Keepin' It Real, Folks

 I cry a lot these days. I was patting myself on the back after the herculean effort of making it to my child’s school program with three littles in tow. Apparently, I didn’t get the memo, but there were no other kids there. I don’t know if they had nannies or preschool or no siblings or what, but there I was, handing out cheese sticks and making paper air planes to keep my three settled and quiet in the crowded classroom. We even left early, but Doggonit I had gotten the four of us fed, dressed, parked and in there on time. I even put lipstick on! So I was slightly stunned when I asked how the rest of it went (left early before the kids could act up) and learned that apparently, I’m totally embarrassing. Why? Because I look like a “couch potato slob who doesn’t wear make-up, do her hair or try to look good by wearing clothes that match.” Oh, and I’m “really big” as in “really fat.” 

Okay… 

That sorta stung. Usually I’m not bothered by this. (Being embarrassed by your parents is a childhood rite of passage.) I know I’m not the average SLC mom who has it all together with her hair and nails done in her LuluLemon attire – I almost take pride in not being that norm. But I’ve always found solace thinking I was attractive in a “natural beauty” sort of way and don’t want to get bogged down by all that superficial stuff anyway. This time I guess it felt different though because it came from my child who generally doesn’t notice or care about such stuff. And it came at a time when I was already down and out. Life has dealt me some lemons lately and I’m barely holding it together. It felt bad to see my “victory” of the day seen as such a failure in the eyes of the one I was sacrificing for. I said so. Gently, and calmly, then cried my eyes out in silence as I sat down to nurse my newborn for the four hundredth time today. Cracked nipple pain aside, I was sitting in the midst of overturned boardgames, dying plants, piles of folded laundry toppling over at each jumping antic of my 2 year old, and a disaster of a house, correcting my 8 year old’s violin practice between my tears. I guess I could officially say I’m overwhelmed. I thought it was the thrush – day after wicked day of cheese-grater-on-the-nipples pain – but maybe it’s just the six kids. All the backtalk, the tantrums, the nagging to stay on task, the attitude, the relentless mess-making, the quarreling, the sheer volume of diapers! Maybe it’s just that it really is too much for me. Me who always thinks I can do it all. Well, that ain’t happening. 

I’m tired. And spent. And discouraged. I keep reading “gentle parenting” books but still I lash out in frustration. I resolve every morning to remain loving and patient – and crawl in bed with guilt every night at my lack of self-control. Will it ever feel doable again? Of course it will, right? This is just a low point, right? When I get rid of this infection and don’t have all these extra demands on my time/energy (nursing every 1.5 hrs, laundering everything in vinegar daily, creams/ointments after every nursing, 25+ pills a day, crazy dietary restrictions, etc.) I mean, really, my depressed state is probably in large part to having to cut out every happy, convenient food I enjoy (dairy, carbs, fruit, sugar.) Happiness is getting to eat a sandwich or cookie again, pouring a bowl of cereal or *gasp* grabbing a piece of fruit on the go. For crying out loud. No wonder I’m so miserable. 

But thrush-issues aside, I have to remain hopeful. Not knowing how or when it will all feel doable again is really crippling me. That and being a sleep-deprived zombie. I’m sort of a wreck. So I must tell myself this too shall pass. I remind myself that at least my babies are healthy. That at least we can afford the medications and have enough food and shelter. That my husband is supportive and our kids are thriving and safe. That their needing me so intensely is a very good AND temporary thing. I say “yes” when someone offers a hand. And pray for each person who saves me – whether it’s a meal, a playdate, a carpool run, a green smoothie at my door, a shoulder to cry on, or just sweeping my nasty floor. These people are like Saints to me. These people that don’t just say, but do because they can see those tears welling up when they ask how I’m doing and know I just need anything really. Because it makes me feel loved and cared for and reminds me that I just might be able to actually do this new life we’ve gotten ourselves into. Bless them forever.

My child was apologetic and understanding. I do realize I’m not truly overweight and someday I might actually have a new outfit or hairstyle and that it really means nothing in the long run. But I have to travel those miles. I have to do the time and live the days and eventually get to that place because no one is going to do it for me. And if I’m sloppy and grouchy and frazzled at times to get there, so be it. But we will get there. And they will survive. Perhaps even thrive. And someday I might come visit my own son or daughter and help them through their sixth newborn phase. And I’ll say, “This is only temporary – you’ll get it together, I promise.” Then I’ll go clean all their bathrooms and do all their laundry and order some amazing take out for them to eat for a month. (Sidenote: My sweet mom would help, but is battling her own health issues so my wonderful mother in law came out for a week to help us last month.) The point is, this life is messy and hard and sometimes you find yourself all thrashed up and barely hanging on by your fingernails. And you just cry. But it’s okay because that’s when you find your courage. And you lean on the strength of others. That’s when you pray - and extend grace and gentleness to yourself. You remember they really won’t die living on cereal, popsicles and Netflix for a couple more months. That’s when you really find out what you’re made of because eventually you all get through!

And I’m gonna get through.

POST-EDIT--------------------------------------------------------------------

What a beautiful outpouring of kindness we experienced after this post. Such love and support and encouragement and service was overwhelming and uplifting and healing to me and my family! From loving emails/messages to a church sign up for playdates to faraway friends recruiting locals to come clean the house - what a support system!  We were so blessed by more than just shiny bathrooms and healthy groceries but the beautiful friendship and service that was extended blew me away. THANK YOU!!!

I am feeling enormously better. While it's not entirely gone, my crazy efforts/diet made the pain go away and I'm now cautiously introducing regular foods again. So far so good! Nursing is truly the best, and makes my heart melt in a mushy mess of love every time we sit down together. I'm so glad we don't have to give it up!

xoxo

The Return

After 17 fairly sleepless and fidgety hours, we touched down on American soil. Darren had come back "home" for work a couple times but it had been over three years for the kids and me. LAX and customs were okay but just seeing those Utah mountains come into view got me misty-eyed. It truly did feel like coming home just to be in the good old USofA again.

And I'm willing to bet there's never been a more wonderful welcome party. Our family totally outdid themselves with banners and posters and lifesize pics of our faces (what?!). We were completely surprised and overwhelmed by the outpouring of love they embraced us with at our arrival. The night was spent hugging and laughing and catching up - a reunion I can't adequately capture with words. Man, it had been a long time! The kids were walking on air with their cousins everywhere and all shuttled off to each others' houses for sleepovers. Des and Summer were oohed and ahhhed over and immediately accepted their "new" extended family with all that love in the air.

visiting Dad's grave with the fam was a special moment

cousin shenanigans

The next few weeks were spent at a hotel in a new part of downtown, City Creek, that we had ample time to explore and enjoy. Riding Trax, hiking the foothills, rediscovering museums and parks and restaurants we remembered. Oh, the restaurants. American food, people. It's to die for. (And the portions are literally to die for, if you know what I mean, but who's complaining?) When Will realized the root beer floats were bottomless, as were the fries - his head pretty much exploded. We had so much fun falling in love with Salt Lake again. Not to mention all the cousin time and catching up with friends and family. Reunions every day!

um, bottomless drink options?

Darren had worked long distance with a designer and contractors for months to get our kitchen/main level remodeled and ready for arrival (which it was and is glorious!) but our shipment was delayed due to some paperwork mishandling. We were hotel living for longer than was truly comfortable (over a month in total) but we made the best of it and enjoyed the pool and the adventures. Usually D would spend most of the day getting the house set up and ready for us to inhabit again while I'd entertain the kids around town. We'd get together for dinner and work at the house until 11pm or so then I'd scoot back to the hotel with the sleepy ones and tuck them in bed and he'd roll in with some food around 1am. He was a champ - there's just so much to organize and connect and sign up when you're trying to get house/finances/life up and running again. Tiring, but we did it.

boredom: the kids tallied cars from our room window one day

Extended living out of two hotel rooms and a mini-fridge can get interesting with seven peeps though! One night held a particularly memorable low point, Darren was sick with the flu and I zipped out to grab some Nyquil with a fussy Des on my shoulders while Summer slept and the big kids were engrossed in the Disney Channel. The new market "up the street" was a little longer walk than imagined and of course, I grabbed more than I should've as we were totally out of food (oh, the long and endless American grocery aisles filled with cheap, exciting and unnecessary "food" products!!) so returning at 11pm with Des wriggling off my shoulders and more bags than is humanly possible hanging from each arm...I was stopping every 10 feet to readjust, Des was crying, the brown bag handles were breaking and I honestly wondered how I'd make it back. A kind-hearted cook was just ending his restaurant shift when he noticed my sorry state and offered me a ride in his car. Okay, not something you generally do in any downtown area of any city late at night, but honestly I was desperate and my intuition was at peace, so we hopped in for the last few blocks. I know, it was crazy stupid but I'll never forget the goodness of that stranger who took pity on a young mom and rescued my sorry self from my own bad decision!

lots of swimming and TV cuddle time that month

The Fijian Islands

It ended up being cheaper to go through Fiji on our way home, so you didn't need to twist our arms to stop a week there and break up the almost-24-hr trek. My mom had always wanted to visit that island too, so she agreed to meet us there. However, our transfer in Sydney held some complications as we tried to connect to our Fiji flight. There was some mix up with Desmond's passport and I had to leave customs and book it through the airport with a couple kids busting their pants, then Kenna's water bottle was full which caused a ruckus at the xray machines. We were frazzled but barely made our flight and touched down finally at 9pm in the most hot and humid island air. And GramB! It was rad. The dark 3 hour van ride to our hotel over serious bumpy roads without seatbelts or air-conditioning will not be soon forgotten, either. Our local friends (one of my mom's temple square missionaries from the area) lined it up for us, to which we were very grateful.

grass surfing with some cute local boys in the rain

We stayed at a beautiful, old resort next to a less-private, bigger fancier resort to which our resort had access, so it was the best of both worlds. The first few days were a tad rainy, but didn't deter us from playing (or resting, depending on the person.)


We got our hair done by some of the lovely dancers who performed at the resort at night, partook of lots of kava (ceremonial root drink that looks/tastes like dirt and makes your tongue feel fuzzy), enjoyed the pools/hot tubs, fed fish in the surf at our feet in the mornings, frequented the local village for goods, caught frogs galore, tried hulling a coconut, held snakes, and made some new little friends.

 The feasts and performances were pretty riveting, although poor Des was traumatized after all the Hakas he saw (scary tough warrior dance by the men.)

hanging at The Pearl

hot tub central

I seriously love walking through new towns early in the morning, especially abroad. Discovering the shops and people and neighborhoods and wildlife as the daily buzz begins. Getting essentials at the corner store, icecream vendors,  and eating take away at random places. Isn't it  one of the best parts of traveling?

The flora and fauna was spectacular. Seriously.

morning fish feed, practically nibbling our toes

simple, pretty new way we learned to hull a pineapple

Our excursion into Suva was awesome. The bus rides alone were so much fun. We delivered some things to the temple for some sister missionaries back in SLC, then bussed through the city and enjoyed the markets and museums. Ironically, the pics from this portion of the trip are nowhere to be found in our computer. I'm sort of baffled...

Another day we spent going up a river by boat to a gorgeous waterfall for some invigorating swimming and cliff-jumping. Then we toured a functioning village to observe many of the local customs and culture. Summer and Des had some serious fans and the kids were thrilled about their treasures to take home. (Again, dying that these pics have disappeared into thin air.)

The R&R was a treat and we were so glad to have enjoyed such a beautiful island. But the best part was getting to catch up with sweet (Sister) Elenoa and her beautiful family. Three families shared this cool house and they were so welcoming. With limited electricity, there was a big bonfire in back with family gatherings taking up the front porch. They shared a yummy, crunchy stew (it's customary to chop the bones up with the meat) and plenty of kava and the kids became fast friends in a matter of minutes, exchanging trinkets, romping on the roof and laughing through language barriers. They even sang us a traditional goodbye song and sent us off with a gorgeous handmade mat and many hugs, kisses and cheers.

Honestly, a happier people I have never met. Fijians are famous for their happy personalities but man, it was all totally real too. I challenge anyone to not fall in love with the Fijian people - their happiness is truly contagious. And their traditional culture is amazing - it was like living at the PCC all week!