Incoming from Bluewater; letter from my Mr. Nielson

Hello my Dearest,

It's been a whole day since I've seen you last, and I miss you like crazy.
The children and I have been up here are good ol' Bluewater doing a bunch of Ranch stuff, like:

sleeping in and eating breakfast at 9am (4 hours after Russ aka: the boss served breakfast),

swinging on the porch swings watching Peter drive the tractor filling in Pete's Pond, and waiting for the far off storm to blow in,

building a windmill,

installing a new light in the barn,

examine each child's catch of various lizards, frogs, tadpoles, bugs, etc.,

swinging on the porch again watching Jimmy hunt lizards on the ponywall like he was defending a fort,

watching the rain come down for hours and the new windmill spin like crazy in a monsoon,

watching funny youtubes since the last time we shared our favorites,

quad rides every minute,

wondering where Ollie is and always finding him next to Jack with his wooden gun,

getting perfect form lessons on football spirals from David which leads to an hour or so conversation about the upcoming BYU season,

the lunchtime production and children's dress rehearsal for tonight's talent show,

You know how it goes up here. Everyone is happy. Everyone is asking about you and I am happy to explain all the miracles we have experienced and how good life is inspite of the hard days. I love talking to everyone about you. They all ask about what our plans are and so one by one I repeat my report on you and that makes me happy.

The kids are all tubbed and tucked in and now I will join them. Except Ollie who is sleeping next to Jack on the boy's deck.

I love you my sweet,

-cn

The Madsen bike and a Thank You.

I was told about this cool new bike called a Madsen.
I was in love...in love I tell you!
I entered the contest to win one and even before it was over, Jared Madsen pulled up to my house with not one but TWO Madsen cargo bikes.
I was in shock.
I couldn't breathe.
I was out of control excited.
It was the Christmas I never had last year.
Jared told me that two very generous families had donated the bikes to me and my family.
I don't know who these families are, but thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for knowing that the bikes would most defiantly put a smile on my face and motivation in my soul.

...now...

I just heard that I won the contest for another Cargo bike which I am going to give away to some dear friends who will carry the Madsen name proudly in the heat of Arizona.
(get ready Livvy!)
I am so looking forward to the day that I can actually get on one and ride...(like the wind) down my street with my dear ones holding on in the back (or fastened in with their seatbelt on).
For now Mr. Nielson rides it and once even put Jimmy in the back.
That was classic.
So to all and especially those who donated the bikes to me, thank you, thank you.




Be looking for the photos of us on the bike.
I need to take some!

Madsen here

I can only dream this year.

Mr. Nielson is packing up the car and taking the children to the family Ranch in New Mexico.
Beautiful Bluewater.
I wont be joining them.
I am saving my trip to back to the ranch for when my soul is healed.
My last memory of the ranch was with Mr. Nielson and Doug. We ate chips and took an afternoon quad ride on the dusty trails.
We circled the ranch from above as I snapped photos below me in the airplane window.
And Doug was alive then.
I miss Doug and think about him a lot.
What a man he was.

So my brave Mr. Nielson is going alone. I feel sad about that. In fact my heart feels heavy, but Mom said I will be of good use here helping my Dad with his up-coming campaign.

I feel a letter coming on-

Mr. Nielson will be sending me love letters on the road...I just might post a taste of whats going on at the ranch.
Censored of course.
A man can say pretty crazy stuff while missing his wife.

Chickie.

photo: Bluelily

It was so cold last night as I put my little Nic to bed.
The a/c downstairs is working overtime and of course each bedroom has it's own personal "mayor" which adds to the basement chill.
All my other babies were successfully in dreamland but Nic. He wanted my head close to his and he also wanted me to do "chichchie" which is another word for "chickie" which is a Jones tradition. Chickie is where you softly pinch chubby skin and in a very relaxing and lovable way you pretend to nibble what you pinched. I can just hear my Nana nibbling on my five-year-old cheeks. I tell you, it works magic on sleepyheads and Nicholas is a sucker for it.

I chickied him for a few minutes and his big brown eyes shut down. I watched him. He slept so peacefully, nothing like it really. His heavy checks lay on his little hands on the pillow. His white hair lay quietly near his eyes. He breathed softly and I listened. What a beautiful sound. And to think I may not have ever been able to hear that again-it takes me to my knees in gratitude!
No matter the pain, I have breath and my children can feel my love.

Remembering back to my hospital room I lay eager and anxious because it was the day my sisters were bringing my children to see me for the first time in 5 months.
How would they see me? Would they accept the new me? Would they still love me?
I had more emotions that day then I ever had in my life.
Lucy walked in my room holding my baby-except he wasn't a baby anymore. In fact, I had missed his second birthday-asleep in a coma.
He had on a red shirt and a little black cap. His hair was parted over nicely and he looked so much older.
My first thoughts were "Oh my little baby, come here and let me chickie you!"
He held on to Lucy clutching her hair around her neck. He wouldn't let go and all I could do was lay a hand on his shoes.
It was one of the hardest moments of my life.
He didn't recognize me and called Lucy mother. It was OK though, he needed a mother and I am thankful it was her.

Nicholas visited me a few other times after that-always confused, and so was I.
Months after and when I was home living with him, he was still baffled and often went to the front door crying for mother. All I could do was talk to him and try and convince him that she was me. I was her. I was mother and always would be.

I used to talk to Nicholas while he lay sleeping begging him to remember me.
"I had you" I would say "and I pushed you out and you were really big and you slept right after, I didn't see your eyes until the next day. You used to sleep with me a lot. I used to read 'Goodnight Moon' to you every night before you went to bed. We would nap together on my bed and you loved to ride on the back of my cruiser. Remember I used to bathe you and hold you on my hip every second of the day...remember son please, please, remember me. "

I cried so much then.

It wasn't until I began doing chickie on him that it started coming back. He realized that I was his mother and that our spirits are very recognizable… that we share the same blood. My touch was the same, my voice the same and my heart the same. I loved him more than ever. The eternal bonds of motherhood and children are sacred and very real. It may have taken a few months for it to come back, but it did, and in part,

photo: Bluelily
I owe it to "chickie".



I

Ollie

Ollie's life all on the couch.
So beautiful.

Gigssors

Going back

Mr Nielson and I packed up our smallest suitcase and headed back to the heat. Back to Arizona-for the first time since the accident almost a short year ago. Our mission was to talk to a doctor (Dr. L. aka: the plastics god) about medical junk. It went well, but honestly I was more overwhelmed then I thought I could possibly be.
My letter to L.:

****
Ms. Rose greeted me to the heat with boxes of fantastic cupcakes from Sprinkles. They were so good and I managed to save a few for myself until I got home and Gigs went to town on them.

My letter to Ms. Rose:

****
Driving through Mesa was heart-breaking. Seeing old sites; like the market where I spent hours and hours buying goods to make for dinner, or stopping in to buy sparkling lemonade (in the coolest looking bottles) for parties in my back-yard. I saw the target where I spent most of my days letting the kids run around because it was blazing hot to play outside. And then I saw Main street which looked me straight in the eyes as if to coax me home to my house on Lazona.
I didn't have the heart to see the old homestead.
Just way too hard.

My letter to the house:

****

I visited the Maricopa Medical hospital where I spent a very large chunk of my time right after the accident. It was there I was life-flighted to and saved.
I saw the nurses and talked with doctors who all had a hand in my care. I was totally emotional looking into their eyes with tears of joy!
My letter to them:

****
Monday night I got home and lay on the couch at the in-laws. I felt lonely. I was super confused and tired.
Best part of the trip was getting together with the Jones' and having the most delicious pizza at LGO.

My letter to them:


****
It was time to go home to see my children. I was eager to sit them down and explain what the doctor had proposed to us. I wanted their feed-back and see how they reacted. Jane was most emotional and even told me in sobs that "Most 6 year-old's don't have to do this" to which I told her she was right. What do you say to that one? I told her she was a special 6 year-old and everything would be OK. Then she told me her burps tasted like veggie-hot dogs and I think that closed that conversation.

photo taken by bluelily
dress by shabby apple.

My letter to Claire, Jane, Ollie, and Nic:

****

All and all, things went well. I do have some ruff decisions to make and I strongly believe none can be made without the OK from my Heavenly Father. He is "active in my life" as Mr. Nielson so profoundly reminded me in a very private moment. I know when all is said and done, I have enormous support from family, community (ies) and you.
I love you-

Nie signing off.

Family Gala 2009

The family:







The Guests:
Spencer and Lindsay Jones and Ms. Jamiee Rose


The Food:

The entertainment:
Mindy Gledhill and Spencer

**all photo's courtesy of Cjane**

The 4th July, Two-Thousand and Nine.

It all begins with the morning parade.

Then the family lunch at Page's mountain side home.

And marshmallow fights
ps...you haven't seen a marshmallow unless you have been to food city in mesa, az.

Then dinner on the Provo mountains waiting for the stadium to light up with fireworks and the classic American tradition of the jets flying across the city.

****PS...all the family wore 'Steve Clark (my pops) for mayor' shirts at the parade.
If you are in Provo, please join us in supporting him. More on that later...