I started my entire educational career at the age of 5 at an international British school while my family was living in Sweden. I don't remember learning a lick of "phonics" anything...we just "felt" the words like any whole language curriculum teaches you do. I am therefore a voracious reader who can't pronounce anything correctly. Given the sheer number of books I read, I think my husband is still scratching his head as to why he has to correct my pronunciation of words so much. Thereby giving a long, slightly off topic and not very interesting explanation of my misuse...and possible misspelling...of the word "vignette".
(Snore.)
So Vignette #1. I'd like to title this piece "How to Destory the General Young Women's President's Office in Under a Minute." One of my darling sister-in-laws is in town visiting and so we decided to go take a tour of the Relief Society building in Salt Lake City and see if the General Young Women's President was in. From the moment we followed the custodial woman into the building via the secret underground parking garage and gave her a stroke because we were strangers who were blabbing about "so and so is my mom and I just wanted to visit her and so and so said we could come" and we had just entered a secure building and were we crazy and was she going to lose her job...I knew we were in trouble. I could just see it in the beautiful chocolate brown eyes of my destructive 19-month old. I could almost see his brain chugging away as he surveyed the landscape of potential things to touch/taste/throw. He is obsessed with elevator buttons and is now old enough to reach all of them. He can easily summon his very own elevator but can usually only reach the "alarm" button once he is inside. True story...ask the staff and faculty at Odyssey Charter School. So after the poor custodial woman had a stroke, we stepped onto the elevator with the entire General Relief Society Presidency where my little son took the opportunity to throw a tantrum because the 1st counselor had the NERVE to press the button when he thinks it is his sacred privilege and duty. Try laughing off a tantrum crammed in a tiny elevator with people whose pictures have been in the Ensign. I'm sure I said many an awkward thing...I'm just grateful they didn't call security on us.
Finally we made it upstairs. These beautiful offices were designed with mature adults in mind...so bringing 5 children under the age of 8 onto the premises starts really quickly to feel like a semi-bad idea. One of the amazing women who works in the office had actually invested in some toys since I think my Mo sees a pretty steady stream of little people come through the office. Hannah immediately went to work on the fabulous cupcake sticker book while Spencer took the little toy tool box blocks and created weapons of mass destruction. He was throwing them at pictures, crystal, and people. Then he climbed the beautiful yellow satin chairs to sit on the table and try to pour himself a glass of water. Next was the mixed nut bowl followed closely by another attempt at pouring himself a cup of water. I finally picked up his squirming, squealing little body and took him out in the lobby where in the short time it took me to pick up the mixed nuts being ground into the carpet, he had found a stack of Ensign magazine and was hurling them at the potted plants. I grabbed him under one arm and tried to pick up Ensign magazines with the other when suddenly Spencer looked up and with one chubby finger pointing at the picture on the wall, he said, "Jesus!" It was like he looked up and suddenly discovered this good friend standing in front of him. He said, "Jesus" again and then proceeded to fold his arms, bow his head, and say, "Amen." Amen indeed. Just when this little boy is on the brink of being hauled out to the sidewalk and handed over to the seagulls, he reminds me that inside that rambunctious little body is a magnificent spirit child...a true, noble son of God. And I went from being insane to being humbled once again at the privilege and blessing of being a mother and having them insanely wonderful little people in my life.
(P.S. Remind me sometime to tell the story of how we went over to see the general primary presidency and he literally hung onto the primary president's leg and drooled on her skirt and begged for candy...it was awesome!)
Vignette #2: "It Sounded Like a Good Idea At the Time"
HB is attending a new school. We clocked it one day in the car and found it was exactly 3.5 miles from our home. The road meanders through beautiful neighborhoods and pass pretty "country" and wouldn't it be SO fun to ride our bikes to school in the fall.
Like any great mishap, it all started out so innocently.
We decided to do what we had dreamed of and ride our bikes to her school. We left 30 minutes early to allow for plenty of time. We had our Hello Kitty helmets, baby strapped into his seat on the back of my bike, and cool water to drink. It was the second day of school so HB had on a snappy, crisp, new outfit with her darling owl backpack on her back. And for the first 10 minutes, it was all that we had dreamed.
Now the funny part about driving your car versus riding your bike is that:
a) You don't notice how the entire route is slightly uphill the whole way.
b) You forget how big your bottom is when sitting on a tiny bike seat with a baby's legs being smushed under you.
c) You don't realize that biking with 25 lbs. of extra squirming weight can really make those "subtle" hills feel like Mount Everest.
We hit the first "big" hill and despite pedaling furiously in 1st gear, I had to stop and walk. I checked my clock. We were 1 mile into the 3.5 mile trip and we only had 15 minutes until school started. My legs already felt like over cooked spaghetti and HB was starting to panic. "Go HB! You have to be strong and ride without me! Go! I'll catch up with you!" My daughter was torn between her red faced, panting, sweaty mother and the fact that she was about to be late for school. We finally made it to the top of the hill and realized that what seemed like a short jaunt through the fields in the car was suddenly a REALLY long stretch of uphill road. I didn't know what to do. We were too far to turn back but far enough away from school that we were going to be late. I felt like I was in a really bad dream where you know you have to be somewhere and you are late but you physically cannot get yourself there. We had to keep riding.
Somewhere along that country road, HB said, "You know Mom, this would be a really beautiful bike ride...IF MY LEGS WEREN'T FALLING OFF!" She pedaled, she huffed and puffed, and finally....FINALLY...we made it to school. Her face was a strange shade of red/pink/purple. Her darling hair was now matted and sweaty where her helmet had been and sticking out in strange places where it hung below the helmet. Her crisp new outfit was crumpled and had a funky smell to it. I'd like to say we raced into her class but the reality was that we limped and hobbled down the hall and to her classroom where I threw open the door and profusely apologized to her teacher for being an "idealist" and not fully appreciating how chubby, old, and out of shape I am. I'm sure I was quite the spectacle and have been "marked" by school security. It was so embarrassing...although maybe not as embarrassing as having to call my best friend and ask if she could come pick Spencer and I up. No WAY was I climbing back on that torture device...and no WAY was Baby going back in that seat with his legs falling asleep and my backside as his primary view. I have now limited myself to bike rides around the block. Period.
Vignette #3: How All the "Big" Kids Have Gone Back to School and I Take Long Naps in the Big, Blue Chair While They Are Gone.
Maybe the title says it all.
School has started and we are adjusting to a new reality with 3 kids at 3 different schools on 3 different schedules with Activity Days, soccer practices, soccer games, scouts, homework, Young Men's, etc. thrown in for good measure. This time of the year is always bittersweet as I send my kids back to school and realize that another year has started. Even though the summer was a little long this year, I still miss them. I still stand on the front porch every time one of them leaves for school and find myself offering that silent but deeply heart felt prayer that the world will be good and kind to my children and that they will be brought home safely to me at the end of the day. And I love the quiet moment in the late morning when Baby and I sit together in the blue armchair watching his planet video on You Tube enjoying an ice cold bottle/glass of milk while we both nod off to sleep. Life is chaotic and busy and full of adventure...and it is so good.
I'm truly, deeply grateful.
