"There Are Dreams That Cannot Be and There Are Storms We Cannot Weather"

Fear does not typically regulate my life. There are very few actual fears which elicit terror in me.

Spiders have been known to on occasion and I despise basements for this sole reason. If need be I can muster the courage to take one out and win every time. Each kill a small victory over fear of such miniscule beasts. My biggest fear, if I'm honestly admitting, is the fear of failure or rejection. They are one and the same for me. This fear likely regulates more in my daily life than I care to think about or divulge. A sad tale to be sure. Steadily, silent victories put me one step closer to kicking failure or rejection to the curb. For now though, the three of us are sitting over in the tall grass and getting mighty sick of it.

A new fear has been creeping its tentacles ever so slowly around me. Threatening to swallow me whole. For years I have been sinking under its pressure, riding its tide in and out of my life. Only recently have I given it a name and understood it more fully. I fear suffocating.

Not in a typical sense of literally not being able to breathe, but as a metaphor for not being able to keep breathing the way I planned, the way I dreamed. I fear I may suffocate if personal plans change, if my dreams go a rye. I fear that I am literally suffocating or being suffocated.
Extinguished out.
Kaput.
Done.

This has me grappling for firm soil and figuring out just what my roots are. It has me reaffirming my faith in my beliefs. It has me fighting hard to maintain personal dreams, beliefs, and ambitions. I feel that while I'm in the box, per say, there is a means out, shortly. But sometimes I wonder if I am just in the thick of change making its way for the better and I am resisting. Oh am I resisting and quite frankly, losing. I don't want to lose.

Which leads me to yesterday.

Yesterday I felt like a piece of paper whose corners and edges were burning, the white spaces disappearing and dwindling in the fight. I gave in allowing the flames to lick me up. I got sad. Then I got mad and cleaned the house in a wild furry and lashed out at everybody. When I finished that, I began to finish quilting Mick's late birthday present. At such a hurried angered pace I cried my eyeballs out and tired not to drip snot on the deep blue fabric.

In short. It was an ugly sight. I felt suffocated by my beautiful, great, miserable life that I feel like is never how I want it to be. How can I feel like this? I get angry at myself for having to ask myself this question.

The older I get, the more I take on, the less I feel my life is mine. In an effort to give my best, and I always try to give it my best, I have to let some things slide. When I rid them, then I feel hopeless and suffocated as if nothing will change. Because those things that slide or have to be removed to let other things in, are my things. My things. Things rooted so deep in me that at times it is terribly painful to see them being forced out.

Do all dreams have to die? Do all our mortal plans have to be snuffed out for the benefit of something better that we cannot understand? Is this what growing up means and I have finally, after 35 years, attained grown up status... well almost? If it is, my whole heart screams in rebellion.

I just want to be me. All of me. I like the parts that seem to be fading. I need them. I crave them like chocolate or oatmeal for breakfast. I need to chase my dreams and have them come true.

So what did Mick do during my tyraid?

Poor guy doesn't always know what to do when I blow my top. He stared at me a while, no doubt in awe of the spectacle performance. He says he's thinking when he does that. I finally calmed down and came into reality when the baby needed to eat- always doing the best I can, the best I should. In the meantime Mick had organized a relief party of one. Katrina the babysitter would come a few short hours later and he would take the three big kids out to lunch and grocery shopping.

What a gem!

I got the baby to bed. Finished the quilt. Packed it all away, cleaned some more and took a nice long hot shower to get ready for our impending date. We were going to see Les Miserables. How fitting.

Fear of suffocation was leaving me. Hope was starting to show up.

We stopped by a quaint little antique shop in town, tried to buy a crepe- too busy- and made our way to see Les Miserables.

Though not forced into prostitution to save my child and myself after many physical and emotional hardships, my heart felt true solidarity and empathy as Fantine (Anne Hathaway) sang "I dreamed a dream". Never before have I sat in a darkened theater and wept along with an actress on the big screen feeling similar feeling in my heart. Just that day, a mere hours earlier I told Mick that I felt like I was living someone's dream, everyone else's dream, but not mine. I wanted to live mine. What about my dreams? I asked him. I have always done what I'm told, done what I should, done what is best or good or right. What about the dreams I have wanted for my life that get swept under the carpet for later or never? When can I have them be mine? I have made all the choices that led me here and here is a fine spot, I just want better.

Fantine, how I understood your heart.

On the drive home Mick says taking my hand, "You know that one song Anne Hathaway sang by herself after her hair was cut".
"Yes", I replied as tears returned to my eyes remembering my empathy.
"Her singing that song helped me understand where you were coming from today". He reassured me that things will get better. "Just think of all the older ladies you know. They've done it all. They made it through life." He reminded me that my dreams will come. That I can do these hard things right now, today.

Thank you Fantine, for dreaming a dream and not being afraid to admit it was far different from your reality. 
 http://www.metatube.com/en/videos/165246/Anne-Hathaway-Sings-I-Dreamed-A-Dream-FULL-SONG-From-Les-Miserables/
Thank you Anne Hathaway, for one-take acting/singing wonders that stirred mine and my husband's heart.
Thank you Mick, for understanding.

        

What does marriage mean?

Tomorrow my brother is wedding his three year(+) girlfriend Shawna, in a short backyard ceremony. Then they are off to Hawaii. I'm thrilled for them. Hawaii and marriage. Jeff has craved a stable companion, someone to come home too, for quite a while. When Shawna proposed, of course he said yes.

With Jeff and Shawna's impending wedding, my 12 year anniversary has passed. “What does it mean to be married”  is a question I've asked myself several times as of late. Twelve years is long time. A short time. Possibly each day I'm learning the answer to that question. 

I remembered the confident security of Mick and I's decision to marry. It did not come lightly for me. I was young. We were both young. I wanted to finish school. I wanted Mick to finish school. A lifetime laying  before us both. Could we join two together and create one? I loved Mick, but was that enough? "What if you die on me" was my fear, "then what?".  Taking my choice to the Lord I was blessed to go forward with faith, trusting in my decision. 

Our blistering hot wedding day flew by in a hurry. Early morning hair with good friends, little make-up and I was ready for the start of a life changing day. Against mom's wishes of the groom seeing the bride before the wedding, Mick picked me up and we drove that early morning to the temple. He looked so calm, clean, handsome and happy. I felt like a Queen riding off into the sunrise with in the Bronco with His Royal Handsomeness. Every bride should be escorted to her wedding by her fiancee.  

Sixty-nine brides were wed that same day. Mass production, LDS style. Dressed in our wedding white, a temple matron joined Mick and I together and lead us up to the Celestial room to await our turn for the next available sealing room. When the elevator door opened the room looked like heaven. Rays from the brightest sunrise poured through stained glass windows and reflected off a giant chandelier causing every surface to glisten and sparkle. We sat side by side on a love seat, holding hands, soon to be man and wife. An overwhelming confirmation of assurance and love filled my entire being, so much so that it pushed nearly every ounce of water out my tear ducts and down my face. Good thing for little make-up.

A sealing ceremony, of which I remember very little (due to over productive tear ducts), was performed with most of Mick's family and few of mine in attendance. Just like that, with one word of acceptance from both of us making covenants with each other and God; we kissed, exchanged rings and were officially married. All my worries, fears and the challenges of engagement were gone. Only peace, security and hope remained. I had made the right choice and felt it.

Then the first year as Mr. and Mrs. Perkins began. It held both hard and easy times. A case of an independent female and an over protective male. It was slightly stifling, or out of control depending on whose opinion you took. We worked out the kinks with love notes, Friday night mouse hunting dates, working hard and putting each other through school.

Pivotal points when we grew together consisted of job searches, graduations, home buying, and birthing children. Ironically those same things have separated us by our differing opinions. Mick and I are night and day, black and white in almost every aspect of life. For the most part our hobbies, interests, likes and dislikes complement each other in their opposition. All the other times, they usually only seem to irritate the independent one. Compromise has always been the key, though not always pleasant. Happiness comes when we have tried to put the others happiness above our own and love each other in the way we both need it. We seem to relearn this on a daily basis but after 12 years, are getting better.

I'm grateful I went on love and faith and became Mick's companion. I'm so grateful I had half of a 21 year old brain to not let him go. I'm grateful to have him in my life. So grateful that our love, although different now, has grown exponentially over time to become indescribable.

I love Mick so much. He really is my best friend. After 12 years he will often surprise me with his reaction, understanding, and kind words when I need them most. Could we finally be understanding one another? Not a day goes by that I imagine life to be much different when it comes to the basics: a man who loves and respects me, a husband that fills his spiritual and temporal roles as a great provider, husband and daddy; and (mostly) happy children to make up our crazy family.

Marriage is not always a walk in the park, but those great moments spent in the park make up for all the garbage that's littered around in between visits. I look forward to many more walks in the park and a little less litter which always seems to challenge my faith. Maybe this is what it means to be married.

A Fun First.

(One of the many love notes Mick left me along the ski track)

Last weekend, Mick and I had a lovers get away with Jesi and Tyson up at Bear Lake. They hold a time share in a resort company and invited us up for a relaxing snowy weekend. The invitation could not have come at a better time of year. Cabin fever was creeping in on me.

Mick and I spent the first part of Saturday cross country skiing. Having just watched the Olympics, we were feeling hopeful that we could attempt such a feat. As we made our way around the 5K course below Beaver mountain, we had our work cut out for us as we tried to teach ourselves based on the previous weeks TV 'lessons'. Who better to teach us then the Olympians themselves, right?

We did awesome going uphill, minus two falls straight back on my BUTT, out of nowhere! After my old woman brain was jilted, I learned real quick that balance was key. Toes can only grip so hard without having heals locked into a binding.

Mick won Gold for Most Awesome Fall. In fact I could almost give him the Silver Medal as well. As we skied to the crest of our first big hill, people at the bottom were cheering us on and ringing cowbells. Apparently they thought we were part of the Special Olympic competition that was occurring. Oh, we were special all right, but those Special Olympians were awesome! One schooled right past us with no fear of the ity bity hill that made Mick and I cower.


With the crowd watching, I made Mick attempt the hill first. He was sailing down the track, head up, knees slightly bent, looking confident and picking up speed. At that point I would have wagered my life that he would survive the hill, spill free. In a split second and only half way down- WHAM! he takes a face plant, receiving a serious white wash and then turns to me with a smile and powder falling from his face. I laughed myself silly until I worried he had hurt his knee.

Good times! I only wished I had recorded this medal winning fall.

I fell in love with cross country and made Mick take me again on our way home. He was not so eager, but had a good attitude of trying it again. The wind in my hair as I sailed around the sunny course felt awesome! Our hope is to get the girls up for lessons with Nordic United next winter. Mick and I might need lessons too. I would really love to learn the 'skate'. You know, where your legs and skis are in the inverted 'pizza' position of downhill skiing. That sucker made me fall every time I attempted it!


We met up with the Payne's and celebrated Jesi's Leap Day birthday by going to the "Free Garden City Ice Rink" where there were "free skates".

We quickly learned why the rink and skates were free. The ice was slushy from sunshine, and by the time we found a suitable pair of free antique skates, which were coincidentally next to a toilet...

...we all wanted to shrivel in pain from lack of support from old leather.

We opted for playing the most awesome game of skate-less ice Horse Hockey with the 'special', free hockey sticks. SWEET! Jesi made me a ho, hore and horse before I knew it with all her mad Hockey Horse tricks. Tyson ended up victorious when all competitive Mick wanted to do was WIN! Next time Mick, next time.

Here's a few of our skills.

Needless to say, we all soaked really well in the hot tub that night, went to bed before midnight and slept until 8:30. The things adults can do without kids in toe!

The following Monday before I returned our rented skis, Abbie and I hit the Country Club for a jaunt around the golf course. Abbie in the pulk with me pulling. Ironically, I never fell backward this trip. Abbie must have balanced me out. Talk about exhaustion!

What a great weekend with Mick and good friends!

Next item of business- buy some cross country skis for next season.

A Short Story on the Progress of Opposite People Making Marriage Work- The Great Divide.

Mick called and asked me out for an LNO this weekend.

"An LNO?", I asked, unsure I heard him correctly.

"Yeah, you know... a Lovers Night Out"?
How could I refuse after such swooning and the cute use of a new acronym?

"Sure!" I say happily with only a slight tinge of the dreaded Who Should We Get to Babysit syndrome. Actively dating Mick is hard to come by around these parts. Mostly from time, but also from conflicting interests. If our opposites at one point in time attracted us, now coupled with having kids in tow, they separate us. It is so much easier to just have one of us stay home with the kids while the other heads out for their intended activity. I have to consciously remind myself that different is good, and that because of Mick and I's differences- life never gets dull and boring. It is all about the give and take. I was ready for the take.
 
 "I really want to rent some cross country skis and head out, just you and I, one of these days", I say excitedly. The silence that persisted on the line lead me to realize that his idea of our LNO did not entail a winter filled day honing our cross county skiing skills. Out pops my next thought in an attempt to make up for my over excitement and so as not to squash his- " I guess that won't work this weekend since I'm already taking Aspen skiing on Wednesday, huh, what were you thinking we could do?"

Sacrifice, sacrifice. Clearly it was my turn to give.

Here in lies the great divide:

"Well, there is a basketball game on Saturday, or we can use my new movie gift cards I got from work", he says.

"I'm not up for basketball", I tell him. It took me eleven years, but I've learned that a date to a sporting event usually ends up with Mick voicing his frustrations about player performances, coaching calls or him yelling remarks at hot headed referees. This is great for Mick, and part of the passion he has that I admire in him, but it's so far removed from sweet heart warming nothings being whispered in my ear, or romantic gestures, that I tend to shut down and get slightly ornery thinking that I just wasted a perfectly good babysitter and a few hours of peace on a loud, noisy crowd-frenzied game. I don't mean to portray that I do not like going to  sporting events with Mick, nor do I condemn Mick and his love of all things Aggie. I'm really glad he likes those things, but I just cannot term a sporting event as a date anymore. It is crushing. I'll let him have a night out with the guys for that.

My idea of a night out with my man is quiet conversation, a walk under the stars, a session at the temple, a bike ride to dinner and music at sunset, camping all cozy together, cross country skiing while helping each other and laughing ourselves silly over our follies. Now those sounds like dates. The list could go on. 

The next best choice he offered was a movie. Then came the talk about movies and how I was wishing Dear John was in theaters already so we could go to that for free. It is my favorite book and I cannot wait to see it. Clearly I was forgetting it was my turn to give. Foot in mouth again.

"You don't want to see Avatar?", he questions. He's been dying to see this blockbuster for weeks. This I know.

"Sure, let's just find a sitter"!

Oh, the things we do for love. Here's hoping for the slightest hint of romance in Avatar's plot to sustain me, and maybe a little hand holding across the seats.

Dear Mick, (August 14, 2009)

Dear Mick,

Considering that we have been married now for 11 years, and the fact that I'm a music fanatic, how is it that we have not yet established 'our song'? One or two songs over the years we have equally appreciated and blared repeatedly on the truck or home stereo. Romantic love songs? No, you are not that mushy. Romance is where I come in. Possibly our taste in 'our song' has changed as frequently as our lives have through the years.

During our dating it was Sex and Candy by Cathrine Wheel, nearly anything Matchbox Twenty; or the sultry sound of Chris Isaak amid kisses in a blueberry scented candle lit room.

True Companion by Mark Cohen lasted us through the first few years of marriage when we were dirt poor college students barely able to scrape pennies together for text books, gas or food, let alone new music; all the while blissfully in love and figuring out life as two.

Songs like This Years Love, by David Grey, For My Wedding by Don Henley, Morning song by Jewel, Fireflies and Stealing kisses, by Faith Hill helped me survive and reminded me of you on my lonely single parent days when you were constantly away from home either working or going to school.

A few years back you introduced me to Love Remains by Gavin Rossdale. The line “I never thought that I had anymore to give, your pushing me so far", was a reminder of how far we've come, what life we have experienced together and the depth our love had taken us thus far.

This year, I think I may have finally found our song. I'm certain it may not be on your top 100 favorite songs list, but given a chance I know you will appreciate it. Life seems to flap it's wings and we continue on with our daily nest building and forget that the love we share is sweet and pure. How much longer do we have?

Kisses by Aslyn

It happened again, I ran out the door without a warning.

I didn't say goodbye, somehow it got lost last night or this morning.

But on my way something told me that my moments are not to choose.

No. And so I turned around and went back.

I said baby I'm here and I love you.

I love you!

How many days do we have? How many moments to live? How many golden chances to forgive? Too many things on the shelf. Too many thoughts of myself. How many kisses? How many kisses are left?

Days come and go like a parade of good intentions.

Problems left undone and thank yous failed to mention.

But time is the only enemy.

So baby how long will we fail to see that we don't know ahead of time when it's our time to leave?

So tell me, how many days do we have? How many moments to live? How many golden chances to forgive? Too many things on the shelf. Too many thoughts of myself. How many kisses? How many kisses are left?

How many days? How many nights? How many kisses in this life?

How many days? How many nights? How many kisses in this life?

How many days do we have, How many moments to live? How many golden chances to forgive? Too many things on the shelf. Too many thoughts of myself. How many kisses? How many kisses are left?

Happy 11 years Mick, I love you!

Jen

Quick Travel

Grandma Perkins gave Mick and I some much needed R&R when she borrowed the children for Valentines Day. I should admit that we lent them to her from the bottom of our giving hearts, but really we were just ready for a get away and she willfully obliged. I had to remind myself that time with grandma and grandpa is just as vital for the girls as was our top priority- time alone as a couple. I love when Mick and I are able to get reacquainted as the love birds we once were all the while knowing the children are well taken care of.

Our Destination: Boise, Idaho.

(I loved this Pink door in downtown Boise)

Why: A bigger city far enough away from the norm, close enough that the truck could venture without incident and where the 17th ranked Aggies just happened to be playing ball. Need I mention Mick and his love for the Aggies.

Highlights: 3 1/2 hours- there and back- for non censored adult conversation.
A delicious intimate dinner date at P.F. Chang's minus multiple trips to the 'potty'.
47 degree weather for hand in hand walks around red brick downtown Boise.
Aggie Basketball vs Boise State-for Mick.

(Spectrum on wheels)

Seeing my old college roommate and friend Rani, meeting her husband, and updating life stories after 10 years of separation! The time unfortunately too short.

A complete Othello shutout on my part, all white is a pretty sight on that green board.
Good hotel pillows!

Cuddles with my man!
Waking up late and undisturbed!
Hot breakfast made and cleaned up by others hands.
Spotting semi's with a tumbleweed stuck to their grill.

Listening to 'old' tunes.

(I was trying to record Mick singing to Van Halen, but he caught me!)

Seeing the always impressive site of a full grown tree farm, complete with a 'for sale' sign, and feeling chills upon contemplating the human lifespan of love, cultivation, and dedication to seeing nature through.

Being greeted home by my seven year old running out in the snow with her sock covered feet and arms full of homemade Valentines just for me!

Thank you Ruth, what a welcome reprieve it was! Are you currently accepting reservations for 2010?