The Gift of Face-Pulling

I really think it's a genetic thing. I mean, I know that newborns make funny faces in general, but the rate at which my children pull them seems to be record-breaking.

They get it from their father.... *denial*

This one takes the cake:

I am not too proud

I am a terrible journal-writer. I always have been. I think it's because, for the most part, I wear my heart on my sleeve and am very open and verbal. If something is on my mind... I say it. If I feel something, I share. No need to purge it on paper.

Something that has changed this in me is becoming a mother because I spend my day with small children who I can't really emote to, and I've slowly begun to lose a sense of self. Journal-writing is recommended for those times when one feels low, but I just don't get fulfillment that way. I think that's why I've grown so fond of blogging. I can say what I need to say and feel like there is an adult out there... somewhere... who hears me.

So, why do I say "I am not too proud?" Because I am not to proud to put myself out there in a vulnerable state in order to feel an emotional cleansing of myself and also, maybe, just maybe, someone will empathize or feel a camaraderie... or better yet, know where I'm coming from and find relief in my words.

When Malia was little and constantly screaming, for 2 months, whenever I was in public, I tried to pretend like I was just fine and that I was so happy being a new Mommy.

But I wasn't.

I hated it.

Tremendously.

And I think I had postpartum depression.

Finally, like a volcano, it erupted and I felt like I was going to lose my mind. It isn't in my nature to hold back how I truly feel, and I was almost sick with trying to contain myself. It got to the point that I finally started answering the "how are you?"s honestly.

"Miserable. Exhausted. I hate being a Mom. My child is beautiful, don't get me wrong... but she is driving me insane and I don't want her anymore."

At first, I think it threw people back. LDS women have this terrible habit of trying to appear absolutely perfect, even though they're not. (Psssst: We're not perfect, ladies, in case some of you haven't yet been informed).

It was interesting, however, that, in time, some of my fellow LDS-Mommy-friends started coming to me in private and telling me that they knew how I felt and how they were so relieved they could come to me and be honest about their feelings and not feel judged.

Interesting, indeed.

So, now... I let it out again. Cecily is 5 weeks old tomorrow. And while a day or 2 goes by where I start to think, "Ok. I can do this. I'm getting the hang of this," it doesn't take long for my feelings of inadequacy and frustration to rear their ugly heads.

I. don't. do. newborns.

I just don't.

I'm trying. And she's beautiful. And while she has reflux and major issues with gas, she definitely ain't no colicky Malia. But I hate these moments where I just feel so lost. I have moments where I think back to having only one child, and I sigh with nostalgia. And I'm not going to be too proud to admit this, because, if I am, then I will never be able to overcome those feelings.

Here's my crux, however: I truly believe these feelings would be fewer and farther between if I could learn to lighten up a little and take less control in these early days. Malia's colic was so severe that once it was gone and I was able to get her on a schedule, I became a Nazi about it because of the immense relief a schedule finally brought. And now, here I am with a small one who is just over a month old, and I'm trying so hard to get her on a schedule that when she doesn't conform, I am reduced to one of 2 things: tears or rage.

Embarrassing, huh?

I need to learn to let it go. At least until she's a little older, right? I know. I've told myself this so many times, but it only registers in my brain... it doesn't transfer to the soul.

When I worked in Japan, I was very anxious for the year contract to be over because I wanted to be back home in America with my family and friends and all the money that job was bringing in. I wanted it to be over, and I've since regretted being that way because I missed a lot of the beauty of Japan. I never learned the language. I saw very few of the awesome sites. I didn't even go to Tokyo Disney! *gasp!*

Because I've regretted that ever since, I've been trying to make a change in my life to enjoy the now and not look forward to when things will get "better."

So - I've been wearing this necklace every day since coming home from the hospital with Cecily:


... because I find myself saying, "When Cecily is a year old, then I'll find my niche and we'll be happy and things'll be good. Then I'll feel sane again. We just need to make it to that mark. Even 6 months. I'll take 6 months."

But I learned that time flies. Although Malia's 1st 6 months of life DRAGGED ON! ... I can't believe she's 3, now! And it will be the same with Cecily. It just doesn't feel that way right now.

And I truly believe I may have PPD... in fact, I'm almost sure. And I am not too proud to admit that. Not anymore.

And that's why I have to blog. I needed someone to "hear" me say that...

As per a friend's request...

Ok - so I am totally against people who try to make excuses for themselves. Really. It's annoying. And it's a cardinal rule for auditions: Never try to make excuses. Just do it. (None of this, "I've been sick" or "It's really dry in here" or "My dog ate my vocal cords" crap).

But a couple of my friends asked me to post a video of me singing "Defying Gravity" from the musical "Wicked." I don't have enough means, time, sanity, or clean clothes to make a newer recording, so I'm just going to post this one from a high school choir reunion 3 years back. It's the same day as the "Wizard & I" recording I sent in for the Wannabe Wicked contest, but a different performance (the 2nd one).

Now for the above-mentioned disclaimer: I didn't get on stage to sing this until 11 pm that night. That wouldn't usually be a problem, except that I'd been pretty much belting it out ALL DAY LONG. And this was also when Malia was only 3 1/2 months old, which means we were still in the midst of her colic and so I hadn't been up past 8:30 PM in a couple of months. Thus - I was already exHAUSTed by 11 and somewhat dillusional (I cried the whole drive home - I was that tired). Having said that...

...I am kind of pitchy in this recording. I go painfully flat a few times (which is not typical for me). I do a lot of things wrong, but going flat is usually not one of those things. Please forgive. Or just don't watch. Either or.

P.S. I know I sway a lot. It's my stage "ism." I've been trying to stifle it for years. Haven't mastered it, yet.

3 decades ago...

... at 5:45 PM on epiphany day of 1979 (January 6th), David Benjamin Nutter was born to his parents in Mesa, Arizona. And my life is all the better because of that day.

30 reasons why I love David:

30. He will finish the food on my plate if I feel guilty about throwing it away.

29. When I ask him for some "me time" to sing at the piano for a little while, he never bats an eye and always says, "sure."

28. He has a very strong work ethic.

27. His sense of humor is incredibly quirky, but once you get used to it, the guy really is a crack-up.

26. He is very handsome. SO handsome, in fact, that I usually feel guilty when we go somewhere together at the end of the day, and me with no make-up, sweats on, covered in spit-up, etc.

25. If there is a person at a social gathering that just doesn't seem to be finding their niche (the outcast, so to speak), he spots them immediately and approaches them... and they never seem uncomfortable.

24. He survived a lot of family dysfunction growing up, but never places any blame anywhere.

23. He's honest with me about my flaws... and doesn't back down, even when I cry or start going a little whack-o.

22. We've been able to perform together, and that's awesome. And there isn't any sort of competition between us, which is SO awesome.

21. I trust him entirely as the final decision-maker in the family.

20. He is so ridiculously frugal. (it's a good balance for my spending habits).

19. He makes up funny little songs and sayings using our daughters' names, some of which Malia has memorized and sings like they're real songs.

18. I never had a single fear that he wouldn't be a good father.

17. He is very loyal. Even when he doesn't like me, I know he will stick by me... even with the stretch marks (and boy are there stretch marks).

16. A lot of people are either right or left-brained. But he has a healthy balance of both. He's not only artistically talented/creative but he's also very smart in math & science.

15. We have a love of the stage in common and it's comforting to be able to share empathy with each other knowing we've both sacrificed that for the greater good of our family and our faith.

14. He is humble.

13. He almost always says "sorry" first.

12. We've kissed the same amount of people. We were each others 7th, so there isn't an unhealthy competition between us. PLUS - he doesn't talk about his ex-girlfriends... I talk about them more than he does... hee hee.

11. He's from Seattle. I know that seems like a weird thing to love, but I always feel cool when I tell people my husband's from Seattle. Dunno why.

10. He's very affectionate to everyone. I've never been very affectionate, but having him around, I kind of have to overcome that barrier. He hugs my siblings before I do. He's a great ice-breaker that way.

9. He is the only person I know of who made a ridiculous request like, "hey, how 'bout some ice cream?" at 11:45 PM on New Year's Eve to my dad... and my dad actually went and got some! (You have to know my dad to know the miracle there).

8. He will never go bald. There's no way.

7. Even when he's not working out or eating the best, he has a great build. Broad shoulders. Strong back. Nice pecs. What, TMI? Trust me. I stopped myself plenty. ;)

6. I credit his genetics for my daughters' good looks. Seriously, where else would they get those eyelashes?!

5. He explains things to me without making me feel dumb (an issue of pride for me).

4. He's ok with the fact (or pretends to be, anyway) that I will most likely go nuts before menopause as evidenced in my female family history.

3. He's a voice of reason.

2. He holds the Priesthood worthily and has an unwavering testimony. He's quiet about it, though. He bears his testimony through an amazing example.

1. He loves me.

(Interesting how, at first, I thought I'd have a hard time with 30 things, but now I actually have more that I'm, sadly, leaving out at this point....)

HAPPY 30th, Davey! We LOVE you!

Davey as Puck in Midsummer Night's Dream when he was in 6th grade.

Playing Lt. Cable in "South Pacific" in high school. (Isn't he CUTE)?!


With his buddy, Parnell.


Being a dork on his mission.


Being awesome on his mission.

With some of his favorite buddies at home in Issaquah, WA.

As Ferdinand, in the Hollywood Hi-Tones, at Universal Studios Japan.

With his brother, Derek.

Playin' the skins at my sister's wedding reception.

He did a lot of this while going to BYU.

But eventually did this with a BA and an MS.

I will always love the kid inside him, no matter how old he gets.

To my sweet Lili-bug

Dearest Malia,


Whenever I write you these letters, I try to update it with milestones and little anecdotes of cute things you've recently done or said. But as I am feeling a little overwhelmed with this "parenting 2 kids" thing, I feel I have some things I really need to say to you. You won't understand a lot of it right now, but I'm hoping that, in the future, you will see a humble side to Mommy that you will appreciate, respect, and empathize with.

Having a new baby sister has been hard on you. Now, I anticipated this. I knew the family dynamic would change. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. You haven't really "acted out," so to speak. But I can tell there is a definite change with how you feel you fit into Mommy's life now. We were best buds, you & I. Attached constantly and having nothing but fun and laughs. Now, you're lucky to get a consolidated hour of real good playtime from me, without being interrupted by me needing to nurse, change, burp, rock, or put your new sister to sleep. I can sense it wearing on you. Even more so, Mommy & Daddy are tired and tense and we haven't been very good at hiding this from you. And those are the moments I realize that, bless your heart, this is hard for you, too.

But I want to tell you I appreciate how hard you are trying to be a trooper. Despite the occasional breakdown or fussing, you've, generally, stuck to trying to be your sweet, cheerful self. You go to bed when told. You eat your food... sometimes... when told. But what breaks my heart is when you are asking for "Mommy" and I'm too busy with your sister to come and so I send your Father which seems to upset you more, no matter how hard (bless him) he tries.

I hope that some day you will realize that your baby sister relies, at this time in her life, entirely on your Mommy to survive. It isn't that I love either of you more or less, but that your needs are different. And I want you to know that Mommy's heart hurts when yours does. And most importantly, that Mommy is sorry for the times she gets tense and snaps at you more quickly and more loudly than usual... because Mommy is just really tired and over-whelmed. I want to always be open and humble enough with you to be able to admit to you when I've messed up. Two nights ago, I came into your room after you'd already been tucked in (a cardinal rule I swore I'd never break) to apologize to you for being short with you that day, and you smiled and said, "It's ok, Mommy" without a pause or even a hint of animosity. Whether that's an incredible capacity to forgive, or just a really short-term memory on your part, I don't know. But I appreciated it just the same, and your sweet hug was just the thing I needed to help me calm down before a sleepless night of baby gas bubbles and middle-of-the-night feedings.


I love you, so much. And I will always try my very best to be able to step down from the "Parenting Pedestal" and look you even in the eyes and say, "I'm sorry" when it's due. Please keep trying to be a good girl. This time will pass and soon your little sister will go from being an obstacle or vegetable and she'll become someone you can play with. You'll find your groove again. You're smart. You'll figure it out. And when you do...

...could you tell Mommy how to do the same...?