She took it before we were quite ready. I promise this was not at all posed:
And yes, it IS my new facebook profile picture.
28 June 2011
Kodak Moments
My baby sister, her husband, and their first adopted son were (was?) sealed in the temple to their 2nd adopted child on Saturday. Due to some recent unfortunate medical bills as of late, I was unable to attend. We Skyped on Sunday with her and my family members who were at her house. She said to "smile!" so she could take a picture of us through Skype.
She took it before we were quite ready. I promise this was not at all posed:
And yes, it IS my new facebook profile picture.
She took it before we were quite ready. I promise this was not at all posed:
And yes, it IS my new facebook profile picture.
23 June 2011
18 June 2011
Ok, Mom. I Get It. :)
After writing this post 2 days ago, my mother of course sent me some pictures she has of me with my girls. She must have read the blog and most likely had a whole-hearted, reminiscent laugh about the whole thing. I'd seen most of the pictures before, with the exception of this one:
I'm not sure exactly when it was taken, but it looks like Malia has just started taking dance classes and CC is probably napping (if she was a newborn), which tells me I probably shouldn't be en pointe with a fresh cesarean incision (sh!).
17 June 2011
Not the Tough Girl I Thought I Was
Malia has been kind of argumentative as of late. Probably no more so than most children her age, but definitely a lot for her.
Last night, as I was helping her get ready for bed, I asked her if there was a reason behind her feeling the need to argue with me so much.
Her response: "Sometimes I feel just so mad at you inside. I don't know where it comes from. But it makes me so mad."
It was a shock to my system to hear my normally very kind and sweet child with the amicable disposition say these things. And even more a shock for her to say it so matter-of-factly, without batting an eye. It surprised me when I felt a wave of hurt overcome me. I excused myself while she put her pajamas on.
I came back, thinking I was composed, and asked her, "Am I the only person who makes you feel this way? Do you ever feel this way about Daddy or CC or any of your teachers?"
Let me explain to you the objective in such a question: I thought I could use it as a teaching moment to help her understand her emotions and what triggers them and that I could guide her in how to deal with them in a positive way. Maybe explain to her that these feelings don't make her bad, but normal.
But then came another sting. She replied, "Nope. Just you."
It felt worse than when my 5th Grade BFF of 4 years said to me, "I don't want to be friends anymore. This time, for good." And it was for good.
I had to call David in because I didn't know what to say, and my feelings were too hurt to react logically. He explained to Malia that she was lucky to have the Mommy she has and that when I do things that make her mad, it's usually for her benefit; that she has restrictions and is asked to do things because that's how Mommy teaches her to be a better person.
After I tucked her in, and despite her giggles, hugs, and kisses, I felt defeated. I couldn't understand why my heart had been broken so badly by something so seemingly minuscule. Was it because I could see her innocence fading right before my eyes? Or was it just because I took it personally that I was the only person she felt that way about?
And then it hit me: FEAR.
If I can't handle this, there's no WAY I'll be able to handle the teenage version!
Last night, as I was helping her get ready for bed, I asked her if there was a reason behind her feeling the need to argue with me so much.
Her response: "Sometimes I feel just so mad at you inside. I don't know where it comes from. But it makes me so mad."
It was a shock to my system to hear my normally very kind and sweet child with the amicable disposition say these things. And even more a shock for her to say it so matter-of-factly, without batting an eye. It surprised me when I felt a wave of hurt overcome me. I excused myself while she put her pajamas on.
I came back, thinking I was composed, and asked her, "Am I the only person who makes you feel this way? Do you ever feel this way about Daddy or CC or any of your teachers?"
Let me explain to you the objective in such a question: I thought I could use it as a teaching moment to help her understand her emotions and what triggers them and that I could guide her in how to deal with them in a positive way. Maybe explain to her that these feelings don't make her bad, but normal.
But then came another sting. She replied, "Nope. Just you."
It felt worse than when my 5th Grade BFF of 4 years said to me, "I don't want to be friends anymore. This time, for good." And it was for good.
I had to call David in because I didn't know what to say, and my feelings were too hurt to react logically. He explained to Malia that she was lucky to have the Mommy she has and that when I do things that make her mad, it's usually for her benefit; that she has restrictions and is asked to do things because that's how Mommy teaches her to be a better person.
After I tucked her in, and despite her giggles, hugs, and kisses, I felt defeated. I couldn't understand why my heart had been broken so badly by something so seemingly minuscule. Was it because I could see her innocence fading right before my eyes? Or was it just because I took it personally that I was the only person she felt that way about?
And then it hit me: FEAR.
If I can't handle this, there's no WAY I'll be able to handle the teenage version!
... anybody know where I can get me one of these?
15 June 2011
A Stroll Down Memory Lane
Some of you have heard this story before.
Many of you have not.
You're welcome.
Many of you have not.
You're welcome.
9 years ago, today, I sat in the bridal room of the San Diego temple and waited for an angel to appear to me. I'm not speaking metaphorically. I mean that I was waiting for a literal messenger from God. I was dressed and ready to go, and alone with my thoughts. The angel never came to either stop me or push me forward, so I left the room to be sealed to my husband for time and all eternity.
You may think to yourself, "What's with the angel anticipation, Tiff?"
Well, I'll tell you.
When I was 15 years old, I received my Patriarchal Blessing. For those of you who are LDS, you have been reminded many times that these Blessings are not like having your fortune told, and that it's very important to remember that. You also know that some of the promises in these can be more abstractly interpreted and the meanings of some of them change throughout your life. But the part in my blessing that said I would be sealed to a "virtuous young man" who is "careful and circumspect" and "who honors his covenants" seemed to fit my David to a T. The silly anticipation of the angel that I had experienced in the temple came from the promise that I should not "be concerned who [my spouse] should be" because "The Lord will reveal to you in a most understandable way who that should be." The next, final sentence of reassurance had resounded in my soul for years: "There will be no doubt in your mind."
Some of you may say, "Um, Tiff. There's no guarantee or a promise of an angel in what you just quoted." And you'd be right. And to be completely honest? I've never, in my 30 years - and my nearly 22 years then - been one of those people who the Spirit speaks very loudly to. I have an aunt who jokes that when the Lord sent our family to the Earth, He just sort of kicked us out and said, "See ya' when you get back." This is funny mostly because it's gotta be true.
As I mentioned, the angel did not show up, and I continued into the sealing room to be promised to my David for time and all eternity. My family was there. His family was there. And in hindsight, I dare say, even Malia and Cecily were there, in their own way. So there were angels... just no "Mighty Messenger" to verify my little promise.
The day was beautiful. The reception was fine (translation: exhausting). And off we flew, the next morning, to Maui.
48 hours later, disaster struck in many forms:
1) I had already gotten a sunburn, despite caution.
2) I was exHAUSTED. I hadn't slept in nearly 72 hours. And NO! It's not what you're thinking (perverts) - although slightly related. It was due to the presence of a man in my bed. However, while he slept soundly, I battled insomnia because I was an LDS girl who was freaking out that I was sharing a bed with a person who was not a female BFF at a slumber party. And there he was, peacefully snoring contentedly away.
3) Speaking of sharing my bed - I was having a mild identity crisis because so much of my identity in my adolescence was defined by my virginity. It's sad, but that set me apart from so many of my friends. And now, that had changed. That kind of weirded me out.
4) And speaking of my identity - I had finally gotten ok with my maiden name, and I now I had to change that. That was weird to me. I was no longer Tiffany Winkel. And now I was Tiffany Nutter. I was not someone who dealt well with feeling like I didn't know myself. And I'd just realized I had gone from bad to worse in the last name department.
5) PMS. If I had been the kind of girl who's calendar was predictable with a simple counting of 28 days, I could have planned this part better. But I've always been irregular, and due to the stress of preparing for a wedding, that irregularity had been heightened. And now, I was moody, crampy, and anticipating doom for my honeymoon.
6) Bladder infection. My doctor had warned me that it happens to a lot of girls who have never been intimate with a partner before. And she prescribed me medication to bring along on my honeymoon. Did I bring it? Nope. Did I get an infection? Yup.
So, David left our condo to go find something over-the-counter to ease some of the pain of the infection. While he was gone, I sat on the bed with the remote in my hand, but I didn't turn on the TV. Instead, the wheels in my stupid little head began to turn. And, when David returned with the medicine, he found his new bride, sitting on the bed, sobbing hysterically beyond anything he'd yet seen. Mind you, we'd been best friends for 4 months in Japan before we started dating (and that friendship began after a night where I cried in his apartment about my self-esteem), and we dated 11 months before getting engaged, and we were engaged for 3 months, so it's not like he and I hadn't gotten fairly comfortable with each other. It's not like he didn't know he'd married an emotional basket case. Nonetheless, he still hadn't experienced tears like these from me.
I then began my rant:
"We should have never gotten married!!! I was told I'd know without a shadow of a doubt, and I don't!!! You might not even be the right one!!! And now we've been married in the temple and we're stuck for eternity and we don't even know if we chose the right people!!!"
I am not lying or exaggerating. I said those things... and probably worse.
And I continued on in this fashion for a good 15 minutes as he just stood there, pale.
He then carried me into the bathroom, as I continued to rant, filled up the bathtub, gently undressed me, and lowered me into the warm water. We had discovered warm baths seemed to ease the cramps and infection. He sat quietly on the toilet at my side, as I continued to moan and freak out about the mistake we had made.
He then gently lifted me out of the tub, wrapped a towel around me, and carried me back to the bed, all the while, I'm still sobbing and bellowing. He set me on the bed, and went to the other side, sitting down, and listened.
I tantrumed myself into a deep sleep.
I woke, about 30 minutes later, feeling totally embarrassed and ashamed, and looked over at my wonderful new husband, who was sitting on the bed next to me, remote in hand, flipping through channels he obviously wasn't watching, the expression on his face calm.
"I'm sorry, David."
He turned and smiled, and said, "It's ok."
And that was it.
And I knew.
And it turned out that the Lord had sent me an angel to tell me so after all.
You may think to yourself, "What's with the angel anticipation, Tiff?"
Well, I'll tell you.
When I was 15 years old, I received my Patriarchal Blessing. For those of you who are LDS, you have been reminded many times that these Blessings are not like having your fortune told, and that it's very important to remember that. You also know that some of the promises in these can be more abstractly interpreted and the meanings of some of them change throughout your life. But the part in my blessing that said I would be sealed to a "virtuous young man" who is "careful and circumspect" and "who honors his covenants" seemed to fit my David to a T. The silly anticipation of the angel that I had experienced in the temple came from the promise that I should not "be concerned who [my spouse] should be" because "The Lord will reveal to you in a most understandable way who that should be." The next, final sentence of reassurance had resounded in my soul for years: "There will be no doubt in your mind."
Some of you may say, "Um, Tiff. There's no guarantee or a promise of an angel in what you just quoted." And you'd be right. And to be completely honest? I've never, in my 30 years - and my nearly 22 years then - been one of those people who the Spirit speaks very loudly to. I have an aunt who jokes that when the Lord sent our family to the Earth, He just sort of kicked us out and said, "See ya' when you get back." This is funny mostly because it's gotta be true.
As I mentioned, the angel did not show up, and I continued into the sealing room to be promised to my David for time and all eternity. My family was there. His family was there. And in hindsight, I dare say, even Malia and Cecily were there, in their own way. So there were angels... just no "Mighty Messenger" to verify my little promise.
The day was beautiful. The reception was fine (translation: exhausting). And off we flew, the next morning, to Maui.
48 hours later, disaster struck in many forms:
1) I had already gotten a sunburn, despite caution.
2) I was exHAUSTED. I hadn't slept in nearly 72 hours. And NO! It's not what you're thinking (perverts) - although slightly related. It was due to the presence of a man in my bed. However, while he slept soundly, I battled insomnia because I was an LDS girl who was freaking out that I was sharing a bed with a person who was not a female BFF at a slumber party. And there he was, peacefully snoring contentedly away.
3) Speaking of sharing my bed - I was having a mild identity crisis because so much of my identity in my adolescence was defined by my virginity. It's sad, but that set me apart from so many of my friends. And now, that had changed. That kind of weirded me out.
4) And speaking of my identity - I had finally gotten ok with my maiden name, and I now I had to change that. That was weird to me. I was no longer Tiffany Winkel. And now I was Tiffany Nutter. I was not someone who dealt well with feeling like I didn't know myself. And I'd just realized I had gone from bad to worse in the last name department.
5) PMS. If I had been the kind of girl who's calendar was predictable with a simple counting of 28 days, I could have planned this part better. But I've always been irregular, and due to the stress of preparing for a wedding, that irregularity had been heightened. And now, I was moody, crampy, and anticipating doom for my honeymoon.
6) Bladder infection. My doctor had warned me that it happens to a lot of girls who have never been intimate with a partner before. And she prescribed me medication to bring along on my honeymoon. Did I bring it? Nope. Did I get an infection? Yup.
So, David left our condo to go find something over-the-counter to ease some of the pain of the infection. While he was gone, I sat on the bed with the remote in my hand, but I didn't turn on the TV. Instead, the wheels in my stupid little head began to turn. And, when David returned with the medicine, he found his new bride, sitting on the bed, sobbing hysterically beyond anything he'd yet seen. Mind you, we'd been best friends for 4 months in Japan before we started dating (and that friendship began after a night where I cried in his apartment about my self-esteem), and we dated 11 months before getting engaged, and we were engaged for 3 months, so it's not like he and I hadn't gotten fairly comfortable with each other. It's not like he didn't know he'd married an emotional basket case. Nonetheless, he still hadn't experienced tears like these from me.
I then began my rant:
"We should have never gotten married!!! I was told I'd know without a shadow of a doubt, and I don't!!! You might not even be the right one!!! And now we've been married in the temple and we're stuck for eternity and we don't even know if we chose the right people!!!"
I am not lying or exaggerating. I said those things... and probably worse.
And I continued on in this fashion for a good 15 minutes as he just stood there, pale.
He then carried me into the bathroom, as I continued to rant, filled up the bathtub, gently undressed me, and lowered me into the warm water. We had discovered warm baths seemed to ease the cramps and infection. He sat quietly on the toilet at my side, as I continued to moan and freak out about the mistake we had made.
He then gently lifted me out of the tub, wrapped a towel around me, and carried me back to the bed, all the while, I'm still sobbing and bellowing. He set me on the bed, and went to the other side, sitting down, and listened.
I tantrumed myself into a deep sleep.
I woke, about 30 minutes later, feeling totally embarrassed and ashamed, and looked over at my wonderful new husband, who was sitting on the bed next to me, remote in hand, flipping through channels he obviously wasn't watching, the expression on his face calm.
"I'm sorry, David."
He turned and smiled, and said, "It's ok."
And that was it.
And I knew.
And it turned out that the Lord had sent me an angel to tell me so after all.
HAPPY 9th ANNIVERSARY, David! Thanks for putting up with me.
.... here's to 99 more - (Bless your poor soul).
.... here's to 99 more - (Bless your poor soul).
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