She Made Me Who I Am

Marty and Gabi, 1970

Exactly forty-three years ago, on a July morning at 7:00 am,
Gabi made me a mom.

I wasn't quite twenty-one when she was born, and I didn't have a clue about what it meant to be a mom. I just knew it was what I was meant to be. (My big fear as a teenager was that I would die before I had kids. I wasn't afraid of how I would die, or being dead, but that my dream of being a mother wouldn't come true. I must have wished on a lucky star!)

She was born breach (and totally natural, I might add) folded in half, and she inhaled before she hit oxygen, leaving her breathless. The nurses worked on her for a few minutes and then whisked her away somewhere, without telling us anything about how she was. After over nine months of togetherness, it was terrifying to be apart. Several hours later they brought her to me. I was overwhelmed—now I was breathless!

For a couple of days I kept trying to say a magnificent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for letting me have her, but I couldn't find the words. I felt ungrateful just saying "Thank you, thank you" over and over again, but I think He may have understood.

Early days.

Gabi came into my life only 18 months after Dee did. She's known us almost as long as we've known us! In fact, she helped us become US. She lived in our first tiny trailer home, our second less (but still) tiny trailer home; she rode in the VW and the Vega, and saw Dee as a soldier. She was part of our college life, and part of our pre-TV, pre-income days. We started leaving shoes out for St. Nickolas Day, and cookies for Santa because of her. She made us a family.

I read out loud to Gabi from the day she was born. Mostly I read Dr. Spock as I nursed her, trying to figure out when she'd do something interesting. Dee laid on the floor with her for hours demonstrating how to roll over. It actually took hours of watching her for him to figure out the steps of rolling over. He practiced with her for about six months until she caught on. We figured we'd taught her, not realizing that she'd come already programmed to do every important thing. We didn't have to teach her much. In fact, she taught us.

'Noopy

I read an article about how to make your child a genius. It said to tie helium balloons to your baby's wrists and ankles, and their eyes would catch the movement. Eventually they'd realize they were pulling the strings! I tried it, and it must have worked. She became a genius, and knew how to pull all our string.

She could sing dozens of songs, say the Pledge of Allegiance, recite poems and ask questions by 18 months. By the time she was two, I was asking her questions.

Gabi 1972

Looking back, I see that she brought color into my life. She became my best friend. I'd even consult her about what I should wear! (She knew exactly what they were wearing at the laundromat, and milk depot, which were my usual destinations.) Her siblings started arriving about that time, and it was a joint project for us. I saw her as my confidant and support.

She was an awesome babysitter, first for me, and then for many others. She became a nanny, and tended kids for weeks at a time while their parents traveled. She worked at a nursery school and daycare center during high school, and then majored in Elementary Education. She taught 6th graders who were taller than she was. She also taught Kindergarten and Pre-school. She was born to teach.

She met her perfect match, they got married and worked their way through college for a few years before they graduated. Being the perfect parental candidates didn't translate to being parents. While they waited, they built careers and houses and moved across the country. They traveled and had fun together until the other shoe dropped. They did become parents . . . twice in three years, and then again with twin boys . . . and they did it with a flourish!

It's stunning to look at this woman whom I admire and respect so much, and realize she's my daughter! She sets an example of kindness, hospitality, charity, spirituality and energy that I can't come close to emulating. She changed me forever and I'll be forever grateful to be her mom.

Happy Birthday, Gabi!

Field Trip

Check out the cutest baby in town:

My Little #22

Fathers

"Kids need fewer critics and more models."

—Thomas S. Monson

"Nobody can do for little children what a loving father can do.

He sprinkles stardust over their lives."

—Alex Haley

"You don't have to worry about what a child will be tomorrow,

if you remember he is someone today."

—Stacia Tauscher

"The word no carries a lot more meaning

when spoken by a father who also knows how to say yes."

—Joyce Maynard

"Teaching his children is the mark of a civilized man."

—J. Ganz Cooney

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it."

—Clarence Kelland

"Fathers create the sunshine of childhood."

—Chris Morgen

Definition of a successful father: a man willing to make substantial, long-term sacrifices of his time, money and personal fulfillment and dedicate his efforts to rearing the next generation.

These seven fathers are my heroes.

Pride of Ownership

"Twelve year old kids can drive boats," Josh informed me when he was almost twelve. "Can we buy one?" "Sure," I told him. "If you earn the money."

With that incentive he found the perfect job in the back of a Boy's Life magazine:

Gift Wrap Salesman Wanted.
Sell $75 worth of wrapping paper and win a . . .

(oh my gosh, can this be true??)

. . . a boat!

Josh trekked the neighborhood, order form in hand, collecting sales and checks. Within three days the $3.99 package deals added up to a $75 package, and all he had to do was wait for his boat.

Six to eight weeks the magazine said.

Twelve weeks passed and so did boating season.

Most of us forgot all about it.

One night Dee and I came home late to a quiet house. A cardboard box was in shreds on the counter and pieces of styrofoam were stuck to the couch. The kids were all in their beds—except for Josh. He was sleeping on the floor, surrounded by dozens of rolls of Christmas wrap.

He'd gone boating.

Josh's raft provided a fun day on Mirror Lake—two at a time we climbed in and prayed it wouldn't sink. A few months later, at Christmastime, the neighbors started calling to see what had happened to their wrapping paper. (Apparently Josh's talent was in sales, not delivery.) I don't know what happened to the boat after that. Most of us forgot all about it, even Josh.

A couple of weeks ago we visited Josh's family. The kids were already asleep when we arrived late Christmas night, but Christie reported on the festivities of the day, while Josh took our suitcases downstairs. "Chase got a boat," she was telling us, just as Josh called, "You've got to see this!"

It's so fun when your kids have kids who are just like them.

Long-Distance Grandparents

Homemade donuts

There are perks to having out-of-town kids.
For one thing, when you visit, you get in on breakfast.


Saturday morning treat.

The women in our family are fabulous cooks,
so we go from house to house and sample their specialties.

"Has anybody noticed you guys are twins?"

Micah's birthday was a perfect reason to drive to Denver. It's so fun to see our kids in their natural habitat! Although we love to have them at our house, at their house they're most comfortable being the people they've become.

I was chatting with Candice this morning while she made a meatloaf (wrapped in bacon!) The kids were upstairs getting ready for church and from the kitchen I could see each one go into their parent's bedroom and come out with Sunday outfits draped on a hanger. "Micah is the ironer," Candice said. "Every Sunday he presses everybody's clothes." This was their family in action, and we saw the details.

There are tons of advantages to having kids in town. I can watch the progression of a loose tooth, go to kindergarten programs and see Halloween costumes in person. We can bring each other soup, pop in to see the Christmas tree and know there's emergency help just a few minutes away.

But there are advantages to having faraway kids, too. Visits are condensed and intense--for a few days we see it all. Not only did we see Lauren's play, we saw her chattering nervously for hours before, and acting like a diva for hours after. Three kids have a piano recital tomorrow night and not only will we see the performance, we've enjoyed practice sessions all weekend. The boys shoveled a neighbor's driveway as a good deed, and were thrilled when she gave them $20. Their dad reminded them that a good deed is its own reward, and they willingly took the money back. These are details we don't see with our in-town kids, although I know they happen in their homes, too. Observing life close-up is compensation for missing out on the day-to-day.

The Colorado Cousins Club

Long before our kids grew up we imagined them living far and wide. Dee said we'd sell everything, buy an RV and travel around the country visiting one kid or another. In our old age we realized we prefer indoor to outdoor plumbing, and nobody wants us to live for months at a time in their driveway. So the RV idea was scuttled (grandkids and grandparents are preferable in small doses anyway.) But we're friendly with some faraway places because they've lived there: Minneapolis, Seattle, Yardley PA, Cleveland, Toledo, Denver, San Diego, Boston, St. Louis, Idaho Falls, Fountain Valley CA, and Phoenix.

It's great to be a traveling Oma!

How do you stay close to faraway loved ones?
(Here's an idea.)

Any long-distance Christmas ideas?
(Here's an easy one.)

I've already done all mine. Tell me some of yours!

Interior Design: Playroom

Amy's an artist.
Always has been.

She was just a kid when she started drawing on my walls. I remember a little house sketched next to the light switch in her bedroom, and some crayon designs on the closet door. A few years later she painted life-sized stick figure kids playing on our basement walls, complete with flowers and trees. It was darling!

The other day she arrived at my door with brushes, masking tape and a few cans of paint. "Want your Christmas present early?" she asked. "I'm here to paint the Cousin's Clubhouse."

That's what the grandkids named the closet under the stairs when they recognized its possibilities. I hung a full-length mirror at the back (next to a basket of dress-ups) and tucked in a toy train, but it still needed some personality.

Amy brought it! Keeping with our travel motif, she sketched a scene from Amsterdam, then taped off the buildings with masking tape and painted every other one. When the second coat was dry, she removed the tape from one building and re-taped its neighbor, so the colors wouldn't blend at the edges.

She cleaned up her gear and left it to dry overnight.

The next day she came back with black markers to add some details, and outline the buildings freehand, in her trademark style. Her girls inspected the work, and gave it high marks.

Tile corkboards were set in the painted frames, and members of the Cousins Club took their place on the official roster. The moral of my story is this:

Let your kids draw on the walls.
It's good practice!

Being a Mother

Our family, 1970.

My biggest fear as a little girl was that I'd die before I had kids—I could hardly wait to be a mom. My dream came true July 11, 1970.

Gabi was whisked away to an incubator right after she was born (breach) and I didn't get to see her until she was four hours old. When the nurses wheeled six infants into the hospital ward (babies stayed in the nursery in those days) mine was the only one crying. The other five mothers were skilled at cuddling and nursing, and I imagined their criticism as I tried to quiet my newborn's wails. It was stressful, feeding did not go well, and I was exhausted and relieved when they took her away.

Nowadays new moms jump out of bed and go home hours after delivery, but forty-one years ago we were wimps. We stayed in the hospital three or four days, and a nurse had to walk us to the bathroom or the sitzbath down the hall. Every four hours they brought my hysterical child; I began to dread it. Motherhood was much harder than I'd imagined. Then we had to go home.

On my own, I panicked. I wondered why anyone thought I could be left alone with a baby—I didn't know what to do! Wasn't inexperience a form of child abuse? Gabi cried all the time and so did I. When she was a week old I realized I'd never even said a prayer to be thankful for her, and (I'll admit it now) I wasn't sure I was. The whole thing was so overwhelming, so demanding and so constant.

When I told this story to a friend years later, she asked, "How old were you?" "Twenty," I said. "No wonder," she said. "I felt the same way and I was almost thirty." She went on, "I should have waited a few more years. I just wasn't ready."

I'm so glad I didn't wait until I was ready. How would I get ready anyway? It would be like taking swimming lessons without any water: treading water was just a concept until the day I was in the pool and couldn't touch the bottom. Panic was my first reaction, and I floundered and went under. But then I came back up and discovered I could stay afloat. I learned to relax, and little by little the constant movement of my arms and legs felt natural and routine. That's how motherhood happened for me, too. I needed to be in the experience.

Our family, July 1982

Even as it was happening, I could see that Gabi was teaching me how to be a mother. Now, in retrospect, I am convinced that's the way it was meant to happen. If I'd waited until I was ready, I'd still be waiting. Happily, it didn't occur to me to wait for anybody, in fact I could hardly wait for them to arrive. They were already my life's work.

I chose motherhood as my career. It was never something I fit in around the edges of my life—it was my life. Like with any career, my early days on the job were daunting, and I wondered if I could really do it. Like with any career, there were times when I felt overworked and undervalued. I got tired of the uniform, the cafeteria and the people I worked with. Who doesn't? But thirty years later I retired with competence, experience and full benefits.

Fifteen of our twenty grands, July 2011

This summer has been full of benefits—we've had fun times with all our kids and grandkids, and appreciated them more than ever. This is what I believe—I believe I knew this group in heaven before I was born and had to leave them behind when I came to earth. The yearning I felt to be a mom was because I missed being with them, so I was compelled to get them all here as fast as I could. In that respect, I was totally ready.

I'm offering a prayer of thanksgiving now. I thankful to be a mother.

Celebrate Dads

"Kids need fewer critics and more models."

—Thomas S. Monson

"Nobody can do for little children what a loving father can do.

He sprinkles stardust over their lives."

—Alex Haley

"You don't have to worry about what a child will be tomorrow,

if you remember he is someone today."

—Stacia Tauscher

"The word no carries a lot more meaning

when spoken by a father who also knows how to say yes."

—Joyce Maynard

"Teaching his children is the mark of a civilized man."

—J. Ganz Cooney

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it."

—Clarence Kelland

"Fathers create the sunshine of childhood."

—Chris Morgen

Definition of a successful father: a man willing to make substantial, long-term sacrifices of his time, money and personal fulfillment and dedicate his efforts to rearing the next generation.

These seven fathers are my heroes.

Counting the Minutes

"We do not remember days;
we remember moments."
—Cesare Pavese

Blogging: The Big Reveal

Marta in layers

The What Not to Wear Reveal is the best part of the show. Under all the layers of insecurity and self-consciousness, a sparkling, talented, beautiful person is hiding, and the audience finally gets a chance to see her inside-personality reflected on the outside.

Blogging is like a Reveal. I've been to blogs where peeling the layers away becomes too tedious to actually stay for the reveal. Apologies ("Sorry, I have nothing interesting to write") push me out the door. "Thanks for telling me before I waste my time here," I think as my pinkie stretches toward delete. Other blogs look interesting immediately and I want to get acquainted, read everything they have to say. What makes the difference?

This week Marta came to Oma's Inn to prepare for her reveal at the ALT Design Summit. Her topic was Blogging Personal Stories, so we had plenty to chat about while she got ready.

Talbots on sale!

I chased baby Benji through Talbots while Marta searched the racks for her Red Carpet look. "How do you suggest what's underneath without letting it all hang out?" We were talking about blogging, not cleavage, but the answer was the same: add sparkle.

The glimpse of a sequined tank underneath a low-cut blouse has an alluring modesty factor. When writing a revealing blog, don't display all the family jewels, warts and scars. Hint at the underpinnings of the story with careful words that won't offend someone you love, or embarrass you when it appears on your resume years from now. Your own style comes into play, of course, but the rule might be "less is more" when showcasing your personal stuff.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall . . ."

The guy at the Mac counter perked up when he saw us coming. Sketch, Soba, Swiss Chocolate, Cork—do green eyes look greener with purple? Do blue eyes look bluer with brown? Is Sketch purple or brown? WE NEED THEM ALL!!!!

What words reveal your inner colors? Rants are therapeutic to write and fun to read—sometimes. Sarcasm is hard to gauge through a blog, and often comes across whiny and negative to a stranger who isn't familiar with your sense of humor. Maybe that doesn't matter to you, but maybe you want people to come back and read your blog again. In that case, use a little foundation to even out your tone, dab some concealer on your blemishes and use color strategically to enhance your smile. Don't worry, your flaws will still show in the right light; you'll look real. You can still blog without makeup from time to time, but readers are more attracted when your words POP with enthusiasm.

Rock it, Min!

The Reveal is all about confidence. When you put all the pieces together, your blog will shimmer with confidence. Marta said, "A blog is like a party. You invite people to come, and as a good hostess, you want them to feel welcome and comfortable and to feel like you care about them. You try to be your best self."

Benji's Past, revealed.

Do readers get acquainted with you by reading your blog? Are you showcasing the look you want them to see? Do they leave saying, "I need to bring my sister over. She'd love it here!" or "That place was a mess!"

"You are what you blog," says Marta. "Since you're always looking for blog posts in your regular life, you start seeing your regular life with the attitude you have when you write about it."

Example: A three-year-old drops a gallon of orange juice in the fridge. A Woe is Me blogger sees this as proof that motherhood is miserable and spends an hour writing about her miserable life scrubbing inside, around and under the refrigerator. Will her kids ever grow up?

An Isn't Life Funny? blogger takes a bunch of photos, and even recreates the fatal drop with her giggling 3-year-old, then spends the afternoon smiling over staged pictures of her kids mopping up the OJ. She bites her lip realizing that someday they'll grow up.

Whether you want it to or not, your blog reveals you to your audience, and also to yourself.

Smile for your fans!

Reveal the real.

P.S.
My Quirky Giveaway ends tonight at midnight! Make sure you leave a comment!

What Not To Wear Part One:

Marta has been chosen as a key speaker for the famous
ALT Summit Design/Blog Conference.
It's time to get her out of her work clothes and into her duds!

Marta's friends and family nominated her,
explaining—"we love her look,
but she's hit the big time. Min needs a little fashion guidance from


The woman who's dressed her since the very beginning:


Her mom!"

Oma said,
"With a special presentation looming before her,
I have the honor of taking her shopping for a professional look:
Together we'll discover, "What not to wear."

Hijacked at her sleepover party, Marta was offered her special
What Not to Wear Card, a trip to the mall, and an entirely new outfit,
IF
she would give away her whole wardrobe and stand in the 360° mirror.

The critique began:

"I'd wear this to chase a lamb," said Marta.
"Too much blush," said Oma.

"I'd wear this to a birthday party," said Marta.
"Too many ringlets," said Oma.

"I'd wear this on a ski weekend,"
said Marta.
"Too uptight,"
said Oma.

Marta videoed her reactions from the first day:

"I have mixed emotions about this whole makeover thing.
My mom was responsible for many of my dorky looks in the past.
I'm not sure she should be my go-to fashion consultant of the day.
I don't want to lose the look that I'm known for.
And above all I want to be comfortable."

Marta explained the secret footage:

"I wore this outfit to a pickle party, when I was feeling preggars.
It was stretchy."

"I wore this outfit on a bad hairday, when I took TRAXX to the U.
I felt totally co-ed."

"I wore this after being up with a sick baby all night,
when I was calling the doctor. I felt like things would be all right."

I wore this that night I . . .
I don't want to tell about that night.

"I'm right behind you, Min!
(Unless I notice some stuff for myself.)
Shop til you drop!"

The reveal is tomorrow.


P.S.
Yesterday's giveaway is going strong—great suggestions!
You still have a few days to be in the running for a prize!