s get something straight, motherhood is hard. You worry before your baby is even born how you are going to keep them safe and if you’ll be a good mom. You worry about SIDS and vaccinations and finding the right daycare. You worry if you are bathing them enough, if they are sleeping too much or if their poop is the right color. You wonder if your body is ever going to return to normal, if your sex life will ever be the same again and sometimes you cry for no reason at all. The last thing new moms or any moms for that matter should have to worry about is being judged and put down.                            

As women, and especially as mothers, we should be supporting each other, offering words of encouragement instead of hurtful, judgmental comments. We should make new moms feel loved and supported and like they are doing the best they can for themselves and their babies. Women should feel empowered and confident in the choices they make for themselves and their families; so let’s support each other, regardless of whether you agree with my choices or not. I’m happy, my baby is happy and we are both thriving in our new life together, what else matters?

Blessed Beyond Measure

It's that time of year again, where everyone (myself included) posts and blogs about all the things we're grateful for. I've made it a tradition to blog near Thanksgiving about all the things I am grateful for but this year as I write this blog from a hospital bed in Murray I am overwhelmed, almost to the point of tears, by all the blessings in my life.
I am in the hospital because I developed blood clots in my lungs, from a combination of pregnancy hormones, birth control and family risk factors. Although I would much rather be at work right now, I am grateful for modern medicine that was able to discover my blood clots and treat them before they became a serious issue. I am grateful for my husband John, who stayed with me in the ER until 2 in the morning and then got up this morning and took care of Mason while I was at the hospital. I am grateful for my mom and sister, Whitney, who didn't hesitate to jump in the car and make the 2 1/2 hour drive out here first thing this morning. I am grateful for my grandparents who drove 45 minutes each way just to check on me and give me a blessing for 15 minutes. I am grateful for my coworkers who jumped in a took over so I didn't have to worry about the things I was supposed to today and tomorrow. I am grateful for the friends and family that texted me or called me to check on me. I am grateful for my beautiful baby boy who makes me smile even when things aren't great. I have soooo many blessings and things to be grateful for that I could take all day writing down each and every thing I am grateful for but I am overwhelmed with gratitude for everything I have. I have a good life, a great job, an incredible family and friends, a house I love, a pug to snuggle, an amazingly supportive and loving husband and new this year, the cutest, smiley baby boy who lights up my life every single day.
Thank you to everyone who makes my life better, even in the smallest ways, I want you all to know I appreciate every single one of you and the role you play in my life. Thank you for helping me make this one of the best years ever, for supporting me and being there for me! I love you all, and wish everyone the happiest Thanksgiving full of family, food, football and love.

We need more compassion, kindness and tolerance in the world

It has been about a week since the LDS church announced it's new policy on the children of same-sex couples being baptized and the whole world went crazy. Before you close this thinking it is another blog about the policy, it's not, just bear with me while I get to the point.
Here in Utah, where the LDS religion dominates the news has caused quite the stir, I've seen countless posts from both sides about the new policy, one of which generated this blog idea. A friend of mine, a girl that I grew up with and had sleepovers with when I was in elementary school, shared a post by another about being ostracized because they weren't LDS. This girl shared the same sentiment and shared some terrible things she had been told when she was a little girl because she wasn't LDS. I immediately wanted to comment on her post and tell her how sorry I was that she had to deal with that as a child, but then I thought about it and the more I thought the more I couldn't guarantee that I hadn't been one of the mean little kids who said horrible things to her. And that made me incredibly sad. As a child I was a bratty know-it-all, if I knew something you didn't I wasn't afraid to tell you you were wrong, because I had prove that I was smarter than everyone else. And looking back it wouldn't surprise me if I inadvertently said something very hurtful, I really hope I didn't, but I don't know that for sure.
Which brings me to the actual point of this post, we need to be kind and compassionate and tolerant of each other and we need to teach our children the same things and let our actions show them that we mean it.
No two people are the same and that's a good thing, our unique differences are what makes this world a beautiful place. How boring would it be if we were all exactly the same? We shouldn't be teaching our children that being different is bad or that other people aren't as good as us because of religion or race or the car they drive. We shouldn't teach our children to exclude others because they are different or come from a different background or religion or social class or family dynamic than we do, because those are sometimes the people we learn the most from. We aren't born with built-in prejudices or biases towards certain people, those things are taught.
Do you really want to teach your children that they are better than someone else just because you go to church on Sunday and they don't? You can pass on your beliefs and value-system but while doing so also pass on love and compassion. Teach your children that there are people in the world who are different from them, who have different opinions and beliefs but that that doesn't make those people bad or wrong, just different and different is okay. Teach your children to make friends with the kids who are different than them, to share with them and be kind, because how would you feel if the roles were reversed and it was your child being left out or teased or bullied because they are different?
The golden rule still applies here people, "Treat others like you would want to be treated." It's a pretty simple concept that seems to have gotten lost behind the anonymity of the internet where people can hide behind a computer screen and say horrible things without repercussions. Don't help spread hate throughout world, because whether on social media or in person respect, kindness, love, compassion and tolerance are all things we could use a little more of in the world.