Summer has started and school has ended. Does anyone else find this slightly traumatic? We finally had our routine down and suddenly it all changed and I felt like I was floating around in my black hole of "wearing pj's til noon and eating Doritos for breakfast" mode. So we have implemented a new summer schedule. Now, I'm sharing this because it is my blog and I can share whatever I want but remember I am also a junkie for playing school in the basement and making people play MY games with me. (Isn't that why we have kids?) Anyway, it has helped lessen the boredom and amount of T.V. time, increased our "fun" meter, and even added a splash of learning into the mix. Here is how it works.
8:00 a.m.-9:00 a.m. Breakfast and lounging
*(We are not huge morning people here...it takes all of us a while to get moving!)
9:00 a.m.-9:30 a.m. Daily Chores
*(Each person in the family, including mom, has a chore chart on the fridge with daily chores on it. They are age appropriate for the child and change as the needs change or the kids become capable of doing more.) Chores include: Getting dressed, Making Bed, Cleaning Bedroom, Going Potty, Reading One Chapter/Book Out Loud, and helping with a "Special" Chore. We set the timer and go to work. If the kids complete their chores by the time the timer goes off and without me nagging them, then they are invited to a special activity at the kitchen table. If they don't finish or if I've had to nag them, they are uninvited and have to find something else to do alone.
9:30 a.m.-10:00 a.m. Special Activity/ Mom gets ready
*If the kids have earned it, they get a special activity. I have a fabulous deck of cards that I bought called "50 Simple Activities to Do with Kids"...each card has a different activity on it that is EASY to do. We pick a card, get out the "supply" box, and the kids do their project. I am also an "Oriental Trading" junkie (really...a total addict! Check out orientaltrading.com OR handson fun.com). Every couple of months I place a huge order of crafts, stickers, stencils, stamps, etc. and place them in a huge storage box in my room. This is a great resource for pulling stuff out and giving the kids last minute activities and projects to do. Oriental Trading is a super cheap, super fun place to get stuff like this! I also have them write cards to people, write letters, do birthday cards for friends and family, or whatever else I can think of. Giving them a project is great because I can go have 20-30 minutes to actually get dressed and put on deodrant. So lovely.
For the rest of the morning we have our "stuff" to do. On Mondays, Jake goes to a special class at the library. On Wednesdays, Hannah and Matthew go to their special class at the library. On Tuesdays, if the kids have filled up their chore charts from the week before, we go to the special Mom/Kid Summer Movies at the theatre. There are a ton of these kinds of things you can do. Check around your library, school, rec center, movie theaters, etc.
We have lunch around noon, I put Hannah down for her nap and the boys and I have some serious quiet time for a few minutes. The boys are hugely against naps but they get to watch part of a movie or show while we just veg.
In the afternoon, after "veg" time, we go downstairs for Busy Bee School. This little school lasts for 60-90 minutes and is my favorite part of the day. We start with our theme song and then I have a little section of the playroom with a calendar and weather chart. We do the calendar (both boys know all 12 months, all 7 days of the week and can count to 31 because of this simple thing!) and the weather chart and then we sing our ABC's and do our flash cards.
Next is an activity with our "Letter of the Week." Each week we focus on a different letter. We talk about how it looks, sounds, and how it is written. Matthew focuses on the basics while Jake is working on his handwriting and spelling. We do a short activity and then move on.
After letters, I read a picture book that goes along with our weekly "theme". (While Jake is at his special class on Mondays at the library, M., H., and I go on a treasure hunt for books that fit our theme. I try to get a variety of books from different genres...nonfiction, picture books, poetry, how-to books, etc. that I put in a big basket in the basement.) Then we do an a thematic activity. I don't know if anybody is really all that interested but I will post our letter activites and weekly theme activities on my blog if you are looking for ideas. Check out 3 of my favorite websites for ideas:
A) starfall.com (This is amazing for all levels of kids. It is online games and activities but you can also print things off or even order the materials for a minimal fee. It has been an amazing resource!)
B) littlegiraffes.com (Click on the TEACHERS button and then on THEMES. This whole website is great so check all the other sections out too!)
C) janbrett.com (This has really fun alphabets, numbers, games, activities, etc.)
Sometimes for Busy Bee School we just go on a field trip...museums, swimming, parks, downtown adventures, hikes, etc. We try to have at least one field trip a week.
At 5:00 p.m., the kids write in their "journals" while I start fixing dinner. J. can write and illustrate his own journal and for M. and H. I have them dictate to me and then they illustrate. I keep a container full of stickers, stamps, markers, crayons, glue, scissors, tape, etc. upstairs in the kitchen so I can get out what I want for a quick "art" project whenever we need one.
OK, so this was long and probably way, way more than you wanted to know but it has made our summer really fun. We always have friends over to play and take friends with us on any field trip, swimming, biking, hiking, whatever excursion so it has been so, so, so much fun! I'm hoping this will also help us not be so shell-shocked when fall rolls around and we have to get back on our "school" routine!
Now it's your turn. What great summer things have you discovered??
Monday, June 12, 2006
Saturday Is A Special Day
I have to admit that for many years now I have found Saturdays to be a particularly painful time. It has always meant "lots of chores/low fun" for me. Houses to clean, grass to mow, weeds to pull, groceries to buy, baths to be taken, blah, blah, blah. And it seemed like my darling hubby ended up with the outside chores in the blazing sun and I ended up doing inside chores in the stifling dust and the kids ended up somewhere in between getting into messes. Well, we have tried something new and it has changed my world and my "Saturday" attitude. I thought I'd share...
Saturday morning we all wake up, eat a delicious breakfast together, and then organize ourselves on to teams. One grown-up per one child. (Or one big kid with one little kid if you have "big" kids!) There can be more than one child on a team but the point is to have AT LEAST 2 people working together. We then decided what the fantastic reward is that we are working towards...a snow cone, fun field trip, treat at the store, picnic, etc. Each team is handed a list of "Must Do's". Our list has the following things on it:
1) Make bed
2) Clean Room
3) Get Dressed
Then we have a "Mystery" can (which is actually an old raisin can) that is filled with 6 "clues". (Can you tell my 2 boys came up with portions of this game?) The 6 clues are additional chores that need to be done in the house. The idea is that you start with your "Must Do" list and then you go pick a clue/chore from the can. Once you have finished your list & done 3 chores from the mystery can, you are done. Finished. No more work and lots more fun.
The kitchen timer is set for ONE HOUR and the start button is pushed. When that timer goes off, we are done. If there are chores not finished then they are left for the following week or another day. The idea is for each team to compete against the TIMER, not each other. We have not had a week where we haven't finished our chores and we work faster and more efficiently. After chores inside, we put cleaning stuff away and head out for our "reward"! I can't believe how spectacular our house looks, how well the jobs get done, and how much my attitude has changed about cleaning the house. Doing together as a family with everyone helping has been fantastic. Let me point out the serious benefits:
a) Doing something TOGETHER is so much easier and more fun than being sent off alone.
b) I get one-on-one time with a different child each week and we spend the whole hour talking about stuff, singing songs, and telling the dumbest jokes you have ever heard. I love the time alone with my kids!
c) I am really teaching/training my kids how to do the chores around the house. My kids are working right next to me cleaning toilets, sinks, bathtubs, vacuuming stairs and floors, washing windows, organizing playrooms...nothing is off limits. I feel like they are really learning how to do these chores and will hopefully one day be able to do them effectively and without any stress on their own.
d) My kids get to see my husband and I doing chores equally and as a team. There isn't any chore that is considered "mom" or "dad's" chore...they get to see us working on different aspects of the house together.
Really, I can't say enough about how well this has worked and I can't claim any credit for creativity because I got the basis of this idea from a book called "The Potentially Sane Mother's Guide To Raising Kids" by Tammy Fackrell. (I don't know if I got that title and author completely correct but I'll check on it!) Let me know what YOU do to get cleaning done. I can use all the help you've got!
Saturday morning we all wake up, eat a delicious breakfast together, and then organize ourselves on to teams. One grown-up per one child. (Or one big kid with one little kid if you have "big" kids!) There can be more than one child on a team but the point is to have AT LEAST 2 people working together. We then decided what the fantastic reward is that we are working towards...a snow cone, fun field trip, treat at the store, picnic, etc. Each team is handed a list of "Must Do's". Our list has the following things on it:
1) Make bed
2) Clean Room
3) Get Dressed
Then we have a "Mystery" can (which is actually an old raisin can) that is filled with 6 "clues". (Can you tell my 2 boys came up with portions of this game?) The 6 clues are additional chores that need to be done in the house. The idea is that you start with your "Must Do" list and then you go pick a clue/chore from the can. Once you have finished your list & done 3 chores from the mystery can, you are done. Finished. No more work and lots more fun.
The kitchen timer is set for ONE HOUR and the start button is pushed. When that timer goes off, we are done. If there are chores not finished then they are left for the following week or another day. The idea is for each team to compete against the TIMER, not each other. We have not had a week where we haven't finished our chores and we work faster and more efficiently. After chores inside, we put cleaning stuff away and head out for our "reward"! I can't believe how spectacular our house looks, how well the jobs get done, and how much my attitude has changed about cleaning the house. Doing together as a family with everyone helping has been fantastic. Let me point out the serious benefits:
a) Doing something TOGETHER is so much easier and more fun than being sent off alone.
b) I get one-on-one time with a different child each week and we spend the whole hour talking about stuff, singing songs, and telling the dumbest jokes you have ever heard. I love the time alone with my kids!
c) I am really teaching/training my kids how to do the chores around the house. My kids are working right next to me cleaning toilets, sinks, bathtubs, vacuuming stairs and floors, washing windows, organizing playrooms...nothing is off limits. I feel like they are really learning how to do these chores and will hopefully one day be able to do them effectively and without any stress on their own.
d) My kids get to see my husband and I doing chores equally and as a team. There isn't any chore that is considered "mom" or "dad's" chore...they get to see us working on different aspects of the house together.
Really, I can't say enough about how well this has worked and I can't claim any credit for creativity because I got the basis of this idea from a book called "The Potentially Sane Mother's Guide To Raising Kids" by Tammy Fackrell. (I don't know if I got that title and author completely correct but I'll check on it!) Let me know what YOU do to get cleaning done. I can use all the help you've got!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
M is for Muffins
Every morning around 7:00 a.m., my darling M. stumbles into my room, climbs into my bed, waits for me to pull the covers snugly around him, and goes back to sleep on my pillow. When he finally wakes up, I have to tickle him, kiss him on both delicious, firm, plump cheeks and ask him if he had any good dreams. Today he told me he dreamed that a bagel with cream cheese and legs was walking around his room. I asked, "Was it a scary dream?" He answered, "No mom. It was a good bagel...not an enemy bagel." The image of a big bagel with legs has made me giggle all day.
M. makes me laugh...all the time.
M. also moves at his own pace. There is no speeding him up. I usually am about 10 paces in front of him yelling encouraging words that really don't ever make his legs move any faster. Yesterday, when he finally caught up to where I was waiting, with a very exasperated look on his face, he said, "Mom, why are you always leaving me behind?" Try giving your 3 year old a logical answer to that. I told him I was very sorry and would try not to do that ever again. And you know what...I tried really hard today to walk at M.'s pace and I saw some things I'd never seen before. Hmmm...I'm starting to see what I've been missing.
M. is always a super hero. Today he was Flash. He flew all around the zoo today...sometimes with his hands out in front of him and with a reckless regard for whatever got in his way. Today I got to be Wonder Woman. She is my favorite. Other days I am relegated to either Batgirl or Supergirl. I don't get the same thrill being them. When we play Scooby-Doo Mystery Gang I am ALWAYS Velma and H. always gets to be Daphne. I asked him about it once and he looked at me like I was crazy. Apparently it is very obvious to him. I'll try to be satisfied with my lot in life.
M. always wants to play and just about every sentence starts with "Let's pretend that..." When you try to tell him a story, he steals it right out from under you and dictates every detail that he wants to see happen. When you say, "M., why don't YOU just tell the story" he is quick to reply, "You can tell it. Just be sure you tell it right." He loves, loves, loves to read books. His favorite right now is "Knufflebunny" by Mo Willems. A classic for any collection. And "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus" will make him giggle out loud every time.
M. eats fruit like a real herbivore. His favorites are grapes, apples, and oranges. The fruit drawer in my refrigerator is filled with half-eaten fruit that when I try to make him finish he turns up his nose and says, "Mom, that is yucky fruit. I want clean, fresh fruit."
M. can make H. laugh harder than any other person I know. She thinks he is hilarious! They look more and more alike with their round faces, big eyes, and chubby cheeks. I am so grateful for my M. boy. From the day he was born, he has truly been a gift and a blessing in my life. He is fun, adventurous, happy, imaginative, clever, smart, and is such a great friend! I love you M.! Just stop smearing the toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror....
M. makes me laugh...all the time.
M. also moves at his own pace. There is no speeding him up. I usually am about 10 paces in front of him yelling encouraging words that really don't ever make his legs move any faster. Yesterday, when he finally caught up to where I was waiting, with a very exasperated look on his face, he said, "Mom, why are you always leaving me behind?" Try giving your 3 year old a logical answer to that. I told him I was very sorry and would try not to do that ever again. And you know what...I tried really hard today to walk at M.'s pace and I saw some things I'd never seen before. Hmmm...I'm starting to see what I've been missing.
M. is always a super hero. Today he was Flash. He flew all around the zoo today...sometimes with his hands out in front of him and with a reckless regard for whatever got in his way. Today I got to be Wonder Woman. She is my favorite. Other days I am relegated to either Batgirl or Supergirl. I don't get the same thrill being them. When we play Scooby-Doo Mystery Gang I am ALWAYS Velma and H. always gets to be Daphne. I asked him about it once and he looked at me like I was crazy. Apparently it is very obvious to him. I'll try to be satisfied with my lot in life.
M. always wants to play and just about every sentence starts with "Let's pretend that..." When you try to tell him a story, he steals it right out from under you and dictates every detail that he wants to see happen. When you say, "M., why don't YOU just tell the story" he is quick to reply, "You can tell it. Just be sure you tell it right." He loves, loves, loves to read books. His favorite right now is "Knufflebunny" by Mo Willems. A classic for any collection. And "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus" will make him giggle out loud every time.
M. eats fruit like a real herbivore. His favorites are grapes, apples, and oranges. The fruit drawer in my refrigerator is filled with half-eaten fruit that when I try to make him finish he turns up his nose and says, "Mom, that is yucky fruit. I want clean, fresh fruit."
M. can make H. laugh harder than any other person I know. She thinks he is hilarious! They look more and more alike with their round faces, big eyes, and chubby cheeks. I am so grateful for my M. boy. From the day he was born, he has truly been a gift and a blessing in my life. He is fun, adventurous, happy, imaginative, clever, smart, and is such a great friend! I love you M.! Just stop smearing the toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror....
M is for Muffins
Every morning around 7:00 a.m., my darling M. stumbles into my room, climbs into my bed, waits for me to pull the covers snugly around him, and goes back to sleep on my pillow. When he finally wakes up, I have to tickle him, kiss him on both delicious, firm, plump cheeks and ask him if he had any good dreams. Today he told me he dreamed that a bagel with cream cheese and legs was walking around his room. I asked, "Was it a scary dream?" He answered, "No mom. It was a good bagel...not an enemy bagel." The image of a big bagel with legs has made me giggle all day.
M. makes me laugh...all the time.
M. also moves at his own pace. There is no speeding him up. I usually am about 10 paces in front of him yelling encouraging words that really don't ever make his legs move any faster. Yesterday, when he finally caught up to where I was waiting, with a very exasperated look on his face, he said, "Mom, why are you always leaving me behind?" Try giving your 3 year old a logical answer to that. I told him I was very sorry and would try not to do that ever again. And you know what...I tried really hard today to walk at M.'s pace and I saw some things I'd never seen before. Hmmm...I'm starting to see what I've been missing.
M. is always a super hero. Today he was Flash. He flew all around the zoo today...sometimes with his hands out in front of him and with a reckless regard for whatever got in his way. Today I got to be Wonder Woman. She is my favorite. Other days I am relegated to either Batgirl or Supergirl. I don't get the same thrill being them. When we play Scooby-Doo Mystery Gang I am ALWAYS Velma and H. always gets to be Daphne. I asked him about it once and he looked at me like I was crazy. Apparently it is very obvious to him. I'll try to be satisfied with my lot in life.
M. always wants to play and just about every sentence starts with "Let's pretend that..." When you try to tell him a story, he steals it right out from under you and dictates every detail that he wants to see happen. When you say, "M., why don't YOU just tell the story" he is quick to reply, "You can tell it. Just be sure you tell it right." He loves, loves, loves to read books. His favorite right now is "Knufflebunny" by Mo Willems. A classic for any collection. And "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus" will make him giggle out loud every time.
M. eats fruit like a real herbivore. His favorites are grapes, apples, and oranges. The fruit drawer in my refrigerator is filled with half-eaten fruit that when I try to make him finish he turns up his nose and says, "Mom, that is yucky fruit. I want clean, fresh fruit."
M. can make H. laugh harder than any other person I know. She thinks he is hilarious! They look more and more alike with their round faces, big eyes, and chubby cheeks. I am so grateful for my M. boy. From the day he was born, he has truly been a gift and a blessing in my life. He is fun, adventurous, happy, imaginative, clever, smart, and is such a great friend! I love you M.! Just stop smearing the toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror....
M. makes me laugh...all the time.
M. also moves at his own pace. There is no speeding him up. I usually am about 10 paces in front of him yelling encouraging words that really don't ever make his legs move any faster. Yesterday, when he finally caught up to where I was waiting, with a very exasperated look on his face, he said, "Mom, why are you always leaving me behind?" Try giving your 3 year old a logical answer to that. I told him I was very sorry and would try not to do that ever again. And you know what...I tried really hard today to walk at M.'s pace and I saw some things I'd never seen before. Hmmm...I'm starting to see what I've been missing.
M. is always a super hero. Today he was Flash. He flew all around the zoo today...sometimes with his hands out in front of him and with a reckless regard for whatever got in his way. Today I got to be Wonder Woman. She is my favorite. Other days I am relegated to either Batgirl or Supergirl. I don't get the same thrill being them. When we play Scooby-Doo Mystery Gang I am ALWAYS Velma and H. always gets to be Daphne. I asked him about it once and he looked at me like I was crazy. Apparently it is very obvious to him. I'll try to be satisfied with my lot in life.
M. always wants to play and just about every sentence starts with "Let's pretend that..." When you try to tell him a story, he steals it right out from under you and dictates every detail that he wants to see happen. When you say, "M., why don't YOU just tell the story" he is quick to reply, "You can tell it. Just be sure you tell it right." He loves, loves, loves to read books. His favorite right now is "Knufflebunny" by Mo Willems. A classic for any collection. And "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus" will make him giggle out loud every time.
M. eats fruit like a real herbivore. His favorites are grapes, apples, and oranges. The fruit drawer in my refrigerator is filled with half-eaten fruit that when I try to make him finish he turns up his nose and says, "Mom, that is yucky fruit. I want clean, fresh fruit."
M. can make H. laugh harder than any other person I know. She thinks he is hilarious! They look more and more alike with their round faces, big eyes, and chubby cheeks. I am so grateful for my M. boy. From the day he was born, he has truly been a gift and a blessing in my life. He is fun, adventurous, happy, imaginative, clever, smart, and is such a great friend! I love you M.! Just stop smearing the toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror....
Sunday, May 14, 2006
A Tribute to My Mo
Today is Mother’s Day and so I would like to dedicate this blog to my “Mo” and all the wonderful gifts she has given me over the last 35 years. I wish everyone had a Mom like my Mo. The world would be such a happy, fun, comfortable place. (Not to mention ever so stylish, hip, and cute!) I don’t know any other person whose attention is sought after more in my family than my Mo’s. Getting time with her is still such a treat! But let me start at the beginning…
My Mo has given me the gift of FAITH.
Mo is a very intelligent, ambitious, driven woman. She graduated from high school and began college with great ambitions regarding her education and career. Yet when the Lord presented her with an unexpected opportunity, she took it. She married my dad and started a family. While the timing may have caught her a little off-guard, her desire to follow the Lord and do His will has never been a question. She knew no opportunity or righteous desire would be denied and she has had faith in that promise for all these years. After 7 children, she is back in school at Brigham Young University finishing her degree and pursuing so many interesting avenues and interests. I’m so proud of the student she is and the incredible new things she is doing.
My Mo has given me the gift of DETERMINATION, DEVOTION, & DEDICATION.
When my Mo was 25 years old, she was called to serve as a mission president’s wife with my dad in Sweden. She had never been out of the U.S., did not speak Swedish, and had 3 little children with one on the way. In true “Mo” fashion, she accepted this challenge and not only served but excelled. She left the United States with my dad and 4 children ages 5 and under. She established a wonderful home for us in Sweden where she not only learned to speak beautiful, fluent Swedish, but played “Mom” to numerous missionaries serving far from home. My Mo had another baby, supported my dad, entertained, played hostess, traveled all over the country in a Volvo, and was loved and adored for all she contributed during her service in Sweden. As a mother and wife, I stand in awe of this experience my mom had at such a young age. She continues to be such a stalwart servant in the Lord’s army! I have watched Mo serve in countless callings throughout her life. She has never turned down a calling from the Lord and I have never seen her give less than her absolute best. I have been especially blessed in watching the service she has given to the youth of the church. As an early morning seminary teacher and as a Young Woman’s leader, I have seen her touch the lives of teenagers during a difficult time of their lives. She has taught me to never shy away from an opportunity to serve others.
My Mo has given me the gift of TESTIMONY.
Mo has such a burning, bright testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I have never seen my mother waiver in her knowledge of its truth. She is the most honest, humble, devote servant of the Savior I know. I remember my Dad commenting on how long her prayers were at night and I know I have been touched by her faith and relationship with Heavenly Father and Savior, Jesus Christ. I have watched her study the gospel, teach the gospel, and live the gospel. There is no greater gift a parent can give their children than the truth. And I know it is true because she not only taught me, but she has lived it in every aspect of her life and dealings with others.
My Mo has given me the gift of FUN.
I laughed and played and imagined and had such a wonderful childhood. I remember my Mo holding “Busy Bee School” with us in the basement where we cut and glued and colored and played. I remember organizing plays, playing school, holding New Year Eve’s parties, going to Duran Duran, Thompson Twins, and Whitney Houston concerts, dressing up, making things in the kitchen, going to movies, watching movies at home, homemade play dough, family vacations, car trips, adventures & exploring, singing, watching her play her guitar, dancing in the living room and always having a myriad of fun things to do. My Mo is creative, talented, and fun. She continues to be all these things as a GrandMo. I walked into her living room the other day where she was dancing with my children to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” so of course we all joined in. As we left, my sister-in-law said, “You are so lucky to have that kind of Mom.” I couldn’t agree with her more. I still would rather go anywhere or do anything with my Mo than anyone else in the world!
My Mo has given me the gift of MOTHERHOOD.
Because of the kind of mother my Mo has been, she has given me the opportunity to succeed as a mother. She has set the example, provided the tools, shown me how to use them and has passed the baton. Now I have 3 little children and I am striving to emulate her example. I fall short in so many areas but I am so grateful to have the power and strength of her life to look to for inspiration and example. I am also grateful for my telephone and the fact that she still answers her phone. I call numerous times a week…sometimes a day…and the woman still takes my calls. She has comforted me, encouraged me, been patient with me, prayed for me, shown faith in me, cheered me on, and loved me when I know it was not always easy.
And so today I honor my Mo and thank my Heavenly Father that she is mine.
Happy Mo’s Day! I love you.
My Mo has given me the gift of FAITH.
Mo is a very intelligent, ambitious, driven woman. She graduated from high school and began college with great ambitions regarding her education and career. Yet when the Lord presented her with an unexpected opportunity, she took it. She married my dad and started a family. While the timing may have caught her a little off-guard, her desire to follow the Lord and do His will has never been a question. She knew no opportunity or righteous desire would be denied and she has had faith in that promise for all these years. After 7 children, she is back in school at Brigham Young University finishing her degree and pursuing so many interesting avenues and interests. I’m so proud of the student she is and the incredible new things she is doing.
My Mo has given me the gift of DETERMINATION, DEVOTION, & DEDICATION.
When my Mo was 25 years old, she was called to serve as a mission president’s wife with my dad in Sweden. She had never been out of the U.S., did not speak Swedish, and had 3 little children with one on the way. In true “Mo” fashion, she accepted this challenge and not only served but excelled. She left the United States with my dad and 4 children ages 5 and under. She established a wonderful home for us in Sweden where she not only learned to speak beautiful, fluent Swedish, but played “Mom” to numerous missionaries serving far from home. My Mo had another baby, supported my dad, entertained, played hostess, traveled all over the country in a Volvo, and was loved and adored for all she contributed during her service in Sweden. As a mother and wife, I stand in awe of this experience my mom had at such a young age. She continues to be such a stalwart servant in the Lord’s army! I have watched Mo serve in countless callings throughout her life. She has never turned down a calling from the Lord and I have never seen her give less than her absolute best. I have been especially blessed in watching the service she has given to the youth of the church. As an early morning seminary teacher and as a Young Woman’s leader, I have seen her touch the lives of teenagers during a difficult time of their lives. She has taught me to never shy away from an opportunity to serve others.
My Mo has given me the gift of TESTIMONY.
Mo has such a burning, bright testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I have never seen my mother waiver in her knowledge of its truth. She is the most honest, humble, devote servant of the Savior I know. I remember my Dad commenting on how long her prayers were at night and I know I have been touched by her faith and relationship with Heavenly Father and Savior, Jesus Christ. I have watched her study the gospel, teach the gospel, and live the gospel. There is no greater gift a parent can give their children than the truth. And I know it is true because she not only taught me, but she has lived it in every aspect of her life and dealings with others.
My Mo has given me the gift of FUN.
I laughed and played and imagined and had such a wonderful childhood. I remember my Mo holding “Busy Bee School” with us in the basement where we cut and glued and colored and played. I remember organizing plays, playing school, holding New Year Eve’s parties, going to Duran Duran, Thompson Twins, and Whitney Houston concerts, dressing up, making things in the kitchen, going to movies, watching movies at home, homemade play dough, family vacations, car trips, adventures & exploring, singing, watching her play her guitar, dancing in the living room and always having a myriad of fun things to do. My Mo is creative, talented, and fun. She continues to be all these things as a GrandMo. I walked into her living room the other day where she was dancing with my children to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” so of course we all joined in. As we left, my sister-in-law said, “You are so lucky to have that kind of Mom.” I couldn’t agree with her more. I still would rather go anywhere or do anything with my Mo than anyone else in the world!
My Mo has given me the gift of MOTHERHOOD.
Because of the kind of mother my Mo has been, she has given me the opportunity to succeed as a mother. She has set the example, provided the tools, shown me how to use them and has passed the baton. Now I have 3 little children and I am striving to emulate her example. I fall short in so many areas but I am so grateful to have the power and strength of her life to look to for inspiration and example. I am also grateful for my telephone and the fact that she still answers her phone. I call numerous times a week…sometimes a day…and the woman still takes my calls. She has comforted me, encouraged me, been patient with me, prayed for me, shown faith in me, cheered me on, and loved me when I know it was not always easy.
And so today I honor my Mo and thank my Heavenly Father that she is mine.
Happy Mo’s Day! I love you.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Since the time I was a wee child, I have yearned to be a teacher. I honestly cannot remember one single moment of my life where I wanted to be anything else. I have had a wide host of varied interests but at the core of it all was this desire to teach. I have had "classrooms" set up in every house we have ever lived in. I had a teacher's desk, student desks, real textbooks, worksheets, a chalkboard, sticker charts, and a whistle to use when I had recess duty in the backyard with make-believe students. Are you starting to understand how serious this is?
I was a "student" helper in a kindergarten classroom my junior year of high school, a preschool teacher in a co-op program at my high school my senior year, and have logged some serious volunteer hours in various classrooms around the country...Massachusetts, Idaho, Utah, New Jersey, and Washington, D.C. I received my bachelor's degree in elementary education and my master's degree in Administration and Educational Leadership. I have student taught, interned, and been a "real" teacher. (This is not meant to be a resume but to illustrate a point that I realize is taking a long time to arrive at.) I have found truly immense joy in teaching my own children and I realize I am a total geek because even though I am 35 years old, I still make my kids come downstairs and "play school" with me. I have been there when J. learned to read, write and start to discover the world around him. I was there when M. sang his ABC's and counted to 20 for the first time. I love listening to H. count to 1 and hold up one chubby finger. And now I'm getting to the point.
My oldest child is ready to start kindergarten next year and I have moved from the role of "educator" to "parent"...and I am freaking out. I tried to get excited about the local public school until I watched ants invade the cafeteria one day, talked to an assistant principal who couldn't really tell me what time school started and ended, and met the worn out kindergarten teacher with fraying orange carpet in her classroom and 30+ students in each session. So I put J.'s name on every charter school waiting list in the county. We found out this week that we were accepted at one of our top choices and I eagerly drove all the kids over to the school today to enroll my little kindergartener. I filled out the paperwork, walked around the school where I saw students dressed in the darling plaid school uniform eagerly engaged in studying in a variety of break-out rooms and classrooms and talked to some really enthusiastic personnel and teachers that were impressive both in what they knew and their passion for teaching. As we left the school, J. announced, "Mom, I think I could really be happy here." And I started to cry. You see, the problem isn't necessarily the schools because I realized today that no school will ever be good enough for a little boy who I think is amazing and wonderful and who I adore with every ounce of my body and soul. The problem is that I am sending my son off to let someone else be his teacher and do for him all the incredible things that I love doing for him. And not only that, but no teacher will ever adore my son the way I do. It just seems so ironic that with my passion, I'm still sending him off and it hurts my heart. I won't homeschool him because I don't believe in the long run that it is in the best interest of my child. Going to school is 50% academics and 50% life skills and I won't deny my son the opporunity to be touched by wonderful people who have strengths and skills so different than mine. He also needs to learn how to get along with teachers and students who aren't easy to get along with and how to handle new situations and experiences. He needs the chance to stand on his own and he needs to know that his parents trust him to do that. He needs to make decisions and weigh choices and be responsible for things that are exclusively "his". But I will miss him so much. And I hope he doesn't mind that when he gets home I may still drag him to the library to look for books on dragons and how to make kites and drag him all over the state to go on new adventures and play at new museums and playgrounds and try mixing all that mystery stuff in the cupboard to see what kind of explosion it will make....there is a magic in learning with my children that I hope will never end. I've rediscovered so much about myself and the world that I had forgotten or maybe never really learned. So here is to public education....and to all the moms waiting at the bus stops when school is over! Hooray!
I was a "student" helper in a kindergarten classroom my junior year of high school, a preschool teacher in a co-op program at my high school my senior year, and have logged some serious volunteer hours in various classrooms around the country...Massachusetts, Idaho, Utah, New Jersey, and Washington, D.C. I received my bachelor's degree in elementary education and my master's degree in Administration and Educational Leadership. I have student taught, interned, and been a "real" teacher. (This is not meant to be a resume but to illustrate a point that I realize is taking a long time to arrive at.) I have found truly immense joy in teaching my own children and I realize I am a total geek because even though I am 35 years old, I still make my kids come downstairs and "play school" with me. I have been there when J. learned to read, write and start to discover the world around him. I was there when M. sang his ABC's and counted to 20 for the first time. I love listening to H. count to 1 and hold up one chubby finger. And now I'm getting to the point.
My oldest child is ready to start kindergarten next year and I have moved from the role of "educator" to "parent"...and I am freaking out. I tried to get excited about the local public school until I watched ants invade the cafeteria one day, talked to an assistant principal who couldn't really tell me what time school started and ended, and met the worn out kindergarten teacher with fraying orange carpet in her classroom and 30+ students in each session. So I put J.'s name on every charter school waiting list in the county. We found out this week that we were accepted at one of our top choices and I eagerly drove all the kids over to the school today to enroll my little kindergartener. I filled out the paperwork, walked around the school where I saw students dressed in the darling plaid school uniform eagerly engaged in studying in a variety of break-out rooms and classrooms and talked to some really enthusiastic personnel and teachers that were impressive both in what they knew and their passion for teaching. As we left the school, J. announced, "Mom, I think I could really be happy here." And I started to cry. You see, the problem isn't necessarily the schools because I realized today that no school will ever be good enough for a little boy who I think is amazing and wonderful and who I adore with every ounce of my body and soul. The problem is that I am sending my son off to let someone else be his teacher and do for him all the incredible things that I love doing for him. And not only that, but no teacher will ever adore my son the way I do. It just seems so ironic that with my passion, I'm still sending him off and it hurts my heart. I won't homeschool him because I don't believe in the long run that it is in the best interest of my child. Going to school is 50% academics and 50% life skills and I won't deny my son the opporunity to be touched by wonderful people who have strengths and skills so different than mine. He also needs to learn how to get along with teachers and students who aren't easy to get along with and how to handle new situations and experiences. He needs the chance to stand on his own and he needs to know that his parents trust him to do that. He needs to make decisions and weigh choices and be responsible for things that are exclusively "his". But I will miss him so much. And I hope he doesn't mind that when he gets home I may still drag him to the library to look for books on dragons and how to make kites and drag him all over the state to go on new adventures and play at new museums and playgrounds and try mixing all that mystery stuff in the cupboard to see what kind of explosion it will make....there is a magic in learning with my children that I hope will never end. I've rediscovered so much about myself and the world that I had forgotten or maybe never really learned. So here is to public education....and to all the moms waiting at the bus stops when school is over! Hooray!
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Blessed Motherhood
Two of my favorite people became parents for the first time this week. I've been looking at pictures of their beautiful baby girl and wondering how their new family is doing. Becoming a parent for the first time is undescribable. Nothing can prepare you for the miracle of a new baby, the sleep deprivation, the happiness and joy or the really discouraging frustrations. I had watched too much T.V. before having my first child. I had it all mapped out in my head...I would go into labor, husband and I would whisk away to the hospital where we would practice our hynobirthing and deliver our child in record time with no drugs, just peaceful relaxation and new-age music. The baby would be laid on my chest where I would cradle him while softly cooing, "My baby. My precious baby." Husband and I would hug and kiss and gaze in awe at our little bundle of joy. I would hold him to my breast where he would instantly latch on and begin nursing while I savored the moment I became a mom. And it goes on and on and on...can you appreciate what too much T.V. can do to your mind? Now let me share what really happened.
I suffered from horrible, excruciating anxiety attacks for the last 3 months of my pregnancy. I lost weight, couldn't eat, paced the floors, and thought I was really, truly losing my mind. I couldn't even consider the joy of the upcoming event because I was too worried about surviving the next 10 minutes of my life. It was really frustrating to want to feel one way and to feel like a slave to the other emotions I couldn't seem to control. Blah.
Early one morning (2 weeks before my due date) my water broke and because there was meconium (otherwise known as "poop") in the fluid, we were encouraged to RUSH to the hospital as quickly as we could. I sat in the car dazed (it was really early in the morning) and somewhat baffled at what was happening. I do remember eating Cheerios out of a cup and wishing it had been the big steak and potato dinner I had planned for myself as the "final meal". We got to the hospital where the doctor checked me out and announced the baby was breech. Due to the meconium in the fluid and the fact that the baby was wedged the wrong way, we had to throw away the hypnobirthing plan and readjust to having a C-section. Minutes later I was in the operating room drugged with lots of Valium to calm me down and making my husband tell me funny stories about the secretary at work while the baby was being born. I remember them holding him up for a couple of seconds and then rushing him away. I lay on the table and studied the funny pattern on the ceiling. To this day I don't know if the funny pattern was really all that funny or if the Valium just made everything look that way. Once I was back in the recovery room, they brought J. in and laid him in my arms. I remember looking at him and instead of those warm, fuzzy feelings I expected to have, I just felt a little overwhelmed. I wondered how they were certain this was my baby and how they didn't mix up all the babies in the hospital (remember...I was on Valium still!). He was whisked away again and I'm a little foggy on the next few hours.
Well, 4 days later I was walking around the block at 5:00 a.m. in the morning sobbing hysterically while my husband patted me on the back and told me it would all be O.K. My little baby cried a lot and nursing really, really "sucked" (get it??). I was so sleep deprived and exhausted that I had decided we would have to give the baby up for adoption which prompted the walk around the block. Bless my husband's heart....instead of telling me I was crazy, he just patted me on the back and said, "Well, that certainly is an option. Why don't we get a little sleep and talk about it in the morning!" It wasn't the picture perfect reality I had expected. But there is good news...
Despite the horror of the 3 months before J. was born, I knew it was all going to be alright. I received a blessing from my husband where I was assured that this baby knew what I was going through and that I would feel his love and support as we went through this trial together. He and I experienced a lot as we prepared for him to come to earth. I still feel J.'s unquestioning love and support every day as I try to figure out how to be his mom. I will forever be grateful for his powerful spirit.
Moments before I went into the unexpected C-section, I felt that J.'s 2 grandfathers were by his side and somehow escorting him to mortality. My son would be healthy and happy and loved.
And during the periods where J. cried and couldn't nurse very well, I felt a fierce love and determination to figure out how to make it all work. I knew he was my baby and that I had the gifts he needed in order to be his mother. I just had to be patient.
And then came the peaceful moment one night when I was holding my newborn baby and I started to cry because I knew these moments of holding him in my arms and being a new mom were going to come and go so quickly that it would all seem like a dream.
He is 5 years old now and there isn't a time when he walks into my room in the morning and I feel a little thrill that he is my boy and that I have a whole glorious day with him. It is hard to believe that the long, lanky boy who climbs into my lap these days and snuggles is the same little boy I held in my arms all those mornings ago and wondered if he was really mine. I'm glad motherhood isn't one long rainbow movie with sappy music. I'm glad that I have to fight and be determined and rely a whole lot on my Heavenly Father because a long the way I'm learning so much about myself and what I'm really made of. I'm tougher than I thought, more emtional than I could have ever believed and really weak in lots of things but I'm learning and growing and having a truly marvelous experience along the way.
So I'd like to dedicate this blog to all the new parents out there...savor every moment, they truly go so fast. Don't worry about the really sad, hard, frustrating moments...they will go away and be replaced with knowledge and strength. And don't ever doubt for a moment that you are experiencing the greatest joy you will ever know on this earth.
(Now go take a nap!)
I suffered from horrible, excruciating anxiety attacks for the last 3 months of my pregnancy. I lost weight, couldn't eat, paced the floors, and thought I was really, truly losing my mind. I couldn't even consider the joy of the upcoming event because I was too worried about surviving the next 10 minutes of my life. It was really frustrating to want to feel one way and to feel like a slave to the other emotions I couldn't seem to control. Blah.
Early one morning (2 weeks before my due date) my water broke and because there was meconium (otherwise known as "poop") in the fluid, we were encouraged to RUSH to the hospital as quickly as we could. I sat in the car dazed (it was really early in the morning) and somewhat baffled at what was happening. I do remember eating Cheerios out of a cup and wishing it had been the big steak and potato dinner I had planned for myself as the "final meal". We got to the hospital where the doctor checked me out and announced the baby was breech. Due to the meconium in the fluid and the fact that the baby was wedged the wrong way, we had to throw away the hypnobirthing plan and readjust to having a C-section. Minutes later I was in the operating room drugged with lots of Valium to calm me down and making my husband tell me funny stories about the secretary at work while the baby was being born. I remember them holding him up for a couple of seconds and then rushing him away. I lay on the table and studied the funny pattern on the ceiling. To this day I don't know if the funny pattern was really all that funny or if the Valium just made everything look that way. Once I was back in the recovery room, they brought J. in and laid him in my arms. I remember looking at him and instead of those warm, fuzzy feelings I expected to have, I just felt a little overwhelmed. I wondered how they were certain this was my baby and how they didn't mix up all the babies in the hospital (remember...I was on Valium still!). He was whisked away again and I'm a little foggy on the next few hours.
Well, 4 days later I was walking around the block at 5:00 a.m. in the morning sobbing hysterically while my husband patted me on the back and told me it would all be O.K. My little baby cried a lot and nursing really, really "sucked" (get it??). I was so sleep deprived and exhausted that I had decided we would have to give the baby up for adoption which prompted the walk around the block. Bless my husband's heart....instead of telling me I was crazy, he just patted me on the back and said, "Well, that certainly is an option. Why don't we get a little sleep and talk about it in the morning!" It wasn't the picture perfect reality I had expected. But there is good news...
Despite the horror of the 3 months before J. was born, I knew it was all going to be alright. I received a blessing from my husband where I was assured that this baby knew what I was going through and that I would feel his love and support as we went through this trial together. He and I experienced a lot as we prepared for him to come to earth. I still feel J.'s unquestioning love and support every day as I try to figure out how to be his mom. I will forever be grateful for his powerful spirit.
Moments before I went into the unexpected C-section, I felt that J.'s 2 grandfathers were by his side and somehow escorting him to mortality. My son would be healthy and happy and loved.
And during the periods where J. cried and couldn't nurse very well, I felt a fierce love and determination to figure out how to make it all work. I knew he was my baby and that I had the gifts he needed in order to be his mother. I just had to be patient.
And then came the peaceful moment one night when I was holding my newborn baby and I started to cry because I knew these moments of holding him in my arms and being a new mom were going to come and go so quickly that it would all seem like a dream.
He is 5 years old now and there isn't a time when he walks into my room in the morning and I feel a little thrill that he is my boy and that I have a whole glorious day with him. It is hard to believe that the long, lanky boy who climbs into my lap these days and snuggles is the same little boy I held in my arms all those mornings ago and wondered if he was really mine. I'm glad motherhood isn't one long rainbow movie with sappy music. I'm glad that I have to fight and be determined and rely a whole lot on my Heavenly Father because a long the way I'm learning so much about myself and what I'm really made of. I'm tougher than I thought, more emtional than I could have ever believed and really weak in lots of things but I'm learning and growing and having a truly marvelous experience along the way.
So I'd like to dedicate this blog to all the new parents out there...savor every moment, they truly go so fast. Don't worry about the really sad, hard, frustrating moments...they will go away and be replaced with knowledge and strength. And don't ever doubt for a moment that you are experiencing the greatest joy you will ever know on this earth.
(Now go take a nap!)
Friday, April 14, 2006
Well, being a person who likes to eat but not being a real genius when it comes to "storing" that food long-term (I like to think of myself of a real immediate, short-term, "give it to me now and yes, add the whipped cream" kind of gal), I'm always on the look out for new techniques...and I daresay my charming, sweet 16-month old daughter has developed one. It all started in the carpool on the way to preschool a few days ago. C. (one of our "carpool" buddies) pointed out that H. was sitting ever so serenely, looking out the window with one of her fingers jammed half-way up her nose. She wasn't picking, wasn't moving the finger around, just sitting with her finger resting all the way up her naval cavity. I tried to ignore it recognizing that ANY comment would be positive reinforcement to my daughter and feed the already disgusting conversation going on with the 5 year olds in the backseat but I have to admit it was a little disturbing to see my girl in such a socially awkward position.
Fast forward to the day she had a series of sneezing attacks...I thought she was having violent allergies to something. She seriously would start sneezing and it would be 6-7 good, hard sneezes before she would stop. I rushed to the store and stocked up on Benadryl to arm myself with the necessary tools but started to notice that each time she had a hard attack, she would blow some contents of her nose out and not all of it looked "normal" to me. (Being the expert on children's nasal matter that I am...) I mentioned it to my husband but since he has bad allergies, we opted for doping her up, sending her to bed and praying it would all magically disappear before morning.
Then came the morning we caught her shoving small chunks of banana up her nose. I watched her carefully pick up a piece of slimy banana, place it delicately at the base of the nose opening, and then approach it with small, quick jabs of the pointer finger. She didn't just jam it up there...she shot it into her brain. (And because I suffer from a serious case of motherhood anxiety, I just had to ask my husband if children could be brain damaged from stuffing foreign substance into their heads. Don't think I didn't look it up on the internet that night!) We immediately moved into action. Out came the plastic, blue "booger" grabber-sucker thing, the tweezers, the nasal spray, and the chocolates (for moral support). We sucked, we lubricated, we tweezed, we begged, prayed, pleaded and cajoled and were finally rewarded with a sneeze that sent that chunk out of her nose and across the room. So of course we moved to scientist mode where we picked it up with a tissue and studied it carefully with a certain sense of awe and wonder.
That was almost 2 weeks ago. Since then we have accumulated more banana chunks, a piece of sausage, a felt pad from the bottom of a chair, part of a crayon, lots of small wads of toliet paper, and a variety of vegetables. The pea that she jammed into her nose on Monday actually had to be removed by the doctor who brought out the "big guns" for the procedure. You ain't seen a "sucking machine" until you've gone to the pediatric ear/nose/throat specialist! Anyway, she screamed like she always does but our doctor was kind enough to wrap the pea in a piece of gauze so we could take it home and marvel over it for a little while.
So now we bring it full circle. I think H. is just stashing her food storage away in what she considers a lovely, dark, cool hole. Really it would be the ideal place if it weren't so totally inappropriate.
Lovely, naughty, darling little girl!
Fast forward to the day she had a series of sneezing attacks...I thought she was having violent allergies to something. She seriously would start sneezing and it would be 6-7 good, hard sneezes before she would stop. I rushed to the store and stocked up on Benadryl to arm myself with the necessary tools but started to notice that each time she had a hard attack, she would blow some contents of her nose out and not all of it looked "normal" to me. (Being the expert on children's nasal matter that I am...) I mentioned it to my husband but since he has bad allergies, we opted for doping her up, sending her to bed and praying it would all magically disappear before morning.
Then came the morning we caught her shoving small chunks of banana up her nose. I watched her carefully pick up a piece of slimy banana, place it delicately at the base of the nose opening, and then approach it with small, quick jabs of the pointer finger. She didn't just jam it up there...she shot it into her brain. (And because I suffer from a serious case of motherhood anxiety, I just had to ask my husband if children could be brain damaged from stuffing foreign substance into their heads. Don't think I didn't look it up on the internet that night!) We immediately moved into action. Out came the plastic, blue "booger" grabber-sucker thing, the tweezers, the nasal spray, and the chocolates (for moral support). We sucked, we lubricated, we tweezed, we begged, prayed, pleaded and cajoled and were finally rewarded with a sneeze that sent that chunk out of her nose and across the room. So of course we moved to scientist mode where we picked it up with a tissue and studied it carefully with a certain sense of awe and wonder.
That was almost 2 weeks ago. Since then we have accumulated more banana chunks, a piece of sausage, a felt pad from the bottom of a chair, part of a crayon, lots of small wads of toliet paper, and a variety of vegetables. The pea that she jammed into her nose on Monday actually had to be removed by the doctor who brought out the "big guns" for the procedure. You ain't seen a "sucking machine" until you've gone to the pediatric ear/nose/throat specialist! Anyway, she screamed like she always does but our doctor was kind enough to wrap the pea in a piece of gauze so we could take it home and marvel over it for a little while.
So now we bring it full circle. I think H. is just stashing her food storage away in what she considers a lovely, dark, cool hole. Really it would be the ideal place if it weren't so totally inappropriate.
Lovely, naughty, darling little girl!
Friday, April 07, 2006
Tribute to the Group of the Man Leg and Other Sundry Affairs
I have been blessed. One of the greatest gifts I have been given throughout my life is friends. Not just friends, but strong, beautiful, ambitious individuals who have really truly impacted who I am, the decisions I have made, and what I have ultimately been able to accomplish thus far in my life. I wouldn't even know where to start but I do have a few of these people on my mind today...would you like to meet them?
My dearest friends are those I am related to. I have been blessed with the most amazing parents, siblings, sibling's spouses and nieces and nephews. I would rather spend a day with one of these people than almost any one else in the world...any one of them. I feel so grateful for them . All you have to do is look at the people around you to understand the impact family can have. Your life, soul, and very being start in the family. I adore mine.
I have also been blessed with a tremendous "in-law" family. From the moment I entered their lives, they have been supportive, compassionate and have truly helped shaped my own marriage and family. I am so grateful for my dear relationships with them. They are inspiring and fun and wonderful!
I would like to pay tribute to my childhood friends. One of my best friends was my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Betsy Wheeler. I wish this woman knew the impact she has had on my life. At a time when I felt physically ugly and large, socially awkward, and unsure of my place in things, she made me feel truly beautiful. She saw so many things in me that I didn't see in myself and even at the age of 8, gave me the courage to develop my talents. She recognized my love of writing and let me write books for the library at the school. She saw my love of teaching and let me teach handwriting lessons to the class every week. She encouraged me to try out for the school play where I played the Queen of Hearts and fell in love with drama. Mrs. Wheeler saved worksheets and books for me that I could take home and use in my own "school". She adored me, loved me, and inspired me. For the next 6 years, every time I played school I would wear my flowy skirt and high heels and call myself "Mrs. Wheeler". She was amazing and I have thought about the influence she has had on my life so many times...especially as I stood in front of my first "real" class as a "real" teacher for the first time. I wish I knew where she was so I could tell her how wonderful I still think she is.
I will forever be grateful to the friends that made junior high and high school the best of years and helped me be prepare for becoming a young adult. These friends were so strong and smart and ambitious and determined and funny and wonderful. Chandra, Liz, Katy, Lisa, Michelle, Carla, etc. etc. Thank you for making such good choices and taking me along with you! To this day, I stand in awe of what they have overcome and accomplished in their lives. I was never once disappointed or hurt by these friends. Can you imagine being able to say that about high school friends??? I am also extremely grateful for my first "boyfriend". He and I shared such a deep, amazing friendship that over time developed into something a little more but was always rooted in this genuine love and respect for each other. He also made me feel so beautiful and capable. He was the most genuine, sincere person and treated me so well. We shared high school, first year of college, and 2 missions together. Can you believe he wrote me every single week of his mission??? He continues to be a strong individual, husband and father and I am proud of the choices he has made in his life. I don't know where he is right now but I hope he appreciates the positive influence he had on me and the gift he gave me of respect, kindness, and hope. We had such a positive, healthy relationship that it set a permanent standard for the kind of people I would date and I can honestly say that I have only had positive experiences (for the most part) in dating. Absolutely no regrets! What a gift!!
I am grateful for a group of women in Boston, MA who befriended me at a time in my life when I was at a real crossroads. They were a different age than I was, a different place in their lives than I was but those choices they had made and their friendship helped me make some decisions that have had an eternal impact on me. I look back on that time period as one filled with these women of different backgrounds, talents, ambitions, etc. and I am filled with respect for their lives. Although I haven't seen many of them in years, I still think of them with great respect and appreciation.
And then there are 2 of the greatest friends of my life. Michelle and Jenni were with me through the end of college, the beginning of my professional life, dating, marriage, having and raising children and continue to be a source of inspiration and strength. We have been through so, so much together. I don't really think of them as friends as much as I do sisters. We have stressed together, shopped together, travelled together, laughed, cried, raged, planned, plotted, giggled, been through ups and downs and the place they hold in my heart never changes. Every time I see one of them or talk to them, it is a thrill! I love and adore them and honor the places they are in their lives. They have fought hard, overcome enormous obstacles and always remained steadfast. I truly love them.
And last but certainly, certainly not least comes my sisters in what I will affectionately call "The Group of The Man Leg". These are the women who truly occupy a significant part of my soul right now. I don't see them near as often as I would like, I don't always even get to talk to them as much as I want, but I rejoice in the long evenings every other month where we eat, laugh, hug, discuss, cry, and draw off each other's strengths. Oh, if every woman had these women in their lives. We are certainly diverse in our lives, families, challenges, viewpoints, dreams and book choices but somehow that diversity has created a strong thread that binds us together. I am so grateful for each and every one of them and continue to stand in awe of all they are doing and achieving. To be inspired in such a way is no small thing. I do not take them for granted nor the influence each of them have had individually in my life.
A person truly is a composition of all that surrounds them. To meet a single individual is to meet a whole host of people and experiences that can be thrilling and joyful or devastating and sad. Don't ever underestimate your influence. A single contact with one person can change a life. Just ask the people who have changed me...
My dearest friends are those I am related to. I have been blessed with the most amazing parents, siblings, sibling's spouses and nieces and nephews. I would rather spend a day with one of these people than almost any one else in the world...any one of them. I feel so grateful for them . All you have to do is look at the people around you to understand the impact family can have. Your life, soul, and very being start in the family. I adore mine.
I have also been blessed with a tremendous "in-law" family. From the moment I entered their lives, they have been supportive, compassionate and have truly helped shaped my own marriage and family. I am so grateful for my dear relationships with them. They are inspiring and fun and wonderful!
I would like to pay tribute to my childhood friends. One of my best friends was my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Betsy Wheeler. I wish this woman knew the impact she has had on my life. At a time when I felt physically ugly and large, socially awkward, and unsure of my place in things, she made me feel truly beautiful. She saw so many things in me that I didn't see in myself and even at the age of 8, gave me the courage to develop my talents. She recognized my love of writing and let me write books for the library at the school. She saw my love of teaching and let me teach handwriting lessons to the class every week. She encouraged me to try out for the school play where I played the Queen of Hearts and fell in love with drama. Mrs. Wheeler saved worksheets and books for me that I could take home and use in my own "school". She adored me, loved me, and inspired me. For the next 6 years, every time I played school I would wear my flowy skirt and high heels and call myself "Mrs. Wheeler". She was amazing and I have thought about the influence she has had on my life so many times...especially as I stood in front of my first "real" class as a "real" teacher for the first time. I wish I knew where she was so I could tell her how wonderful I still think she is.
I will forever be grateful to the friends that made junior high and high school the best of years and helped me be prepare for becoming a young adult. These friends were so strong and smart and ambitious and determined and funny and wonderful. Chandra, Liz, Katy, Lisa, Michelle, Carla, etc. etc. Thank you for making such good choices and taking me along with you! To this day, I stand in awe of what they have overcome and accomplished in their lives. I was never once disappointed or hurt by these friends. Can you imagine being able to say that about high school friends??? I am also extremely grateful for my first "boyfriend". He and I shared such a deep, amazing friendship that over time developed into something a little more but was always rooted in this genuine love and respect for each other. He also made me feel so beautiful and capable. He was the most genuine, sincere person and treated me so well. We shared high school, first year of college, and 2 missions together. Can you believe he wrote me every single week of his mission??? He continues to be a strong individual, husband and father and I am proud of the choices he has made in his life. I don't know where he is right now but I hope he appreciates the positive influence he had on me and the gift he gave me of respect, kindness, and hope. We had such a positive, healthy relationship that it set a permanent standard for the kind of people I would date and I can honestly say that I have only had positive experiences (for the most part) in dating. Absolutely no regrets! What a gift!!
I am grateful for a group of women in Boston, MA who befriended me at a time in my life when I was at a real crossroads. They were a different age than I was, a different place in their lives than I was but those choices they had made and their friendship helped me make some decisions that have had an eternal impact on me. I look back on that time period as one filled with these women of different backgrounds, talents, ambitions, etc. and I am filled with respect for their lives. Although I haven't seen many of them in years, I still think of them with great respect and appreciation.
And then there are 2 of the greatest friends of my life. Michelle and Jenni were with me through the end of college, the beginning of my professional life, dating, marriage, having and raising children and continue to be a source of inspiration and strength. We have been through so, so much together. I don't really think of them as friends as much as I do sisters. We have stressed together, shopped together, travelled together, laughed, cried, raged, planned, plotted, giggled, been through ups and downs and the place they hold in my heart never changes. Every time I see one of them or talk to them, it is a thrill! I love and adore them and honor the places they are in their lives. They have fought hard, overcome enormous obstacles and always remained steadfast. I truly love them.
And last but certainly, certainly not least comes my sisters in what I will affectionately call "The Group of The Man Leg". These are the women who truly occupy a significant part of my soul right now. I don't see them near as often as I would like, I don't always even get to talk to them as much as I want, but I rejoice in the long evenings every other month where we eat, laugh, hug, discuss, cry, and draw off each other's strengths. Oh, if every woman had these women in their lives. We are certainly diverse in our lives, families, challenges, viewpoints, dreams and book choices but somehow that diversity has created a strong thread that binds us together. I am so grateful for each and every one of them and continue to stand in awe of all they are doing and achieving. To be inspired in such a way is no small thing. I do not take them for granted nor the influence each of them have had individually in my life.
A person truly is a composition of all that surrounds them. To meet a single individual is to meet a whole host of people and experiences that can be thrilling and joyful or devastating and sad. Don't ever underestimate your influence. A single contact with one person can change a life. Just ask the people who have changed me...
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Take a Right At the Stairs...
Our computer lives in the basement. While it is a completely finished, delightful basement, the room where the computer lives in as far away from my regular life as it could possibly be. I have to go down the stairs, take a right, go through my workroom, around the corner into the playroom, through the playroom, over the hard wood floor basement entrance/exit and into the "computer room". While this is not necessarily "physically" taxing, it is certainly a mental strain. I think about a dozen things every day that I would love to blog about but by the time I put the kids to bed and have a moment to descend the stairs, it seems way too difficult. So weeks and weeks go by and all those things are left unsaid. What makes it even more tragic is that I don't keep a journal so all those thoughts are lost to time and my serious short term memory loss. I don't know if that is considered a tragedy to most of the human population but it seems like a personal tragedy to me.
So here I am. It is late and I am tired and all those things I wanted to blog about today are gone.
I know I was feeling passionate about abortion at some point today and angry that more women don't understand that our bodies are a gift from a loving Heavenly Father and not toys for us to do what we please. I was angry that some women don't understand that our freedom to choose comes BEFORE we have sex, not after, and that a part of being sexually active is that no matter how "protected" you think you are, if you choose to have sex you understand that becoming pregnant could be part of that reality.
Then I pondered why so many of us are afraid to take a stand on things. I was thinking about this "Big Love" protest campaign that has been circulating the web and how interesting it was when I chose to forward the email. The reaction from the people I sent it too was fascinating. I would say 1/3 of the people passionately responded, 1/3 of the people passionately responded back to ME to tell me all the things that were wrong with responding, and 1/3 of the people simply deleted it and didn't give it a second thought. While I certainly respect each person's reaction (since I have fallen into every one of those categories at one time or another), I have been thinking that I need to be more vocal about the things I agree or disagree with in my community and world and not just sit back and be complacent. Too often we feel that our one little point of view won't amount to anything but we forget that all those little viewpoints can amount to something big and wonderful. I need to make myself heard more.
I also thought about the book I am supposed to be finished reading by book group Thursday night and how it has over 600 pages and I haven't opened it yet.
I also thought today about what to have for dinner tonight. What a stressful decision. Not only do I get to decide, but then I have to do something about it. I tried to BBQ delicious steaks but my paranoia about feeding my family raw meat and all ending up in a family room at the local hospital led to me way, way, way overcooking the meat. At one point during dinner I saw Jacob banging his meat on the table and giving it a funny look every time it gave a big "thud".
I thought about my darling primary of 180 children and what I was going to do for sharing time this month, the phone calls I need to make, the bills I need to pay, and why my poor daughter kept sneezing all day. It has been a big day for my poor head and I should be in bed.
Wouldn't you love a recording that you could take out of your head each night and file away? What thoughts went through my head on this exact day last year? What was I worried about? What was I excited about? What was going through my head 10 years ago on this day? I guess these questions could all be easily answered by writing in a journal but then that would involve FINDING a journal, locating a pen that works, and not falling asleep in the big blue chair while making my entry...and if I can't make it downstairs to the computer room, then I don't know how I would manage the other. Sigh.
So here I am. It is late and I am tired and all those things I wanted to blog about today are gone.
I know I was feeling passionate about abortion at some point today and angry that more women don't understand that our bodies are a gift from a loving Heavenly Father and not toys for us to do what we please. I was angry that some women don't understand that our freedom to choose comes BEFORE we have sex, not after, and that a part of being sexually active is that no matter how "protected" you think you are, if you choose to have sex you understand that becoming pregnant could be part of that reality.
Then I pondered why so many of us are afraid to take a stand on things. I was thinking about this "Big Love" protest campaign that has been circulating the web and how interesting it was when I chose to forward the email. The reaction from the people I sent it too was fascinating. I would say 1/3 of the people passionately responded, 1/3 of the people passionately responded back to ME to tell me all the things that were wrong with responding, and 1/3 of the people simply deleted it and didn't give it a second thought. While I certainly respect each person's reaction (since I have fallen into every one of those categories at one time or another), I have been thinking that I need to be more vocal about the things I agree or disagree with in my community and world and not just sit back and be complacent. Too often we feel that our one little point of view won't amount to anything but we forget that all those little viewpoints can amount to something big and wonderful. I need to make myself heard more.
I also thought about the book I am supposed to be finished reading by book group Thursday night and how it has over 600 pages and I haven't opened it yet.
I also thought today about what to have for dinner tonight. What a stressful decision. Not only do I get to decide, but then I have to do something about it. I tried to BBQ delicious steaks but my paranoia about feeding my family raw meat and all ending up in a family room at the local hospital led to me way, way, way overcooking the meat. At one point during dinner I saw Jacob banging his meat on the table and giving it a funny look every time it gave a big "thud".
I thought about my darling primary of 180 children and what I was going to do for sharing time this month, the phone calls I need to make, the bills I need to pay, and why my poor daughter kept sneezing all day. It has been a big day for my poor head and I should be in bed.
Wouldn't you love a recording that you could take out of your head each night and file away? What thoughts went through my head on this exact day last year? What was I worried about? What was I excited about? What was going through my head 10 years ago on this day? I guess these questions could all be easily answered by writing in a journal but then that would involve FINDING a journal, locating a pen that works, and not falling asleep in the big blue chair while making my entry...and if I can't make it downstairs to the computer room, then I don't know how I would manage the other. Sigh.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Culture & A Snack
My husband had last week off from work. Every family member got to chose one activity that we would try and do. I thought the list was really pretty telling about our personalities:
Dad: go to the photography exhibit at the BYU Art Museum.
Mom: take a long nap & eat lots of naughty snacks
Jake: go to a movie
Matthew: go out for ice-cream
Hannah: suck on the list and pray this isn't the time I get lead poisoning
All went as planned. We finished the week with Dad's activity to the BYU art museum. Chris and I have approached parenting refusing to be outdone by 3 children all under the age of 5. We persist in doing activities that shouldn't be done with small children but somehow we forget that from day to day. I thought all was going well at the museum until we caught one son under the ropes touching the pre-historic artifacts and our other son saying things like, "Ohhh, come touch this one. It smears." But then the 2 boys had a moment together...a moment where they discovered photography and became riveted. Here is the picture that opened their cultural minds...
Rodney Smith
I don't know how clear the image is going to be but it is a picture of a man jumping off a building on Madison Avenue in New York City. Jake said he would call it "Man About to Bonk His Head" and Matthew said it should be called "Man Jumping Into A Pool". We discovered on the way home that this same photograph was in the brochure from the museum so this print has a permanent home on my darling boys' bulletin board in their room where I've caught Matthew standing serenely and staring at it several times. I really can't even make a good guess at what is going through his head but I'm grateful his bedroom is on the ground floor.
After the museum we went to the bookstore where I got chocolate covered gummy bears and browsed the new titles. My favorite book title was "Depression For Dummies". Chris and I decided it was probably the kind of book title that would be just the right nudge to put the depressed person over the edge.
Don't you love a day with the right mix of culture & snacks?
Dad: go to the photography exhibit at the BYU Art Museum.
Mom: take a long nap & eat lots of naughty snacks
Jake: go to a movie
Matthew: go out for ice-cream
Hannah: suck on the list and pray this isn't the time I get lead poisoning
All went as planned. We finished the week with Dad's activity to the BYU art museum. Chris and I have approached parenting refusing to be outdone by 3 children all under the age of 5. We persist in doing activities that shouldn't be done with small children but somehow we forget that from day to day. I thought all was going well at the museum until we caught one son under the ropes touching the pre-historic artifacts and our other son saying things like, "Ohhh, come touch this one. It smears." But then the 2 boys had a moment together...a moment where they discovered photography and became riveted. Here is the picture that opened their cultural minds...
Rodney Smith
I don't know how clear the image is going to be but it is a picture of a man jumping off a building on Madison Avenue in New York City. Jake said he would call it "Man About to Bonk His Head" and Matthew said it should be called "Man Jumping Into A Pool". We discovered on the way home that this same photograph was in the brochure from the museum so this print has a permanent home on my darling boys' bulletin board in their room where I've caught Matthew standing serenely and staring at it several times. I really can't even make a good guess at what is going through his head but I'm grateful his bedroom is on the ground floor.
After the museum we went to the bookstore where I got chocolate covered gummy bears and browsed the new titles. My favorite book title was "Depression For Dummies". Chris and I decided it was probably the kind of book title that would be just the right nudge to put the depressed person over the edge.
Don't you love a day with the right mix of culture & snacks?
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Happy New Year
Well, it is 11:12 p.m. In 48 minutes I will bid 2005 farewell and welcome 2006. It will take me 6 months to write the new year correctly which makes me feel like the new year really doesn't start until somewhere around the end of May/beginning of June when I don't have to think so hard to remember what year it is. Jake asked if he could stay up all night tonight. We told him he could stay up for as long as he wanted...just make sure the doors were locked and the Christmas tree lights turned off. That elicited a plea for someone to stay up with him. At 10:30 p.m. as his eyelids were drooping he asked, "Has it been all night yet?" We told him no. He asked, "Did I at least make it to midnight?" We told him almost and then he was fast asleep. I'm left awake contemplating all the new years gone by and the progression of age it represents. From 14 years old until 16 years old I lived for the stake dances. Outfit preparations for the big dance started around the beginning of November and I was usually grounded from coming home late from the New Year's dance until the beginning of February. I remember a particularly stunning ensemble I wore one year that had lots of silky pink with enormous gold hoops and then the year I wore the sleek black velvet with the shiny black patent leather pumps. From 17 years old until around 21 years old it was the "stay out all night doing nothing" phase. It didn't matter what you were or weren't doing...just that you could say you stayed out all night doing it. I remember the 2 years I celebrated New Year's Eve on my mission...seems like we ate lots of Danish stuff and watched a Disney movie that was way, way too exciting. New Year's Eve 1999 does mark the first time that Chris ever kissed me...I reminded him of that tonight and he said he had blocked it because I freaked out the next day and broke up with him twice over the next 30 days. I assured him it wasn't the kiss...just what the kiss represented.
Anyway, here I am.
I am 35 years old and put my pajamas on around 7:00 p.m. tonight hoping I could be in bed by 9:00 p.m. I didn't wear anything pink, put on gold hoops or have any ambition for staying out all night but I have to admit I'm hoping to make out a little before going to bed. Jacob is sound asleep hugging his new stuffed frog named "George", Matthew is asleep with Little Ed the horse and a 2 foot blue stuffed Cookie Monster, and Hannah is sleeping with a stuffed monkey wearing Hello Kitty underwear (she took the rest of the poor stuffed animals clothes off...the kids got to go to "Build-A-Bear today...but that is another blog for another time). It is what I like New Year's Eve to be...safe, warm, comfortable, and surrounded by my favorite people. I don't believe in making resolutions that I really don't intend to keep but I do like reflecting on where I've been and where I hope to go. I've been lots of wonderful places this last year. I've also been in lots of "uncomfortable" places but in hindsight I am just as grateful for those places as well. I survived being the mother of 3 very little people, the primary president of 178 little people, and feel like I'm still moving forward even if it involves lots of backtracking sometimes. I've met some really great people, made some fabulous new friends, and have read lots and lots of interesting books. I've travelled to some interesting places, learned some new things, and seen some great movies. I have 3 amazing kids, an amazing husband, and a wonderful extended family. Christmas cards got sent out before New Years, Christmas packages got sent before Christmas Eve, and I got to stay in my pajamas all day a couple of days this past week. I have a trip to Hawaii to look forward to in 3 weeks, a visit from my sister, and a chance to meet my new niece and nephew. Yeah, life is good. I didn't lose the weight last year, eat any better, or exercise every day but you have to have something to aspire to each year. I'm headed upstairs to pour a little Martinelli's into a cowboy glass and make out a little on the couch.
Happy New Years!
Anyway, here I am.
I am 35 years old and put my pajamas on around 7:00 p.m. tonight hoping I could be in bed by 9:00 p.m. I didn't wear anything pink, put on gold hoops or have any ambition for staying out all night but I have to admit I'm hoping to make out a little before going to bed. Jacob is sound asleep hugging his new stuffed frog named "George", Matthew is asleep with Little Ed the horse and a 2 foot blue stuffed Cookie Monster, and Hannah is sleeping with a stuffed monkey wearing Hello Kitty underwear (she took the rest of the poor stuffed animals clothes off...the kids got to go to "Build-A-Bear today...but that is another blog for another time). It is what I like New Year's Eve to be...safe, warm, comfortable, and surrounded by my favorite people. I don't believe in making resolutions that I really don't intend to keep but I do like reflecting on where I've been and where I hope to go. I've been lots of wonderful places this last year. I've also been in lots of "uncomfortable" places but in hindsight I am just as grateful for those places as well. I survived being the mother of 3 very little people, the primary president of 178 little people, and feel like I'm still moving forward even if it involves lots of backtracking sometimes. I've met some really great people, made some fabulous new friends, and have read lots and lots of interesting books. I've travelled to some interesting places, learned some new things, and seen some great movies. I have 3 amazing kids, an amazing husband, and a wonderful extended family. Christmas cards got sent out before New Years, Christmas packages got sent before Christmas Eve, and I got to stay in my pajamas all day a couple of days this past week. I have a trip to Hawaii to look forward to in 3 weeks, a visit from my sister, and a chance to meet my new niece and nephew. Yeah, life is good. I didn't lose the weight last year, eat any better, or exercise every day but you have to have something to aspire to each year. I'm headed upstairs to pour a little Martinelli's into a cowboy glass and make out a little on the couch.
Happy New Years!
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Fa, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La
It has been soooooo long since I last wrote. I feel like a virgin blogger all over again! Life is crazy and while I appreciate having something to do each day, it does wear on the soul after awhile. Halloween was fantastic! I hate to say it but it may be my favorite holiday. I'm a fall season junkie so I should clarify that it isn't necessarily the actual Halloween holiday that I love but the build up to it with the crisp sweater weather, gorgeous leaves, pumpkins, soups, trips to the Pumpkin Land, witches night out at Garnder Village with 6 wonderful friends, playing at Wheeler Farm, hay rides, etc. But I do also love Halloween...Jake designed his own costume this year. He spent a couple of hours one night in his room drawing something and when he came out, he had a whole sketch of what he wanted his costume to look like. He called himself "Super Jake" and he was spectacular. He is his father through and through. Matthew was Darth Vader complete with theme music that he would sing at the top of his lungs while stomping down the sidewalk. Hannah was a darling witch with black cat tights. I was a fairy witch and Chris was the "victim of an unfortunate accident" with an ax in his head and blood dripping down his forehead. (The prop is always a little disturbing to me since it is really pretty far removed from my husband's personality...) Anyway, once we had gorged on candy and fallen asleep with serious sugar headaches it was time to consider the primary program...
Since this is my first year as a primary president, I was pretty naive about what it would entail to orchestrate 180 primary children + leaders in a sacrament meeting production that physically rivaled a Broadway show. Every child had a speaking part so it was mayhem. Figuring out the physical layout, distributing parts, practicing songs, doing special musical numbers, and getting adults to cooperate was seriously exhausting. But I will say this...on the day of the program, the kids did an amazing job! I sat on the stand right behind the podium and had one serious spiritual experience as I was taught once again about our Heavenly Father's plan for us. I cried through some of it, smiled through most of it, and walked away with a profound appreciation for the opportunity to serve in this church with the children of our ward.
Once the program was over, it was time to consider Thanksgiving. My darling sister-in-law and her family (4 kids and a husband) drove here from Denver and did we give them a holiday to remember! They arrived Saturday night...Sunday was great and then Sunday night, her 3 year old starting throwing up and by morning, her 8 year old and 5 year old had decided to join the party. Her 3 month old baby girl was the only one in the family that decided to refrain so we had a pretty quiet day of movie watching and trying to quarintine her 3 from my 3. By the next morning every one seemed to be feeling better so Courtney and I marched the kids down to Provo for a day of frolicking on BYU campus. Hannah was really grumpy all morning and by 4:00 p.m. that day she was running a temperature of 104 degrees. I have never seen one of my children so sick. She literally laid limp in my arms all night, running a super high temperature, and jerking awake every time she closed her eyes. She didn't cry but would just moan. Nothing helped. We were alternately Tylenol and Motrin and while it would bring her temperature down for a bit, it would eventually jump right back up. I finally managed to get her in to the doctor where she tested positive for a real case of influenza. Now just a side note here...I have become a HUGE, HUGE advocate for the flu shot. You have never seen someone sick until you see someone with a REAL case of the flu. Not the stomach flu, but the real thing. The person quits eating, drinking, and runs a fever that you can't bring down. It is death warmed over. Hannah had had a flu shot 10 days before the outbreak (apparently the flu shot take 14 days to be really effective!) but it was a pretty scary week. The only medicine that can treat both Influenza type A and B is something called TamiFlu which is impossible to find because the government is stock piling it against the outbreak of bird flu and such. It was a pretty frantic night trying to track some down for not only Hannah, but Jake and Matthew and their 3 cousins. Thanksgiving Day was fine...the meal was delicious but Courtney and her family opted out on any more adventures and left for home that Friday.
Since Thanksgiving, Hannah has had the stomach flu and a cold but she has officially turned 1 years old! Her birthday was a true joy to celebrate. It was as pink an affair as we could make it and she devoured an entire chocolate cake like a real champ.
Now I am trying to organize my primary classes for next year, get enough teachers called, find rooms for everyone, get supplies, organize a new teacher breakfast/orientation, a "Meet Your Teacher" pizza party and have Christmas. Like I said...I am grateful to have meaningful things to do each day but I have to admit that a massage and a pedicure could be top of my priority list if needed be! I'm off to change the baby and kiss her big, warm, delightful cheeks for a few minutes. Ain't life grand!
Since this is my first year as a primary president, I was pretty naive about what it would entail to orchestrate 180 primary children + leaders in a sacrament meeting production that physically rivaled a Broadway show. Every child had a speaking part so it was mayhem. Figuring out the physical layout, distributing parts, practicing songs, doing special musical numbers, and getting adults to cooperate was seriously exhausting. But I will say this...on the day of the program, the kids did an amazing job! I sat on the stand right behind the podium and had one serious spiritual experience as I was taught once again about our Heavenly Father's plan for us. I cried through some of it, smiled through most of it, and walked away with a profound appreciation for the opportunity to serve in this church with the children of our ward.
Once the program was over, it was time to consider Thanksgiving. My darling sister-in-law and her family (4 kids and a husband) drove here from Denver and did we give them a holiday to remember! They arrived Saturday night...Sunday was great and then Sunday night, her 3 year old starting throwing up and by morning, her 8 year old and 5 year old had decided to join the party. Her 3 month old baby girl was the only one in the family that decided to refrain so we had a pretty quiet day of movie watching and trying to quarintine her 3 from my 3. By the next morning every one seemed to be feeling better so Courtney and I marched the kids down to Provo for a day of frolicking on BYU campus. Hannah was really grumpy all morning and by 4:00 p.m. that day she was running a temperature of 104 degrees. I have never seen one of my children so sick. She literally laid limp in my arms all night, running a super high temperature, and jerking awake every time she closed her eyes. She didn't cry but would just moan. Nothing helped. We were alternately Tylenol and Motrin and while it would bring her temperature down for a bit, it would eventually jump right back up. I finally managed to get her in to the doctor where she tested positive for a real case of influenza. Now just a side note here...I have become a HUGE, HUGE advocate for the flu shot. You have never seen someone sick until you see someone with a REAL case of the flu. Not the stomach flu, but the real thing. The person quits eating, drinking, and runs a fever that you can't bring down. It is death warmed over. Hannah had had a flu shot 10 days before the outbreak (apparently the flu shot take 14 days to be really effective!) but it was a pretty scary week. The only medicine that can treat both Influenza type A and B is something called TamiFlu which is impossible to find because the government is stock piling it against the outbreak of bird flu and such. It was a pretty frantic night trying to track some down for not only Hannah, but Jake and Matthew and their 3 cousins. Thanksgiving Day was fine...the meal was delicious but Courtney and her family opted out on any more adventures and left for home that Friday.
Since Thanksgiving, Hannah has had the stomach flu and a cold but she has officially turned 1 years old! Her birthday was a true joy to celebrate. It was as pink an affair as we could make it and she devoured an entire chocolate cake like a real champ.
Now I am trying to organize my primary classes for next year, get enough teachers called, find rooms for everyone, get supplies, organize a new teacher breakfast/orientation, a "Meet Your Teacher" pizza party and have Christmas. Like I said...I am grateful to have meaningful things to do each day but I have to admit that a massage and a pedicure could be top of my priority list if needed be! I'm off to change the baby and kiss her big, warm, delightful cheeks for a few minutes. Ain't life grand!
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Beautiful Hannah
The only button that refuses to function on this picture web site thingy is the "rotate picture" button. I've tried. So I need you to turn your head so your left ear is resting on your shoulder. There you go. Now sigh. Isn't she one pretty baby? She is one of the 3 joys in my life. You have never met a baby like my Hannah girl...sweet, happy, giggly, funny, smart, and so, so, so cuddly. I can't imagine how I survived 34 years without her but the first time I held her in my arms I knew how much I had been missing her. She is my girl and my life will never be the same. "It's my BAby!"
Je joue tennis
I failed french class in seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth grade before I finally just got plain ole' kicked out of french my junior year. (And when I say "failed" I don't mean a "C+"...I mean FAILED!) Getting kicked out was such a relief...how slow is a educational system when it takes you 4 and a half years to convince them you aren't really enjoying learning french. I couldn't see the practical use for it...wasn't helping me get my license, certainly wasn't helping to convince my parents to extend my curfew, and I wasn't getting asked out any more for knowing it...and then my brother went and married the most elegant, exquiste, beautiful french girl you have ever seen. Truly...she is graceful and refined and her 3 small children could speak more french by the time they were 2 than I could in 5 years of school. And she throws the most amazing "dinners" I have ever attended. The picture above was the spread for my brother's birthday dinner in September...
And so I'd like to dedicate this post to ML and the beauty she sees in her every day life. I'd like to thank her for the many dinners she has hosted in her beautiful backyard that were a reminder of the power that good food mingled with great company has in life. I'd like to thank her for helping me to slow down and literally smell the roses and enjoy the tomatoes off the vine and reintroducing me to crusty, warm bread with a simple slice of cheese.
I wish I'd paid more attention in french class...good thing she did so much better than me in her foreign language class! I love you ML!
And so I'd like to dedicate this post to ML and the beauty she sees in her every day life. I'd like to thank her for the many dinners she has hosted in her beautiful backyard that were a reminder of the power that good food mingled with great company has in life. I'd like to thank her for helping me to slow down and literally smell the roses and enjoy the tomatoes off the vine and reintroducing me to crusty, warm bread with a simple slice of cheese.
I wish I'd paid more attention in french class...good thing she did so much better than me in her foreign language class! I love you ML!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Girl Hair
I have been blessed with thick hair. Due to modern day highlighting techniques, it is a great color. It grows pretty fast, goes into a ponytail and can go a couple of days without a wash. But alas, it is a waste on a person like me. I am completely and totally hair disabled. I don't really understand how to do more than wash and condition. I own 3 or 4 different brushes, a host of goopy beauty products, and several curling/straightening things but it just doesn't work. Not only do I not "get" it, but I don't like it. All that pulling and pushing and prodding just doesn't appeal to my "get on with life" mentality. After having 2 boys, I used to joke that God would send me a girl when I learned how to do my hair. He didn't want a perfectly darling girl wasted on a woman who coudldn't do more than shave a head with a pair of clippers. And then he gave up and sent me Hannah because he knew I needed her and that somehow she would survive her mother's "hair disability". She is beautiful and perfect and the other day I "fixed" her hair for the very first time. It took about 30 minutes, 2 rubber bands (my fingers are so fat with those teeny things), and lots of forbidden snacks but we did it. Here is what it looked like:
A simple twist with a bow. She wasn't terribly happy about the experience. Matter of fact, she was down right mad but here is her after shot.
Since that day, she has allowed me to fix her hair on a few occasions but she absolutely will not keep her darling bows in. She rips them out and chews on them until they wilt. I'm just happy her hair isn't in her eyes and that we still have a good relationship despite the daily pain I inflict on her head. But guess what? Like everything else in life, this is but a moment. I was reminded of that when my cousin Missy showed up at my house the other day. She is getting married this Friday and had just had a "practice" run with the stylist that will be doing her hair for her wedding. She was breathtaking.
Children are here forever and yet gone in a moment! I looked at Missy and thought, "Will that really be my daughter someday?" I felt so sad thinking my days of poking and prodding her hair were so limited. The day will come when she won't want my help because she will be able to not only do it on her own, but do a much better job than I could. There will be school picture days, school dances, prom, short hair, long hair, awkward hair but then one day will be beautiful, elegant bride hair and she will be on her way. And if I'm ever so lucky, maybe one day she will bring her first precious daughter over to my house and we'll laugh about how she won't keep her bows in and how she hates having her hair done. Life is so grand! (But I still hate MY hair!)
A simple twist with a bow. She wasn't terribly happy about the experience. Matter of fact, she was down right mad but here is her after shot.
Since that day, she has allowed me to fix her hair on a few occasions but she absolutely will not keep her darling bows in. She rips them out and chews on them until they wilt. I'm just happy her hair isn't in her eyes and that we still have a good relationship despite the daily pain I inflict on her head. But guess what? Like everything else in life, this is but a moment. I was reminded of that when my cousin Missy showed up at my house the other day. She is getting married this Friday and had just had a "practice" run with the stylist that will be doing her hair for her wedding. She was breathtaking.
Children are here forever and yet gone in a moment! I looked at Missy and thought, "Will that really be my daughter someday?" I felt so sad thinking my days of poking and prodding her hair were so limited. The day will come when she won't want my help because she will be able to not only do it on her own, but do a much better job than I could. There will be school picture days, school dances, prom, short hair, long hair, awkward hair but then one day will be beautiful, elegant bride hair and she will be on her way. And if I'm ever so lucky, maybe one day she will bring her first precious daughter over to my house and we'll laugh about how she won't keep her bows in and how she hates having her hair done. Life is so grand! (But I still hate MY hair!)
Friday, September 09, 2005
Missing The Extraordinary
I can't tell you how often I have a day that ends with me telling my husband, "Yeah, nothing real interesting happened today." A couple of days ago I got up, fixed my kids breakfast, did a few dishes, put in a load of laundry and sat down on the couch to catch my breath when I happened to look at my 3 children...really look at my 3 children. Jake was wearing a monkey costume 2 sizes too big, Matthew was wearing a Batman cape and carrying around a Spiderman notebook where he claimed he was taking people's "orders" and Hannah was ever so patiently taking it all in while nibbling on something unidentifiable that one of her brother's had given her. And I have the audacity to say my day was pretty normal?
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Reality is Still Stranger Than Fiction
I've been having deep thoughts about my passion for reading but I don't know if I'm articulate enough at writing to give them expression. I'm going to make an attempt because I'm curious as to others thoughts on the subject. I belong to an amazing book group comprised of women who are not only close friends but thoughtful, intelligent, educated, spiritual women. We are as different in life experience and personality as we are close in spirit and heart. Our books and conversations regarding them are always fascinating and uplifting to me. This month we read a book called "Peace Like A River" by Leif Enger. While in general we all liked it, there was some debate about one of the main characters in the book, an 8-year old named Swede. She plays a pretty major role in the entire story and provides vehicle for some of the story's major symbolism and "metaphors". My friend claimed her character was too unbelievable for her, that she had difficulty believing an 8 year old could do, say or think many of things that Swede does in the book. Because Swede is such a central character, it was a real stumbling book for my friend in reading the book and made it difficult to accept the books plausibility. While I agree that Swede was a percocious and unusual character, I began to ponder this idea of reading "fiction".
The simple definition of fiction is that it isn't true. But how interesting that our threshold for suspending disbelief is tapered and limited. My experience and need to accept Swede's role in the novel allowed me to believe that she was capable of all the author gave her to do. But my friend's needs and experiences were so vastly different that she couldn't accept it and found it a distraction. A wise friend said that she was capable of believing almost anything if it is well-written and I have to agree. The author holds the power with the manipulation of words to either sweep me into the story or keep me at a safe distance. What I am able to believe is based so much on the environment created in the book that allows me to suspend my disbelief and give over to my imagination. I do love non-fiction, anything non-fiction. And I adore picture books and fairy tales...most well-written books for children because I remember vividly a world where anything was possible. Within the framework of being written to match a child's perspective and imagination, I can believe anything.
At a different book group last year, there was a disturbing conversation about a fantastic novel called "The Red Tent". Women in the group were horrified that the book was about prophets from the Old Testament and the degrading light they felt was cast on these men. I was really appalled because the book's whole theme was about examining the culture of women from that time period, not the men. AND the book was intended to be FICTION, not doctrine on prophet's from the Old Testament. I felt so sad that people in the group had missed the opportunity to really examine and contemplate the real themes and issues this novel posed, but then again, where the line between fiction and reality gets drawn is so individual and personal. I'd love to talk to every one of you about where your line is and what you love and hate about fiction...about this stuff that is just made up but can touch us all so deeply and personally. And I will always stand by the belief that no one, not the most talented author or articulate writer, could conceive any fiction stranger than the reality around us every day. Don't get so buried in that novel that you miss the strange man on the subway singing broadway tunes!
The simple definition of fiction is that it isn't true. But how interesting that our threshold for suspending disbelief is tapered and limited. My experience and need to accept Swede's role in the novel allowed me to believe that she was capable of all the author gave her to do. But my friend's needs and experiences were so vastly different that she couldn't accept it and found it a distraction. A wise friend said that she was capable of believing almost anything if it is well-written and I have to agree. The author holds the power with the manipulation of words to either sweep me into the story or keep me at a safe distance. What I am able to believe is based so much on the environment created in the book that allows me to suspend my disbelief and give over to my imagination. I do love non-fiction, anything non-fiction. And I adore picture books and fairy tales...most well-written books for children because I remember vividly a world where anything was possible. Within the framework of being written to match a child's perspective and imagination, I can believe anything.
At a different book group last year, there was a disturbing conversation about a fantastic novel called "The Red Tent". Women in the group were horrified that the book was about prophets from the Old Testament and the degrading light they felt was cast on these men. I was really appalled because the book's whole theme was about examining the culture of women from that time period, not the men. AND the book was intended to be FICTION, not doctrine on prophet's from the Old Testament. I felt so sad that people in the group had missed the opportunity to really examine and contemplate the real themes and issues this novel posed, but then again, where the line between fiction and reality gets drawn is so individual and personal. I'd love to talk to every one of you about where your line is and what you love and hate about fiction...about this stuff that is just made up but can touch us all so deeply and personally. And I will always stand by the belief that no one, not the most talented author or articulate writer, could conceive any fiction stranger than the reality around us every day. Don't get so buried in that novel that you miss the strange man on the subway singing broadway tunes!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Pizza, Books, and Fun
A list of favorites:
Color: Red
Smell: Freshly baked cinnamon rolls, the "Sugar Cookie" scented candle, baby shampoo smell in a baby's hair
Article of clothing: my green "hippie" layered skirt
Ice cream flavor: anything without nuts...but with big gooey chunks
Fast food place: Wendy's
Time of day: bedtime
Favorite CD: right now it is "Classic Moments" by Patti LaBelle
Flower: Tulips
TV show: The Amazing Race (Tuesday nights at 8:00 p.m.)
Board game: Life
Book: Peace Like a River (by Leif Enger)
Place to shop: Nordstroms
Vacation spot: Nantucket Island, MA; Venice, Italy
Movie: Cinema Paradiso
Restaurant: Tucanos
Piece of Jewelry: My Wedding Ring
Do you collect anything? I collect tea pots and tea cups
I have so many favorites...this list really reflects the "right now" of the moment. I'll wake up tomorrow morning and it will all have changed. Something I do love consistently is having Hannah fall asleep in my arms every night, kissing Matthew's big, delicious, sweet cheeks every day, listening to Jake tell me funny jokes, and hearing my husband's car pulling into the driveway every night. I love getting phone calls from my family, celebrating Christmas every year, and Halloween. Autumn leaves, BBQ, dates with Chris and sleeping in are also high on the list. Oh, I'm so glad that thinking of favorite things isn't a hard task for me! I get overwhelmed with all the wonderful things I appreciate when I make lists like this. It makes me realize how blessed I am and how much I have to be grateful for!
I got this list from a friend's blog...now it is your turn. What are a few of your favorites?
Color: Red
Smell: Freshly baked cinnamon rolls, the "Sugar Cookie" scented candle, baby shampoo smell in a baby's hair
Article of clothing: my green "hippie" layered skirt
Ice cream flavor: anything without nuts...but with big gooey chunks
Fast food place: Wendy's
Time of day: bedtime
Favorite CD: right now it is "Classic Moments" by Patti LaBelle
Flower: Tulips
TV show: The Amazing Race (Tuesday nights at 8:00 p.m.)
Board game: Life
Book: Peace Like a River (by Leif Enger)
Place to shop: Nordstroms
Vacation spot: Nantucket Island, MA; Venice, Italy
Movie: Cinema Paradiso
Restaurant: Tucanos
Piece of Jewelry: My Wedding Ring
Do you collect anything? I collect tea pots and tea cups
I have so many favorites...this list really reflects the "right now" of the moment. I'll wake up tomorrow morning and it will all have changed. Something I do love consistently is having Hannah fall asleep in my arms every night, kissing Matthew's big, delicious, sweet cheeks every day, listening to Jake tell me funny jokes, and hearing my husband's car pulling into the driveway every night. I love getting phone calls from my family, celebrating Christmas every year, and Halloween. Autumn leaves, BBQ, dates with Chris and sleeping in are also high on the list. Oh, I'm so glad that thinking of favorite things isn't a hard task for me! I get overwhelmed with all the wonderful things I appreciate when I make lists like this. It makes me realize how blessed I am and how much I have to be grateful for!
I got this list from a friend's blog...now it is your turn. What are a few of your favorites?
Monday, August 22, 2005
Homegrown Humor
Jake has been the star of classic one-liners over the last month. While he may only be 4-years old in "physical" years, he is way out of my league in every other way. Here are some of my favorites...
a) Tonight in his personal prayers, he thanked God for all the "loveliness and kindness".
b) Last Sunday as I was dressed in my skirt and new tan colored bra looking frantically for a shirt, Jake walked in and stood puzzled in the doorway for a moment before asking, "Mom, are you wearing your brown breasts today?"
c) Last week Jake asked if Dads ever wear "breastplates." (I was puzzled until I realized he was talking about bras! Admit it...isn't breastplate a much more creative, fun sounding word than "bra"?)
d) After submerging himself in his counsin's pool the other day, my darling, native french sister-in-law took him inside to find him some dry clothes. She found him a pair of underwear and some shorts and as he was putting them on he asked her where she got the underwear. She replied, "Oh, the panties used to belong to Ethan. We bought them in France last summer." Well, Jake was quite pleased to be wearing french "panties" instead of regular old American underwear and kept referring to them as such throughout the remainder of the day. The next morning he asked if it was OK to wear the french panties to church. My husband told him it was OK and then Jake paused for a moment before asking, "Dad, does anyone else wear their french panties to church?" We realized it was time for vocabulary intervention before he got us hauled into the bishop's office for some family therapy.
e) As he was being dragged into time-out the other day for a major infraction of some household rule, he shouted, "Can anyone help me please? I'm in SO much trouble?"
Just a few of the choice moments with Jake. Never a dull day!
a) Tonight in his personal prayers, he thanked God for all the "loveliness and kindness".
b) Last Sunday as I was dressed in my skirt and new tan colored bra looking frantically for a shirt, Jake walked in and stood puzzled in the doorway for a moment before asking, "Mom, are you wearing your brown breasts today?"
c) Last week Jake asked if Dads ever wear "breastplates." (I was puzzled until I realized he was talking about bras! Admit it...isn't breastplate a much more creative, fun sounding word than "bra"?)
d) After submerging himself in his counsin's pool the other day, my darling, native french sister-in-law took him inside to find him some dry clothes. She found him a pair of underwear and some shorts and as he was putting them on he asked her where she got the underwear. She replied, "Oh, the panties used to belong to Ethan. We bought them in France last summer." Well, Jake was quite pleased to be wearing french "panties" instead of regular old American underwear and kept referring to them as such throughout the remainder of the day. The next morning he asked if it was OK to wear the french panties to church. My husband told him it was OK and then Jake paused for a moment before asking, "Dad, does anyone else wear their french panties to church?" We realized it was time for vocabulary intervention before he got us hauled into the bishop's office for some family therapy.
e) As he was being dragged into time-out the other day for a major infraction of some household rule, he shouted, "Can anyone help me please? I'm in SO much trouble?"
Just a few of the choice moments with Jake. Never a dull day!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Favorite Quote
I love this quote. It is from the book "The Velveteen Rabbit." This one is for Lisa and Ethan...
"What is real?" asked the Rabbit one day when they were lying side by side. "Does it mean hearing things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?"
"Real isn't how you're made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with...but really loves you. Then you become real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse for he was always truthful. "When you are real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up? Or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen to things who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose at the joints...But these things don't matter at all because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"What is real?" asked the Rabbit one day when they were lying side by side. "Does it mean hearing things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?"
"Real isn't how you're made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with...but really loves you. Then you become real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse for he was always truthful. "When you are real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up? Or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen to things who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose at the joints...But these things don't matter at all because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
Monday, August 01, 2005
What I Read Over Summer Vacation
Summer vacation...HA! I've had college finals that were more relaxing than this summer has been! Due to my numerous years in public school, both as a student and educator, I still gauge my year by the "public education" timetable. Does anyone else do that? Do you start to feel antsy around the end of May, like you need a break? Do you find yourself sitting at work spending lots of time looking longingly out the window? Or do you find yourself frantically buying cartfuls of school supplies for school age children you don't have around the middle of August? I start to crave new sturdy shoes, a clean sparkly backpack, and a fun autumn outfit this time of year. I'm afraid I'm forever a slave to my years in public school...but I digress.
Although this has been a long, hot summer, I have had some fabulous reading experiences (even though I average 1/2 a page every night before falling into a sound, deep sleep). We are going to view this blog as a "Show and Tell" and everyone gets a turn. I'm going to share my favorite 3 summer reads and then it is your turn so be thinking...
1) Peace Like A River (by Leif Enger)...really love this book. I actually read it for the second time this summer and loved it even more. You don't find writing like this in very many "grown-up" books anymore. It is a beautiful, thought provoking story. My number 1 recommendation.
2) Kira-Kira (by Cynthia Kadohata): This book just won the 2005 Newbery Award. I thought this book was interesting from a very historical perspective. It is definitely worth reading just for its unusual perspective and take on a group of Americans we probably don't know much about.
3) Al Capone Does My Shirts (by Gennifer Choldenko): This novel was a 2005 Newbery Honoree. Again, a very unusual novel about a boy growing up on Alcatraz Island back in the 1940's. It is an interesting read and although it is supposed to be "children's fiction", I wouldn't recommend it to anyone under the age of 13-14 years old.
Well, there you have it. I have a soft spot for Young Adult literature...again, back to my years in public schools. Now it is your turn...besides the big, thick Harry Potter #6 book that is gathering dust on my night stand, I have nothing to read. What would YOU recommend? (And I know...I will read Harry Potter. I already had Carrie tell my the highlights so I could just get on with my life. But I promise to read it...eventually.)
Although this has been a long, hot summer, I have had some fabulous reading experiences (even though I average 1/2 a page every night before falling into a sound, deep sleep). We are going to view this blog as a "Show and Tell" and everyone gets a turn. I'm going to share my favorite 3 summer reads and then it is your turn so be thinking...
1) Peace Like A River (by Leif Enger)...really love this book. I actually read it for the second time this summer and loved it even more. You don't find writing like this in very many "grown-up" books anymore. It is a beautiful, thought provoking story. My number 1 recommendation.
2) Kira-Kira (by Cynthia Kadohata): This book just won the 2005 Newbery Award. I thought this book was interesting from a very historical perspective. It is definitely worth reading just for its unusual perspective and take on a group of Americans we probably don't know much about.
3) Al Capone Does My Shirts (by Gennifer Choldenko): This novel was a 2005 Newbery Honoree. Again, a very unusual novel about a boy growing up on Alcatraz Island back in the 1940's. It is an interesting read and although it is supposed to be "children's fiction", I wouldn't recommend it to anyone under the age of 13-14 years old.
Well, there you have it. I have a soft spot for Young Adult literature...again, back to my years in public schools. Now it is your turn...besides the big, thick Harry Potter #6 book that is gathering dust on my night stand, I have nothing to read. What would YOU recommend? (And I know...I will read Harry Potter. I already had Carrie tell my the highlights so I could just get on with my life. But I promise to read it...eventually.)
Friday, July 22, 2005
Love The Body Your In
I was told it was time for a new swim suit. The one I have been wearing isn't pretty but it covered all the places that needed to be covered. My sister told me it was time and although I knew she was right, I still cowered to think of finding a suit with enough material to cover this body and make it suitable for public appearance. Three children, Ben and Jerry's, and a tense relationship with my treadmill have not resulted in a "bathing" suit type figure. And who wants to spend all that money on something that makes you self-conscious and yucky?
Carrie took me to Nordstroms.. I have to mention that as I walked into the store, I looked down at my shirt, stroller, and 2 children (the third one had opted out of the trip to the store and chose to stay at his cousin's house shooting alien ships on the computer...he probably made the wisest choice). My shirt was covered with all kinds of crusted, colorful, disgusting souvenirs from my kids, my baby was covered from head to toe with orange spit-up, and my son was wearing an outfit that suddenly looked obsenely small on him...the stroller is a whole other story. It is the kind of store where I half expected an alarm to go off warning the personnel that a grubby person was touching stuff. Anyway...tangent.
We went upstairs and I felt compelled to really examine the rack with the suits that said, "Lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds". I chose some suits, Carrie chose some suits for me and we all headed into the dressing room. Here came my enlightened moment...
I'm trying on these suits with the paper liner in the crotch with my underwear poking out the sides, Hannah is sitting on the floor chewing on the hangars and Matthew is sitting in the stoller clutching a high powered fruit drink and chocolate muffin that Carrie bought him in the snobby Nordstrom cafe and I'm actually liking the moment. And my body doesn't look grotesque, it just looks familiar. I don't love the dimply thighs, cottage cheese butt, or deflated balloon chest but they are mine. I recognize them and I am grateful they work so well. Someday I'm going to lose weight and eat healthy and develop love for my treadmill but right now I'm grateful to be healthy and happy. I'm grateful my body works and functions and keeps up with the stresses. I'm sure if I put all the energy I focus on disliking my body into something else, I could really get things done. And you know what? Black swimsuits hide a lot and a little swim skirt does wonder for your thighs. So next time you go to the pool, look for me. I'll be the big woman in the black swim suit splashing around in the kiddy pool! It will be fun!
Carrie took me to Nordstroms.. I have to mention that as I walked into the store, I looked down at my shirt, stroller, and 2 children (the third one had opted out of the trip to the store and chose to stay at his cousin's house shooting alien ships on the computer...he probably made the wisest choice). My shirt was covered with all kinds of crusted, colorful, disgusting souvenirs from my kids, my baby was covered from head to toe with orange spit-up, and my son was wearing an outfit that suddenly looked obsenely small on him...the stroller is a whole other story. It is the kind of store where I half expected an alarm to go off warning the personnel that a grubby person was touching stuff. Anyway...tangent.
We went upstairs and I felt compelled to really examine the rack with the suits that said, "Lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds". I chose some suits, Carrie chose some suits for me and we all headed into the dressing room. Here came my enlightened moment...
I'm trying on these suits with the paper liner in the crotch with my underwear poking out the sides, Hannah is sitting on the floor chewing on the hangars and Matthew is sitting in the stoller clutching a high powered fruit drink and chocolate muffin that Carrie bought him in the snobby Nordstrom cafe and I'm actually liking the moment. And my body doesn't look grotesque, it just looks familiar. I don't love the dimply thighs, cottage cheese butt, or deflated balloon chest but they are mine. I recognize them and I am grateful they work so well. Someday I'm going to lose weight and eat healthy and develop love for my treadmill but right now I'm grateful to be healthy and happy. I'm grateful my body works and functions and keeps up with the stresses. I'm sure if I put all the energy I focus on disliking my body into something else, I could really get things done. And you know what? Black swimsuits hide a lot and a little swim skirt does wonder for your thighs. So next time you go to the pool, look for me. I'll be the big woman in the black swim suit splashing around in the kiddy pool! It will be fun!
Raccoons and Love
"Until you have experienced raccoons mating underneath your bedroom at three in the morning, you have missed one of life's more sensational moments. It is an uncommon event, to say the least. If you've ever heard cats fighting in the night, you have a clue. Magnify the volume and the intensity by ten. It's not what you'd call a sensual and erotic sound. More like a three-alarm fire is what it is.
When I had recovered my aplomb and adjusted to the new adrenaline level, I got a flashlight and went outside and peered up under the house. This lady raccoon and her suitor were squared off in a corner, fangs bared, covered with mud and blood, and not looking very sexy at all.
Neither my presence nor the beam of light could override what drove them on. With snarls and barks and screams, the passionate encounter raged on. While I watched, the matter was finally consummated and resolved. They had no shame. What had to be done was done. And they wandered off, in a kind of glazy-eyed stupor, to groom themselves for whatever might come next in the life of a raccoon.
I sat there in the rain...and I pondered. Why is it that love and life so often have to be carried forth with so much pain and strain and mess? Why isn't love easy?
I don't know. And the raccoons don't say."
(Robert Fulghum, All I Really Know I Learned in Kindergarten)
Yesterday was my 6th wedding anniversary. Chris and I were married on July 16, 1999 in the Mount Timpanogos Temple in American Fork, Utah. I always become a little sentimental on special days and this one was no exception. Chris and I actually met about 5 years before we ever started dating. I was engaged to be married and he was the guy all my roommates had a crush on. My first memory of Chris is watching him walk by our apartment window with his double breasted suit on and listening to this poor group of girls lament on how funny and cute he was but how picky he was when it came to dating. He had been dubbed "The Untouchable Bachelor".
I have often wondered how our lives would be different if OUR story together had started there. Instead it would take lots and lots of life experiences, a series of anxiety attacks, 3 break-ups, broken engagements, and a nasty rainstorm to bring us together. It's like the raccoons...love ain't always easy. When I worked in Young Women's I felt it was my duty to inform them that not every love story is perfect and sometimes the greatest stresses produce the most brilliant diamonds. Chris and I met all those years ago but we had lots of living to do before we could really understand and love each other. When the time finally came, we each brought all our "stuff" to the table to see if we could really find the courage and guts to see this through. I knew he was "the one" because suddenly I wanted this amazing person and his life more than I wanted anything else in the world. By the time we ended up at the temple on July 16th, I had no doubt this man loved me. He had seen me at my best and worst, he had loved me through a lot of ups and downs, and I felt like we had emerged triumphant.
And here we are. Our relationship is far from perfect but we are learning. Six years isn't very long so I hope we have lots more of life to learn from. These last few years have been the best years of my life...not because they have been free from the torments and stresses of life but because every morning I wake up to a man that I know will change my world and perspective before the day is through. He will make me laugh out loud, he will calm me down, he'll inspire me to believe in myself and my potential, he will adore our children and be adored by them, and he will be kind and gentle and patient in all he does. He will put up with my passion and impatience and shortcomings and I will learn a little more about myself and relationships and living. I couldn't ask for more than that.
I have never wanted the fairy tale...I have always wanted the reality. My life WILL end happily ever after. There will be lots of tears and heartaches and joys and celebrations and all of it will be joyful in the deepest places where it really counts. We will continue to work hard and laugh lots and find miracles in places I never dreamed.
Happy anniversary!
When I had recovered my aplomb and adjusted to the new adrenaline level, I got a flashlight and went outside and peered up under the house. This lady raccoon and her suitor were squared off in a corner, fangs bared, covered with mud and blood, and not looking very sexy at all.
Neither my presence nor the beam of light could override what drove them on. With snarls and barks and screams, the passionate encounter raged on. While I watched, the matter was finally consummated and resolved. They had no shame. What had to be done was done. And they wandered off, in a kind of glazy-eyed stupor, to groom themselves for whatever might come next in the life of a raccoon.
I sat there in the rain...and I pondered. Why is it that love and life so often have to be carried forth with so much pain and strain and mess? Why isn't love easy?
I don't know. And the raccoons don't say."
(Robert Fulghum, All I Really Know I Learned in Kindergarten)
Yesterday was my 6th wedding anniversary. Chris and I were married on July 16, 1999 in the Mount Timpanogos Temple in American Fork, Utah. I always become a little sentimental on special days and this one was no exception. Chris and I actually met about 5 years before we ever started dating. I was engaged to be married and he was the guy all my roommates had a crush on. My first memory of Chris is watching him walk by our apartment window with his double breasted suit on and listening to this poor group of girls lament on how funny and cute he was but how picky he was when it came to dating. He had been dubbed "The Untouchable Bachelor".
I have often wondered how our lives would be different if OUR story together had started there. Instead it would take lots and lots of life experiences, a series of anxiety attacks, 3 break-ups, broken engagements, and a nasty rainstorm to bring us together. It's like the raccoons...love ain't always easy. When I worked in Young Women's I felt it was my duty to inform them that not every love story is perfect and sometimes the greatest stresses produce the most brilliant diamonds. Chris and I met all those years ago but we had lots of living to do before we could really understand and love each other. When the time finally came, we each brought all our "stuff" to the table to see if we could really find the courage and guts to see this through. I knew he was "the one" because suddenly I wanted this amazing person and his life more than I wanted anything else in the world. By the time we ended up at the temple on July 16th, I had no doubt this man loved me. He had seen me at my best and worst, he had loved me through a lot of ups and downs, and I felt like we had emerged triumphant.
And here we are. Our relationship is far from perfect but we are learning. Six years isn't very long so I hope we have lots more of life to learn from. These last few years have been the best years of my life...not because they have been free from the torments and stresses of life but because every morning I wake up to a man that I know will change my world and perspective before the day is through. He will make me laugh out loud, he will calm me down, he'll inspire me to believe in myself and my potential, he will adore our children and be adored by them, and he will be kind and gentle and patient in all he does. He will put up with my passion and impatience and shortcomings and I will learn a little more about myself and relationships and living. I couldn't ask for more than that.
I have never wanted the fairy tale...I have always wanted the reality. My life WILL end happily ever after. There will be lots of tears and heartaches and joys and celebrations and all of it will be joyful in the deepest places where it really counts. We will continue to work hard and laugh lots and find miracles in places I never dreamed.
Happy anniversary!
Monday, July 18, 2005
Don't Mess With Me
Last night as we were eating dinner, Chris and I were having a conversation about something Hannah was eating and whether or not 8-month olds should really be eating it. The conversation had gone on for about 2 minutes when Jake turned to Chris and said, "Dad, just leave Mom alone. She knows what she is doing!" It made us laugh so hard.
But there you have it. Don't mess with me. According to my 4-year old...I'm an expert! As I see it, I just won every debate for at least the next 6 months. At what age do they realize you really aren't the expert but are just trying really hard not to cause any permanent damage? Ah, parenting.
But there you have it. Don't mess with me. According to my 4-year old...I'm an expert! As I see it, I just won every debate for at least the next 6 months. At what age do they realize you really aren't the expert but are just trying really hard not to cause any permanent damage? Ah, parenting.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Alien Invasion
Only have but a moment...Chris and I went and saw "War of the Worlds" on Saturday night. We originally had no plans to see the movie with Tom Cruise and the aliens but then Carrie Ann admitted to sneaking into the movie with Todd and seeing the end and telling me it was so scary that Todd asked if he could include a little section in his prayers that night about God not letting the aliens attack. Well, anything that provokes Todd to pray for safety from aliens was worth my 7 bucks. I made Chris buy me popcorn just in case it was about what I expected and I had nothing to do for 2 hours. Well, aliens attacked and I have to admit it was pretty scary. Tripod, blood sucking, can't be killed by the national guard machines with roving metallic eyes and grabby metal claws got my adrenaline pumping. The movie was pretty intense until the end. The last 10 minutes of the movie killed the whole build-up and I left the movie theater in shock. No closure, no satisfying explanation for why aliens had just attacked the earth and sucked everyone's blood, no explanation for how Tom Cruise's whole family managed to stay so well-dressed and coiffed safe and snug in their Boston brownstone while the rest of the city was torched, no reasoning behind the eventual death of the tripods and certainly no long term glimpses of the therapy involved in recovering from such a trauma. (OK, and I wanted to know who was going to pay for all the damage and who was going to clean-up the disgusting mess they left behind and whether or not the 10 year old actress got tired on wearing the same outfit the whole movie, and...and...and...) I don't know what to tell all of you. If you must see the movie, go see it on the big screen. If you are uncertain...go see it but take a treat and leave before you have to watch Tom Cruise REALLY try and act at the end. Oh, don't be shy if you need to light a candle and ask God to keep the aliens away when all is said and done. It happens to the best of us.
P.S. Suzie Petunia...you thought Watcher in the Woods was scary? OK, it really, really was...but so is this one. Don't go!
P.S. Suzie Petunia...you thought Watcher in the Woods was scary? OK, it really, really was...but so is this one. Don't go!
Saturday, June 25, 2005
I Really Lived
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Spiritual Puking
Hmmm...where to start. A couple of weeks ago I went to church and got a new calling. Didn't see it coming. Church ended and I took the 3 young 'uns out to the car contemplating whether I wanted those new Vanilla Creme Frosted Mini Wheats for lunch or left over chocolate chip cookie dough when my husband came running out to the car in a panic. "Amy, where have you been?" I was sitting in the car with 3 kids so I thought the question was a little reduntant but I played along.
Amy: Sitting in the car. Why? Where have you been?
Chris: We have an appointment with the bishop. Are you coming?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: I told you about it before church. Remember?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: They're waiting for us. Hurry.
Amy: Couldn't I just wait here in the car. I hate unbuckling all those car seats plus I'll just embarass myself when you get some calling that leaves me alone with the kids and I break out into one of those ugly emotional scenes.
Chris: (blank stare)
Anyway, the whole way into the church I was praying. Not the reverent, soft, gentle kind of praying but the real ugly raw emotional kind of stuff. I just knew my husband was being called to something that required nights, weekends, and me alone with all these kids after 6:00 p.m. We sat down in the office. When I say "we" I mean the adults. Jake and Matthew were jumping on the chairs and Hannah was crying, straining, and pooping. The bishop talked as loudly as he could and when he said, "Amy, we'd like to call you as the new primary president" I missed it because I was yelling at my kids. You think I am exaggerating but I'm not. He got no response so he tried it one more time and this time the room went absolutely silent. Those of you that know me know that although I can be awkward I am usually good at bluffing through the social scene. No. This time it was long awkward silence. I remember hearing the second hand tick on the clock and smelling Hannah's diaper. We all sat there. The bishop shuffled some papers and finally said, "Uh, would you like some time to think about it". I seriously don't know what happened after that. I remember Chris saying, "Are you alright?" and I asked him not to talk to me for a few minutes. I remember crying a little bit as we pulled into the driveway but that is it. All a blur.
I need to get to the best part of this story. Had some really amazing experiences choosing my counselors and secretary...amazing women with some serious combined years as former primary presidents, counselors, etc. (Didn't know this when I chose them but loved starting our first presidency meeting by saying "Well, if you ladies need any help with anything, you just call and let me know.") We decided to hold our first presidency meeting at my house and why not? Go ahead and bring the kids. I have 3, my first counselor has 2, my second counselor has 5 and the secretary has triplets. We ended up with 7 children under the age of 4 coming to my house to play. Presidency meeting started off with sippy cups full of juice and water and a couple of diaper changes followed by blood in the play room, a graham cracker disaster in the family room, a riot in the bathroom, and plastic dinosaurs stuffed in decor in my house where I didn't know stuff could be stuffed. I quickly ended the meeting and asked if anyone wanted to go bond at McDonald's playland.
Things went well for the first 3 minutes and then the first counselor's son came down out of the play structure to announce that the second counselor's son had just "spilled his stuff all over the playland." While we were trying to discover what the mystery "stuff" could be that he was spilling, children started pouring out of the playland tunnels shouting, "Barf! Barf! There's barf all over the playland!" and sure enough, there was her 2-year old son standing at the top of the structure staring intently at the floor. More chaos ensued. I really could go on and on...from trying to coax her son to come down to the children fighting to climb up and get a first hand glimpse at the "barf" to my 4-year old son asking me just what "barf" meant and if I could tell him all the other words people use to describe throw up. Yeah, its what my husband mumbled in my ear when I sat down after being sustained....Let the games begin.
Amy: Sitting in the car. Why? Where have you been?
Chris: We have an appointment with the bishop. Are you coming?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: I told you about it before church. Remember?
Amy: (blank stare)
Chris: They're waiting for us. Hurry.
Amy: Couldn't I just wait here in the car. I hate unbuckling all those car seats plus I'll just embarass myself when you get some calling that leaves me alone with the kids and I break out into one of those ugly emotional scenes.
Chris: (blank stare)
Anyway, the whole way into the church I was praying. Not the reverent, soft, gentle kind of praying but the real ugly raw emotional kind of stuff. I just knew my husband was being called to something that required nights, weekends, and me alone with all these kids after 6:00 p.m. We sat down in the office. When I say "we" I mean the adults. Jake and Matthew were jumping on the chairs and Hannah was crying, straining, and pooping. The bishop talked as loudly as he could and when he said, "Amy, we'd like to call you as the new primary president" I missed it because I was yelling at my kids. You think I am exaggerating but I'm not. He got no response so he tried it one more time and this time the room went absolutely silent. Those of you that know me know that although I can be awkward I am usually good at bluffing through the social scene. No. This time it was long awkward silence. I remember hearing the second hand tick on the clock and smelling Hannah's diaper. We all sat there. The bishop shuffled some papers and finally said, "Uh, would you like some time to think about it". I seriously don't know what happened after that. I remember Chris saying, "Are you alright?" and I asked him not to talk to me for a few minutes. I remember crying a little bit as we pulled into the driveway but that is it. All a blur.
I need to get to the best part of this story. Had some really amazing experiences choosing my counselors and secretary...amazing women with some serious combined years as former primary presidents, counselors, etc. (Didn't know this when I chose them but loved starting our first presidency meeting by saying "Well, if you ladies need any help with anything, you just call and let me know.") We decided to hold our first presidency meeting at my house and why not? Go ahead and bring the kids. I have 3, my first counselor has 2, my second counselor has 5 and the secretary has triplets. We ended up with 7 children under the age of 4 coming to my house to play. Presidency meeting started off with sippy cups full of juice and water and a couple of diaper changes followed by blood in the play room, a graham cracker disaster in the family room, a riot in the bathroom, and plastic dinosaurs stuffed in decor in my house where I didn't know stuff could be stuffed. I quickly ended the meeting and asked if anyone wanted to go bond at McDonald's playland.
Things went well for the first 3 minutes and then the first counselor's son came down out of the play structure to announce that the second counselor's son had just "spilled his stuff all over the playland." While we were trying to discover what the mystery "stuff" could be that he was spilling, children started pouring out of the playland tunnels shouting, "Barf! Barf! There's barf all over the playland!" and sure enough, there was her 2-year old son standing at the top of the structure staring intently at the floor. More chaos ensued. I really could go on and on...from trying to coax her son to come down to the children fighting to climb up and get a first hand glimpse at the "barf" to my 4-year old son asking me just what "barf" meant and if I could tell him all the other words people use to describe throw up. Yeah, its what my husband mumbled in my ear when I sat down after being sustained....Let the games begin.
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