clear skin

Three days ago Cate finished her five month course of Accutane.

Taking her final dose!

To say that she was thrilled to be finished would be a massive understatement.  This whole dealio has been a long and arduous journey that both she and I can't believe is finally over.

Back story:  I suffered with persistent moderate acne from age 12 to 19.  My acne was a source of massive frustration and sorrow for all those awkward teenage years.  I distinctly remember the summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school fantasizing/debating whether I rather have clear skin and be chubby or have acne covered skin and be thin.  It is sad that I thought that way.  Just sad.  I remember thinking I'd rather be chubby with clear skin, because at least that way there was something I could do about it (I could try to lose weight) instead of the current situation I was in, because I felt powerless.  My acne was there no matter what I did.  Looking back I feel heartbroken that I thought any of these thoughts.

So, long story short, after exhausting all treatments available, I finally went on Accutane when I was nineteen and six months later I was acne-free.  I cannot truly describe the joy that this was.  My never-ending struggle with skincare, self-consciousness and everything else to do with my acne had finally vanished.  It was a great decision for me to go through the treatments and the only regret I (and my mom) had was that I hadn't done it sooner.


And, as you can probably guess now, Cate pretty much went through the exact scenario I did, the only difference being that she did it two years earlier that I did.  Please know that we did not take lightly the decision for her to go on Accutane.  Accutane is a very serious drug (it is a cancer drug) and it has very strong, sometimes lasting, side-effects.  So, of course Cate had to exhaust all other treatment possibilities before finally being prescribed Accutane.  She did every over-the-counter medicine.  She tried at least 5 different antibiotics over the course of two years (some worked, others didn't, but even the ones that did work would only keep her skin clear for six months at most before her body would become immune to them and she'd be switched to a new one).  So, for the last two straight years, Cate has been taking some sort of oral medication every single day.  That is until three days ago, when it finally ended.

And, I have to say publicly that I am so proud of Cate and how she handled the whole ordeal.  Being on Accutane is a difficult experience.  There are regular pregnancy test, monthly blood draws, monthly doctors appointments,  hoops to jump through for the government, various side-effects (dry lips, dry skin patches, dry hair, redness of her face, bloody noses, joint pain, stomach upset) and worst of all, the initial breakout from beginning the medicine (I'm talking four months of bad, bad breakouts).  Cate did not complain once (remember friends, she is my most complaining child) even when her face was a hot mess (remember that acne not only looks awful it feels awful. Acne is a painful condition to endure). It was very impressive to me.  She just buckled down and handled it day after day.

Now, of course we both know that there are a small percentage of people who take Accutane and have a relapse later.  We are both hoping that Cate does not fall into that category (I didn't have a relapse, and neither did my sister and Cate's acne was very similar to both of ours).  Acne is such a frustrating situation.  I feel such empathy for anyone struggling with it.  It is just something that you can't understand fully unless you've experienced it for yourself.  Cate has even mentioned to me over the years that she feels so much heartache for other kids at school who she sees struggling with acne.  Its just tough, no other way to describe it.

My five favorite blogs...

Beehive and Birdsnest.  I've been a fan of this one from it's inception almost seven years ago.  Jennie (aka Hildie) is a friend of mine from way back.  Actually, I knew her husband when I was a child (same ward), and I met Jennie when Wes and I moved our family up to Oregon back in 1998.  Her blog is witty, smart, creative and real.  It is so very her and that's why I love it.


The Small Things Blog.  I stumbled upon this blog a year or two ago.  While perusing Pinterest, I saw some of her hairstyle tutorials there and I followed the link.  Although I've never actually met Kate, or communicated with her in anyway, I have real respect for her "hair talent" and "hair knowledge".  This blog is more of a style/fashion/beauty type of blog so it touches of the finer things in life, you might say.


This Little Miggy Stayed Home.  I have no idea how I found this blog.  It was probably a blog, from a blog, of another blog type of thing.  Miggy has a daughter who has very specific special needs (limb differences), and I have enjoyed learning about how the family has not only coped, but blossomed because of it.  My very favorite part of this blog is the Friday spotlights she does about different kiddos with special needs and their families.


Clover Lane.  I'm fairly certain I found this blog on Segullah a year or two ago.  Sarah is a Christian mom of six who blogs about her families daily life.  For some reason I "click" with her style and attitude.  She is just the kind of person who you'd want to be your next door neighbor.  Also, since she's got kids of all ages and stages, she seems to be able to appeal to moms in every stage of motherhood.


Part Time Authors.  This blog is a group of funny Mormon guys.  Y'all know my perchance for humor, so reading this blog helps keep my funny tank full.  Five different guys write for this blog and they each write an entry once a week, so it stays fresh, unique and current.  It is also interesting to read the male perspective on things ranging from current events to body image to parenting.


So friends, how about you?  Tell me one of your favorite blogs...

a story from my childhood...

This isn't technically from my childhood because it happened when I was nineteen, but still, close enough.

For the second half of my sophomore year at BYU I somehow convinced my parents it would be a super awesome idea for them to send me off on a semester abroad to London.  My mom was totally on board with it, and eventually, through much persuading on her part (I'm guessing), my dad came around to the idea and before I knew it I was climbing aboard a DC-10 with nothing but a yellow slip of paper that said 27 Palace Court to help me find my way.

(side note- The bulk of the students and professors that I would be living and studying with for the trip all traveled together in one large group.  They left for London out of Salt Lake City and would be arriving the same day as me.  I didn't travel with them because my parents had found me a smokin' deal on another flight leaving Portland the same day and landing near London just a few hours before the others)

Back in those days (early 90's) no one had cell phones, used the Internet, or had imagined such a thing as GPS.  Instead, we used maps, wrote things down on paper, and found a pay phone if we needed to make a call.  So, on that cold and blustery January morning when I climbed aboard the plane that was flying me to Stansted airport via one stop in Chicago, I sat there looking at the in flight emergency safety pamphlet convinced the grand idea to study abroad for a semester was a massive mistake.  I had never flown overseas.  I was inexperience, young, alone and totally scared out of my mind.  When I had hugged my parents good by at the terminal they told me to have the time of my life with reassuring hugs and well-wishes.  They seemed to have all the confidence in the world that I would be just fine.  No big deal to send me off five thousand miles away.  They'd given me a new camera that Christmas to capture all my memories, a twenty pound note- just in case, and that ever so important yellow piece of paper!  Supposedly, I was good to go.

So, I fly to Chicago without incident.  I even made a quick call to my parents at a bank of payphones to let them know I had made it that far.  Then I got on my connecting flight for England and settled into an eight hour trip, landing in London the morning of the next day.

This smokin' deal flight I was travelling on landed in the newest airport in the London area, called Stansted.  Unfortunately, or maybe funnily, I happened to choose to wear the exact same outfit while travelling that I wore when my passport picture had been taken.  So American.  Actually, it was so Mexican, because I was wearing one of those Mexican poncho/sweatshirt pull-over things that I had purchase while on a trip to San Francisco a couple of years earlier.  So, while looking very American girlish, I gathered my not-so-easy to maneuver luggage (think soft-sided suitcases with tiny wheels that you could pull with those short little straps that connected to the side of the suitcase- very tippy) and headed for customs.  Of course since I looked like a drug smuggler, I was chosen to have ever single item I had packed to last me half a year in England pulled out of my suitcases and searched.  So fun!  Then, after being "allowed" to enter, I frantically tried to figure out how I was going to get to London.  I knew I'd have to take a train the forty miles south to London if I'd have any chance of finding my way to the home I was supposed to live in.

One of the reasons I had chosen to study abroad in England was that I would be able to understand the language.  English, right?  So when I sat upon the platform in the train section of the airport I was befuddled because what I heard coming out of the loud speaker in no way resembled the English language I knew.  So, after 15 minutes or so passed, I ignored the heavily cockney-ed accent voice supposedly announcing where the trains were headed to and grabbed my luggage and hopped aboard the next train praying it was headed in the right direction.

Fortunately for me, I sensed we were travelling south and after a while I arrived at Liverpool street station and got off.  Now, this is where my internal dialog really started to rev up.  I was running on empty at this point, having been awake for almost 24 hours and I only had my yellow slip of paper with the address 27 Palace Court for directions, so I quickly determined I would need to either catch a cab or hop on the subway to eventually make it to my destination.  And, of course, the cheapskate in me decided to hop on the subway (tube) because I didn't to have to pay for a possible long cab ride (I had no idea how far away I was at this point).  So, I looked at the gigantic tube map hanging on the wall of the station and plotted a course.

I picked the circle line.  It's the yellow one in the middle.  I figured that I'd hop on it, and if I felt some sort of impression that I should get off, I would.  And, if I didn't, I'd simply end up back where I had started.  So, I hauled all of my super easy to maneuver luggage down several flights of escalators until I found the circle line platform and I got one the next train that pulled in.  During the tube ride it became quite apparent to me that people knew I wasn't from around those parts.  Was it my blond hair, my Mexican sweatshirt, or maybe the fact that I had more color on my pale skin than almost every black-clothes wearing Londoner I set eyes on?  And honestly, people took pity were nice to me, helping me tote my easy to maneuver luggage, helping me navigate the maps and even offering me words of encouragement.  I think it is safe to say they knew I was way over my head.

So, the tube ride rounded the first corner and I just stared at the map trying to feel some sort of inspiration about where to get off.  Finally, halfway around the circle I saw we were stopping at Notting Hill Gate and I thought "why not?" and got off.  I, again, toted those easy to maneuver bags up three flights of escalators until I finally plopped them on the sidewalk and took in my surroundings.  I was on a busy street corner with lots of morning foot traffic.  I didn't know which way to go, so I did what didn't come naturally to me, I hailed a cab for the first time ever.  Fortunately for me, it was quite easy, and I told the cabbie "27 Palace Court" while he helped me load my luggage into the boot (so British already!).  He knowingly smiled at me and quickly drove me around the corner.  Yes, I had gotten off at a tube stop that was exactly one block from my address.  Dumb luck?  Maybe.  Or maybe it was kismet?  I don't know.  All I did know at the time was I had finally made it, and, it was time to pay my cab.  I handed him a five pound note and he gave me the change.  Which, to my surprise, was change, meaning coins.  I quickly put it in my pocket and thought to myself "geez Steph, your first financial transaction in England and you've already been ripped off!".  Little did I know that he'd given me pound coins and was completely on the up-and-up.

Finally, after the adventure of my life- getting to England, I was about to start another adventure in my life, living there.

27 Palace Court

My most favorite picture ever...

It's hard to beat this beauty.

A day in the life...

I'll let the pictures tell the story (well, as much as possible)

In full disclosure, I slept in our closet last night.  Wes snored something fierce, so I had to find quiet refuge.  So, this early morning wake up call hit me hard today.

6:30 am prayers before the oldest two head out the door.  This is what I usually find them doing as we straggle downstairs.

Every single day he does this.  He's my slow-to-wake-up child.

I went all out again and made Spencer's breakfast.  Every day I think about the fight over breakfast Wes and I had.  I wonder if it warms his heart that I make Spencer's breakfast?

Then, I make mine.

We always squeeze in an episode of Psych before the youngest two head out the door.

Then I quickly got dressed in my grubbies and pulled my hair back so I could prepare for a trip to the Goodwill outlet store with my friend Alison.

I managed to do a load of dishes real quick.

Then check my email.

And, after a ride over to Hillsboro, Alison and I dive into the blue bins of Goodwill.

Like normal, we find some crazy stuff.  Anyone want a Led Zeppelin onesie?

How about this for your teen to wear to the next school dance?

And my personal favorite...some awesome undies.

All in all, I have an amazingly successful day.  Nike Elite socks, a pedi-spa, supplies for girls camp crafts and stuff for my kiddos.  

I head home to welcome the kids home from school and take a quick jog in the rain.

We've started having our 'dinner out' night on Thursdays, since my older kids are never around on the weekend nights.  Tonight it's pizza!

Then Alice and I give ourselves a fresh mani/pedi.

Spencer completes a timed math test.

And, Emma climbs into her 'new to her' sock monkey footie jammies (I washed and dried them first- all you Goodwill outlet freaks).

Then the kids and I have scriptures and prayers together (Wes is missing because he's having an Elders Quorum meeting).

 The kids get ready for bed and Spencer decides to end the night trying out the spa pedi while doing his reading.

 So, this is a fairly typical day in my life.

love languages: how I mother with them in mind

So, I'm sure you have all read/heard/listened to a lecture about the Five Love Languages.  The first I heard of this idea was probably 10 years ago, or so at a Relief Society meeting, where a professional life coach gave a lecture on the book.  I was intrigued, and later read the book and spent plenty of time trying to figure out my and the rest of my families love languages.

Cate.  Cate is words of affirmation.  I consider this one of the easiest love languages to fulfill.  Cate likes verbal praise more than just about anything else.  I make sure to tell her "good job", "you're awesome" or whatever else the occasion may call for and you can see her eyes just light up because of it.  And, since most people do to others their own love language (that was a weird sentence...), Cate is often very complimentary to those she loves.  She's my kid who tells me what a great job I'm doing, or that she thinks I look nice that day, or whatever.

Emma.  Like everything else in my experience with this girl, I'm still a bit puzzled about Emma's love language.  I know for sure what she is most definitely not.  She is not words of affirmation (she hates praise), gifts (she likes presents, but isn't a present-giver), physical touch (if you have ever spent two minutes with the girl you will know the truth of this), or acts of service (I could clean her room for her right now and she'd barely notice).  So that leaves quality time.  I think she is this, but I can't say for sure.  I do often find her sitting right by me whenever we are just hanging out.  But, on the other hand, she surely likes her alone time too.  Emma is ever a mystery to me.

Alice.  Gifts.  This kid is the biggest gift-giver I've ever known.  She loves holidays, birthdays or any other occasion that she can give someone a personal, well thought-out gift.  I find having a kid whose love language is gifts is very easy to fulfill.  I can give her meaningful gifts (price doesn't matter, only the thoughtfulness) and she is thrilled.  I've also decided that I will have to make sure to set her future fiance down before they tie-the-knot and make sure he understands the importance of gifts to her.  This will be a very important part of her marriage.

Spencer.  Oh my boy.  He's quality time 100%.  I find this one to be the hardest of all to fulfill because it is relentless.  As I say all the time "he just wants to beeeeeeee with me".  Always.  Forever.  It's never ending.  This is the reason he won't have his own bedroom.  This is the reason I have to be in the bathroom while he is taking a shower.  This is the reason he needs to know where I am at almost every second of the day.  When he was a little guy he once said to me "Mom, when I get married my wife and I will move in here at home with you and dad.  And, we'll just squeeze right in between the two of you in your bed".  I'm like uh, no.  Love ya though!

And if you must know, Wes is physical touch and I'm acts of service.

How about you?  What is your love language?

10 things that make me super happy

{image via pinterest}

Bubble Baths.  I'm a bather.  I admit it.  Taking a long, drawn-out bubble bath every night after dinner used to be my sanity when I had a home full of little kids.  Nowadays, I don't "need" my bath-time like I did back then, but I still take a bath almost every single day.

When I lived abroad in Great Britain, our home didn't have a bathtub.  That was a long semester for me to plow through not being able to bathe.  I remember on a week trip I took to Paris with a few of my friends the dumpy charming hotel we stayed in had a bathtub and I was thrilled to be able to indulge for a few nights while we stayed there.

When I meet a fellow "bath person" I feel an instant connection with them, sort of a kinship for taking life slow and enjoying the finer things in life.  When we bought this home many years ago the kitchen and the master bath (jetted soaker tub) were what sold me on it.



Hanging Flower Baskets.  There's just something about these gorgeous pots of flowers suspended from a precarious perch that make my heart smile every time I see one.  I've written about it before, so I won't go into gobs of detail, but when I see a street that has gorgeous hanging flower baskets hanging from the street lamp posts I just feel that all is right in the world.

Raising funny children.  The fact that Wes and I have successfully created and raised a group of hilarious, witty, and even crafty kids is one of my proudest achievements.  I love, love, love when my kids crack me up.  It makes me happy knowing that they each have a superb sense of humor and know how to make just about anyone laugh.


Reading a good book.  There is nothing so enjoyable as climbing into bed and reading an awesome book.  I read a lot, and sometimes that means I start reading books that aren't so good, but when I do strike gold and find a book that is truly a page-turner, it is simply the best.


Snorkeling.  When Wes and I have the opportunity to enjoy a tropical vacation, the thing we like to do the most is snorkel.  We both could, and have, snorkel for hours.  The last time we were in Hawaii we found the most amazing place to snorkel (found it on the last day we were there, of course) and we must have spent six hours snorkeling.  I even prefer snorkeling to scuba diving.


Catching up with old friends.  There is something so comforting about catching up with an old friend who has moved, or is not in your circle of contacts much anymore.  It often feels like we just pick up where we've left off.  Like no time has gone by.  Some of my friends were only in my life for a particular season and then life moves forward and our contact becomes more limited (often this is due to moving), but those friends are always in my mind and heart, so to be able to reconnect in person once in a while is a treasured experience.


Cheesecake.  Lately, one of my kids as been asking me questions like "if you could eat only one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?" and I've thought long and hard about it, but finally I narrowed it down to cheesecake.  I've never met a piece of cheesecake that I didn't like.  I mean it's cheese (one of my top five foods) and cake (another top five-er) combined.  Can't beat that!


When somebody cleans my floors.  I don't know if y'all know this but my love language is acts of service.  And, one of my biggest cleaning neurosis is having clean floors.   So, if anyone breaks out the vacuum, or heaven forbid, the mop, I go practically spastic with excitement because they love me enough to clean my floors.  And, of course the pièce de résistance is having my carpets professionally cleaned.


Downton Abbey.  Do I really need to explain this?


When the people I love overcome a challenge.  I just love seeing someone I love clear an obstacle in their life and come through better for it.  I love knowing my loved ones are happy.  It is an exquisite feeling to watch your child/spouse/friend or family member struggle through a particular challenge in their lives and finally win the day.  It is awesome.