to all the mothers in my life

Eight months ago, I couldn't walk. 

Eight months ago, I could barely even stand.  Not without a lot of help, anyway.  Eight months ago, the goal was to get me from my bed to the bathroom door on my own two feet.  I remember that when I finally did- after eight or nine days in the hospital, everyone cheered.  Except me.  They helped me back in bed and I cried.  I cried because I knew I didn't make it to the bathroom.  They practically carried me there while my feet shuffled along the floor.

Weeks later, at home,  I'd go outside on my back patio and hold onto Courtney's arm while we walked.  One lap.  Two on a good day.  One night I was feeling fancy and suggested to Courtney that I might try three whole laps.  He thought I should start with one and see how I felt.  He was right, two was all I had.

But I kept going.  When I was alone, which wasn't very often, I would slowly make my way down the steps and practice.  Before long, I was doing three laps!  Finally, I graduated to walking around the garden, and next, on to the driveway.  Once again, I started with just one lap.  Then two.  Finally three. 


It was exciting, and everyone cheered me on.  Still, I wondered.  Would I ever be me again?  I would round the driveway on my little strolls and look toward the church down the road.  I've walked and ran that direction hundreds of times.  Deep down, I was terrified I'd never have that freedom again.  That road was my therapy, the place where, alone or with a friend, I solved the world's problems.  Amidst all my fears, losing my legs and the freedom they bring me scared me the most.  The other biggie?  Would I ever be the type of mom again that my children were used to?

Slowly, but surely I got stronger.  After a few months, I was going to the grocery store.  Driving again.  Christmas shopping.  I was thrilled, and hoped I was on the mend.  Then I ended up in the hospital again for Christmas break.  I won't ever forget how I felt riding in the ambulance on my way to the hospital.  I remember the paramedics asking me a string of questions while I looked out the window and wondered if it was going to be like this for the rest of my life. 



It isn't.  This week, I walked three miles.  I mowed the lawn.  I sprayed weeds.  We set my bike up on the trainer, and I rode it for twenty minutes.  It was really hard, but I did it.  I've spent full days caring for my family, cooking and cleaning my own house without having to take a nap or have someone else watch my kids because I didn't have it in me. 

I can't tell you how good that feels. 

I know I sound like I'm bragging.  And I probably am, for I feel like I've come so far.  But really, as Mother's Day approaches, I've been thinking about all of the good women in my life.  So many, many good women who make me want to be better.   You have visited me at the hospital, cleaned my house, mothered my children, fed my family, fulfilled my church callings, chauffeured me to various doctor appointments and therapy visits, filled our pantry full of home canned goods, and lifted my spirits with visits, flowers, texts, and phone calls.  Literally and figuratively, I have leaned on you as I have walked this unexpected road. Today I thanked my Father in Heaven for all of you incredible, kind women in my life, and it occurred to me.  I haven't come so far.  We've come so far. 



Part of me wants to jump up and down and the other part of me feels like crying.  I cry tears of joy and gratitude because I know I didn't make it here.  We made it.  Courtney and I, our girls, Samuel, and all of these amazing people in my life.  Slowly, but surely, I've gone from helpless to helping once again. 

I've never written any thank you notes.  To be honest. it completely overwhelms me, but I wanted you all to know that I know the truth.   In the past eight months, I haven't gotten anywhere on my own. 

You practically carried me there while my feet shuffled along the floor. 

a day with my girl

It's official.  My little girl is twelve.  TWELVE!

That's a big deal, you know.  Twelve means no more primary. Twelve means my "little" girl is off to young women's (or as her dad calls it, "Young Females") on Sunday, activities every weeknight, and going away to camp.  It means one year closer to being a real, live teenager.  Being twelve (in our house) means mascara and lip gloss and piercing your ears (if she wanted, which in this girl's case- she doesn't).  Twelve means we wear almost the same shoe size. 

I remember the day Ryenne left nursery and went into big kid primary as a cute little sunbeam.  I was lamenting to my friend all those first mom feelings, such as "I can't believe she's big enough to go into real primary!"  At the time it seemed like a monumental change, watching my little baby girl sitting up straight amongst all those BIG kids.  When I told all of this to my friend, whose children are mostly grown now, she laughed at me and said, "It's really not that big of a deal".  I vividly remember  telling myself she was probably right, and I was just being silly.  After all, it wasn't like my little girl was graduating from high school- she was only a little sunbeam.

Well.  The week Ryenne graduated Primary and moved into Young Women's, I marched up to my friend and announced, "You lied!" 

I can see it now.  It WAS a big deal.  Because do you know what happened next?  Before I knew it, she was sitting on the back row of junior primary, not the front.  In a blink, she was baptized.  Next, she appeared in the senior primary, with all of those really, really big kids.  Right before my eyes, she got bigger, and bigger, and now, here we were watching her leave primary (and childhood, really) behind.  All because she left the nursery as a wee little three year old. 

I was right to panic.  That day was a really big deal, after all.

For Ryenne's big day (and because she is growing a mile an minute and had nary a thing to wear), we decided that the two of us would have a girl's day out to go shopping.  She got to sluff school, even! 

We had a perfect day.  It was glorious having her all to myself.  We talked the whole way to Salt Lake and back, had fun splashing our fingers in the fountains, and admiring the beautiful landscaping.  We laughed when after only an hour, we were both pooped, and decided that the only choice we had was to get regular doses of chocolate (it was quite necessary, you see).  Seems she inherited my shopping genes!  And it wasn't long into our day before she kindly let on, "we don't really have the same style, do we mom?".  At that moment, I realized I had arrived.  I was officially that mom who (not realizing how ancient I am) holds up a piece of clothing, only to have her daughter crinkle up her nose and shudder.  Just yesterday, it was me dying at what my mom thought I should wear.  Wasn't it? 

I love you Ryenne.  Even if you are growing up on me.   I love your fun personality.  I love how confident you have become this year. I love your friends.  I love that boys are still "just boys" to you.  I am oh so proud of how you've been so responsible this year, and have taken so much on while I've been sick.  Sure, we have our share of drama, but that's part of the experience, I hear.  You get yourself up every morning, and much of the time head into your baby brother's room to gather him up and give him a bottle, too.  You get yourself ready and have been so good at not making me feel guilty that I'm not the early morning, make-everyone-breakfast mom that I used to be.  Just this morning, you came into my room before you left, asked me how I was feeling, and tucked the blanket under my chin in hopes I could sleep just a little bit longer.  You are a good, good girl.  In so many ways, you have really blossomed this year and I am so very thankful for the person you are becoming.  Even if that means you are growing up. 

Lucky me to have a daughter like you.  You are growing up in the most marvelous way.

more funnyfrom claire

Lately Claire has been into big words.  They make me laugh.  Out loud.

The other day during Stake Conference (during which she was an absolute nightmare, I might add), she did something to inflict pain unto one of her sisters (hit, kick . . .I lose track sometimes).  When I discussed the necessity of a timeout once we returned home, she became immediately remorseful.  "But Mom!  I'm terribly sorry!  I'm terribly sorry!"

I tried hard not to laugh, but I might have failed.


When I asked her today if she was ready for lunch?  "Absolutely".  By the way, the hot menu item for lunch this week just so happens to be "a gorilla cheese sandwich" (grilled cheese, that is).



Also, so I don't forget: 

Lately, Claire's loving watching "Swan-de-leg" on dvd.  (Swan Lake).  And the other day when she was wearing her "sparkly shoes", she excitedly announced, "Dad, now I look just like Darcie!"  When he asked "Darcie?"  She replied, "Yeah!  You know!  Darcie from The Lizard of Oz!" 

Oh. . . .Dorthy from the Wizard of Oz.  Duh.


We love our Claire.  Feisty, funny, makes-us-happy-everyday.  That's our girl.

a good day

Claire and I were just getting ready to go on a walk when she decided that we needed a few Rainbow Brite stickers to complete our outfits.  As she was making me pretty with rainbows and unicorns, she told me the best thing I've heard all week.\

"Mom, I just thought you needed to know, we are going to look fabulous."





Now really, how can I ask for more than that?

dad's advice

This morning, Emmy told her dad and I the latest news from first grade, speaking in her million-words-a-minute style.  "Mom.  Dad.  Yesterday, this boy in my class (whose shall go unnamed), wrote a note to my friend, and the note said, 'You are so beautiful to me.  Can I have your phone number, please.' "  With her juicy bit of news spilled out, she nodded and reaffirmed, "He wrote that.  He really did."

Her dad responded with the appropriate (and hoped for) shock and awe.  "Wow.  That's heavy stuff!"  And then he doled out his own bit of advice to his girl.  "Okay, Em.  If you get a note like that, here's what you do.  You write one back that says this:  1-800-forget-about-it." 

Of course, Emmy's eyes sparkled.  I'm pretty sure she can't wait to try it out.

spring break with the cousins

This year we spent a fun spring break at Bear Lake with the cousins.  As I looked through the gazillion pictures of the reunion, I realized that I don't think my kids realize how good they have it.  On both sides of our families, their cousins are some of their best friends.  They have super fun Aunt and Uncles, and grandparents whom they adore.  I've come to the conclusion that there is no greater blessing than a supportive, loving family.  I loved when I heard one of the teenage cousins comment that when they had told some friends they were going to a family reunion over spring break, the friends had felt pity for her.  This was baffling for her, and made her realize that obviously, they've never been to one of the Croney family reunions.  For the cousins, it's one of the best weekends of the year! 

The cabin we stayed at this year was super fun:  slides going from floor-to-floor, an indoor basketball court, playground, and trampoline, theater room, and much more.  We all had lots of fun playing "speed", and there was always a line-up of aunts, uncles, and cousins at the basketball hoop- cheering and talking a little smack on each other, of course.

(I love Kadin's pose in the background of this picture!)

One night we had a homemade ice cream contest, with each family coming up with a "secret recipe" and everyone voting on the best one.  When I asked Courtney what kind we should make, he suggested Mud Pie, one of our favorites.  Western Family Mud Pie, that is.  So.  I bought two quarts and hid them in the freezer.  When everyone started working on their ice cream, they were a bit confused at why we weren't getting in on the action.  "Don't  you need to get your ice cream started?" was the question we kept getting asked.  Finally, I sneaked our ice cream maker out to the garage and scraped our "home-made" ice cream into it.  Wa-La! 

The best part is that when the tasting started, everyone raved about our killer recipe, and we got a hundred questions about what we put in it, how did we get it to be so thick, and on and on.  Finally (after we had won, hands down), Jodi teased that she didn't think we could have made such great ice cream, and joked that we must have gone and bought it.  We all had a great laugh when we admitted our guilt!  Pretty sneaky, we are!

One afternoon all the uncles started a boxing tournament.  I panicked a few times as I saw what looked like pretty heated matches between cousins.  The guys kept assuring me that things like that  make boys better friends.  It looked to be true, as a few minutes after they'd gotten done trying to knock each other out, I'd see them smiling and slapping each other on the back.  Obviously, I have a thing or two to learn about boys.

Uncle Shawn had a funny joke to play, when he held his plate up and asked Jodi and Grandma to smell his cake to see if they thought it smelled "funny".  You can see what he had in mind, but we all got a great laugh out of it. 

Sunday afternoon, we had Grandma's traditional Easter hunt.  There was so much candy!  You can see the basketball court is just covered. . .the whole house looked that way. (The uncles seem to have the same "no fuss" mentality.  Instead of carefully setting the candy out, they just threw handfuls at a time.

A favorite part of the cabin was the tube slides that went from floor-to-floor.  When we first got there, the uncles devised a great method of delivering luggage to the two lower floors:  just chuck them down the slides!  It made for an easy arrival!  Also, Uncle AJ and the kids worked out a fun game, which was to see how many people they could pack into the slide at once.  The final record?  Fourteen!

Another fun game the kids loved playing was Sardines.  Each night, they waited 'til dark and then coerced as many uncles and aunts as they could to play.  With the lights out, it was pitch black, and made for a super fun game.  Even the littlest kids played, and we all laughed and squealed a lot as the uncles loved thinking up ways to scare us all. 

Another favorite?  Grandma had taken our old home videos and had them recorded onto DVD.  We spent hours Sunday night laughing at the good 'ol days. 

And so, another fun family reunion goes down in the books.  One afternoon I was sitting in the kitchen when one of the older cousins told me, "The thing I love about family reunions is that all of the Aunts and Uncles act like kids.  Where else do you see grown-ups flying down the slide, jumping on the trampoline, and playing crazy jokes on each other?"  It's true, we had a great time.  Two thumbs up for super-fun family reunions!

easter egg hunting at grandma and grandpa jones