A friend gave me this quote a couple of months ago and tonight it helped put all today's tragic mom moments into perspective. So here is one for all the moms who feel like that didn't do anything important today!
I Really Lived
by Marjorie Hinckley
"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long perfectly manicured fingernails.
I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk's lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."
Tonight when my husband got home from work and asked me how my day was, I answered, "Ah, you know, the usual. Nothing real spectacular." For some reason, the answer I gave didn't sit right with me. Really? Nothing spectacular? And then I started thinking about it...really thinking about my job as a mom.
This is the hardest job I have ever had. I've had some challenging jobs in some challenging places but nothing like this. I'm learning how to do a million things and learning so much about myself that no university or advanced degree could ever give me. Today my children were fed, clothed, played with, loved, cuddled, kissed, tickled, taught and put to bed in a place where they knew they were safe and protected. Today my children learned new things and laughed out loud. Today Jacob held his little baby sister in his arms and announced that he was big enough now to protect her. Today Matthew told me a million "Knock, knock" jokes with the same punchline and he was so cute and sincere that I laughed out loud at every single one. Today Hannah grabbed my face and sucked on my cheek and I couldn't put her down because I loved her so much. Today I not only took care physically of a household full of people but I tried my hardest to take care of them emotionally and spiritually and intellectually. Do we ever stop to think as mothers about every single individual child in this big world that did not have you or anyone like you to do all those things for them today? I can't tell you what it does to me when I think about children being cold or hungry or alone. I hate all the children I've met who never had a childhood. I hate that I know way too many children who don't go to bed feeling safe or protected and don't know any other emotions besides fear or hate or emptiness. I hate that there are kids roaming streets and being taken advantage of in ways we can't even fathom. I don't like that I have names and faces behind so many of these tragedies. I didn't have an uneventful day where I didn't do anything. Today I changed the world for 3 small people who I hope will go out one day and change the world for lots more people. It makes every moment seem so critical and important and every event filled with meaning. And I hope that I don't ever lose a place in my heart or mind or emotions for every child out there that didn't have anyone who cared today.
Your day was pretty important.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Upper Lips and Chin Hair
This week I ended what I had termed "the year of the hair" and finally went and cut it off. I had lasted six months without a major cut until I woke up and discovered that not only do I hate having long hair but it really didn't do anything for my physical appearance. I decided to go to a new salon since I had made my regular hair-cutting person sign a solemn oath at the beginning of the year that no matter how much I begged and pleaded and reasoned with her, she wouldn't cut my hair. Off to the beauty salon...I was intoxicated by the sophistication of the place, the serenity of not having a single kid with me and the aroma of expensive shampoos. I decided to really go for the gold and do something crazy...I'd get my eyebrows waxed.
The lady led me through the salon and down a mysterious hallway, in through the secret glass doors, and into a room with a table contraption. I carefully scaled the table and laid down. She clucked, clucked, clucked in horror and dismay as she tried to tame my mangled brows down enough to get the wax on. While applying the wax, she casually asked, "So, are we going to do this upper lip today sweetie?" What? My upper lip? What was there? I was horrified. I replied, "Uh, yeah." And as she was sweet talking and putting that hot, hot stuff where no hot stuff had ever been she threw in, "Here, I'll just grab this chin hair while we're at it" and kept on waxing. I lay on the table and tried to take in what had just happened. This was just moments before she ripped off all the hair and skin on my face. I stumbled out of the room feeling naked and terribly violated. (I felt like that sheep on the bonus feature "Boundin'" from The Incredibles DVD) I looked in the mirror at the receptionist's desk and found 3 enormous red swollen patches on my face. It was hairless but it wasn't pretty.
Now, I need to ask in an honest, non-face to face kind of manner...was the hair so appalling? Were people being distracted by lip hair careening in the wind? Or chin hairs hanging from the bottom of my face? Who can I count on to bring these things to my attention? I have spent the last few days trying to figure if the red, swollen bumps now were better than the blond hairs before?
I've decided to go back to my regular hair cutting person and renegotiate the terms of the contract. Apparently the "year of the hair" was more than I had expected.
The lady led me through the salon and down a mysterious hallway, in through the secret glass doors, and into a room with a table contraption. I carefully scaled the table and laid down. She clucked, clucked, clucked in horror and dismay as she tried to tame my mangled brows down enough to get the wax on. While applying the wax, she casually asked, "So, are we going to do this upper lip today sweetie?" What? My upper lip? What was there? I was horrified. I replied, "Uh, yeah." And as she was sweet talking and putting that hot, hot stuff where no hot stuff had ever been she threw in, "Here, I'll just grab this chin hair while we're at it" and kept on waxing. I lay on the table and tried to take in what had just happened. This was just moments before she ripped off all the hair and skin on my face. I stumbled out of the room feeling naked and terribly violated. (I felt like that sheep on the bonus feature "Boundin'" from The Incredibles DVD) I looked in the mirror at the receptionist's desk and found 3 enormous red swollen patches on my face. It was hairless but it wasn't pretty.
Now, I need to ask in an honest, non-face to face kind of manner...was the hair so appalling? Were people being distracted by lip hair careening in the wind? Or chin hairs hanging from the bottom of my face? Who can I count on to bring these things to my attention? I have spent the last few days trying to figure if the red, swollen bumps now were better than the blond hairs before?
I've decided to go back to my regular hair cutting person and renegotiate the terms of the contract. Apparently the "year of the hair" was more than I had expected.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
No Beauty and a Hairy Beast
When I was young, I use to dream about the day that I would be old enough to buy all the cans of mandarin oranges that I wanted. I would also imagine the glee of being able to just sit and eat as many of them as I desired without parental interruption or limitations. I find that as an adult, although some of my childhood fantasies have been laid to rest, I still can't resist certain things...like a flyer at the library annoucing the 2nd annual "Prince and Princess Ball". Who could possibly pass up on an opportunity like that? Plus, they promised Beauty and the Beast would be making an appearance. While some of you urban types may see this kind of thing every day, us "rural" folk must be sure and take advantage of our limited opportunities. Preparations began.
My 3 children, a nephew, a niece and a sister-in-law all joined us for the crown making and costume selection. Each child and adult made a crown for the regal evening and the children selected various capes, swords, and rain boots for the occasion. Despite a raging storm outside, we all left for the ball.
Upon arriving, we eagerly entered the library rotunda and sought out the promised guests. One look at "Beauty" and her "Beast" left us all a little dumbfounded. Without being overtly unkind, Beauty was no "beauty" and the beast was way, way "beastly". Jake and Matthew just stood and stared for a bit before Jake announced, "Is there anything else to do here?" We ate our food service brownie, drank some watery punch, made a couple crafts, danced to Mrs. Potts singing "Beauty and the Beast" and left for home. I wasn't disappointed. The ball was all I hoped it would be. You see, as an adult, none of the magic of these events is lost on me and matter of fact, they are enhanced by my love of "community" events. I love our little library. I love the families that pulled out their dress up box for an evening at the ball. I love the hometown feel of gathering together and eating brownies. When I join a community, I rarely miss a carnival, rodeo, high school drama production, library event or any other opportunity to get out there and smell real life. So go ahead...watch closely for those seemingly small events that pack a big punch. And remember to chew that stale brownie slowly and savor every last drop of punch. Real life can pass you by so quickly.
My 3 children, a nephew, a niece and a sister-in-law all joined us for the crown making and costume selection. Each child and adult made a crown for the regal evening and the children selected various capes, swords, and rain boots for the occasion. Despite a raging storm outside, we all left for the ball.
Upon arriving, we eagerly entered the library rotunda and sought out the promised guests. One look at "Beauty" and her "Beast" left us all a little dumbfounded. Without being overtly unkind, Beauty was no "beauty" and the beast was way, way "beastly". Jake and Matthew just stood and stared for a bit before Jake announced, "Is there anything else to do here?" We ate our food service brownie, drank some watery punch, made a couple crafts, danced to Mrs. Potts singing "Beauty and the Beast" and left for home. I wasn't disappointed. The ball was all I hoped it would be. You see, as an adult, none of the magic of these events is lost on me and matter of fact, they are enhanced by my love of "community" events. I love our little library. I love the families that pulled out their dress up box for an evening at the ball. I love the hometown feel of gathering together and eating brownies. When I join a community, I rarely miss a carnival, rodeo, high school drama production, library event or any other opportunity to get out there and smell real life. So go ahead...watch closely for those seemingly small events that pack a big punch. And remember to chew that stale brownie slowly and savor every last drop of punch. Real life can pass you by so quickly.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Nostalgia Gone Real Bad
Today as I was taking a leisure stroll through my quiet little neighborhood, I paused for a moment to drink in the soft summer breeze, feel the warmth of the bright summer sun on my face, and listen to the little girls running the lemonade stand try to rip off a customer.
The lemonade stand was on the other side of the street from me. It consisted of a box covered with a sheet, some paper cups, a beige Tupperware pitcher, and 3 little girls who appeared to be around 5 or 6 years old. I have a strict policy about always buying lemonade at children run lemonade stands and as my eye caught sight of this sweet little set-up, I felt remorse that I didn't have a few quarters with me. (I must also add that I have an equally strict policy about never actually DRINKING the lemonade. It always ends up on the lawn around the corner because let's face it folks...there are a few possibilities that have to be considered when buying beverages from strangers on street corners in the 21st century!) Anyway, on my side of the street stood Bronson. He was holding his bike and staring longingly at the lemonade stand across the street. Bronson is 4 years old and was obviously intrigued by the festivities way out of his reach. Suddenly one of the little girls noticed him staring, stood up and came to stand right in front of him on her side of the street. With a hand on her hip and a sassy little voice she called out, "Do you want some lemonade?" Bronson's face lit up and he eagerly replied, "Yeah."
"It costs two bucks," sassy girl answered.
Bronson looked down at his pockets and said, "But I don't have any dollars."
Sassy girl switched hands on hips and said, "Fine, I'll sell you some for 25 cents."
Bronson dropped his bike and ran for the house screaming, "Mom! Can I have some moneys?"
I put my head down and moved as fast as I could trying hard not to make eye contact with the little business hustler on the other side of the street. My sentimental feelings of nostalgia had quickly been replaced by the hard realities of tough bargaining and the sweat and tears involved in trying to made a living these days. Two bucks for warm, watery lemonade? I suddenly sensed that the days of innocence and naiveness were gone...then again, innocence and ignorance never made for super successful lemonade stands. I walked by her house again tonight and desperately wanted to stop and ask how profitable the 2-buck cups of lemonade were.
The clincher to the whole experience? Tonight as I was putting my 4 year old to bed, he told me he really wanted to buy a bike. I told him what a great idea I thought that was and how he could do some extra chores around the house to earn some money. His face scrunched up a little and he said, "Mom. I don't want to do work. I just want to sell some lemonade like that girl today. How many cups of lemonade does it take for a bike?" Sigh.
The lemonade stand was on the other side of the street from me. It consisted of a box covered with a sheet, some paper cups, a beige Tupperware pitcher, and 3 little girls who appeared to be around 5 or 6 years old. I have a strict policy about always buying lemonade at children run lemonade stands and as my eye caught sight of this sweet little set-up, I felt remorse that I didn't have a few quarters with me. (I must also add that I have an equally strict policy about never actually DRINKING the lemonade. It always ends up on the lawn around the corner because let's face it folks...there are a few possibilities that have to be considered when buying beverages from strangers on street corners in the 21st century!) Anyway, on my side of the street stood Bronson. He was holding his bike and staring longingly at the lemonade stand across the street. Bronson is 4 years old and was obviously intrigued by the festivities way out of his reach. Suddenly one of the little girls noticed him staring, stood up and came to stand right in front of him on her side of the street. With a hand on her hip and a sassy little voice she called out, "Do you want some lemonade?" Bronson's face lit up and he eagerly replied, "Yeah."
"It costs two bucks," sassy girl answered.
Bronson looked down at his pockets and said, "But I don't have any dollars."
Sassy girl switched hands on hips and said, "Fine, I'll sell you some for 25 cents."
Bronson dropped his bike and ran for the house screaming, "Mom! Can I have some moneys?"
I put my head down and moved as fast as I could trying hard not to make eye contact with the little business hustler on the other side of the street. My sentimental feelings of nostalgia had quickly been replaced by the hard realities of tough bargaining and the sweat and tears involved in trying to made a living these days. Two bucks for warm, watery lemonade? I suddenly sensed that the days of innocence and naiveness were gone...then again, innocence and ignorance never made for super successful lemonade stands. I walked by her house again tonight and desperately wanted to stop and ask how profitable the 2-buck cups of lemonade were.
The clincher to the whole experience? Tonight as I was putting my 4 year old to bed, he told me he really wanted to buy a bike. I told him what a great idea I thought that was and how he could do some extra chores around the house to earn some money. His face scrunched up a little and he said, "Mom. I don't want to do work. I just want to sell some lemonade like that girl today. How many cups of lemonade does it take for a bike?" Sigh.
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