A Little More Complicated...

My life has become just a bit more complicated this weekend. Our Brynley, shown here, auditioned for a part in Ballet West's production of "The Nutcracker." She was excited to participate in this process with two of her good friends here in Salt Lake, and I felt it would be a good experience for her to see what it was like to perform in front of judges. I seriously reconsidered the attempt this week when Brynley called me from school in tears begging to come home and be "just with me, like when she was a little girl." We've been so fragmented as a family over the last couple of months, and we are still feeling our way through a new school year's routine and life with a new baby to boot. Would it be good for her to be rejected when her feelings were so tender and exposed? Would being turned away at such a young age prevent Bryn from seeing her absolutely true talent for ballet (this little girl was born pointing her toes. We know she is not happy when she stops dancing...). Perhaps not this year, but she wanted so much to try out-and I've never wanted to discourage my children from placing themselves in a position to become stronger. "What could it really hurt?" I thought, try out she would.

Well, she made it. Now, many many moms would have put an "!" after that last statement, and I am completely happy that Brynley's experience was so desperately positive. But, you see, Bryn is one of 6 small children, and all of them seem to have places to go and things to do. This new experience, along with all it's requirements (the parent's handbook for this production is long and intimidating; clearly if Brynley is late for any rehearsal or performance, according to this manuscript, I am an unsuccessful and unsupportive parent not to mention a sabature of a 50year old tradition of world class ballet). Brynley's rehearsals will be about 25 miles away from our house, and will begin in the middle of rush hour (and in the middle of soccer practice for two of my three soccer players...). They will last one hour-not long enough to come home and put dinner on and then return to her, and there is no gaurantee she will be cast with her friend who also was selected, so I may or may not have a carpool to help me. It is a bit daunting to think of right now, and ever so much more complicated. Add to this the performances which consume the entire month of December and last about 2 hours at a very late time of night (I think she reports to her dressing room at like 8:30 p.m., and won't be ready to come home until after 9:30...so much for bedtime).

I could call the ballet company and decline, I could tell them thanks but no thanks. I could go to Bryn and just lay it all out; this year is just not the year for us to have such time constraints and requirements put upon our family with a new baby and so much going on in our family. And I could just as easily devour one of the live snakes or monkeys I saw in bamboo cages in the open market of Hanoi. I committed myself when I let her sign up for the audition, and now I live with the consequences.

I heard a religious leader this weekend talk about the load that is placed upon us which helps us, through its weight and difficulty, to move forward toward eternal destinations with our families at our side. This load is so often something we want dismissed, taken off our backs, made light or removed entirely. But it is in carrying the load that we grow strong, that we become humble, that we reach up for help and in the reaching become more able to follow a loving Savior as he helps to bare us up as we go along our way. The nutcracker, the soccer, the preschool, it is all a little part of this load. It isn't perhaps a necessary part-maybe I loaded that one on myself unnecessarily when I agreed to let Brynley try out-but now it is a part of Bryn, so it is a part of the load that yields the power to move me closer to the eternal soul I so desire to become. A soul that lives close to a loving Saviour, who has learned to give herself in the service of others; even if that service is to a little nutcracker dancer as she hurries off to perform.

So, life is a bit more complicated, my load a bit more percarious. But, hopefully, it will be something that when it is done will prove a complication not too difficult to manage, and an experience that will bring my little ballerina to know that her family adores and supports her, and a tired mom the chance to rely on heavenly powers in small things like making rehearsals on time, adding to "the magic of the ballet west production" (that is straight out of the parent handbook) and moving forward to heavenly places with my family by my side. 

A little Bugged


...at myself that is. Why am I not gracefully handling the chaos by now? I don' really have time to wallow, and I know it will be a while before I get the hang of things, but why already bogged down with the daily grind...which hasn't really been daily OR a grind, but busy and quite unique to bringing an infant immigrant into our home. This week has been full of doctor visits, soccer practices, ballet rehearsals, preschool, more doctor visits, unpacking (or at least attempts to unpack in between the soccer practicesand the doctor visits). In a few weeks the doctor visits will be behind me, the carpools will be in full collaborative sway, and I'll feel a bit more "with it" as far as who needs to be where when and what supplies or sundries need to be with them when they arrive. We've purchased 3 pair of shoes this week (1 ballerina, 3 soccer players, one growing preschooler = lots of shoes, but shoe shopping is not a weekly habit John, I promise!), we've been to the drug store twice for full price perscriptions (Lucy's blessed name hasn't hit the books in the giant health care system yet; boy you don't realize how thankful you are for insurance until you are seeing what you would pay if you didn't have it!). We've enjoyed the delicious cooking of neighbors and friends whove brought in dinners-unnecessary to be sure but appreciated just the same. I've tried to meet the kid's teachers and help Porter feel well acclamated to a new pre school. It has been a busy week. It should be o.k. that the house is trashed and the to do list never ending...it should be o.k.

And so I feel bugged at myself that I'm deflated over my unswept floor and cluttered work table. I feel so not "with it" and catch myself denying the feeling that staying curled up in the corner with my hands around my head would be a good coping mechanism. I should give myself a break,but my inner real self isn't nearly as forgiving as my "I am a well balanced person" self. That deep down inner self rears its ugly head every once in a while. "You can't live in the chaos, you'll go nuts in this mess" and "you'll never get used to this, you are in over your head" are its regular chorus lies..I mean lines. I try hard not to listen, and I even solicit outside voices to counter balance these demon sounds. But they still sing from the deep to me as I romp through the house in pj's hours after I should be dressed, greeting neighbors and friends in my fluffy white robe.

John is, of course, my favorite fan, and has been a huge mantra of support this week. "you are doing great so far Katie" and "thanks for being supportive" are all helpful counter choruses. "I love you mom" is one of the sweetest songs of encouragement toward sanity as a mom of 6. My mom, sisters and others whove been there are also fantastic cheerleaders, on the sidelines but willing to jump in the game if needed at a moment's notice. All these other voices do pretty well at drowning out that one bad sound, the one that say's "I can't".

I know I'll be fine. I'll come to a point where the reality of this blessing of my life will be shown for a moment, just a glimpse of the true heaven I'm beholding every time my family sits around the dinner table together (even if the floor under that table is less than tidy). The glimpse of that bliss came as I hugged my kids in the airport, my husband kissing my forhead with a soft and tender touch. I'll see it again, and it will overpower those negative songs for weeks to come, and I won't feel so bugged at myself, and so it will go as I learn my way through this time of little ones and lots to do.

Feeling a little Horse...

You know the feeling, your voice is a little scratchy, you save your words in order to conserve volume for the really important messages like, "please put your shoes away kids" or "the wet towells don't really belong on the carpet...". Since returning from Vietnam I've kind of felt this way about blogging. I'm not quite sure of my voice just yet, and want to conserve the volume for things that really matter.

When Lucy and I touched ground in Salt Lake City I expected to absolutely fall to pieces with the emotion of a journey ended. We've been living with her on the radar screen for around 5 years, with the surprise addition of our MOlly By Golly in the interim. It has required so much thought, so much emotion and so much faith thatI felt sure I'd just collapse with the end of it all. But instead I found myself-while elated and excited to be home again-also feeling like I needed to just find my legs and start running; and keep running because a house of 6 children was waiting for me, with an adoring and supportive husband who, until the end of the Christmas season, needs to BE supported. The realization that I hadn't thought a ton beyond GETTING Lucy to RAISING Lucy (and all the other Grahams) hit me as I walked from the airplane to the greeting area of the airport. For one split second the thought of facing a family of 6 tempted me back toward the little aisle seat on that tiny commuter jet that had brought me home from far away, but then my kids came running toward me, and I felt sure I was where I belonged, and that I could survive it if I could use all of the lessons I learned these past 5 years, and especially in the last 5 weeks.

Then Sunday came.

Kids cried, and fought, and "love at home" was dashed momentarily throughout the day. I had to do laundry, pick up after people and cook (not lots of cooking mind you, my wanna be chef husband takes Sundays for the most part, and mom Graham surprised us all with a delicious peach pie...). I realized with the coming of the school week there would be a need to purchase soccer cleats with 4 children in tow and also the need to go into the local mall with my "stay at home" crew of Porter (4) MOlly (2) and Lucy (5months and counting). Then there were teachers at the elementary school I hadn't yet met and a PTA responsibility that I completely dropped to travel to Vietnam, not to mention a little cub scout troop that had been without its den mom for a very long time. Gotta get back to it all, with a new one who takes a bottle every few hours (a 20 minute exercise comprising a total of almost 2 hours of the day) and has not had to be restrained by car seats or stroller straps until her introduction to American safety standards (can you say screaming baby all the way through Dillards Department store???). It will take a bit of getting used to, I guess, to create order out of this chaos. Giving up control has never really been my thing, and right now I am absolutely NOT in control.

But, I just came out of 5 weeks where I couldn't control, and it was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. I think the difference now is the illusion that because Im back on my own "turf" that I should be able to command the elements around me to become what I need them to be. But there in lies the rub, for the choice and agency of individuals is one of the supreme gifts of this life's experience, and here on my "turf" I am surrounded by small lives who wish to invoke that gift on a minute to minute basis. So, perhaps it is for me to accept my inability to control, and instead to learn how to roll a little. Perhaps in letting go I'll actually find I have more command of me, which is the only thing I should really work to control in this life anyway.

so, maybe as I find my legs are truly under me I'll also find my voice is truly with me, and I'll have more value to the things I might share here. My voice might just return with the giving up of my need to control, will just have to wait and see if its left with any volume!

Home Safe

Hi friends, just a note to let you all know we are home safe at last! Lucy and I managed the 30 hour travel experience with surprising ease (thanks to a wonderful little baby who endured flights well and was very patient during long layovers). The family reunion was so sweet, I simply have no words to describe it. Lucy even took to changing from Vietnam time to Utah time, sleeping well through the night with only her usual 4 a.m. bottle. I felt through the transit that we were literally held in the Lord's hands, carried home as it were.

We woke up this morning to the realities of raising 6 kids; arguments and struggles while the baby needed her bottle, spills of cold cereal, school schedules and expectations to hear about. Here we go, I guess!

But in the midst of feeling incredibly overwhelmed (and a bit tired already; jet lag I'm sure) I feel deeply satisfied that this is the life of my chosing.

I think I'll probably keep blogging a bit, as long as the family will cooperate. It has been a very satisfying way to document my thoughts. But, as so many of you have been where I am; raising large families and managing personal experiences with much more grace under pressure, you'll probably find it all incredibly boring. "Been there done that" will most likely be the thought that comes to you with the reading of coming posts...but maybe you'll want to stop by this little blog spot every once in a while just to giggle at my wandering thoughts.

Thanks for all the love and support, all the words of encouragement and all the indulging of my ego as I write these little snippets of life as I see it. Hopefully as I regain energy and experience full recovery from the adventure we've had my thoughts will be more clever and my writing more engaging. For now, it is a tired and happy mom who writes in gratitude for family gathered home, safe and sound at last. 

Final Post from Asia

So, this is written on a keyboard with 3 different language options, I’m going to be making a lot of type-os, but just had to post from Japan.

What a difference a day makes, that is about all I can say. Yesterday at this time I was being fleeced by a cab driver in Hanoi. Today my darling baby sleeps in an ultra clean baby room run by the airport, with a Japanese caregiver dressed like Shirley Temple.Yesterday I walked along the street while people threw fish heads and intestines in front of me for the garbage crew to collect sometime during the night, today I walk a step and some little Japanese person comes behind me sweeping up the micro dust. I had to put hand sanitizer on to enter the baby room, and will put more on when I go back after this post. Yesterday I was dripping (very literally dripping) with sweat in a non air conditioned airport, trying to set a good example and form a queue to get my bags packed. Today Iwas personally escorted by a Japanese airline employee through customs with HIM packing around my bags while I gingerly held Lucy, all the way from the plane to the waiting terminal. In all fairness the airline staff was very accommodating in Vietnam as well, but I was still an American boarding a red eye flight, end of story. Here I’ve been treated like the queen mother, all because of Lucy’s darling smile and loud cry! Maybe if adoption is in the cards again for our family I could put in a request with the man upstairs that our kiddo comes from ultra organized Japan. If my kitchen cupboards were half as organized as this baby room I’d never lose a thing, and all the drawers would shut all the time and I’d always be able to find the green spatula I love to use (o.k., my mom has been in charge of my house for the last 5 weeks, so I bet it is that organized by now. (Gotta love it when mom comes to stay!)

Anyway, we are more than half way through the dreaded eleven hour layover in Japan and I’m kind of wishing this whole last week had been laid over here, aside from teaching English classes of course, oh and shopping, oh and the kind hotel staff, oh and thesweet woman on the street who learned Lucy’s name and called out to her each day as we set out to walk. Well, on second thought, the last week was pretty o.k. as it was. I do like the ultra clean organized Japanese airport though...No doubt about that.

4 more hours to take off
10 hours in the air
7 hours on the ground
2 hours in the air
home at last!

So, now it's time to GO HOME!

I am to meet the taxi in five minutes, but wanted to send one farewell post from Hanoi. Lucy and I went out today for most of the day with Mrs. Berry, one of the service missionaries from our church. It was so funny to see her barter with the shop girls for souvenirs. I think I have more things for her children in my bags than I do for my own (ha a) but it was nice to have company and view this culture one last time. I can't wait to post pictures of the open market here. Fresh seafood is everywhere (I mean fresh, as in alive and swimming in big silver bowls with bubbles blowing out the top...). We were totally taken by a taxi driver who wanted 10 bucks to go 2 blocks-and we got a little lost. A fun adventure for two women and a baby!

For dinner Lucy and I celebrated our last night in Vietnam by dining at a very lovely restaurant, Bobby Chinn. We've enjoyed lunch there a few times and John and Mason even ate there with me before they left for home. Most of the wait staff consists of college aged girls, who all adore Lucy and wanted to hear her story one more time. It feels so funny to be "on display" anywhere we go, but I so enjoy interacting with the college kids. They are open and friendly-you can see the good of man kind gushing out of them!

As I walked this last time back to the hotel I thought of all the phrases I won't hear again now that its time to fly:

"Cyclo Madame?"
"Motorbike"
"Baby Vietnam Madame"
"Give me money Madame!"
"Want tooo buy a t-shirt?"
"Madame, give me money please..."

These are phrases that have been called out to me every where I've been over the last five weeks-like a chorus to the music of the cities we've experienced. I wondered today what phrases will be common now that we'll go home.

"Are all of them yours?"
"Did you mean to have that many?"
"Is she adopted?"
"Are they all adopted?"
"You must be tired"
"You look tired"
"Can I help you Ma’am?" (I say this one because it is now painful that I am no longer a "Miss" but a "Ma’am", getting old is hard...)

It will be so hard to endure 40 hours of flying with a five month old. But all we have to do is endure, and then in the end we will be in the arms of family, and home at last. Lucy's journey to our family is so close to complete. What a wonderful journey it has been!

p.s. Bryn Madi and the rest; here are some thoughts for you:

-When you leave for school Lucy and I will be waiting to get on the airplane.
-When you eat lunch today Lucy and I will be in the air between Vietnam and Japan
-When you eat pizza tonight Lucy and I will be wandering around an airport in Osaka
-When you wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom we will be over the ocean
-When you watch cartoons we will almost be landing in Los Angeles
-When you do your chores we will be wishing we could go to Disneyland instead of sit in the airport wanting to see you
-After dinner we will be flying to Salt Lake -after baths, prayers and scripture time we will be landing and then we will be home, and we will hold each other and you will meet Lucy at last! I can't wait!
Love,
Mom