Great Grandma Peterson

**I originally wrote most of this just a few days after I got back from Grandma's funeral, but just now got a chance to finish it.

Last weekend, I stood and looked at her hands. Hands that would have been 97 years old on October 14. Hands that wore her wedding ring for almost 78 years. Hands that played outside when she was young in rural Minnesota. Hands that maybe patted her baby doll's back, while singing it to sleep. Hands that would hold her new husband's hands, as she pledged to spend their lives together "as long as we both shall live." Hands that would hold, care, clean, and comfort each of her nine children in the days to come. Hands that would serve her family continually, even after all nine children left their childhood home. Hands that made homemade bread, cookies, doughnuts, too many meals to count. Hands that hung countless dresses, overalls, diapers, and sheets on the line. Hands that she would fold in prayer, daily. She would pray for me and each one of my relatives, her descendants every day. She had servant's hands because she had a servant's heart. I stared at her hands as I stood there, admiring their beauty. It became apparent to me how important her hands were to her during her life. I realized the impact that those hands had on everyone who came in contact with my great grandma. I realized that I am here, largely because of her existence.

When I first heard that Grandma's health was starting to fail her, just around 3 weeks ago, I knew that I would be saying good-bye to her soon. Even though this made me sad for me, I felt happy for Grandma. It will be downright weird to go to the lake and not go visit Grandma. Up until I was around 20 years old, when I went to the lake, heading up to the farmhouse to say "hi" to Great Grandpa and Grandma was a daily occurrence. My cousins and I could pop our head into the sun room at any moment during the day and could reliably find at least great-grandpa sitting on his orange stool, most likely drinking a cup of coffee. If Grandma wasn't in the sun room, she was in the next room over, in the kitchen, fixing something to set out on the table for anyone to help themselves to, should they come to visit. I might have sat down on the bench to chat with Grandpa and Grandma for a few moments, telling them about school or violin or ballet. Then, I would listen to Grandpa's soft, gravelly voice, as he told me a snippet of a memory he had from his own childhood. On my way out of the sun room, I would undoubtedly grab a doughnut or kringla to nibble on while I played outside. Outside, I would find the pack of farm cats that stuck around for Grandma's table scraps and many mice they would find. Specifically, I loved the kittens. I had a button-down shirt with a chest pocket on each side that fit one kitten, inside each one, perfectly. I'm sure the kittens loved it.

When Grandpa died in February of 1998, I worried about Grandma. She was 82, and as far as I know, she was perfectly healthy. However, she was clearly heartbroken that the love of her life had left this life without her. I thought she might live a couple of more years, but would probably pass away, due to heartache. Even though Grandma lived another 14 years without her husband, I know it was hard for her. A couple of years after Grandpa died, Grandma went to live in a condo in town. All one level, less house to keep clean; practically, it was a much better living situation for her. However, it had to have been difficult for her to leave the farm house that she and her husband had built, as newlyweds in 1930. She birthed all 9 children in that house that they both built and loved. How weird to live someplace else!

When visiting Grandma in the condo became a reality for me, I remember hearing her say almost every time I visited her, "I'm ready to go to heaven."  It never seemed morbid to me. It was a genuine longing that I knew was aching her. Even though she began to experience some somewhat minor health ailments, her body kept fighting. After all, she always was a strong woman. I am always baffled at the idea of having nine children! I have two and most days, I feel overwhelmed! My great grandma is someone I will always admire.

My family has a Facebook group that has become very active since Grandma became weak. A bunch of us have taken comfort in sharing Grandma's recipes, memories, and just generally doing a better job of staying connected. While I was in Minnesota, we had a big brainstorm session of how we can all be a part of continuing the legacy of our family, specifically through the chapel that my great grandpa built on the hill that overlooks our family's old farmland and the lake. I am excited to see how that takes shape over the years.

I will miss my great grandparents very much, but I am so fortunate to be able to believe, without a doubt, that they are both in heaven, together. I am so blessed that both of my children were able to meet their great great grandma. I love that whenever Avery sees a picture of my great grandma, she knows who it is. I am blessed that even when I am in heartache, mourning the loss of a beautiful life, I still have my own grandparents, all living, all very active in my life. I can only praise God for that!

11 Months...

My baby turned 11 months yesterday, on the last day of summer.

It is so difficult to get a non-blurry picture of her, as she is moving all the time.

My little muffin loves to give kisses now. My not-as-affectionate-as-her-sister baby girl loves to kiss!

Her favorite thing to say right now is "hi!" It is closely followed by "uh-oh."

She is walking more than crawling now, and it's quickly turning to running. Especially when she's naked and it's bath time. The hallway is her speedway.

Her sister can't get enough string cheese.

The Last Year or So...

It has been over a year since the last time I posted. And in that post, I promised to post more often.

But, life happened.

I had an almost two year old at the time, who we were about to start potty training because I was pregnant with our second baby, due in October, and I desperately didn't want two children in diapers at the same time.

Going from one to two kids has been difficult, to say the least. This last year has been hard for me.  Really hard.  I have had a year of understanding perspective, adjusting my expectations of myself, and of my children.

I chose to attempt natural childbirth with Evelyn, which took a lot of research, reading, and practicing. And then, when shove came to pushing, I had to accept the reality that it would be impossible to do. My baby was born by emergency c-section. I panicked when my doctor told me this would be the case, and afterwards, I was sad, depressed, and in a lot of pain.  I questioned my ability to birth my children on my own. I entered motherhood for the second time in a deep hole of self-doubt.  If I can't naturally birth my children, how can I be the mommy I always thought I would be?  Things weren't as simple as I had idealized them.

But my friends and family complimented me in my ability to mother. My friends, especially. I don't know how you do it, Beth. You are a great mom. Inside, I was screaming, But, I'm not! I'm impatient, selfish, and tired! I do not love every minute of being with my kids. Most days, I wallow in my self pity. Most days, I feel like I barely make it. My house is always a disaster. I just want to be left alone, in my bed. I was lonely. I was depressed. And I felt like if I told my friends those thoughts, they would think I was a whiner. I got frustrated because I didn't want to give a false impression of myself. I wanted them to know that I'm not perfect, it's not easy, and I was really struggling. But I also wanted to be an encouragement to my friends, as much as I could be.

I realized that the more books and blogs I read about parenting and mothering, the worse I felt about myself.  I went to a parenting class for about 12 weeks and Evelyn was born halfway through it, so I had her with me for the last few weeks. The class talked a lot about the importance of a schedule, having order in your house, and making your relationship with your husband the priority. These were all things I knew and had done with my firstborn, Avery. No problem. Avery was a "textbook baby." She adjusted to changes in her schedule within a couple of days. Reaching milestones never affected her sleep patterns. She slept 12 hours at night and took decent length naps, and was a very happy baby. I also started reading a blog that talked about the same philosophy as the parenting class. The blogger posts weekly updates on her baby, and had them labeled so I could reference the age that Evelyn was at. The blogger's baby would sleep 12-13 hours at night and sleep 4-6 hours during the day, even at 6 months old. Every week when I would read it, I felt stupid. My baby wasn't like that. What was I doing wrong this time? Evelyn did not get on a nap schedule until 9 months old, and it wasn't for lack of trying, on my part. The child would not sleep during the day. I was at a loss. I wasn't getting any time to myself, even fifteen minutes. I was a failure. I was trapped.

I also had to stop breastfeeding at 6 months, when I had gone until 14 months with Avery. Obviously, it was the best decision for Evelyn, as she wasn't growing enough, and was feeding more than ever. This time was just dramatically different than it was the first time. I felt like a failure again. I wasn't accepting myself.  I wasn't accepting that my very best was enough.

Just in the last couple of months (Evelyn will be 11 months tomorrow), I have realized that everyone else's idea of "successful parenting" shouldn't matter to me. If my children are happy, well-mannered, and learning that Jesus loves them more than anything, then in my book, I am doing a good job as a mother. All parts of parenting have to work for each individual family. I am not saying that if it's too hard for you to say "no" to your child, then don't do it. Saying "no" to your child has to happen in every family, but the way it is done will vary.

I hesitate to give advice to any parent friend, even when they ask me for it. If I tell my friend who has children how we discipline our children, and then it doesn't work for their family, I don't want them to think, Well, we failed at doing it the way the Bruces do it. Stephen's and my standard of doing things for our household is what is right for us, but it's not for everyone. I've also discovered that we may do things one way for a while and then it starts to not work anymore, and we have to find a new, effective way of doing it. I have had to realize that this is probably normal. If I hold onto the thought, We have always done it this way, why isn't it working anymore?, then I try to force something that just is not working, all while wasting a couple of months, clinging onto what I've always known. It's silly.

Finally, my inability to blog during the last year plagued me. I admire the moms who somehow find a way to write on their blog several times a week. I seriously do not know how they do it, especially those who have young babies, who need their attention pretty much every minute of the day. I have had to let it go. For me, if I tried to put that much energy into anything other than my girls, I felt like a failure at everything. Blogging just isn't that important to me. However, I do want to document the girls' childhoods as much as I can, so I will figure out a way to do it. When I started this blog, Stephen and I were newly married, and I wasn't working. I knew we would be moving to a different country, so my motive with the blog was to keep our families and friends up to date with what was happening with us. When we moved back to the States, my motive to blog became a scrapbook for me and my family. Anyone who wants to read about it is welcome, but I'm not going to sit down and make a real scrapbook, so this is it.

I have had to give myself a break. I'm not saying I never feel like a failure. During the last several days, both girls are refusing to nap. It is beyond frustrating! I feel like I have tried everything, and still nothing works. Big, epic mom fail. I keep trying to remind myself that this is just a season and one day, I will really miss this time. I need to be present in the here and now, and not take it for granted. My house will all be clean at the same time someday. It is probably a long ways away, but I'd rather be on the floor playing with my babies than cleaning the bathroom. Needless to say, come to my house at your own risk! If clutter and sticky floors bother you, you might feel compelled to clean while you're here. By all means, be my guest!

All that to say, I'm hoping to be able to start blogging regularly again, but no promises. I will not be burdened by it, but I will be motivated to do it.

Wordless Wednesday...

Summer Vacay Sum-up...

We just got home today after spending a week in Minnesota at my grandparents' house on the lake.  It is one of my favorite places to go and spend time.  I have so many memories made there.  I don't remember the lake not being a part of my life because it always has been!

I was actually conceived in the master bedroom of the original cabin.  Too much information?

My Grampy was born across the street from his lake home in the farm house that his parents established.  My grandpa was an unexpected surprise when he arrived after his twin brother, as my great-grandma didn't know she was pregnant with two babies!  He was born in 1936, and during one of the boat rides we went on this past week, I was thinking about how much family history comes from that land.  It is such a legacy and I am so proud to be a descendant of it!

In the 60's and 70's, my great-grandpa divided up his farmland that lined the lake shore into plots and gave nine of them to each of his nine children and put the rest up for sale to the public.  Many of the people who owned or own property on the lake now are good friends to the Peterson family.  It has become a place that is so special to so many other families, too!

So many things have changed over the years.  Grandpa had built a typical lake cabin on his lot in the 70's.  4 bedroom, 2 bath, open to the 2nd floor, where me and my cousins used to sleep in the upstairs hallway and peek down through the railing at our parents while they played cards and laughed until the late hours.  If the whole family was at the lake for the family reunion or the 4th of July, or some other long weekend, people would be sleeping anywhere they could fit.  The hallway, underneath the stairs, on the living room floor, couch, and even on the lounge chairs outside.  I'll never forget the feel of the orange shag carpet under my feet when I'd come running inside from swimming in the lake.

When I was still young, Grandpa built the "big house" next door to the cabin, which is a big, brick house without shag carpet, but with lots of new things that kept us entertained when we'd visit the lake.  A basement with a pool table and a hot tub, and eventually a Pac-Man machine would keep us busy for hours and out of our parents' hair.  My cousins and I still enjoyed sleeping 3 to a queen bed because what is more fun than staying up super late with your cousins, having pillow fights in the pitch dark?  I am the 3rd oldest cousin out of a total of 20 grandchildren and now, we're gradually marrying and having children and now there are 9 great-grandchildren already, with my bun in the oven on the way.  Currently, when we all get together, there would be 45 peeps.  I'm pretty sure that number is right. That's just from my grandparents, down.

I love coming from a large family.  There is always some sort of action happening, and there is usually some joking and laughter going on at all times.  With a large family, there are also a lot of opinions that are voiced and most of the time, no one asked for anyone's opinion, but everyone is eager to give it!  I don't love this part, but it's just the way it is.  It has taught me to keep my mouth shut, for the most part.  Sometimes, I can't take it anymore, and I have to join in, or I'll explode!  But really, for the most part, the large family experience is a positive one.

We didn't head to the lake last weekend, just to relax, although we did plenty of that!  We made the trip because my oldest cousin, Lissa, was getting married in the backyard with the lake as their backdrop.  When we were driving from the Twin Cities airport to the lake on Friday evening, we drove through one of the scariest rainstorms I've ever seen.  There were tornado warnings surrounding us, and the radio promised they'd be paving our path the whole two hour car trip.  We stopped in a suburb of the cities for dinner and to wait it out and we discussed how we were hoping the weather would shape up for Lissa's wedding the next day.

It did.  The storm the night before had knocked down the tent and forced deconstruction of all of my cousin's entourage of hard work on the flowers and decorations.  On Saturday morning, just mere hours before the wedding started, the backyard did not look ready.  I was busy inside the big house, tending to Avery and watching the hubbub of commotion, while looking out the windows to check the progress of set-up.  I have to say it was amazing what happened over the course of only a couple of hours!  The backyard went from showing no sign of a wedding happening that day to complete tables and chairs, tablecloths, centerpieces, flowers, and hanging picture frames from trees.

It was a beautiful wedding.  I mean gorgeous.  Like, the most beautiful wedding I've ever witnessed.  Honestly.  Hats off to my Aunt Kris (mother of the bride)!

This wedding meant a lot to me.  I grew up with Lissa.  So many of my childhood memories include her.  She was in my wedding and she helped pick out the bridesmaid dresses.  She made it difficult because everything she tries on looks amazing on her.  This wedding meant a lot to me, too, because I knew how much she was looking forward to it.  I knew how happy she would be on this day, and I was so excited to witness that! Love you, Lis!

When Eric and Lissa turned toward each other to say their vows, I could only see Eric's face and I had a plain view of him.  The look he had in his eyes, as he said the words intentionally made me sob.  I mean, sob like a baby!  I was glad I was wearing my sunglasses because it was kind of embarrassing.  He just seemed to be really thinking about each word he was saying and he wanted her to hear them.

I'm so glad we made the trip to the lake this summer.  It was a wonderful week, start to finish.  After the wedding, most of the family left, and it was just us and my Uncle Brett's family with Grampy and Gramma.  It was quiet and relaxing, and so perfect.  We went to visit my great-grandma Peterson twice, and Avery loved chasing around her cat, Pepper.  Yesterday, Avery and I went one last time and she gave her Great-great-grandma a kiss on the cheek.  It was something I hope I never forget, but I'm kicking myself because both visits, I forgot my camera.  Seriously, my pregnancy brain is reeking terrible regrets!

When we were on our way home from the airport today, I called my parents to tell them we were almost home and  my Dad said he had gotten a text from my grandpa that said Great-Grandma had a heart attack this morning.  She is home and alert, so it sounds like she is doing pretty well, considering, but it's just one of those things...I just saw her yesterday!  And I'm so glad that I did.

I hold my family in high priority, and this week has been a valuable reminder to continue to do so.  Thank you for listening to all 1,269 words of it.