A letter to my younger self...

Dear 20-year-old Rita,

Turning 40 is going to panic you but try not to fall apart. Here’s a little advice from your older, wiser self to help you through the next several years.

You are just figuring out that your parents aren’t perfect. Take it easy on them. They raised six children. (That’s double the amount that you’ll be brave enough to parent!) And, they didn’t kill any of them! They are great people. After you have your own babies, you’ll feel blessed every day to be their daughter and hope that your children feel as loved as you do.

Try to stand out in a class at BYU once-in-a-while. You’re going to need some letters of recommendation for graduate school in a few years. You will be surprised that you enjoy working outside the home and the wrestle between work and family will be a long one. You will strike a balance and feel blessed for it.

Be nice to the nerds that ask you on dates. You’re going to get tired of watching all your friends date and get married so be happy that anyone asks you out! You really are a magnet for geeks but guess what…you’ll end up marrying one and he is great. He’s cute and clever and will think you’re the same.

Embrace your emotionality. It’s actually a strength, not a weakness. Using your compassion and warmth to understand and help other people will bring you happiness and a sense of purpose. You will count as a gift even brief encounters with other of God’s children. Continue to develop your sincere interest in people who cross your path and you will learn and love much.

You will be a runner! Quit laughing. Seriously, your chubby, non-athletic body will take you down the road for many miles. You’ll learn to love hating it and even run some marathons. Oh, and you’ll still be chubby and non- athletic. Sorry.

Your future kids are funny, smart and beautiful. You will love each of them in completely different ways but more deeply than you can imagine. As discouraged as you get as a mom, know that they love you too. Savor the small moments that you recognize and believe this. You have scores of hopes and desires for your kids but some will go unrealized when you learn to choose your battles. Work to let go of what you want and focus on showing that you love them no matter what. (Spoiler alert—that universal parent’s wish…that you will have kids just like you…It’s gonna happen. Brace yourself.)

You will accomplish a lot of things that you do not feel capable of right now. Work to acknowledge your capacity to achieve but don’t misinterpret your skills as invincibility. Figure out the difference between humility and weakness. Ask for help when you need it and don’t feel bad when you do. I am sorry to tell you that your tiring struggle with insecurity will persist. Oh that you could absorb the genuine appreciation and love that others heap on you. Sadly, they will not convince you of your worth. Please find a way to figure this out.

Take some deep breaths. You’re going to make it.

Love,

40-year-old YOU

P.S. Don’t forget to wear sunscreen. Your skin will never tan and your multitudes of freckles do not coalesce into one.

Even Alec gets it.

ALEC: "Only one more day until your birthday!"
ME: "Yep. Good remembering."
ALEC: "And then you won't be my mom anymore."
ME: "What? Yes I will. Why did you say that?"
ALEC: "Because then you're going to be an old grandma."

Thanks for the bowling ball, Homer.

Do you remember the episode of the Simpsons where Homer runs to the mall to purchase a last-minute birthday gift for Marge? Being panicked and distracted and HOMER, he ends up buying a bowling ball drilled for his fingers and engraved with his name.

This is my Homer gift from Brent:
This gift differs from the bowling ball for Marge in that #1 it was not last minute, it was actually three days early and #2 I love it almost as much as Brent does! Woohoo. Thanks, Honey.

We run.

RUN

Function: verb

Meaning to go at a pace faster than a walk

Synonyms dash, gallop, jog, scamper, sprint, trip, trot

Near Antonyms amble, lumber, plod, saunter, shamble, shuffle, stroll; crawl, creep, poke; plod, trudge; hobble, limp

Brent ran the Salt Lake City FULL Marathon on Saturday. He finished in 4:12:29 and set a PR (personal record)!! Yay Brenty-Boo!! You can read his complete race report here.

I did "go at a pace faster than a walk" (plus some other near antonyms) the Salt Lake 1/2 Marathon and finished in 2:29:45 and set a PNSGBNMW (personal not so good but not my worst) time. Yay me!!

Brent's super supportive parents were at the finish line to cheer us both. They are great.

Next up...30K (18.6 miles!!) this Saturday in training for the Ogden Full Marathon just around the corner. YIKES!

Growing up...or old...or both.

So maybe you remember that I'M TURNING 40?!! Oh good. Just makin' sure.

As per a responsible adult, I recently went in for my "yearly" girl doctor checkup. "Yearly" in quotes because the first question the doctor asked was, "I have your last appointment date as nearly five years ago. Have you been seen somewhere else?" Uh, NO. Okay, I guess I should have put "responsible" in quotes instead.

The exam itself was uncomfortable as its several predecessors had forecast. Expected. Unexpected was the ensuing, lengthy discussion covering many topics that did much to heighten my already soaring anxiety...
birth control (we can't dethrone Alec as the youngest, favorite child now can we?),
weight control (can't I pleeasse just run a little and then eat a lot of whatever I want?) ,
sleep (lack thereof),
stress (abundance thereof),
nutritional supplements (for my rapidly draining body stash) and
recommended tests (you know, for the aging population).

As advised, I walked my disintegrating body down to the scheduling desk to arrange for some of the recommended tests. The cute little +or- 23 year-old receptionist asked me a few personal questions about my anatomy in preparation for my upcoming appointment...Skip the rest of this post if you tend to squirm when I get a little too honest...

YOUNG receptionist: "Will this be your first mammogram?"
Me: "Yes. Lucky me."
YOUNG receptionist: Courtesy laugh. "Our technician will be here in about 15 minutes. Would you'd like to do it today."
Me: "Uh. No. No way. I am NOT emotionally prepared for that today."
YOUNG receptionist: Doubting laugh. "She'll be right back. Are you sure?"
Me: "Nope. Really. I have yet to come to grips with my age and I need to before I do this. I'm turning 40." Exaggerated shudder.
YOUNG receptionist: Whatever laugh. "Oh. Okay. We'll just schedule an appointment for later. Okay. Are there any problems with your breasts?"
Me: "Yeah. Too small...and saggy."
YOUNG receptionist: Stunned laugh. "Okay. Last question...Do you have implants?"
Me: "Uh. No...too small...saggy, remember? HEY!! Maybe for my 40th birthday!"

Eventually I scheduled the mammogram and had the NON-pleasure of that experience today. Not nearly as bad as expected...Hopefully like turning 40.

Super Spring Break in St. George

We had a great week-long spring break in St. George full of running, swimming, Snow Canyon, Silver Reef, Zion's Park, miniature golfing, movie-viewing, batting cages, eating, and enjoying the beautiful weather and general lack of snow! Our best idea was to take the Wilkos along with us. Our kids enjoyed each other and everyone was on their best behavior...even Brent ;)

What I was thinking at mile 7.

Yesterday I ran a half marathon. (That's 13.1 miles for those of you lucky enough not to be stuck in mental and physical vortex that is a running hobby.) Near mile 7, Chasing Pavements by Adele began to play on my MP3 player. Over and over I heard Adele ask herself, "Should I give up? Or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere..." Fatigue, a headwind and roads full of frozen slush definitely begged the same question but the lyrics about unrequited affection also mirrored the latest analysis of my love-hate relationship with running. As Adele admitted to pouring emotional energy into something that is not panning out, I wondered the same thing. Why on earth do I run?

I really do love to run. It gives me some personal time and helps me feel strong and confident. Lately, however, my heart (and other body parts) haven't been into it. When my running partner moved in December and then was stricken with a stress fracture, I realized how dependent on someone else I have become even to reach my own goals. In an attempt to ward off an impending birthday crisis, last year I determined to run 4 Utah marathons in 2010. Evidently, setting the goal didn't work and neither did forking out all the money for race registrations. Self-sabotage has taken over and I have let a serious lapse in training add to my spiraling self-concept. What is wrong with me?!

Anyway, to answer Adele's and my own question, yes, I am going to keep chasing pavements even though it doesn't seem to be leading anywhere. I am trying to recommit to my original goal to train well and enjoy this year of running. Bring on the marathons...
May-Ogden
June-Utah Valley
August-Park City
October-St. George.

Confidence in his dad.

ALEC: "Mom, aren't I doing such a good job of setting up my chess pieces?"
ME: "Yes, Sweetie. Awesome."
ALEC: "Yeah. I think I'm going to set up Dad's pieces too."
ME: "That would be nice because Dad is busy trying to get Todd to do his jobs and that is a hard project because Todd is a little bit grouchy."
ALEC: "I don't think it will be hard for Dad."
ME: "Really?"
ALEC: "Yeah because Dad is so good at using his mean voices."

Countdown

For one more month...

I'm fast approaching 40 and really freaking out,
Not yet the girl I want to be, my sanity's in doubt.

At a glance, I have it all--great job, husband and kids,
But the looming big 4-0 has my stress level off the grid.

I guess I had a picture, a hope for what might be,
When I left behind my 30s and marched toward 40.

Where is my mark of wisdom? My temperance and calm?
I'm more unsettled than a teen preparing for the prom.

I want to feel mature and poised, strong and self-assured,
At what age can I expect insecurity to be cured?

They Hoped to be Called on a Mission

They hoped to be called on a mission,
They prayed and readied for the work,
They wanted to go somewhere special,
Where they could learn & serve & never would they shirk.

The call said, Go to Salt Lake City,
Please help to build the kingdom strong,
Prepare for lessons and for blessings,
Knowing well that you are right where you belong.

My mom and dad (aren't they are good looking couple?!) are going on an LDS mission. They will serve in the church office building as Construction Finance Specialists for 18 months beginning August 2nd. We couldn't be more thrilled for them to start this next adventure together and what a bonus that they will be so close to us!! I feel a lot of Temple Square trips coming on. Love you, Mom and Dad.

Remembering Sheri

Brent's little sister Sheri was 15 when Brent and I got married. She attended BYU Hawaii and served an LDS mission. Shortly after she married Eric, they moved to Lolo, Montana. Because our earthly acquaintance was relatively short, "remembering" Sheri feels more like recalling the feeling of her presence and loving her through the stories of Brent's family.

Sheri would have been 34 years old on Sunday. She passed away last August while giving birth to her second child. Yesterday we gathered to remember the blessing of her in our lives and to celebrate the selfless gift of her two daughters.

We started at the cemetery where we left notes, flowers and pictures at Sheri's grave site. We tied some messages to helium-filled balloons and the kids released them. We ate dinner and birthday cake at Brent's parents' home and finished by watching home videos of Sheri as a young girl.
Sheri's death causes me to think often of the things I know and believe. It is hard to reconcile how faith changes when it is tested in reality. Now the things that I know feel so small compared to those I don't and I think that was probably the same for Sheri.

Sheri knew that Eric was the right guy for her...that he was cute, funny, kind and good. She didn’t know what an incredible parent he would be with or without her.

Sheri knew that she wanted to be a mother. Even when it was hard and tiring, she was grateful for the experience. She didn’t know that her time as a mom would be so short.

Sheri knew that having children would require hard work and sacrifice. She didn’t know that she would have to literally forfeit her life for her daughters.

I know that our families can be together again after this life. I don’t know why learning and really understanding the importance of this comforting knowledge can hurt so much sometimes.

I love you, Sheri.

O Canada. Go Canada!

My particular mix of anxiety and pessimism is not a good combo for sports viewing. I really want my teams to win but doubt they will. I balance this dysfunction with enough sports apathy, however, that I don't get too excited by a win or too upset by a loss. It is especially buggy when avid fans of opposing teams feel the need to rub in their victories. I smile and feign more disappointment than I feel and hope that my forbearance will bring their silence. Really? Who has enough mental and emotional space in their brain and heart to have more than 3-1/2 minutes of post-game life affected by something you have exactly zero control over? I prefer to spend my energies berating myself for skipping a run or cussing my dirty house not on choosing the wrong group of athletes to support.

Knowing that friends and acquaintances would ask about the Olympics being held in Canada, I watched a lot of the coverage so that I could participate in 17 days worth of small talk. Doubt and distress ignited when the cauldron didn't at the opening ceremonies. My apprehension grew as U.S. commentators dwelt on poor Canadian performances of the Olympic past. I suffered many a cardiac arrhythmia and near suffocation from holding my breath that the motherland would pull through. I hated, hated, hated that the U.S. men's hockey team beat Canada in the first round of tournament play. A friend at work made sure I knew his feelings on the topic and I didn't have to feign dissatisfaction this time. My mental status sustaining apathy had evaporated. Over the next several days, I was buoyed by other great Canadian performances but couldn't erase the burning hope that Team Canada would spank the U.S. in the final hockey game. I checked the internet throughout the game knowing I couldn't watch without risking my heart's health. Finally, with 43 seconds left in the last period, I turned on the TV and cheered confidently for 19 seconds...until the U.S. tied the game. Hopes dashed I debated staying tuned for the overtime period but decided to see my team through. When we scored, I reservedly cheered until Todd informed and assured me (three times) that it was a sudden death overtime. A swell of relief filled the part of me that normal sports fans cram with rejoicing. I wasn't nearly as happy as I was freed from the angst of wishing for something you can't control. Blech. I hate sports.

My mild in-your-face celebration was wearing a Canada shirt to work on Monday and painting my fingernails like this.

(Hmmm. Maybe this is a Gang Canada sign. Yikes.)

On a related note, the women's team did great and caused me no worries at all. :)

St. George 1/2 and 5K.

This motley crew loves St. George and loves running in St. George even more!

On January 23rd we all ran the St. George 1/2 Marathon or 5K. Left-to-right is me, Brent, Eric (Brent's brother-in-law), Scott (Brent's dad), Andrea (Brent's sister) and Nate (Andrea's husband, Brent's brother-in-law.)

Brent ran the 1/2 marathon with a goal to set a personal 1/2 record by running it in under 1:56 which he did...1:52:40!! Yay Brenty-Boo!
Brent has some lofty running goals and he is well on his way to smashing them all. Brent wants to set a marathon personal record at the Salt Lake City Marathon in April by running under 4:12 and run a sub 4 hour marathon at the Ogden Marathon in May. He has be running and training a ton and he is on-track to easily meet his expectations. So glad for him.

I ran the 1/2 too but my goal was only to finish upright and under 2:25 which I did. I've had a hard time training this winter. It's not too motivating to get up hours before the sun, breath in junk trapped by the inversion, and freeze your body to the bone. Too often I run, hit the shower, and jump right back into bed where greeted by my electric blanket left on high for that purpose. I wonder how many calories you burn when you go right back to sleep after running! Not enough as evidenced by the numbers on the scale. :(

Other awesome St. George activities included a runners' luncheon and birthday celebration for Brent's dad, swimming kids and plenty of cousin hooliganism.

I love St. George and I really love the wonderful people that love it with me.

Sometimes when you do this...

...you can fly.

At least, that's what Alec told me when I rounded the corner and found him in this pose.

Don't call unless...

Sometimes my kids are home alone. (Yes, I'm that kind of mother.) Thanks to the constant companionship of my cell phone, they are able to call if there is a problem or question. More often than not, however a phone call from home is a report that that so-and-so is being mean or won't share the blah blah blah. About a month ago I got three such calls in succession during a work training. After the third, I firmly explained that these situations were not emergencies and that they needed work things out on their own. I did not want to be interrupted again for anything that didn't involve a lot of blood or fire.

Today my cell phone vibrated during a meeting at Todd's school. I walked out of the room grinding my teeth assuming my refereeing skills were required in some minor sibling combat. NOPE. Turns out there was an emergency. A fire. Kenna calmly explained that while she was heating some rice, she saw sparks and was now observing a small combustion inside the microwave. Her question was should she continue to watch it or try to put it out? REALLY?!! A FIRE?!! Yeah, yawn. So, should she let it burn or do something? She sounded less concerned than if the TV remote were missing. I told her to put a wet rag on the small flame which she did while I stayed on the phone. Okay, it was out. Thanks for the help. Click.

(Incidentally, the culprit was a tiny, metal hinge in the random plastic container she had chosen to heat her rice in.)