The Madness of March

March had some definite high points. I spent most of my spring break in Oregon with my mom. After returning, we celebrated Eli's birthday at the new Macaroni Grill in South Jordan. Mac Grill is a legend in the Erichsen-Webster family. Four of our five kids (Shulamith, Isaiah, Eli, and Seth) worked there at some point in their high school, college, or post-college years, as did Shulamith's husband, Matt, and Eli's wife, Amanda. It's just a thing we do. I, myself, never worked at Mac Grill; however, I've spent many holidays there: Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, even Thanksgiving and Christmas (!) because yes, I'd rather hang at Mac Grill, eating chicken parm and fried mac and cheese bites and watching my babies work, than spend a holiday without them. We can always celebrate a different day.

It's been several years since the last Erichsen-Webster server worked at Mac Grill, and even though the Murray location subsequently closed, being at the new location, with similar decor, similar menu, and even a few of the same employees, created a bit of nostalgia for all of us. Happy, happy birthday, Eli! You make life better for everyone, and I am a proud mama!

Another March high point was celebrating our friend Bekah's baby girl, to arrive in another few weeks. What a fun shower! Thank you for inviting us, Bekah. We can't wait to meet her!

Full transparency, though, March has been challenging in ways I hadn't anticipated. "The madness of March," I've taken to calling it. Anyone who knows me at all, knows I've struggled for decades with intense anxiety, objectified to fear of terminal diseases. The disheartening part is that prior to this month, it had been a couple years since this demon flared, and it returned with a vengeance, as if to ruthlessly declare, "Nope, guess again, you're not totally free from this shit." And I really thought I might be. The last couple months have been filled with medical talk: my mom in the hospital/rehab for five weeks, a close friend diagnosed with a serious condition requiring surgery, another friend in Washington with a brain tumor, and more. Too much medical stuff for this anxiety brain. Too many triggers all at once. A pastor friend recently commented in a sermon (paraphrased), "What is happening to you in the middle of the night that is more powerful than God's love?" Nothing, Hansen, absolutely nothing. Now I just need to convince my serotonin-deprived brain of this truth at 3:00 in the morning in the dark.

To end on a brighter note, I listened to several books in March; I hate driving, and audio books are what keep me sane in the chaos of commuting up to the U. and down to UVU multiple times each week. And since I don't have time during the semester to actually "read" books when I'm drowning in essays, the audio option is a huge blessing. Two of the books I listened to touch upon the value of writing. Both introduce women, strong women might I add, who lived in a time when their strength was not particularly valued. Both women write. Regularly. Sybil Van Antwerp, the main character in The Correspondent writes letters throughout her 73-year life, letters of all contexts that ultimately reveal the truth of her life story. Martha Ballard, the voice of the historical novel The Frozen River writes a daily journal entry of her experiences as a mother to nine and respected midwife in the late 1700s. Her journal entires begin early in her marriage after her husband teachers her how to read and write, until the end of the novel in 1790, when she is 54.

Both women mention that through their writing, their stories will document their existence long after they are gone, long after their children are gone. Their writing will remain. Their writing will be proof that they existed and that they mattered. My new blog book arrived earlier this month, with my posts from 2025. It is my 17th book, and I am nearing 1,000 posts between itslegs.blogspot.com and the far less prolific thereisroomforyou.blogspot.com. I may hit 1,000 this year, and if not, for sure in early 2027. I may throw a party! Would you all come? I am like Sybil and Martha. My blog shares my story. While its topics are far and wide and sometimes crazy, all my passions from parenting to politics, from religion to rhetoric, from the simplest joys to the scariest fears, it's grown to be the record of our family, the Erichsen-Webster legacy.

So keep on writing, everyone! Tell your truth. Fight back against the insidious infestation of AI, and write all on your own. You all have stories to tell. Meanwhile, send me all the prayers, positive thoughts, good juju, whatever you got that I can subdue this freakin' anxiety, get the semester wrapped up in the next four weeks, and catch a plane to Germany in 41 days! We've got this. Peace, everyone!