All That Shimmers is Gold

Dear Journal,

April is undoubtedly the most difficult month for me, still, after 10 years. . . I sometimes wonder if that is why my son was born on April 15, 2007, the very day my friend died seven years earlier.

I was 13 years old, in eighth grade, and it was my first experience losing a friend. Although it was not my first experience with death, it was this loss that had the most impact on me 'till that point and since. I had experienced death in my family with grandparents, but that all sat well with me; it seemed like what was "supposed" to happen. You get old and then you die. That's life. Sad, but that's how it goes. That was order. Perhaps it is the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder I have always struggled with, but when that order was interrupted my life spun out of control and still spins 10 years later.

Christopher Anthony Hinckley died at age fourteen on April 15, 2000. He suffered a brain aneurysm. I found out from my very best friend, Michelle. It happened on a Saturday morning and as she was his "girlfriend" she was one of the first to know. She called me immediately and said, "Chris is in the hospital." Knowing Chris' usual Saturday activity, I assumed what she was going to tell me: "Did Chris get in a fight with some "fruitbooters" at the skate park again?" She explained that it was much more serious and that he was at the hospital and unresponsive. More details came through the weekend. On Monday we all went to school as usual, met in the usual spot before classes started. But, we were minus one and it couldn't be ignored. We all stood around in silence, not knowing what to say. The only purpose going to school that day served was to keep us from driving our families crazy at home pacing back and forth waiting for the phone to ring. Instead we were at school, not listening to a single word the teacher's said and constantly asking to use the bathroom or get a drink of water just to keep from sitting there with our minds for company. It was like that for everyone in our "group." In fact, nearly our entire group was ll in the same french class. There were only twelve of us in the class, so it was pretty obvious that we weren't focused. Our teacher got frustrated at not being able to get anything through to us and made us all go for a walk. That was the first time I think we had laughed in three days, and I still laugh thinking about it. That poor little old lady trying so hard to teach us and then taking the twelve of us for a walk. It felt like when you're at church and you act up in sacrament meeting and so your mom has to take you out in the halls for "a walk." I took the bus home from school and saw a friend in her mom's car behind the bus. I didn't think anything of it until I was about a block down the road and I saw her jump out and run to someone else and hug them crying. I naively hoped that those tears were happy tears and that the hug was in excitement that Chris had regained consciousness. I ran home as fast as I could to call Michelle. Her mom answered and asked me to give the phone to my mom. I handed the phone to my mom and got very scared. i didn't want to listen to what they were saying, so I backed up about 10 steps until I was standing in the doorway of my mom's room. My mom was completely unexpressive while on the phone and I had no clue what was going on. I couldn't even guess. She said very little and I couldn't conclude anything from it. When she hung up the phone she looked at me for a second, still unexpressive, and then I saw tears forming. I understood that she had no idea how to tell me that Chris was dead. I took a deep breath and just said, "Okay," as if she had told me verbally. I then went to my room and sat in silence and cried for hours. My mind literally couldn't grasp it. I was crying both out of sadness and frustration because I simply couldn't grasp it. It wasn't the order. He couldn't have died because that just isn't the order of things. Our "group" spent the next day at Michelle's  house. We got some more details on how exactly everything had gone from our friend Westley who was with him before and during the aneurysm. We all cried for a little bit until Brian turned to me and said, "Come on Melissa. Say something funny." Yes, that's right, I used to be funny and not bitter and cynical. I just shook my head "no" and said, "If I did it wouldn't be funny." Nothing seemed funny anymore. It felt like nothing would ever be funny again. The next day, Wednesday, we all went back to school, but that was pointless. We all spent the entire day in the counselors office where she made us all squeeze tennis balls. I thought it was silly, but it seemed to help some one of our friends, at least. If I recall correctly, he ended up throwing the tennis ball at the wall, so maybe it didn't actually help him. The funeral was the next day and was just plain awful all around. The service lasted a million years. And it was open casket, which I think is terrible. I don't think anyone should do viewings. And they did the closing of the casket there in front of everyone that came, which I think should be a private family moment. . . but that's just me. My friend, Ryan was the last of our friends at the casket after we had all been asked to be seated. He just stood there. It was so sad. He couldn't leave. I went up to stand next to him and help him leave. It was so hard. Ryan and I were the last of his friends there before closing the casket and I still dream about that moment. It was terrible. Then the grave site service was another million years. The worst part was that they had all of us throw a handful of dirt into the ground after he had lowered his casket. I guess that helps some people, but I still have nightmares about it. I did not want to be any part of burying my friend. It was the worst experience of my life. For years after that every once in a while it just got to be more than I could handle. I would come home from school and go up to my room and just cry all afternoon.

When I got my license I would visit his grave often. It was during one of these visits that I finally was able to control my issues with "order." I realized that the problem with my order of things was that it consisted of time. So after that realization I stopped looking at life as time. I stopped assuming that we'd all be here for 80+years. I stopped looking at a lifetime as a certain amount of time and simply looked at it as simply life. We complicate things so much in life by our perspectives. If we eliminate time from life's perspective what could we accomplish. How many times have I not done something because I said I didn't have time? Or that takes too long? Or I'm not sure I'll get it done in time? If you took time out of all those statements, there wouldn't be any statements and then we'd all just move forward with whatever the task was.

This has also helped me with all the many deaths I have dealt with since then. So often you hear that young people who died had their lives "cut short." But if you think about a life simply as a life and not an amount of time then it is easier to deal with. Delight in the fact that they lived. Stop thinking about what Christ "could have been." He wasn't meant to be any more than what he was. It was a part of his plan to die at age 14. There was nothing past that for him.

Since Chris's death I have experienced many more deaths of friends and family members. Some have been very tragic. But, I've been able to handle it well. I can handle not only because of my knowledge of God's Plan of Salvation, but because I know that there was nothing left here for them after what they accomplished with their life. Their work here was done and they moved on.

Chris's life was not cut short. He lived the life he was here on earth to live. I miss him dearly and think of him more often than not. And I would rather have him here. But I understand now that life should not be measured by time, but by action. What actions am I choosing in my life? Am I choosing not to do certain things because I think I don't have time? or because something takes too much time? Just do it! And if I get interupted by life (babies, work, chores, etc. . .) simply switch gears. Even if my tasks are interupted, at least I have started something. At least I have done something. I made it my personal goal to not be a slave to the clock. I have strayed somewhat from that when my schedule started revolving around that of my husband and my children. But, I hope to make it my goal again to not say to myself that I don't have time to call my little sister because my child might wake up from their nap any minute now. So what? I'll call my sister, and if my kid wakes up I'll care for her. Then at least I have done a little. At least I have called her and made some connection, even if it was short. I hope to never again say, "I don't have time to read my scriptures or pray." Even if I simply open my scriptures, read one verse and have to put it down, at least I have done something. I hope to never again say that I don't have time for visiting teaching. Even if I have other tasks or chores to do that keep me from visiting teaching, I can still go and be there for my sisters and if something else (children) require my having to leave, then at least I made the contact, even if only for 5 minutes.

Well, what it all comes down to basically is if I say that I couldn't get to something because I didn't have time and then I die tomorrow, well, then I'll really never get to it. So, basically I am asking myself, What am I doing instead of whatever it is I say I don't have time to do?  

“I hold the world but as the world. . . A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one”

I finally did it. I put it off for too long, but I have finally done it. I have started seeking out a geneticist in the area to find out which type of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome I have. It is likely that I have type three; however, I exhibit characteristics of types 1-4. I have been putting it off because I don't care. But, now that I know Garren may have Marfan's Syndrome I have to find out for our kids.

Garren has several physical symptoms of Marfans: his height and unproportionally long limbs, the sunken skin under his cheek bones, and his sternum bone protrudes significantly. He doesn't have the protruding upper pallet with the "gummy smile," but several members of his family have that. He spoke with someone he was doing a bankruptcy for at work who deals with Marfan's Syndrome patients. He said it is possible, but that he has seen worse cases.

This is important to find out because while my syndrome doesn't affect my life span, Marfan's does. And the tragedy in it is that there is just no way to detect it. It shortens one's life span due to the bursting of the aeortic valve. This is similar to my disorder, but not common. They monitored my heart several times before and throughout my pregnancy because they were worried that my aeortic valve would burst because of the stress of pregnancy on my body. There is no way of telling when the aeortic valve will burst except by being constantly monitored.

I feel so bad for our kids. It's like a double whammy! Joshua has exhibited symptoms of both syndromes. He has dislocated his joints in doing simple things like climbing up into my bed. When he pushes the door open his fingers bend backwards. That's mostly what I have seen of EDS. I have seen other things, but they could just be normal overextending or it could be EDS. He has one major characteristic of Marfan's that is cause for concern and that is the "divit" (sp?) in his chest. That is a major characteristic. However, I do wonder how many people have a divit in their chest that don't have Marfan's.

Anyway, my mom is always apologizing to me because of EDS. She says she "gave it to me." I don't care. I am very happy to be here. I like my life just fine. The genetic counselor told me I would feel this same way toward my kids. I thought I couldn't possibly since I keep telling my mom not to worry so much about it and to just trust that I am happy with EDS life. But, now that I am seeing symptoms in my own children I can't help but feel so bad for them because I know what they are going to feel and what they are going to go through. I Don't care for myself. I just live through it and do just fine. But, with my kids, I don't want them to feel any pain or sadness or frustration. Now, I know how my mom feels. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "but you don't look sick!" uh huh, okay then I must not be! soooo frustrating. I don't want my kids to go through all the garbage I've gone through. I hope they figure out some way to manage this disorder by the time my kids start having problems.

If Garren does have Marfan's, how in the world did we find each other?! Two people with such similar disorders? Strange world this is. . . funny.

I am perfectly happy and at peace with my disorder. My mom is sort of a nut about it. If I never talked with anyone about it again as long as I live I'd be fine. But, now that my kids are involved it's just so sad. It's such a painful disorder and nobody knows what to do. I was in so much pain during my pregnancy that it got to the point where I was almost hospitalized and put on narcotics. I said, "no!' of course and instead went home and endured the pain. I would get stuck on my couch in pain and not know whether to call Garren or an ambulance. I have had to roll out of bed onto a pillow and use my arms to slide myself into the bathroom (like those tabogon things in the olympics. Is that what they are called?). I was unable to care for my child in any way. I didn't sleep for about the last 4 weeks of my pregnancy and had to have friends take care of my son for me. I couldn't lift my legs to get into the shower. I once had to have Garren help me get into the shower because I got "stuck" half way. I was fine with all of this. It will happen to me again in my life and I don't care anymore. I will just take it as it comes. But, I don't want to watch my kids go through that. ugh. . . so sad. I normally don't share this type of info, but I am kind of counting on the fact that this is serving as my journal (i am a lot better at keeping this journal than the paper ones). I don't know if anyone actually reads this, so I am counting on that too. And if you do read it I would probably tell you this stuff anyway. . .

I have more thoughts. . . but Miriam woke up. But, that's how it goes. That's real life in "Laymon's" terms.

Joke's on Dad!

We will be blessing our precious Miriam Belle on May 2nd. I am looking forward to it for several reasons, one being that my parents are coming out. I am going to play a little joke on my Dad.

So you know those silly flowers people put on their baby's heads? The one's that just swallow up the kid? I think they're silly, but I have every intention of putting them on Miriam. . . Anyway, for as long as I can remember Dad has really disliked those and any kind of "head gear," as he put it, on baby's heads. I first saw the big flower trend at church when I was visiting my parents. Dad said, "Why don't you just put an umbrella on the kids head?!" My Dad has not met Miriam yet, but will next Wednesday. When I go to pick him up from the airport I plan to have Miriam wearing this:



My mom says she looks like the Chiquita Banana ladies with fruit on their heads. As you can see, Miss M doesn't find it quite so funny:



Every time I walk down the fake flower isle at craft stores I think of my wedding and just laugh. I got married in Arizona on the hottest day of the year. The week before it was beautiful with perfect temperatures. I had my wedding reception in my Grandma Ida's backyard and she planted so may beautiful flowers. They had peaked and were just perfect exactly one week before I got married. Then it started getting hotter and hotter every day. Almost all the flowers had burned up. So the days of the wedding Gram went out and bought a lot of fake flowers and stuck them in various places around the yard. So, I had my "Daddy/daughter" dance and I thought my Dad was going to start crying, but he was really just trying hard not to bust up laughing. Then he said, "Did Grandma put those fake flowers in the planters?!" I turned to look and sure enough, like firecrackers from the soil were unnaturally bright fake flowers towering over the burnt yellow Marigolds. It looked quite silly. But, Gram was sweet for trying to make day beautiful. I love my Grandma Ida!

If anyone at home is reading this, don't tell Dad.

"A Grosser Sin"

There's something that's been on my mind for a while, and I just want to put my thoughts in writing. I hope that will help me decide where exactly I stand as I don't know yet if my thoughts are entirely supported.

Intolerance bothers me, so I am going to get "the bothers" out on here. I understand that homosexuality and just sin in general is wrong. I understand that being around poor influence can affect us negatively. But, is it not a greater sin to shut out the sinner?

Did Jesus not say, "This commandment I give above all, that ye love one another as I have loved you." He interacted with sinners, even touched them. If we are to love as He loved shouldn't we be friends with everyone? No amount of my dislike or hatred toward a sinner is going to make them change their ways. If I were to completely ignore my gay and lesbian friends, it would not turn them straight; it would only hurt them.

So my thinking, and I could be wrong, but, like I said, I'm trying to write this out in hopes that I may be able to find some flaw in it if there is one, is that no matter how many good we do in our life, it won't matter if we didn't obey the ultimate commandment to love each other as Jesus loved us. Now, He died for us. I don't think He expects to go dying for strangers, but when if you think about all He did in his life for the sinners and wrong doers, we can certainly all be friends!

I think I'm in a "peace and love" mood, as my Dad would say. "Make love, not war!"

Anyway, I know we don't support homosexuality, but I think if I cut ties with my friends because of their gender preference that I could not stand blameless before God.

Reflections on the life of Bob Laymon

It is Joshua's third birthday and I have found myself thinking about his grandfather, Bob Laymon. He passed away earlier this year, on January 2nd. I have never known such sadness in all my life. I have experienced a lot of tragedies in my life. When I was fourteen a very close friend died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. When I was seventeen another friend died of cancer. I have lost several friends since then; in one instance, they don't even know how or why. He just died one day at age 21. And another friend was alone and had a seizure. I have lost several grandparents as well (yes several. I know. I was a very confused kid. I couldn't figure out why other kids didn't have four grandpas)! But, the sadness I felt upon learning of my father-in-law's death was unlike anything I've ever experienced. My husband and I collapsed on the floor in tears holding each other and our son, Joshua. The physical and emotional pain was too much to bear. I can't imagine what it was like for Garren's mother or the family that was there with him. It was the kind of pain where you put your face in a pillow to muffle a scream but find yourself silent, mouth agape, face down in a wet pillow, barely breathing.

I often find myself driving down 220 South doing everyday things; grocery shopping; etc. And I am overcome with sadness as I recall the day we raced down 220 South in an effort to make the airport on time. We were trying to get to family as soon as possible. Every time I travel anywhere between the airport exit on Hershberger and the Wal-Mart near Tanglewood Mall I think about this unfortunate event. But, this past week I turned my focus. I began to think about my children as his grandchildren instead of focusing on the sadness.

When we arrived in California the funeral arrangements had already begun. He had passed away far from home on vacation and so it was thought that only family would be at the service. We couldn't have been more wrong. I had the privilege of playing the piano at the service and was able to be in the front of the room looking out on the congregation. And a congregation it was! People came from all over the state and all over the country. I was especially touched to see the hotel manager who tried to revive Bob had come to the funeral.

That hotel manager told Garren a story the night before the funeral that touched us all. He said that he had not been on good terms with his father and after the experience with Garren's father passing he decided he would make amends. My father-in law was doing good even in passing.

Recently, as my thoughts have turned, I have realized the awesome responsibility I now have as a parent to his grandchildren. Bob Laymon has made the Laymon name. When you hear the name Laymon you think of diligence, honesty, love, charity, etc. Now, let's forget Mrs. Laymon, because, let's face it, what is a man without his wife? I now have two of his grandchildren with the Laymon name and am responsible for instilling these qualities in them so the legacy Bob has created can be carried on.

I shared this quote with my mother-in-law after the passing of her mother and feel it applies here. It is not a direct quote from Charles Dickens, but reflects his view of life:

"In every life, no matter how full or empty one's purse, there is
tragedy. It is the one promise life always fulfills. Thus, happiness
is a gift, and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it
when it comes, and to add to other people's store of it. What happens
if, too early, we loose a parent? That party on whom rely for
only....everything. What did these people do when their families
shrank? They cried their tears. But then they did the vital thing,
they built a new family, person by person. They came to see that
family need not be defined merely as those with whom they share blood,
but as those for whom they would give their blood."

I have resolved to do something on behalf of Bob. It hurts Garren very much when I tell him that I don't want to even try being friends with some of his sisters because it takes too much effort. I feel sometimes like I have been trying to be their friends for 5 years now with little reciprocation. I have been very sad after trying very hard to create circumstances where we will all be together in an effort to get to know each other and become friends. I have organized parties and special events and gatherings and feel that I didn't get anywhere. If anything I feel I got farther away. But I am putting all that behind. Unfortunately, it has taken the death of my father-in-law to realize this. I am writing this in hopes that I can be of help to anyone else who might struggle with in-laws. So, inspired by this quote, I have resolved to do something that will help Bob's legacy live on instead of thwarting all his efforts and putting an end to everything he stood for. I now look at my children and his own children not as individuals, but as his legacy. In pictures, conversation, gathering and the like I now look at them and try to find and recognize bits and pieces of Bob: a smile, a mannerism of some sort, a comment, habits, etc. And when I see these things I will see that Bob still lives. He lives in his children, in his grandchildren. In doing this I don't have to be sad anymore. When I recognize a glimpse of Bob in his children and grandchildren I will be happy and delight in the moment and know that for that moment he lives. Because of this we all can still touch the lives of many just as he did. With the qualities taught to his children by him, they can all live as he did and touch the lives of so many. And in doing so Bob will live. And as Garren and I teach these things to our children, they will, in turn, teach their own children. In this effort, Bob will live on forever and touch the world, even in death.

I have been touched by his life. When he was alive I found several qualities in him that I admired and tried to adapt them to my own life. For example, I like his "matter of fact" attitude that Garren now has. Sometimes if I am struggling with going to church because of feeling bad for something I've done I think to myself, "So what? Go to church and feel bad for what you've done and move on and be useful." That attitude I adapted from him and it has changed my life. Yes, even something so small as that. . . There are many other things to that I have adapted to my life from him and I know Garren has many more. If we remember these things we have from him and make a point of living the way he did, I know we can multiply the number of lives touched. Think of all the people at that funeral and multiply by seven. That's a huge number. That number represents Bob life and means that he can live forever.

In doing this I hope to be a happier person, a more pleasant person to be around. Someone who is loving, charitable, and not easily bothered by frivolous matters. Someone like Bob.

Joshua enjoys coloring, cutting out shapes and using those to make cards to send to family. He made one for my father-in-law this time a year ago, right before his bypass. I wrote a little note in it as if I were Joshua. Joshua colored a picture of a heart for him and in the note I wrote something to the effect of "here is a new heart for you so you can feel better." I also told him about what was happening in Joshua's life: we were planting seeds in our garden, Joshua was using the toilet, and other things like that. We had also learned that Joshua's heart problem had resolved itself. I put that his heart was "fixed." Bob wrote Joshua a letter back. This is the letter:

"Joshua, 22 February 2009

Thank you for your wonderful letter. I enjoyed it very, very much. I asked my scribe/chauffer/cook to write this letter for me. She said, “NO!” That is why I am typing it. Yours must be very nice.

I liked your picture of a heart. I will say something to your mommy about teaching you art, but your picture was very good. I am sure you have natural talent.

I am glad your heart is all fixed. That will save you problems later. Grandpa’s heart is actually perfect. The doctor said that is a good thing. But, the tubes that bring the blood to the heart (some people call them “arteries”) are all plugged up. The doctor said that had something to do with eating pork pulled sandwiches and big wet burritos – but all I heard was blah, blah, blah. My scribe/chauffer/cook was listening closely to the doctor; I think; this may end up being a bad thing.

Learning to talk is so much fun. Please ask your mommy to teach you the word “Why?” It is a very useful word and can be used all the time. (And I mean ALL the time.) There are stories of your Aunt Jennie and Aunt Sharon being good users of the “why” word.

You are so lucky that your daddy is a lawyer. Ask him about something called “First Amendment Rights”. This will be useful when the bad people try to stop you from asking “why” one more time. It will also be very useful when you want to express yourself during sacrament meeting. From your letter, it sounds like you may need a good lawyer for that!

Now about the potty training. I am so glad that you went on the potty twice. That is very exciting. However, be careful. If you do this too often, the big people will take away your diapers. (I don’t know why – they just do!) It is really much easier to use the diaper. I mean – they don’t put those potty stops just any place, you know. It can be very annoying. Take it from your Grandpa – stay in the diapers as long as you can. No matter what they say, the big people will keep changing them. I am thinking of trying it when I get a little older.

Please tell me how your seeds turn out. Seeds are a lot of fun. Grandpa used to have fun with seeds until God sent a hail storm to Cheyenne. I will tell you about this when you are older.

I love you and miss you, too.

Love,

Grandpa Laymon"

That's Real Life, in Bob Laymon's Terms.

Reflections on Joshua's third birthday

Joshua is three years old today! He's such a special boy and we are so thankful to have him in our family. I told him I was going to write about him and asked him what he wanted me to say. He said this:

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy birthday to my cup with the cereal. I like playing toys with Miriam. Happy Birthday to my pancake breakfast. Happy birthday to the play park."

Joshua is a very special boy and we love him. He has always been advanced from the beginning! He was mobile at 5 weeks! If we put our arm at his feet while he was doing "tummy time" he would push on our arms and "scoot" all over the place, like a little worm. And at 5 weeks!!! He was walking well at 9 months. He could identify some letters and sounds early on. At 11 months, if Garren and I would say "T-H" Joshua would make the sound for "th." He started using the potty at 16 months (of course we still have yet to switch to underwear--he's afraid of it). And today, at three years, he is reading several words including: big, as, for, a, I, the, in, and a few more.

Joshua has always been very loving to us, and now he is to his sister, Miriam. From the beginning of her life he has been concerned for her: "We need to go back to the doctor to get Miriam's penis! The doctor forgot her penis!" If she is crying, even if I am holding her right in my arms, he will tell me she is crying, just in case I don't already know. I got out of the shower a few days ago and found him tucking her in her bed and he said, "Shhh. . . Miriam is sleeping." There is a special bond between the two of them and I consider myself very blessed to have them.


I can already tell that my boy is going to grow up to be something special--he'll change the world. I love my Joshua!

If we were meant to pop out of bed, we'd all sleep in toasters!

Today is a new day! Worse than yesterday already and it's only noon! But, I am going to set some new goals to take my mind off this, hopefully.

I have been blessed with an infant that sleeps very well. So I am going to set some "sleep goals." This comes from the booklet "In the Pursuit of Excellent Temple Maintenance" which goes hand in hand with "In the Pursuit of Excellence." This is a program established by the Relief Society program in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints where woman can set goals for themselves to improve their own lives and that of their families.



Miss Miriam sleeps from about 10 pm to 10 am. She wakes up to eat at 5 am and 8 am. So we have been sleeping pretty well. I have fallen into a habbit of turning on "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" for my three year in the mornings to watch until we are all ready to wake up at 10 am. In doing this I have been sleeping more than is necessary and the house work has been piling up on me! If I get up after her 8 am nursing, I have two hours to catch up on housework and spend some quality one on one time with my three year old. SO here are the goals that "In the Pursuit of Excellent Temple Maintenance" suggests;

1) Have a regular bed and wake up time with sufficient hours of sleep time. Try not to vary the hours even on the weekends.

My bed time goal will be 10:30 pm with a wake up time of 8 am. (I realize this is still a lot of sleep time, but keep in mind that once in or twice in there I am awake for an hour or so with an infant).

2) Get enough sleep for your age, and try to stay on a regular schedule.
3) Take power naps daily as needed.
4) Establish a bedtime ritual that is relaxing.

I have started reading scriptures before bed. I like to do that and watch a TV show before bed.

5) Make up your bed daily.

Ooooo. This one will be difficult. We spend lots of time in my bed throughout the day. It's where I feed Miriam and where Joshua watches his TV shows. So I don't even bother because it turns into a big mess anyway. But, I am going to give it a try!

6) Launder your sheets weekly for better health and better sleep.

Interesting. I didn't know it could help you sleep better. Anyway, this one shouldn't be a problem. I like clean sheets!

The scripture that accompanies this is Doctrine and Covenants 88:124- "Cease to be idle; cease to be unclean;. . . cease to sleep longer than is needful; retire to thy bed early, that ye may not be weary; arise early, that your bodies and minds may be invigorated."

I am hoping that this will help me feel a little less frazzled throughout the day. Having two children can make even the most organized person feel frazzled and overwhelmed. That's real life. . . in Laymon's Terms.

Motherhood: the lonliest job in the world

I am posting two posts today. The purpose of this journal is to be real with my self and face facts of life. I started the day with a post, hoping it would give me a focus and something to take my mind off my sadness. But, I am going to face it: today sucks! There. I said it. I feel so lonely and I just want to go home. There. I said it. I don't feel comfortable enough with anyone here to call anyone. There. I said it.

I think I speak on behalf of all mothers when I say: "Motherhood is the loneliest job in the world." Every pregnancy is unique. So right off the bat, no one really knows how you feel. My pregnancy was complicated by my EDS and it was the loneliest 9 months of my life. I went to doctors and specialists and no one knew what I was feeling and going through and so didn't know what to do to fix it.

Bankruptcy is booming right now. My husband works very long and late hours. He is a huge help when he is home--he is the help of ten men when he is home, but the reality is that I am with the kids most of the time and it is so hard. Motherhood is like that. The second you have a child you will never be alone again, yet being a mother is so lonely. I just wish I lived closer to my family. I hate going through this alone. I have been in my house for 5 weeks now! I've made attempts to get out, but something always comes up. I went out to Kroger the other night for milk, by myself. It was such a nice break--pathetic, I know. I love my children, but I just don't think I can do this. I know it isn't Garren's fault he works all the time, but now is the time that I need him home, while Miriam's so little, and he just can't do it. I asked him if i could go home for a while until Miriam gets bigger, for some help. But, he didn't want that. I don't want to either, but I can't be alone anymore. I just need to be with family.

I'm trying not to turn this into a pitty party, because that is not what this post is about. I know that people have it worse than I do.

I have a hard time fulfilling my church duties. After a day of taking care of the kids and dealing with my disorder, I am just beat by the time I put Joshua to bed at 7:30 pm. It's getting to be more humid here and it is killer on my joints. In fact, after sitting down to write this, I thought I had better not sit for too long or else my knees will get stiff and I won't be able to walk downstairs. Another reason I want to move back to Arizona: no humidity!! By 7:30 I am just done. I feel like I can't do anything else.

I don't expect anyone to fix it, or offer suggestions on what I can do that will help. I just needed to say some things out loud. I just needed to stop pretending that I am happy here. It has become more than I can handle to do it alone and pretend that I am happy here. I've always lived by the saying, "Fake it 'till you make it." So I have been pretending I love it here, hoping that eventually it would happen. But I can't do it anymore. I don't know what I was thinking when I moved here. My whole family lives so close to each other in Arizona. I just learned the other day that my older sister is buying a house just a mile from my parents. I am so happy for her, but I just sobbed when I got off the phone with her. I feel like the harder I try to get back there the further I get.

My family is a huge deal to me. For my entire life we have gotten together every Sunday night, extended family and all. And we spent every holiday together. My sibblings are the best. We all love each other and each other's spouses, except Ashley's. He's a pathetic excuse for a human being. J/K Ashley. Just seeing if your reading. haha. We are all very loyal to each other. When I had appendicitis my sister was on a plane out here before I even went into surgery. When my brother was having trouble caring for his cats because of his schedule I adopted one FROM ACROSS THE COUNTRY! Then he got cancer and died. thanks a lot Neal. jk. And I love my little sister's out of the blue phone calls and hand made cards. That's just the type of family we are and that's how I want to raise my kids. Garren has a hard time understanding this because I don't think this type of loyalty exists amongst his sibblings. If it does, they haven't let me in on it. Don't get me wrong, the Laymon's are a terrific bunch of people and I am proud to be among them. But, I have seen some of them not talk to each other, or me for that matter, for years. What do they gain from that? It's so sad. I can't imagine not talking to Krista or Tim or acting like they don't exist. And that's why I want to be close to them. These are the type of people I want around for help and advice as I try to figure out this parenting thing.

I am not okay. I do not have a handle on things. Yesterday I didn't go to church and I had the best day. Again, don't get me wrong here. I know the church is true without a doubt. But, I don't like going to church. I don't like going and feeling bad for not doing my calling. There is just too much happening right now. The fact is that I am not okay, I do not have a handle on things and can not be alone anymore. I wish I had something worth while to say instead of these ramblings, but I don't. I am not coping with life well right now and that's the fact. That's the real life I need to face. The real life facts of my life. . . in Melissa Diane Laymon's terms.

P.S.This was very difficult for me to write. I have posted things in the past (and this post) in an effort to find that I am not the only one and hope to find support from others in having faced the fact that life is hard. Some people in my life like to read things I write looking for conversation fodder. They know who they are and they know I know their reading this, which is part of the reason it was difficult to write this--difficult because I know this person is going to call another and talk all about this post in a negative light. So here you go. Go make your phone call and talk away. Then get over it and try making yourself useful to those who might need help who are in your situation. Maybe try facing the fact that your lives aren't so together. Because if there is one thing I've learned in the past three posts in an effort to discover myself, it's that no matter how much you pretend you have it together, the writing is on the wall and everyone knows you don't.

If Boobs Were Brains I'd Be Really Smart

It's time to face the fat! Er, I mean facts. . . My baby, Miriam, is now 5 weeks old. And what do I have to show for it? A size 14 waste and boobs full of milk that I can't seem to fit comfortably in any bra. But, that's the price I pay for breastfeeding, I guess.


Miriam was born by C-section. My first child, Joshua, was born by C-section as well. Never in my life have I ever pain like that of a C-section. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemies DOG. However, my pregnancy with Miss Miriam made my recovery with Joshua feel like a walk in the park. Throughout my pregnancy I experienced several complications, one of which was losing the ability to walk. When they took Miriam out I immediately felt relief. I wanted to jump up and run around. When they took me back to my room I begged them to let me get up and walk around. They wouldn't let me for 24 hours. So here I am, five weeks late, and ready to run a marathon. . . mentally that is. I went to the alley behind our house on Saturday to run. Now, keep in mind that not only have I not run in at least 10 months, but I hardly walked. So, I was mentally ready to run. I had psyched myself up: "You're gonna eat lightenin' and you're gonna crap thunder!" But, as I started running I was glad that home wasn't far away. After a quarter of a mile my jello legs were giving up, I was envisioning my incision splitting open and me left in the alley with my inside strewn about for the birds. I had nothing left to get to me home. I was running on hopes and dreams.


So here is real life: I couldn't run to the front door if my house was on fire! I used to run in college, but I stopped when I was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome because running is too hard on my joints. But, I realized recently that everything hurts my joints, so I may as well enjoy life. It's like when people tell you not to drink diet sodas because it will give you cancer. Well, everything will give you cancer so just drink the darn coke and be happy. Going out in the sun, warming up leftovers in the plastic container, BREATHING. . . it all gives you cancer. So Ive resolved to drink my diet coke and be happy.


Here is my plan:


Goal: A half marathon. I'd like to go to DC and participate in a half marathon around DC.


Time frame: one year. (remember, I'm going from not walking at all AND I have EDS)


Plan: I'll just do month one for now
week one: Run every other day, increasing distance by a quarter lap each run.
walk on days in between.
week two: able to return to the gym after baby. run every other day as before.
walk or swim on days in between.
add one day of strength training
week three: run 4 out of five days. work on speed this week instead of distance
swimming and strength training twice in this week
week four: run four out of five days. work on distance
strength training two days


Start April 12: I took 8 minutes to run 1/4 mile. So I guess that's a 32 minute mile. hahahaha! excellent. remember, I'm going from not walking and surgery recovery here.


I'd like to do some weight management in here to, so here goes!!


Starting weight: 186 lbs (just had a baby, just had a baby, just had a baby. . . )
Goal weight: 140 lbs


But, let's be realistic here. I think the last time I saw 140 was elementary school! jk. I've always been around 150 so I am comfortable with that. That's more realistic. That's more like real life. . . in Laymon's terms ;)

To Thine Own Self Be True

I should start this new blog by telling the reader about myself. But, I don't know what to say.  It was brought to my attention recently that not only do others not know the real me, but I don't know myself. I am embarking on the great task of rediscovering myself. This task is probably better left to those who have lives worth reading about. But, alas here I am. This blog will serve as my journal from now on. A journal where I can record the events that lead me to self discovery; a place where I can be candid, irreverent, and, well, myself, in hopes that anyone who might read it can be helped in discovering themselves. To anyone who might read this, I warn that as this is serving as my journal I am fair to no one but myself. Or, in other words, reader beware. It should also be said that I have vehemently avoided blogs until now.

This journal was inspired by a very unlikely character. A person from whom I do not normally receive nor seek inspiration from, to be totally honest; my brother in law, whom we'll simply call "Zeb" to protect the innocent. I do not know "Zeb" well, as he keeps to himself. Honestly, I wish I could do that sometimes. It's easier to just keep to yourself and not get too involved with others, sometimes. . . At the beginning of my married life, before I had met "Zeb", I was given several warnings by my in-laws about "Zeb." I was warned of his blunt character, to put it simply. I tried to get to know him and form my own opinion, and thought I had done so successfully. But, a recent unfortunate event occurred in the family. The entire Laymon family spent the longest week of our lives together. During that week we got to know each other a little better. After days of sitting around and marinating ourselves in tears, snot and raw emotion, we decided to have what I call "denial day." We did several things to take our minds off the event throughout the day, and finished it off by going out to dinner. I rode in "Zeb's" car and "Zeb" was driving. My other brother in law and his wife were in the car. We came to an intersection where we needed to turn left, but there was a median preventing it. "Zeb" decided he would turn right and "flip a 'B'." "Flip a what?" I asked him. He said he wouldn't tell me, afraid of offending me. My other brother in law, however, was not so afraid of hurting innocent ears, and told me. I had heard the term "Flip a 'Bitch' before, but just didn't think of that when he said it, I guess. My immediate thought was, "What the HELL?!" (Yes, I say lots of swear words in my head, and even some outside my head if the occasion requires). I thought, "These people don't know me at all." They thought they couldn't say that in front of me. I thought about that for the rest of the evening because it occurred to me that I had spent the past five years of my life putting up a front. I quickly learned of the extreme sensitivity of my husband's family shortly after meeting him. I have been walking on egg shells for five years to avoid hurting feelings (although I will admit, it gets tiring and sometimes I have let the weariness get the better of me and I have not been so careful). But, was it worth it? Was it worth it to walk on those egg shells and put on some kind of show, just so everyone will be happy? What was the result? They were afraid to be themselves around me because of the person I had made myself out to be for them. Then I thought about who I had made myself out to be for other people. Do I not really know my friends because they are making themselves out to be someone "safe" around me? Why have I been so afraid to be myself around others? Perhaps because "conscience does make cowards of us all" and I was afraid of hurting someone. 

I can not tell you the number of times I have come home from a class, a play group, even CHURCH and thought, I'm glad that's over so I don't have to pretend anymore. In reality, I am generally a happy person, but am sad a lot of the time. I am okay with it too. It helps me make the most of the happy moments. I always go out and put on a smile and pretend most everything. There are a few people here whom I feel totally comfortable with. I feel I can go into their homes for play dates and have my frown on and not talk and be totally comfortable. Then there are the other times where I pretend to be the happy housewife who has everything under control and always has a dozen cookies made sitting on a clean plate on a clean table in a clean dining room at the end of the day. But, the reality is that my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder makes me stew over the stupid things I have said or done, and unhappy events that I have experienced in my life. I sometimes relive one specific even from life over and over for a whole day. As I swipe a credit card I don't see the numbers, I see this event. As I hang up the gasoline nozzle I see this event. As I change diapers, make dinner, all the while this event is replaying in my head. It's very difficult to control and often makes me sad. But sometimes, I just want to be sad. It's okay with me to not be happy all the time. 

The reality is that I go to bed at night with dishes from dinner still left on the table and the meal still left in the pot on the stove. The reality is that I leave my son in his overnight diaper until late morning because sometimes I just don't get around to it. The reality is that I eat BROWNIES and COOKIES for BREAKFAST. The reality is that mediocre is acceptable. The reality is that I don't particularly like being around other people, or at least a lot of people. The reality is that I do not work well with others. Nor, do I live well with others, for that matter. The reality is that this is LIFE and I don't want to pretend anymore. It's exhausting and I am done. I am going to be me. But, who is that? That is the purpose of this journal. And, just as everything should be done, I plan to go about this prayerfully and with the Lord on my side. But, I am human, VERY human. This journal will will help me and any other to face life. Because this is Real Life. . .in "Laymon's" terms.