LifeofTHEmom

Camping is one of my favorite things to do with my boys.  It all began when they were just babies and though I was a bit nervous about camping with such small children, I quickly learned over time that it was one of the best things we would do as a family.

When the boys were as young as 2 or 3 they were helping us to set up the tents (well sort of), swimming in the lake, toasting marshmallows, digging in the dirt and playing board games by the light of the lantern.

I have such awesome memories and pics of them sitting around the campfire singing “Barney” songs and telling stories while trying to figure out why there were so many more stars than at home.

Every year we head to the same lake and over the years it went from being 4 of us to being 3 of us and for the past 15+ years the kids who “never seem to leave my house” have joined us.  Our numbers have ranged from just a few extra friends to 9 additional teens one year! As the years have gone on our adventures have continued and have included hiking around the lake, walking the logs, tipping over the kayak (and my scream of surprise as I ended up under

water), teaching the boys to drive the motor boat, the year the lantern fell onto the canopy and burned a hole right through it, the year the bear got into our ice chest (he was huge and we still have the ice chest with the claw marks!), counting the stars and making a wish, watching the sun go down at the lake and being the first to see a bat, the year Z began bringing his guitar to camp and all of our loud voices singing way past the quiet hour, bringing their friends, forcing the kids to play “I am going on a camping trip and I am bringing a ….”, trying to fit 10 people on a 4 person raft,  Apples to Apples for hours on end, the year one of the girls somehow destroyed a frying pan making pancakes, racing back to camp in the pouring rain to cover things up, paddle boating ALL the way around the lake, sitting by the fire with a

good book, watching barely awake kids stumble out of their tents in the morning and hearing “when are we heading to the lake?”, sitting on the edge of the water at midnight just talking about life and enjoying just being together, the endless attempts at fishing though none of us eat fish, hiking to the spring  and so much more.

The camping trips have always been filled with glitches and I must admit those are normally the best moments.  It was in those hiccups that the kids learned how to laugh at the mistakes, be flexible and work together as a family to improvise. It is also some of those glitches that still make us laugh today.

Though the kids are now adults, we still sing songs around the campfire but for the past few years  “Hotel California” and country music

(yuck) seem to be the music of choice, however I do occasionally  hear a Barney song from a nearby campfire. We also still tell stories but over the years those too have changed and their humor makes me laugh.  I still make them play “I am going on a camping trip and I am bringing a….. ” which is always met with a few groans.

This year is our 31st family camping trip and I am blessed and thrilled that it still continues because the reality is that the trips were never really about camping.  Our trips were all about creating traditions, memories and a strong foundation that we could continue to

strengthen as the boys grew older. Those moments just being together and talking at camp meant my boys had my undivided attention and I had theirs.  We knew we could talk to each other about anything and as they have grown up that is one thing that has not changed.

I love to listen to people talk about their family traditions. As they begin to share their story I enjoy watching their faces light up as the wash of memories flow over their expressions. When my boys were little I wanted to be sure to create family traditions that would be meaningful and perhaps even be passed down to their own children one day.

We created traditions such as our annual camping trip, family day every Sunday, cutting down our Christmas tree and of course watching “The Santa Clause” movie every Christmas Eve. Though my boys are no longer children we have continued to celebrate these traditions even if it means camping over Facetime or sending pictures of the search for the tree or doing a 3 way call to catch up each week since one is out of state.

We are able to continue to honor our traditions though we have to allow for change as the boys grew up but even with the changes of life they value those traditions and the importance of family and being together.

As a child the family traditions I remember most always involved food. My great grandma was a strong independent woman who lived on her own mowing her lawn with a push mower into her 90’s. She was a strong cornerstone of the family and started many of my early traditions. Going to Grandma’s meant there would always be a glass dish of sweet pickles and olives on the kitchen table and of course it was tradition to put the olives on the end of my fingers before they could be eaten! But the food that most sticks out in my mind was a dish called Green Death. My grandma would make that dish at every holiday dinner and it always sat in the center of the table in that place of honor. We always chuckled if someone new came to dinner because of course they had to try it or appear to be rude. Even today as I think about that tradition I have to smile as it brings back memories of a simpler time and a connection to family. I must admit I made Green Death for many years at holidays in the hopes of carrying on the tradition but as time went on I had to stop torturing the kids and simply have stuck to the sweet pickles and olives which can always be found in my kitchen cupboard.

As time marches on and my boys get older I have recognized that for the most part the moments of teaching them have become smaller and smaller. As they grow up and start families on their own I can only hope that some of our traditions will stay with them and bring back positive memories. Watching them both become adults, I feel that they have both shown that they truly understand and cherish the important times together. Whether it’s a groan at the beginning of The Santa Clause (but then they laugh through the whole thing) or when they grab extra olives and pickles during the holidays because they are excited for the food, the traditions resonate with them wholeheartedly. My hope is that some of these family traditions will stay with them to pass on to their kids and so forth for many years to come. Who knows, maybe they will be live streaming the Santa Clause movie and making Green Death for their own families someday soon!!

I found a quote by Tonya Dalton that struck a chord with me. “Traditions aren’t about adding to your busy schedule, they’re about filling your time intentionally”.

When I think about the things in life that I always wanted to do I think I have kept that list pretty realistic and hopefully attainable. I always wanted to have kids (I have 2), go to Ireland (and I went!!), I still want to go to Australia, New Zealand and Scotland one day and I would like to go whale watching. Beyond that any opportunities that come up have just been grand surprise adventures to experience and appreciate but recently, an opportunity came up that gave me reason to pause.  I can honestly say that I am not a real political person, I have strong views and I believe I have a very strong moral compass but I am not one to enter into heated conversations or debates.  I do my best to make an impact at the polls and I never share political things to social media.  So in this past year imagine my surprise when I had the opportunity not only to tour the White House and West Wing but also to be invited to the annual White House Christmas party.

When I found out that I was invited to go I had many mixed emotions. On the one end I was excited by the opportunity to see such an important and historic place decorated for the holidays, excited for the time with my son, and just excited to have the opportunity to attend such a unique event. On the other hand I struggled with all that is happening in our country, in DC, what it represents and of course my own political views that I am trying hard to not bring into this blog. I mentioned to parents at the preschool and some friends that I would be out of town for a couple of days and where I was going to be. I found that the reactions were very interesting and somehow I found myself in the midst of some political conversations. There were those who shared how envious they were of the opportunity, how much they would like to be able to go and then there were those who were simply appalled at the idea that I would willingly attend. I even experienced a few conversations from parents wanting to know if they had their child in the school of a Trump supporter. As I already mentioned I am not bringing my political views into this post but I definitely had some really good conversations with people on both ends of the spectrum. In the end, after much thought, discussions and prayer I decided to go and be a part of our own moment in time with my Z.

Going to such an important event was way out of my comfort zone. Let’s face it, I direct a preschool and rarely need to dress in “grown up” clothes. But I googled pictures from past parties and felt ready to go. The party was on a Sunday evening which meant flying out Friday afternoon and flying back early Monday morning, it was going to be one quick weekend but as unsure as I was, I was also looking forward to this next grand adventure.

When we arrived at the White House we waited outside in line for our turn to weave in and out through security. Once through the White House gates we headed towards the main entrance and the place was beautiful on the outside with the lights and decorations. As we approached the entrance one of two Marine Corp bands greeted us with festive songs. Entering the White House we walked down a long hallway with stars and snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. Everyone looked so nice and it was fun to watch the faces on many of the children and adults. As we progressed forward we approached the movie theater where our coats were collected and drinks were offered. It turns out the movie theater was originally a cloakroom known as the “Hat Box” until it was turned into the theater in 1942. I can only imagine the people who sat in that room over the years and the movies they had shown. Knowing the history I thought it was quite cool that they used the room for it’s original purpose that night. Once our things had been taken care of we continued on to simply wander through the many open rooms including the library, Red Room and Green Room amongst others. We wandered the halls and marveled at the beautiful trees and decorations in addition to the many fascinating people who were present. Two buffets were set up many rooms apart and we simply wandered, took pics and nibbled.

When we first arrived we were given a ticket and ours was red. That meant we were in the first group to head downstairs and meet President Trump. We stood waiting with our group in the main foyer checking out the pictures of past presidents until our group was called.  At the moment they called us to move forward I had to chuckle as the Marine Corp band, which was set up on the State Floor, begin playing a well known, Children’s animated movie Christmas song, “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” We proceeded down the stairs and went into the map room which was fascinating. The map room was used during World War II to track the war’s progress. Our next stop was the diplomatic room next door which is where the President and First Lady were situated for a photo op. It was a bit surreal to be standing and talking to the President, not because of who he is as a person but because of the office that he represents. What I wanted to say was not said, what I would have liked to give an opinion on was not shared, but instead I took in the moment for what it was. It was a moment in our own family history that will one day be shared, a moment when I stood beside my son and watched him be literally patted on the back while having a conversation with the President of the United States. This moment was not about me, my views, my feelings or my wishes. This moment was one of those parent moments when we take a step back and let our children shine.  This is  a moment that we will talk about for many many years to come.

So though I have had some interesting feedback since I shared that I was going and I have had some interesting looks when I have admitted to taking a picture, I am glad I went and had this opportunity and adventure with one of my most favorite people. Going to the White House whether for a tour or for a Christmas Party is not about who I voted for or whether or not I agree with the current president. For me it is about seeing and experiencing a historic place that has shaped not only our country but so much that is and has happened around the world. More importantly this adventure was about doing what I do best, supporting my kids in all that they do and showing through not just my words but my actions how much they mean to me.

I don’t think I will ever forget the very first time I heard those three little words. It was was 1998 and Z was this very little 4 year old boy with a mop top of blond hair big hazel eyes and the sweetest little voice. He came to me as serious as could be and out of the

blue he said “Mom, God said we need to go to church.” I would like to say that I embraced the idea, found him the perfect church and off we went but that is not quite the true story. The reality is that I had only been a single mom for just over a year, I was working full time with two little boys, no time to breathe and honestly the idea of having to go to church was not something I wanted to deal with. Church and religion was not something that I grew up with and the boys’ father was very much against the idea of church so it was just not something that was important to me.  So I told Z thank you for telling me and well, I totally blew him off. Yep, best mom ever award should go to me!!

Life continued on and only seemed to get busier. It was now 2 years later, Z was now 6 and Chris was 10. Our world consisted of me still being the single mom but we added in cub scouts, swim lessons, soccer games and of course we had my more than full time job etc etc etc. Life was just insane and along comes Z once again with “Mom, God said he wants us to go to church”. This time Z was even more insistent and blowing him off was a lot harder to do. I asked him why and he repeated it again. I figured the best thing to do was to understand what it was he really wanted from me and then move on from there. I asked Z why we should go to church, what would church look like, what happens there, etc. He talked about the need for families to worship together and learn about God. He told me about the building- this little

church in the middle of the big trees and he talked about the people. He even told me about the pastor who wears cowboy boots and jeans. I asked him how he would know these things and I shouldn’t have been surprised when he said “Mom, God said.” I have to add that at that point in our world the boys were not spending time with people who attended church. Honestly the “church people” at times were complicating my world when planning activities for the cub scouts. Soccer games were on Saturday mornings and so we wanted to plan scouting events for Sunday mornings but it was so hard to plan things when the “church people” insisted it all started later in the day. It isn’t that I had an issue with church it just wasn’t a part of our world and it wasn’t a part of who I was.

Eventually I heard Z out and was able to once again lovingly dismiss his wishes and move him on. Yep, once again I showed what a wonderful mom I am.

The next couple of years seemed to move so quickly.   We had a great relationship and a smoothness to our crazy schedules, we had our own version of what normal looked like and as a family unit the 3 of us were very strong.  We were happy and though life was never easy, it was good. Right about the age of 8 though things changed. Z started to experience a bunch of growing pains and life for Z became more complicated.   Because of how close we are, what Z was going through was impacting  Chris and I as well.  As a family we held on tight to each other but yet we were struggling.  It was right about that time that Z brought me back those 3 words that I was simply learning to dread. Once again I had to hear “Mom, God said he wants us to go to church.” Ugh!! I really did not have time for this and seriously when was I suppose to squeeze one more commitment into my world?? I was on overload and and this simply was the final straw.  I looked at his very serious face and this time I didn’t blow him off, instead I felt like life was hard enough for him and if this is all he wants then fine we will go to church.

We live in the middle of a big city with about a zillion churches so which one do we go to? I knew really nothing about any of them and so we went to one that was not too far from our house. We dressed appropriately, took a deep breath and walked in the door. I anticipated Z smiling with a giant smile, finding what he was looking for and being home by lunch.  Imagine my surprise when instead he looked at me and with almost a tinge of annoyance in his voice he said “Mom, this is NOT the right church.”   Oh my goodness gracious I was so frustrated.     Eventually we sat back down together and I asked him to describe the right church.   He went back to the his description of the little church in the woods, the pastor in jeans, the people he would see etc.  Then he started to explain to me that God wants children to be able to worship with their parents and they should not have to go downstairs to Sunday school.  That little part seemed to really be important to him, Sunday school had to be downstairs.    I spent the next many many weeks checking out churches and I made so many phone calls to churches literally asking if their Sunday schools were downstairs and if the children had the option to stay with their families to worship.  I was checking off churches left and right and was quickly realizing that Z’s church does not exist.

That is when a friend invited us to their church.  The church they suggested was about 20 miles one way from our home.  I remember looking at them and saying something along the lines of “There is no way on God’s green earth that I am driving all that way every single week.”  Well, I should have known better.  The next week I told Z we would go and see this church that was so far from home.  Chris was out of the country on a trip so it was just the two of us.  We got up extra early and drove the 20 miles.  The church  happened to be a little church located in the big trees and it felt like we would never get there.  I won’t forget walking in and looking at Z who had tears in his eyes when he said “This is the church God said we had to go to.”   Honestly I thought he had lost it until we walked deeper inside.  We sat in a pew and eventually the pastor went on the stage.  He looked very nice and was wearing jeans and boots.   Shortly after he began talking he invited the children who wanted to to go downstairs to Sunday school.   I was in shock as I really took in where we were and I had to admit that this church was exactly what Z had been telling me about for 4 years.  The people were as he described, the physical place was as he described and suddenly I found myself driving all that way every single week (sometimes more than once).

We have been a part of the little church in the big trees for 14 years now and in that time we not only found our faith and developed our own relationships with God but we have also developed our own church family.  I now understand why those “church people” were so insistent about protecting their time together and I am forever thankful that Z never gave up and he listed to God when I was certainly not willing or able to do the same.    We have seen and experienced so many special “God” moments over the past 14 years and all of us have learned so much.   I honestly can say that there are so many stories  that I think I could fill up a book and not just a blog and perhaps one day I actually will.

This week I am floating on cloud 9.  It is a week when I am feeling strong, determined and invincible.  A week when I am feeling like I am right out of an old Helen Reddy song “I am Woman” (here is one of my favorite verses)

“Oh yes, I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong
(Strong)
I am invincible
(Invincible)
I am woman”

I think throughout the many challenges that I have faced in life that the song has always been a bit of a mantra for me.  It is a song about being strong, tolerating the garbage and being wiser because of it.  It is definitely about not giving up.

Back in May of 2011 I began a chapter of my life that just didn’t seem to want to end.  That was the last time I rolled my ankle and though that alone seems like no big deal, it was actually huge.  That final roll resulted in a shredded ligament, torn tendon and it opened a huge can of worms.

From that first moment and over the next 4 1/2 years I learned about being strong, fighting for what I need and advocating for me.  I remember going to that first doctor who took one look at my ankle, assured me it was just my lupus aggravating the joint and told me to
accept that I will never be able to walk normally again.  She sent me home with my foot immobilized and told me to keep it elevated- forever.  I was incredibly discouraged and frustrated and so 6 months later I went for a 2nd opinion. This was with a doctor in the same office who took one look at the foot and said the same thing.  I have to just adjust to the fact that I will always limp and never have full movement of my foot again.  He immobilized it again, told me to walk as little as possible and always have it elevated as often as possible- forever.  I complained and he in time sent me to PT to try and

teach me how to walk without causing more pain.  I was discouraged, angry, sad and frustrated but I followed the directions.  It was at one of the PT sessions when I was asked to go to the corner of the room and one of the therapists whispered to me that there was something seriously wrong with my foot and that I should ask for another opinion at a different hospital.  By this time I had nothing to lose and demanded that 3rd opinion.

Imagine how happy I was when that 3rd doc took the time to look at the mri, look at my foot, ask me questions and then tell me that it was NOT lupus and no, I am not expected to live my life without walking.  Over the next 4 1/2 years there were 5 foot surgeries, 3 on the right and 2 on the

left. There was so much time in casts, crutches, scooters, boots and braces and of course there was much pain, many tears, hours of PT and an awful lot of frustration.  At one point I was feeling so down that I had to find humor and so I created a Facebook album that I titled “One Summer in the life of a foot” which chronicled my foot at the beach, the mall, a football game and more.   Sometimes it is laugh or cry and I needed to laugh.

As things started to heal we found more challenges and my doctor came to understand that the term “a small percentage of people” really referred to me when it came to complications.  But at last, just about 4 months ago I finally began to be able to walk without pain.  It has been a long haul but suddenly I can move and moving I am!!

Back in December I was encouraged to start hiking, I had to laugh cause that was never going to happen!  I completed my 1st hike in January and

I felt like such a rock star!  In the past couple of months there have been many more hikes, longer and higher ones.  Lots of incredibly long walks and my new found love of Spin class.  I can pedal again because I can finally put pressure on my feet!!!

That takes me back to this week.  This week I completed something that I never believed I could do before the foot garbage and certainly something I never imagined once the drama all began.  This week I participated in my very first ever 10K.   I had never done a

5K before but why start at the beginning when you can just JUMP right into it and yes, I can jump without pain.  The 10K was amazing, it was filled with women encouraging each other, with an awful lot of pink and for me it was this moment of me reminding me that I am strong, I am invincible.

One of the best parts of the entire event was that I had with me some of my closest friends.  They encouraged me, cheered me on, made me laugh and taught me the ropes including that you always pose for the race photographers.  It was in that last bit of the race when I could feel  myself getting a bit teary.  It was when those friends decided we were going to run the last bit and they all shared that they wanted to

cross the finish line of my first race with me.  I didn’t even look at my time because honestly I was already a winner.  I had completed the 10k, I didn’t give up or settle for a life of sitting with my foot up and I had developed the most amazing friends.

 

 

Thirty years ago this week  I began my dream of being a preschool teacher.  I had made the decision at the age of 4 that I would grow up and become a preschool teacher and I would be a nice one! I shared much about that time in my post “Sticks and Stones can break my bones but words can hurt me too.”

I was a whopping 19 years old when I first began teaching and quickly there after took on the responsibility of being the acting director.    I never really intended to become a Preschool Director but financially it made sense and the reality is that I love to be in charge so it was a great fit.

All these years later and I am still working at

my second school and still loving what I do.  I assumed my work would involve loving and teaching children, dealing with tuition and supporting parents and staff.  I had NO idea when I began that my world would be filled with many moments when I simply had to shake my head and laugh.  So in honor of my 30 years I decided to share a few of my crazy directing experiences.

My disclaimer is that the stories I am about to share took place in my LAST school, not my current one!!

I think one of my favorite stories to tell involved a teacher who I will call “Jane”.  “Jane” had worked for me for about a year at the old school.  She was polite, loved kids and worked very hard.  The school was set in a quiet residential neighborhood and was surrounded by homes.  One Saturday I received a call from one of the neighbors complaining of loud music coming from the preschool.  I thought that was kind of odd and decided to go and check it out.  Sure enough the windows were open and I could hear music coming from the playground.  I quietly went outside and could see the “boom box” sitting on top of the jungle gym.  This jungle gym was wood and had an 8′ high platform with slides attached and was surrounded by a 6′ tall fence.  Those numbers became very significant when I realized that on top of that playground structure was “Jane” and she was sunbathing……. completely nude!  Oh my goodness gracious I saw more of her that day than I ever wanted to see!! I called to her and as she stood up (ugh) I could hear other voices and realized that the neighbors were all out in their backyards! I am sure you have already guessed that “Jane” had just enjoyed her last day on the job!

A few years later I hired in a very nice girl who I will call “Stacy”.  “Stacy” was at times quiet and energetic but knew the name of every single child in the school.  She seemed very engaged with them and really on top of her game.  Every once in a while I noticed that she just wasn’t her normal self and seemed to have trouble remembering schedules and the names of some of my little friends.  I chalked it up to her being tired or stressed.  Imagine my surprise and joy when she told me she was pregnant and then obviously began to show! We were all very overjoyed and things were going well.  That is until the day she showed up slightly off and obviously not pregnant.  Now I am no doctor but I do believe that it is hard to go from 4-5 months pregnant to a flat stomach overnight.  I was thoroughly confused and confronted her.  After a bit of a discussion I learned that “Stacy” was very pregnant but her identical twin, “Tracy” was certainly not! Yep, they had been switching off coming into work as needed!  “Tracy” assured me it was legal as she had her units, fingerprints etc., but all I could do was shake my head and cut a final paycheck!

Many years later I had another employee, “Sally” who was simply amazing.  Organized, responsible, reliable, awesome with kids and a fantastic closing teacher.  She seemed like she had it all together until one Saturday night when I received another call from a neighbor.  The neighbor was worried that there were many cars parked around the school and lights were flashing inside.  I drove down to check it out and walked into the school.  Inside was “Sally” and some of her friends with a ouija board having their own little seance.  Yes, she too was finished!

My last adventure to share is the one that I think bothered me the very most.  The other few I could find humor and laugh but this one was just weird.  We had a new teacher’s aide who was fairly fresh out of school.  I will call her “Katie”.  She was having a hard time adjusting to the world of preschool and I honestly wasn’t sure if she was going to make it or not.   One day I received a call from her mom and was told that “Katie” had died the night before in an accident driving on Bear Creek Road.   I was shocked and sad to hear  what had happened.  I shared it with the rest of the staff and let the parents know.  As a school we were genuinely upset but working on moving forward.  About 3 months later I ran into “Katie” shopping at Safeway.  I looked at her and said, “I am so confused, your mom said you died.”  Her reply was simple…. “I didn’t know how to quit a job.”  UGH!!

The past 30 years have definitely been a wild ride and I can’t wait to see what the next 30 will bring!!

I have always considered myself to be pretty even tempered.  It takes an awful lot to ruffle my feathers but I am able to let it go quickly and I always look for the good in every situation.  Thankfully both of my boys are like me in that regard and it has helped us all to move through some difficult times.   All of that was put to the test in one of the hardest 12 month periods of our lives.

It all began on 11/13/2008 when my brother, the boys’ favorite uncle, was killed.  We were in shock of course and felt a loss that we never imagined experiencing, little did we know that losing Warren was only the beginning.  Over the next year we experienced 7 more deaths in our circle. We lost cousins, uncles, my own father and eventually 2 of Chris’s close friends.  Though we had our faith, we were still struggling with just finding some positive in our lives.  That is when I had one of my crazy ideas.

I decided that we needed to plan something to simply celebrate life, something that we could look forward to doing and something that could remind us of the good around us.   The very next morning I received one of those emails offering a 3-day Carnival cruise and the price was amazing. We had never been on a cruise and they always looked like fun on “The Love Boat” so I figured what the heck let’s go for it!

We planned the cruise for the following Spring and for the most part it looked perfect.  As we got closer Chris’s college schedule hit a snag with our cruise and we ended up having to postpone the trip to Thanksgiving weekend.  It still seemed like a good idea and after our turkey dinner we drove to Long Beach and the beginning of a grand adventure.

We quickly learned that perhaps we are not “cruise” kind of people.  The ship we were booked on was very tiny and as we soon learned there is not much to do on a ship.

The temperature was too cold to sit on deck and read, the pools were freezing, there was just one basketball net and 3 balls for everyone, mini golf was missing the clubs, the same dinner show played every night and the same comedians told the same jokes in the same show every night!! As we wandered around we quickly figured out that the only thing to do was play ping pong.  We played and played and played and played from Long Beach to Ensenada.  Once we got off of the ship to tour the town we found ourselves on an entirely new adventure.

We wandered through the town exploring the shops and such and then saw the ATV rentals.  The guy informed us we could take them down on the beach and explore the coast. He gave us a map and we were on our way.  We really were having a blast exploring until I came upon a hut that reminded me of Gilligan’s Island.  Just as I got close a military man with a very large gun came out and told us to go away! We took off in the other direction until we were stopped again but this time by a Mexican police officer yelling at us over his car loud speaker to get off the beach!  We quickly headed back to the town and happily turned in those ATV’s before we got ourselves in trouble.  Back on the ship and heading for home meant, yes more ping pong!!

I joke about how much we played but really it seemed like that was about all we did the entire trip but looking back I wouldn’t have changed a thing.  Yes we were bored out of our minds during the repeated shows, yelled at by armed men in a foreign country and were tortured with ping pong for 3 solid days but it was exactly what we needed.  During that trip we spent

the time talking. We talked about those we lost, we talked about those we have in our lives and we spent a lot of time talking about us and how much we truly love and value each other.  It is so easy to get caught up with the craziness of life and to take people for granted but that terrible time taught us to value what matters most and for us that means the time that we have with those we love.