Supporting Friends with Children in the Hospital

By Tracy
Introduced by Amy

Here's another post by Tracy, my fabulous second cousin who I met for the first time in a college art class.  (She grew up in Alaska and I grew up in Idaho...we were friends for months before we realized we were related!)  I love this post she wrote for her blog (The Podge Files....check it out!) so of course I wanted her to share it with you!  :) 

This girl is a hero to me.  And, this post comes from personal experience, when her own sweet baby boy passed away.  (Read his story here)   I think it's common to feel at a loss of how to help when a friend or family member is going through a huge trial...I get all worried about saying/doing the right thing, then by default, I end up choosing the worst option: doing nothing.  That's why I love Tracy's ideas: they are practical, useful, thoughtful, and loving.  I know you'll find them helpful too! :)
-Amy

I was inspired by a recent post on Design Mom about how to support your friends who have children in the hospital.  There were so many wonderful suggestions in the article and in the comments.  It made me think about all the things I found helpful when Peter was in the hospital, and even after when he was home with hospice care before he died.  I decided to share the thoughts that came to mind that I might not have shared before and echo the sentiments shared in the article.  (See my previous post What to Say When You Don't Know What to Say, for more ideas.)

 Things that I found helpful:

1. A Sibling Gift Bag: Zach's boss and his wife visited us in the hospital and brought us flowers, a baby gift for Peter, as well as a gift bag for Lucy that contained a coloring book and stuffed animal.  It was so thoughtful of them to think of her, and it was helpful to have something special for her to play with and entertain her when she visited us in the hospital.

2. Mom Gift Bag: Some of the lovely ladies I served with at church visited me right after Peter was born and brought me flowers, nail polish, lotion, and chocolate chip cookies.  It was such a nice treat to receive a gift that was for me instead of just something for the baby.  I had never thought of giving a gift for the new momma.  It was nice to be able to spend a few moments on myself painting my nails during one of the many days I spent in the hospital.  Especially since if I was in my room, I was usually alone while Peter was in the NICU.

3. Snacks: You can't always get room service, and the cafeteria isn't always open when you are hungry.  Several friends brought snacks for me to put in my nightstand drawer so I would have something to eat if I needed it.  This food came in handy when I got hungry in the middle of the night, and needed something to eat while doing a 3am breast milk pumping session.

4. Time Away: My step-mom took me to get frozen yogurt one afternoon while she and my father were visiting.  We had spent the day at the hospital and it was nice to just have a break from the hospital room, go somewhere else, and take a mental and physical break.  My first night away from the hospital after being released was an emotional one.  It was so hard to leave without Peter.  Something that helped was having our friends over that evening to play games like we normally would on a Friday night.  We played games and didn't really talk too much about what was happening in our life.  It was so nice to just have a break and focus on something else for a short while and feel a bit of normalcy.  It was also really refreshing to take a real shower and sleep in a good bed for a night before heading back to the hospital the next morning.

 5. Prayers: I believe one of the reasons we were blessed to be able to deal and cope with the tragedy of losing a child so well was the power of prayer on our behalf from friends, family, and in some cases strangers.  I was so touched to know that nurses and doctors who were caring for me and Peter were praying for us.  What I loved even more was that they were not afraid to tell us that they were praying for us, even if they were not of our faith, or barely knew us.  There is power in prayer.  Knowing that people were praying for us helped buoy us up.

6. Attention for Lucy: It was so helpful to have family come and visit during this time.  Not only so that they could meet Peter, but also for the emotional support, as well as the help and attention they gave to Lucy.  We always had someone to watch her, and even after family left, friends were willing to come over and take Lucy on walks to go "cat hunting" and read stories with her.  It was so nice to have other people who were able to give Lucy one-on-one attention while we were trying to care for Peter while he was alive, as well as trying to prepare and make arrangements for his death and funeral.

Ideas from the post that I loved:

1. Roll of quarters: For buying snacks from the vending machines at the hospital.

2. Gas cards: Many people have to travel back and forth from home to the hospital. Gas adds up.

3. Mom Gift Bag: Some additional things mentioned in the comments that I thought were a great idea were: a novel to read, DVDs to watch in the hospital room, and board/card games

4. Money: For parking.  I had never thought of the fact that some places might charge you for parking.  That would really add up if you were visiting a family member at the hospital for months at a time.

5. Offer to be a spokesperson: This idea is so good!  This comment made by Leah sums it up perfectly: "One other idea is to offer to be the spokesperson for the family. Though well-meaning, people often ask lots and lots of questions and it is tiresome to keep repeating the same (sad) story.  With a spokesperson, you only have to tell the story once and the spokesperson communicates it to (and fields questions from) everyone else."  I had a friend offer to be a spokesperson for me when I was pregnant with Peter when we weren't sure if he was okay or not.  At the time I was serving as a leader in the children's organization of our church and so didn't interact with other adults very much on Sunday.  My friend was in the loop on the status of my pregnancy and if it was going well or not, and let the president of the women's organization know what was going on and updated her so I didn't have to.  They also announced in the women's meeting that there were some unanswered questions about the health of my unborn baby, that it was a sensitive topic, and that I would appreciate it if people didn't come up to me and ask me about my pregnancy unless I brought it up myself, and that if they wanted to know updates to ask the Presidency.  This was a huge help to me.  After Peter was born I used facebook and my blog to share updates with everyone at once.

The main takeaway message should be that trying to reach out in love, and even saying that you don't know what to say is better than doing and saying nothing.  One of my favorite quotes is: "When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do.  Think up something appropriate and do it." -Edgar Watson Howe

Hopefully this list (or this one) can help you think of something appropriate!  Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned. 

What other suggestions do you have?  I would love to hear the kind things someone has done for you in your time of need that you found helpful.
-Tracy 

Weren't those ideas so good!?  She's amazing.  It's so nice to have some direction in this area.  I especially love that quote about small deeds done...that's needs be a magnet on my fridge, or a flashing neon sign on my bathroom mirror--something like that. :)

If you found this post helpful, please Like below and then Share with others so they can use these ideas too!  Thank you! :) 
-Amy

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Southernized

By Erica 
Introduced by Amy

Erica and I grew up going to the same church, though I was a few years older than her.  She is super funny and cool...I totally wish I had gotten to know her better back in the day!  I am blown away by her courage; it would not be easy to move far away from friends and family with a little kiddio and babe on the way!  I also completely related to the process she went through to find the good in her new home.  It's nice to know I'm not the only one who takes a while to "cheerfully adjust" to situations that are new and/or less comfortable.  She amazes me!  I hope you enjoy her candid story as much as I did. 
-Amy
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I used to think that I was spontaneous, fun-loving and audacious.  I was wrong.  Dead wrong.  I found out early this year that I am a true homebody with no sense of adventure at all.  It was a tough break and a very eye opening realization.

My husband, Austin, graduated from Brigham Young University in December 2012 and we spent the next couple of months in my parents basement in Idaho searching for a “real” job.  It was fun and romantic imagining our lives in another state, somewhere we'd never been before.  It was a new beginning for our little family. And then ... we weren't imagining anymore.  Suddenly, I found myself 34 weeks pregnant, in an airplane, with a screaming one year old squirming in my lap, headed to a tiny town called Camden, Arkansas.

Okay, it didn't happen THAT easily. After my husband accepted the job offer I was left to decided if I wanted to up and move with him right now, or let him go ahead and find us a place to live and meet him there after I had the baby.  I wrestled the two ideas for days.  I can't tell you how much sleep I lost over this decision.  I made a pro vs. con chart, I asked my friends and family for opinions, I prayed about it, and ultimately we went together.

We arrived in Arkansas on February 11.  I remember the date because our wedding anniversary was the next day and, of course, Valentine's Day followed suit.  Camden has a population of about 12,000.  Now, that's about 3 times the size of the town I grew up in, but the difference is, where I grew up, all shopping, restaurants, movie theaters etc., were a short 15 minute drive from home, in the next town.  In Camden, if you want to see the inside of a store that isn't Walmart, it's a 2 hour drive.  2 hours!  That's nuts.  We are really out in the sticks, here.  We were holed up in a hotel room for 1 week with no fridge or microwave, and during that time we were searching high and low for a place to live.  It was darn near impossible and we ended up getting what seemed like the only available rental in town.  And it is not pretty.  Let me just say this: wood paneling and cockroaches.  Oy. Not the place I wanted to bring my kid to, let alone a newborn!

Camden is about 30 years behind the rest of the world.  The houses are old.  No one has a garage.  The medical system is weird (there are no Ob/Gyn docs here, and I was ready to pop, mind you).  I was scared.  I was homesick.  I was unhappy.  Austin's new job had him gone for 10-12 hours a day and for some reason, being in a new place all alone with my baby had me thinking everyone I saw was a murderer.  The mailman stopped by to introduce himself (that's how nice everyone here really is!) and my heart stopped when I heard him pounding on the door.  I really did think everyone was out to get me!  I would stand and stare out the window like a creep watching the cars go by and I noticed every single one slowed WAY down when it was passing our house.  Was this my imagination?!  What is going on?!  Nope.  We live on a corner intersection with a stop sign.  I was truly paranoid, people.  I know, I'm a weirdo, with a morbid, wild imagination.  I'm working on that.  So, after several weeks of sitting rigidly in my bedroom all day, scared at every single sound, I got over it.

But I still wasn't happy.  All day, every day, I was consumed with anger.  I was angry that my husband moved me so far from all of my family and friends.  I was angry that we had to live in this crappy house that smelled like a dead person and felt damp inside.  I was angry that instead of renting a U-Haul like normal people, we bought a trailer that was way too tiny and had to get rid of a ton of our stuff (that's a story for another day).  I was sending my poor hubs text messages all day about how miserable I was and how horrible my son was being to me (like I was some victim of baby tyranny).  I told him all the time how much I hated it and wanted to find another job some where else.  Talk about annoying!  Austin was working his buns off everyday, doing his best to provide for his family, so I could stay at home with my kids and all I could say was “Why did you bring me here?!”

No.  That is ridiculous, and super ungrateful.

It took some time to realize it but one day I made a goal for myself.  I decided I would go an entire day without sending a negative text to Austin.  It was liberating.  My 1 year old wasn't attacking me personally, he was just being a regular baby.  And I wasn't miserable, I was just pregnant.  And the next day, we went outside and played in the sunshine and I didn't hate it here after all.

I still felt homesick and lonely, though.  Austin and I had a discussion about making friends.  He says to me, “You just need to go make some.”  Hmm, great advice honey, I'll get right on that.  It's hard for me!  He gets to go to work everyday and make friends with his coworkers.  I am lucky to make it to Walmart during the week and maybe get some small talk in with the cashier.  I was sulking about not ever having the same relationship with anyone else that I do my bestie (I'm not hip enough to use that word), Lisa, that I left back in Utah.  We were roommates and got married and had baby boy's together.  We could talk about the nitty gritty and we could always depend on one another.  Fortunately, I belong to a church full of awesome people that are just WAITING to be my friend, and maybe I won't have the same relationship I have with Lisa, because hopefully I won't be put back in the roommate situation, but that's okay!  I can have friends that don't remind me to pluck my “chiskers” (kindly named by my dear friend, meaning chin whiskers) and they don't have to teach me what hemorrhoids are after I push out a 10lb baby (she really is a good friend).

I've already made two trips home since moving but I think it gave me closure.  I am falling in love with the people in this town.  They have the biggest hearts and they bless my life everyday.  I am learning to just be myself and the people that don't run in the other direction will be the ones I call my new friends.  I think I'm off to a good start.  It helps when I speak their language, like saying y’all, fixin' ta, and putting extra emphasis on the Ju in Ju-ly.

I've officially been Southernized. 
-Erica

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Isn't she cool? :)  
So, now it's your turn.  Have you ever moved far away from friends and fam?  How did you get used to your new home and meet new peeps?  We'd love to hear about your experience! :) 
-Amy

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Only Skin Deep

Today I'm....hesitant.  I've had a draft of this post for months, sitting, waiting for my courage to catch up with it.  I've wanted to talk to other people about this for a long time, but it's to embarrassing to bring up with a friend face to face.  And, a shout out on Facebook would be little too mortifying.  But, this is a safe place, and I'd love to hear your input!

I have to warn you though, this is not about some deep burning philosophical or emotional trial.  It's actually pretty shallow.  It's about my face.

Sometimes I have this daydream: if I had the chance to magically change one thing about myself physically, what would it be?  Would it be permanently staying the size I was when Patrick and I were dating?  Would it be to make my eyesight perfect?  Longer/thicker/curlier eyelashes?  Taller?  Perfectly white teeth?  Lusciously thick hair?  Zap the love handles?  (Seriously: muffin top, nobody likes you. GO away.)  Or like most mommas, restore the location of my (*ahem*) chest to where is was pre-baby?  Nope.  None of those would be my choice.

I would not hesitate--I would choose perfect skin.

Shape/weight--I feel like that's good for me to work at, so that I'm also caring for my internal health, while practicing self-control. (yeah, got a long way to go with that....I stilllll love my second helpings.)  Though it's not easy, I do have control over how fit I am.  When I need to work at it, I start regularly exercising and eating better, and I make slow progress.

But, my skin?  I have felt so powerless about it for a long time.

I have had problem skin since I was about 14.  I'm so lucky that I don't have the deep, scarring acne, I have little bumpy acne that totally covers my whole forehead at all times and is usually on my cheeks, hairline, a little on my nose, and chin.  Also, I have the visible pores and blackheads on my nose. (Gross.) There are times when my skin is worse than others, but rarely is it clear.  (Except for my second tri of pregnancy with Hayden...freakin' glorious skin!!! Hmmm, maybe I should get pregnant again. haha!)  And, I don't really have many pics that illustrate how bad my skin was at its worse, cause I was very meticulous about putting on my cover-up (or karate chopping any fool who tried to take a pic of me before I'd gotten ready in the morning.)

Taking stupid pics with Patrick's laptop when we were dating...You can't see my forehead, but my cheek shows it a bit.

Though I mostly have been able to cover up the redness, I always felt self-conscious about the bumpy, unhealthy texture of my skin, and never wanted people to get too close up to me.  I longed for "natural" and "glowing", but instead hid under caked-on foundation.  I was terrified to go swimming with friends.  Overnight trips sent me into major worries.  I never wanted people to see me without makeup.  Also, I was hard on myself.  When I looked in the mirror, I thought, "You look like a leper."  I'd joke to friends and family, acting like it wasn't that big of a deal to me: "Time to quarantine me.  I've got the Small POX!"  During the worst times, it was hard to put myself in front of people.

As I got older and more confident, my self-esteem didn't come as much from what I looked like, but from who I was.  But, still it bothered me that when everyone else was getting over their bad teenage skin, I was a 24, then 25 then 26-year-old, who was still regularly breaking out.  Wasn't it supposed to taper off at 18?

When I was dating Patrick (23 and 24 yrs old), he wanted to take me to Wyoming to visit his family.  I didn't want to spend the night because I didn't want them (or Patrick) to see me without makeup on.  I was so scared he wouldn't think I was pretty anymore.  So, no joke, I got up at 6:00 on a Saturday morning, showered and got all ready, got back into my pjs and lay in the guest bed, waiting for everyone else to wake up.  Ha!

When we were engaged, Patrick came swimming with my family; since my make-up was washed off, I could barely look him in the eye on the car ride home.  I didn't want him to be disgusted by my skin.

For our wedding, my mom gently suggested that I cut bangs, so my skin wouldn't be distracting in all those close up wedding pics.  I did, and I still have them today.  I actually like them, and I worry less about my stinkin forehead!

The maddening part of the problem?  There's like 1 MILLION theories, ideas, and advice claiming to fix bad skin--and I have tried many.  Get a sun-tan, wear sunscreen, you have too much oily foods in your diet, change your pillow case every night, go dairy-free, don't wear make-up, don't use hairspray, wash your face a lot, don't wash your face too much, stay away from heavy creams, lotion your face every night....and on and on.  Then there are the products.  You could spend a fortune on different creams, pills, lotions, astringents with varied ingredients; every time, your hopes rise, thinking this could be THE ONE, just to be dissapointed again.  It's hard when well-meaning friends confidently tell you what WILL work--but your skin may react totally different from theirs.  I've tried prescription cures too, with not much change. (Though I never tried Acutane.  It seemed a bit harsh for me, since I didn't get the deep, scarring acne.)  So, my bathroom cupboard was filled up with only-a-little-gone products while my skin continued to be a pain. 

Experimenting with your face is NO fun.  Each product says "it takes at least two weeks" for any real results.  If it doesn't go well, then for two whole weeks (often longer), you are stuck looking like raw hamburger: visible results for all to see.  And, I know it seems shallow, but think of it: your face is who you present to the world.  I want people to remember me by my happy smile or pretty eyes, not be distracted by the poison-ivyish appearance of my skin.

For the past few years, I've given up on trying new cures.  I just got tired of it.  So, I've continued using ProActiv since the beginning of college.  It's decent.  My skin isn't great, but, could (and has) been worse.  I'm scared to stop using it, though it's expensive, cause I don't want to mess up my face BIG time.

Despite my face worries, I like my features.  I'm no model by any means--I don't have a rockin jaw line, striking cheekbones, or full, luscious lips, but my face is...me.  I really don't want to look like a model, or someone else.  They are the features I was born with; they come from my genes and the parents that I love.  But, the bad skin isn't me.  I feel like it's a sickness my face got when I was 14, and it never went away.

Over the years, I convinced myself, "People don't notice as much as think they do.  You're blowing this out of proportion."

Then, while visiting my niece, she points up at my face, with a concerned look and said, "Owies." ...several times.  I was so embarrassed.  Another niece watched me put on make-up in the bathroom mirror when I visited her family.  Afterward she said, "You look a lot prettier with your make-up.  I can't see those red dots anymore."  Oy.  Just last month, another niece proudly handed me a picture she had drawn of me.  And, across my forehead, she drew little red bumps.  I said, "Oh, you don't need to draw those on there."  She said, "But I want it to look like YOU!"

Ouch.

It shouldn't have been a big deal and I tried to laugh it off, but I felt a little sick.  Is this how other people see me, but unlike a little kid, they just don't say it?

The very word "ACNE" sounds so ugly.  It brings to mind a gangly, greasy haired, b.o. smellin high school boy who avoids all forms of personal hygiene.  Now and then, I've even heard people say, "They are broken out cause they aren't staying clean enough."  Argghhh...since 14, I've showered everyday and washed my face twice a day.  Even now, if I don't, my face erupts into a scary mess by the next morning.  On camping trips, I've washed my face in the freezing cold with bottled water, just to escape those consequences.  Yet, I had friends with perfect skin wearing three-day-old makeup!  Not cool, man.

Thankfully, in the past few years, I've become more comfortable in my skin.  Here I am, 27-years-old and it still acts up--but it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it did back when I was in high school and college.  A lot of that comes from the fact that I have a good husband who loves me and tells me I'm a hottie from time to time.  :)  And he didn't scream in horror and run for the hills like I imagined when he first saw me without makeup.

But, even before meeting Patrick, I was finally accepting the fact that I just don't have great skin.  However, it doesn't define me.  I know that I am a good worthwhile person.  That doesn't come from my looks.  It comes from the fact that I am God's child.  I try to be kind and love others and be the best wife/mom/friend/daughter I can be.  I have gotten through really hard things, and I've accomplished some incredible goals!  And, I feel confident in who I am.  

For years, I imagined that all anyone saw when they looked at me was my splotchy skin, but now, I am just happy to meet new friends, socialize, and enjoy people.   

It makes a huge difference--when I'm reaching out to others, and trying to make THEM feel comfortable, I forget to focus on MY insecurities.  I feel good about myself cause I'm reaching out!

Ya know what's interesting?  I've found out over the years that most people have something they are very insecure about.  They have a lisp, or they feel awkward making conversation when they meet someone, or they wish they were thinner, or they hate the gap in their teeth.  And, you know what?  Lots of people have zits.  Not just me.  I probably noticed it on myself WAY more than anyone else did.

I read about a women whose face was badly scarred from a fire, but she still makes the most of her life, cheerfully raising her children and reaching out to others through a well-kown blog, though she looks completely different than she did before.  (I wish I could find her blog again. Anybody know who I'm talking about?)...UPDATE:  Her name is Stephanie Nielson and her blog is called "NieNie Dialogues"...she is amazing.  Go take a look.  I felt seriously grateful for my skin, and humbled by her courage after reading her story.  Seriously...Dang: what an amazing woman.  I admire her SO much for continuing forward even when faced by such an enormous and painful trial.  I feel pathetic and shallow for even worrying about something as trivial as some zits, when I have pretty good health otherwise.  It's just my darn human insecurities that whisper, "You're not good enough."

Thankfully, those thoughts are rare now, but they still surface when my skin is being particularly belligerent.

My goal is to be comfortable in my skin, even thought it's less than perfect.  Cause I know who I am, and beauty truly is much more than skin deep.  I hope I can always help others to feel good enough and beautiful, even when they're having a hard time believing it.  Especially those with bad skin.  OHHH my heart goes out to those with deep acne...especially boys who can't really cover it up at all.  I want to hug them and tell them, "Oh, it sucks so bad, but YOU are worthwhile.  Hold your head up, child!"

SO, now that I've spilled my guts about fighting my biggest physical insecurity, what about yours? 

It would mean alot if you shared.  If I actually get the guts to post this, I'll be surprised.  If I do, it's so much easier when people respond rather than having my words echo awkwardly into an empty room.

My friends, whatever insecurities you have, they do NOT define you.  You have worth, no matter what society, cruel people, the mirror, or even yourself says.  You are God's child, He made you, He loves you, and He sees your heart, not the size of the body or the zits on the skin or the gap in the teeth.

You are beautiful.  It' time we all start believing that, don't you think?

Thanks for reading! 
Love, Amy

Ps. If you could magically change one thing physically about yourself what would you change?  How do you rise above your insecurities?  Also, If you have struggled with skin issues, how did you fix it?  I'm always interested in hearing others' ideas.

Please comment,"Like," or "Share" if you appreciated this post!  Thanks! :)

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Taking Time to Find a Friend: Lessons from a Three-Year-Old

By Lalove
Introduced by Amy

When my older sister, Sherie, was in high school, she had a really cool group of friends, whom I idolized.  I longed to be cool like them, wearing makeup, staying out after 9:30, and having parties...they even hung out WITH BOYS! *gasp!*  Whenever these friends came over for a movie night with my sister, they let me hang out too; I happily pretended to be one of them.  (Gosh, I can't believe how patient they were...I was probably so obnoxious--I NEVER stopped talking.)  Lalove was one of these super cool older girls.  

Now we are both mommas.  The weird thing is, if I moved into her neighborhood today, we'd meet and be friends!  The difference between a 10 year-old and a 15 year-old is HUGE...but 5 years isn't such a stretch when your grown-ups!  I'm so glad she agreed to contribute a post--she is so warm and funny...and a fabulous writer.
Enjoy!
-Amy

My son William is three years old, an age where in his mind, the world is his own. 

He fully expects that every person we meet is ready and willing to be his friend and is interested in what he has to say.  The other day as I was wheeling him around Home Depot, in one of those shopping carts made to look like a kid’s car and that have the maneuverability of a small cruise ship barreling down the aisles, you would have thought my son was in a parade.  He was shouting to the people we passed, calling hello and waving wildly to strangers, as if he believed they should be thrilled to see him.  He was especially excited when we saw kids close to his age.  Whenever a small child came into sight, he’d cry out, “My friend!” and beg me to steer the cart over so he could chat with his “friends.”  Most people who saw my son waving and calling to them were kind enough to smile and wave back, and as I watched total strangers strike up a fleeting moment of friendship with my son, it got me thinking.  I think most young children, born into homes where they feel safe and secure, develop a natural sense of love and concern for others around them.  For many children my son’s age, anyone can be their friend, regardless of age, gender, social status, etc.   While children can definitely be mischievous and troublemaking, there is a reason the Savoir said we should become like little children, and I believe part of that reason is their amazing capacity to love others.

Yet somewhere along the journey to adulthood, the attitude of loving everyone shifts.  Somewhere along the way, most children learn that it’s not OK to talk to strangers in Home Depot and not everyone is their friend.  Obviously for safety reasons, we have to teach our children that not every stranger is going to be a friend to them, and they need to be careful about who they try to associate with.  Yet watching my son making friends with each person he came in contact with made me wonder if we sometimes swing too far to the other extreme – to where we become self absorbed, judgmental, afraid of rejection, and unwilling to go out of our way to be friends to others. 

Case in point, I spoke to a friend of mine the other day who recently moved to a new state and was commenting on how hard it was for her to make friends, even though she was going out of her way to meet people.  As we spoke, I understood a little of what my friend was experiencing.  I moved to a new city over a year ago and had a similar experience.  What surprised both me and my friend is that we are both actively engaged in the churches we attend, and both of us had few people show any interest in meeting us when we attended church the first few weeks.  While I wouldn’t expect strangers in Home Depot to go out of their way to be my friend, I would expect that anyone attending a new church would find many welcoming friends. 

Lalove with baby #2: Elinore

Since I’ve been married I’ve lived in two different cities, and in both instances, when I attended church for the first time, I had a few people make an effort to speak to me.   But most people sat with and spoke with the same people at church each week, without seeming to notice I was there.  I found that if I wanted to meet people, I had to go out of my way to introduce myself.  When my husband and I were first married, he was deployed to Iraq, so I spent about a year and a half living on my own.  It was really hard some weeks for me to go to church all by myself and spend the three hour’s worth of meetings sitting alone.  I’m not trying to sound whiney and complain-y because it wasn’t everyone’s job to be my best friend at church each week; if I wanted to make friends, it was partially my responsibility to talk to people, which I did, and eventually I made a lot of friends and met a lot of great people.  However, when you’re the new person – whether it be at church or work or school or in the neighborhood – it can be a little intimidating; having people take time to offer their friendship can make the transition to a new environment much more pleasant and much less stressful. 

Ever since my experience trying to make friends at church that year and half my husband was gone, I’ve tried harder to be aware of people around me.   I try harder to sit by people sitting alone at church so we can strike up a conversation.  I try harder when I’m in public to look for people who seem like they need help or a kind word.  I’m still not as good as my son.  There are still times in life when I let fear get the best of me, and instead of taking time to say hello or give a compliment to a stranger, I keep my mouth shut and miss opportunities to be a friend to others around me.  I hope I can improve.  Lucky for me I have a great example to look up to.  He’s about three feet tall with big blue eyes and a big old smile.  Some of you probably know him – you may have seen him waving to you as we lumbered down the aisles of Home Depot.  His name is William, and he already knows what to call you – “friend.”
-Lalove

See what I mean?  She's so cool.  Don't you just wish she was your next door neighbor so you could talk over the fence and have family barbeques?  I love her ideas about friendship.  It's funny that kids think that grown-ups can do anything and that we're never scared....but when it comes to making friends, they are often SO much braver than us. 

How about you?  Have you an experience where someone reached out to you (or visa versa) that you'd share?  What helps you to make friends?  We'd love to hear from you. :)
-Amy

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Epic Treehouse Playdate!!!

By Amy

So, remember in my "The Elusive Art of Making Mommy Friends" post, I said I had a goal of setting up more playdates?  Since becoming a mom, I hadn't really jumped on the playdate bandwagon...and I was determined this summer to hop on.  So, after hearing of a bunch of the huge bloggers in the bloggy world having these "epic playdates" sponsored by Hyundai... I thought, "Well, Shoot.  We can totally do EPIC too, sponsor of not!"  (No disrespect, I'm just a little jealous cause we didn't have the funds to go zip-lining through the redwoods...Ha!)

So, in true DIY style, I set out to create our own fabulous shindig.  And, I'm happy to report that a few days ago, my friends Amber, Delilah, and I did indeed take our kiddios on an EPIC playdate.  

How epic?

We played and relaxed in a 5 story treehouse.  My dad, my brothers, and I built the treehouse when we were kids.  (Ok, my little bro and I mostly handed up nails and fetched stuff...)  But, a little background on this freaking cool place:

Growing up, I was so jealous of my friends who played night games with all the neighborhood kids or had block parties in the street (picture the "Sandlot".)  I didn't live in a cul-da-sac.  My family lived a quarter of a mile down a gravel road, with nothing but foothills and sagebrush forever behind our house.  Sometimes as a kid, I wished I lived in the city to escape the farm chores of hauling hay and moving pipe, but man...there were some definite perks to living in the coutry.  One of these?  The treehouse.   

It was built in a sprawling tree over several summers out of left-over wood and salvaged nails.  My big brother was the dreamer and architect, and my dad took time from his full-time office job and hobby farmwork to help put his son's "Swiss Family Robinson" dream into reality.  (Which is funny since my dad is not a fan of heights.) We spent hours there, and I read many a book in the hammock, spied on the teenage boys moving pipes with no shirts on in the adjacent field (scandalous!  Ha!) and we even held parties and group dates there.  We loved it!  We played treehouse hotel (I was always the crazy owner down in the lobby) and pirate ship for for entire summers, pulling the water bucket from the pond below to swab the deck.  Life was good at the treehouse.

But, now, my parents' grandkids live hours away and we're all grown up and gone, and the treehouse doesn't get all the love that it used to.  So, that's where I took my friends and their kids!  After a 45 min ride, with my son screaming most of the way, (sorry, Amber!) we arrived.

And...The kids loved it.  Seriously, I thought they were going to set up camp an we'd have to leave without them.  Even the babies were good sports for most of the time!

So here's our playdate!  Please prepare yourself: you're about to see pics for days!  Ha!

Welcome to the treehouse!  My son and my momma.

The treasure chest! 

She's holding the pirate's booty!  Haha....get it?

Delilah and Jasper

Amber with her visiting nephew

Me and my stinker son!  And, I swear I didn't plan to be all matchy-matchy plaid.  It just happened.

DONT JUMP! Ha!  My mom's hand is holding on to the back of him...he wasn't even scared!

Crossing the canal...

Walking back to the house

haha...funny pic of Payden

Sandbox!

The foothills behind the house.

Delicious picnic-ing...

And...somebody realllllly needs nap. 

SO, after lots of fun, yummy food, too much sun, and several baby tantrums, we called our epic playdate a wrap.  A there were lots of snores in the car on the way home. (hallelujah!)  And though this was a pretty sweet location, playdates don't have to be elaborate.  Heck, McDonalds Playplace can make for a great playdate...kids are running around having fun, (probably peeing in the slides...ha!) and moms get to hang out and have some adult conversation.  WIN WIN!

So, how about you?  What do you like to do on playdates?  Do you love a relaxing home playdate?  How about the park?  Have you had any crazy elaborate playdates?  I'd love to hear, cause I need ideas.  :)

 Thanks, friends!
-Amy

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