Monday, October 12, 2009

My Gift




Seven years ago I was handed a gift.




I received the gift a little early...5 weeks to be exact. It caught me completely off guard. Scared me to death and then took my breath away with the sheer beauty and joy of it. For 7 years this gift has brought me joy. Not the fleeting kind like the toy you get on Christmas morning and forget about by Christmas night. Not the kind that breaks or ends up in the trunk on the way to DI while the kids are at school so they won't know it is gone. No, this gift is permanent. A forever gift. Doesn't get any better than that.





Moments after my Matthew was born, the doctor brought him over for me to see for the first time. (C-section...) I looked at that face and cried. The doctor asked me if we had a name picked out and without really remembering when it was we had chosen the name, I answered Matthew. She asked if I knew what that name meant. His name means "gift from God". It truly was meant to be his name.






Matthew had several health challenges during the first 2 years of life. When he was born, he had not suck/swallow reflux. He was failing to thrive at 2 weeks and had to be whisked to an occupational therapist to learn how to eat. On top of that, he had terrible acid reflux. Next was RSV followed by terrible ear infections, tubes, respiratory infections and complications, clogged tear ducts, abnormalities with the facial bones resulting in tubes that had to inserted in his little eye ducts, a hernia in the "nether regions", etc. And yet if you asked me to describe my baby boy, he was sweet and patient and gentle. Time after time I had doctors comment on his disposition. I had the strong sense that despite the discomfort and downright misery of some of these conditions and procedures, he knew and understood that people were trying to help and care for him. He was snuggly and giggly and had big round cheeks that made me want to gnaw on them and big, big blue eyes. Oh, he was delicious.




So where have 7 years gone? He is every bit as delicious. He still has round cheeks but I suspect he'd be violently opposed to me gnawing on them. His eyes are just as big and blue and they still make my heart skip a beat when he looks at me. His hair is thick and wavy and full of cowlicks. He is strong...physically, emotionally, spiritually. Matthew is filled with imagination. He loves to play. He is very social. It physically hurts when he doesn't have a party going on around him. He loves his friends. He is smart. He knows so much about so many things. (I won't tell you how he was telling me all about Mesopotamia the other day and after I finished nodding and saying "Wow", I had to go google it. Pathetic.) He is tender hearted. Matthew always worries about where everyone is and how they are doing. He doesn't leave for school every day until he has hugged and kissed me and told me he loves me. Then he blows kisses and waves until the car turns the corner. Every morning at 7:00 a.m., he comes and climbs in bed next to me and we snuggle. He still loves to snuggle. And he loves grandmas and grandmas and uncles and aunts and cousins. He loves his dad and brother and sister. He loves stories and light sabers and riding his bike. He is adventurous and fearless. He wants to do what is right. He is very, very picky about his clothes. He is a constant source of wonder and joy in my life. I am so grateful for this gift. Every single day.






Happy birthday my boy! You have made me so happy. You make me love being a mother. I love playing with you and being with you and loving you. You are a joy!






P.S. We had a fabulous birthday party! Matthew chose the theme and laid out all the details. We had a "Harry Potter and Goblet of Fire" birthday party that involved 18 guests (did I mention my boy is very social?), wand making, potion mixing, cupcake decorating, dementor tag, dragon duels, obstacle courses, and a trip at the end to Honey Dukes candy shop? Yeah, it was fun. With Matthew, it is never, ever boring. But remember how my camera broke last August? Still not fixed...or replaced. So you will just have to put on your little mental caps and imagine all the fun. And if you hate that, I'm accepting donations for a new camera. If you see my wealthy benefactor, tell him/her they better get in gear. I've got needs!


Thursday, October 08, 2009

I take that back...

So the problem is fixed when I type the blog and hit "view blog" and it shows me the blog I have just typed. But if I try to view my entire blog, it goes back to being broken. I'm so frustrated! Taylor...Todd...someone help me! Please!

Miracles Do Happen...

I just posted my last traumatic post and when I hit "post" and went to "view my blog"...it was fixed! FIXED! How did that happen? Why did that happen? I really would love answers to these questions, but right now I have pictures to post and a blog to write. I promised.

Traumatized

I haven't been neglecting my blog...I have been traumatized by it and therefore cannot return until the trauma has been treated.

One day I logged on and found my side bar mysteriously moved to the bottom of my blog. I ignored it hoping it was a quirk of technology and that blogspot would do right by me and fix it. Never happened. Every day I log on hoping for a miracle and every day it is still broken. And my OCD personality cannot overlook it and move on with life. So if anyone knows how to fix this silly, traumatic problem, I'd be most grateful.

And then I can post pictures of the fabulous Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire party we had...and how handsome and grown-up my MC is. But really...I'm obsessed with getting my sidebar back!

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Tea Parties

Meet our new BFF...Fancy Nancy!


HB and I are are very inspired by Fancy Nancy. We own lots of her books. We like discussing all the ways she finds to be fancy. We love her fabulous (that's a fancy word for great) vocabulary. And then we like giving it a try ourselves.


Exhibit A: Spring 2009


HB and I purchased the book Fancy Nancy: Explorer Extraordinaire. We read it. We studied it. We decided we needed an adventure. And off we went.

Our inspiration.

HB...explorer extraordinaire! Hat...check! Sunglasses...check! Snacks packed in Hello Kitty lunchbox...check!


The excited explorers, ready to begin their adventure through the jungle aka the grand garden at Thanksgiving Point.

The flowers were breathtaking. We couldn't stop smelling them or taking pictures of them. We will spare you the hundreds of random flower pictures and just focus on our favorites.
My fancy girl in the flower garden.

No matter how big my fancy little girl grows, I will never forget the feel of her hand in mine. I love that hand and how loved I feel when she reaches for it.

You mark my words...this girl is going to change the world. She is amazing!

We discovered a secret garden with a fountain.

HB took her journal and colored pencils with her. When she saw something amazing, she would plop down on a bench and draw a picture of it. She even drew a picture of all the benches in the gardens. And then she would write a sentence. I'm telling you...PBS Kids programming is doing its job in our house!

More sketching and writing.

The flowers.

No trip to the gardens is complete without a roll down the big hill.

The fountain in the "Italian" garden.

Dancing on the amphitheater stage. I like to call this my "Saturday Night Fever" move.

It's in our blood.


Well, our adventure was spectacular! So imagine our complete delight when a trip through Target the other day brought us another Fancy Nancy adventure to savor. The latest in a series to make your life more "fancy":


HB wasted not a second. She quickly filled out several invitations and invited her friends to a tea party (much to my surprise...guess she forgot the part where it helps to ask your mom so people don't show up expecting tea and find your mother in pajamas lounging on the couch). She spent 2 days preparing for the event. First, she made placemats out of 12x12 pieces of scrapbook paper with a portrait of each guest and their name. Then she made paper butterflies for them to decorate. Next she found little gold crowns downstairs in the "mystery" drawer and set them out with fairy stickers to be decorated. Since her mother is a teapot/teacup junkie, we pulled out some of the fancy teapots for decoration and decided to use the fancy tea cups to drink strawberry lemonade out of. Then we made fabulous pink cupcakes with very pink frosting. And voila...a tea party for princesses. We had so much fun!

The table set for guests!

Ready for strawberry lemonade and cupcakes!

They each got to decorate their own cupcakes and not a single sprinkle was spared!

I forgot HB also made very fancy fans out of napkins! This book is spectacular...trust me. No detail is overlooked and princesses of any age can do the projects.

The princesses had such delightful manners and were very charming!

These princesses could really down the lemonade! We also had cucumbers from the garden, apple and pear slices from someone else's orchard.

Is there anything better in this world than pink cupcakes with sprinkles?

All our tea party friends who were willing to make room in their busy schedules for an impromptu afternoon tea rendevous! We love girly friends...and that they can pull out princess dresses on a moments notice!

The tea party was followed by dancing in the family room and silly face pictures.

Sweet friends. HB is so lucky!

And no proper tea party is complete without some wild jumping off the couch!

Running, jumping, dancing, and sipping "tea"...all in an afternoon's work for a princess.

Just pure fun.


So here is the lesson I'm learning. Motherhood is filled with lots of work...hard work. There are houses that always seem to need cleaning, bathrooms with wet towels, dirty dishes, unmade messes, sticky floors, and children that need wiping, changing, eating, homework, cleaning, etc. But if those are the only moments, then it would be a dreary job indeed. What makes motherhood truly a spectacular experience is the balance...deciding that once in a while you aren't going to clean but you are going to grab your kids and set out on an adventure. It doesn't matter where...anywhere. Someplace where you can laugh together and play together and create the memories that will sustain each of you for a lifetime. And sometimes you can ignore those dirty dishes and just throw an impromptu tea party...or make a pie...or jump on the beds for no good reason. So when you start feeling frustrated with your job, just stop what you are doing and change directions. The fresh air and new perspective does a heart good.
Oh, and don't forget to invite us. We love an impromptu adventure!

P.S. Just so you don't think I'm favoring the girl species, the boys happened to be at school during both of these particular adventures. I promise they get lots of fun too!

Monday, September 07, 2009

Every Road Leads to Ikea

Tonight, in honor of Labor Day, I decided to forego the backbreaking, intensive labor of preparing dinner and drove our little family to Ikea. It was the call of the meatball, the siren of the lingonberry. It had been a little while since I'd indulged and my genes were feeling it. A Swede has need of "meat and potato drenched in sauce with a scoop of lingonberry" every once in awhile. It is what keeps us connected to the motherland.

We sat at our round table under the funky, fun lights with the tasteful textiles and big pictures of Sweden and ate our meatballs. And they were good. So, so, so very good.

Then, because it was Monday night and obviously "family home evening night", we proceeded to have what I think was our finest family night in 10 years. We dropped the 3 kids off in the fabulous kiddy land where they could frolic in the balls and climb the fake rocks and watch DVD's in the loft to their hearts content and Chris and I held hands with smiles on our faces as we leisurely strolled through the IKEA showroom and touched things and sat on things and didn't worry about shattering glass. Everyone was happy, everyone was being "fed" exactly what their little hearts and souls longed for...and isn't that really what family home evening is about? (Just so you know...we really are good about having FHE every single week. But I just don't remember the last time FHE ended with so many positive, happy, non-screaming feelings!) To make it right, we bought a bag of Swedish fish and a roll of delicious lemon cookies for refreshments and had J. quote the scripture he has just memorized. Did we miss anything?

Anyway, as we were strolling through IKEA, I was telling Chris the dilemma I was having with "decorating" HB's room. She is a girl...and for many years her bedroom has been "gender neutral" to keep our baby options open. But seeing as it has been almost 5 years since anything but a girl has slept in their, we decided it was time to swing that direction. She has the most adorable white picket fence headboard with wooden red apples on the top (thanks grandma green!), a great red dresser, yellow walls, and accents of green and blue. I love the color scheme. But I haven't been able to find her bedding...and I've looked. Every store in 2 counties, ebay, internet...you name it. I was telling Chris has frustrating it was that they don't make girl stuff in anything but pink, purple, or Hanna Montana. And then we rounded the corner...and there it was. The answer to all my questions. The solution to this problem. Right in the place I should have looked first. I'm sorry I forgot Ikea! It was like I was drifting and then I was found. All roads lead back to Ikea...

I dare you to tell me these aren't the cutest curtains and bedding you have ever seen.



Can you see the felt flowers and red rick-rack on the curtains? Can you tell there are fairy tale animals with cakes and fairy wings on the bedding? And did you notice the bedding is red gingham on the back? Oh my goodness. My heart melts just looking at the pictures. (And for those of you that heard Carmen tell my pathetic story in RS yesterday about provident living...these were in the budget. Anything this cute moves right to the top of the priority list and beats out groceries and utilities for the next month. You don't argue with cute!) There are also vinyl wall decals, a lamp, some throw pillows and cute storage boxes that match the theme. You will notice we used restraint and didn't purchase all these items at once. That will be the next month...and maybe the month after that. There's a reason we're told to have a 1 year supply of food...right?

So we finally picked up the kids and headed for a little more browsing on the main level. HB loves to get her hands on the little pencils and maps. It is her IKEA passion. By the time we reached the check out stand, HB had filled out her wish list and handed it to me. I didn't know she was doing a wish list...my 4 year old wrote the following list all by herself: (I will send you a box of zucchini if you can decipher all the items...I will send you zucchini even if you don't get it right.)

1) flaowr laptop
2)stoufd dog
3) bedcuvr
4) pictur fram
5) plat
6) vas
7) flawr pot
8) toy
9) crib

She makes my heart smile!

It was a good night. Very good night. We had lots of fun meandering and eating and playing in the ball pits and swinging on the rope pine trees. I feel reconnected to my soul. I feel reconnected to the homeland! Ah, blessed Ikea.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Tutus and New Shoes

Yesterday was a big day in our house. Well, bigger for some people than others. HB, my darling 4-year old, has been waiting to start preschool for WEEKS and WEEKS. Every day since June we have had the same discussion.

HB: Mom, do I go to school today?
Me: Not today sweetheart.
HB: Tomorrow?
Me: No. Not for a few days.
HB: The day after tomorrow? What about the day after that?

And so the conversation goes until I turn the radio up really loud.

But finally the day arrived. And she was giddy. We had a small moment when we went to put on her official ABC preschool shirt that she was supposed to wear on the first day. It is gray. HB held up the shirt with that "look" and said, "I can't wear that. It is a boy shirt."

"No HB, this is the shirt for ALL the kids. Everyone will be wearing their shirt today."

"Doesn't the teacher know that girls like pink shirts?"

We compromised with polka dot leggings and HUGE red polka dot bows in her braids. She looked adorable. I took her outside and to try and take a picture. Our camera is still dead (do electronics ever get resurrected? I could use a miracle...) so I borrowed the camera my son's 8-year old friend accidentally left here. Beggars can't be choosers. After I snapped her darling face, she said, "OK Mom. Now it's your turn."

"Why am I getting my picture taken today?" I replied.

"Because it is your first day with no kids!" Ah, right. Not that I had forgotten but I didn't realize that SHE realized that.

We went to get into the car. She was giggling. Random, unchecked, deep giggles. It made me smile. I asked her why she was giggling and she said that sometimes when you are really happy, it makes you giggle. She then elaborated that sometimes being happy can also make you cry. Astute observation.

And so she was gone. Not a single look back. And you know what? I feel good. It has taken me a little while to come to this point, to accept that my life as a mother is changing a little bit. For so long, I've had little children at home...and I have loved it. I have loved my sweet days with my babies. It has been hard and so challenging at times but I have grown and learned so much. And now it is time for the next phase. I really thought we would have 1 or 2 more children after HB...it is what we have longed for but the realization is slowly taking hold that it may not be in the cards for our family. And it is going to be just fine.

Watching HB go made me happy because it made her so happy. She loves school. She loves learning and playing and making friends and doing projects and going places. And she is in an excellent school with wonderful teachers. How could I not want that for her?

And then last night, she attended her first official dance class. I stood in the doorway of that dance studio and looked at all those little girls with their pink leotards and pink tutu skirts and darling legs in pink tights and thought I was going to pass out. That much cuteness standing in one place can make a person light-headed. It was DARLING and adorable and if my camera weren't lying in the camera graveyard, I would have captured the whole thing. She loves to dance and sing. I'm glad she loves those things. I hope that never changes.

And so here I am. I have a 3rd grader, a 1st grader, and a ballerina preschooler. I have 7.5 hours to myself every week and I'm starting to wonder what I'm going to do when I grow up. Maybe I'll discover a new hobby or learn a new sport or write a novel. Maybe I'll read more books and eat more cupcakes and take a nap. Maybe I'll volunteer at my kid's schools and beg that they will let me stay on this amazing ride as long as possible.

Yeah, I'll stay with them. It's where I'm the happiest.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Fabulous!


Today, completely by accident, I found this shoe online. Do you want to know what the name of this fabulous shoe is? Naughty Monkey Women's Pretty Tree Pump. Who wouldn't want a shoe like that? The name alone sold me. But then I found these...


I'm going to call these my "Naughty Monkey Cinderella shoes". Aren't they magnificent? I'd wear them with my housedress to vacuum and clean the bathroom.

These would definitely be my "Naughty Monkey Going Visiting Teaching" shoes. Wouldn't that spice up a visit? I could wear them with my black sweats...


This is definitely my "Naughty Monkey Grocery Shopping" shoe. I could strut around Wal-Mart and just look hot. And be the envy of all the other shoppers. I don't know how they will go with my flannel pajama bottoms though.



This would be my "Naughty Monkey Goes To Church" shoe. It would match with anything and make running HB out to go to the bathroom in the middle of sacrament meeting so much more fun.

I'm still waiting for my rich benefactor. Where are you? You're taking alot of time finding me...and my list just keeps getting longer. These old flip-flops are starting to wear a little thin. Please send sassy new shoes right away.
Thank you.






Friday, August 21, 2009

So You Think You Can Dance...Really? In That Outfit?

Let me start by making a little confession. I have a dancer's heart. But it is stuck in Attila the Hun's body.

Allow me to be more gentle with myself.

I have always loved dancing but I am well aware that I have some physical limitations. I can't tell you the hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of dance time I logged in that basement bedroom on Hatteras in front of the big mirror on my dresser. I would pop one of my many homemade cassette tape mixes in the big, black boom box and lose myself in some other world. Sometimes it was the bouncy beat of Madonna and Cyndi Lauper, other times it was the melancholy of Air Supply and sometimes it was the funk of R&B. Nothing was off limits.

I loved my stint on the Pom Team freshmen year. I was DEVASTATED when I didn't make the team sophomore year. And making the Highlanders team my junior year had the emotional equivalence of winning an Academy Award. I loved to dance.

I loved dancing in hot pink shiny pants in the church roadshow. I thrilled at the dancers in the City of Joseph pageant who were thrown in the air and tossed about like popcorn. Gravity pulls stronger on some people than others so I was never invited to be tossed but oh how I dreamed. I actually tried taking formal dance lessons one time during my senior year but it absolutely killed the joy. It made me feel heavy and uncoordinated. I didn't like being TOLD how to dance. So I quit and reverted back to my bedroom and homemade cassette tapes. I tried it once again at Rick's College...took a dance class that I loved. I stayed in the back of the room and tried to avoid the mirror. I always felt more graceful than I looked.

And so I carry my love of dance locked away in a special corner of my heart. I still dream of singing and dancing on Broadway...I have my songs picked out and ready for when that chance is handed to me (I Dreamed a Dream, couple of great numbers from Secret Garden, and my 2 favorites from Wicked). I am also ready to dance. Hand me those shiny, hot pink dance pants...I'm ready.
Now here is the point.
Tonight my boys took off for the mountains to camp and be men. HB and I were left to our own devices and so after a quick consult with my weekly entertainment guide from Thursday's newspaper, I selected what I thought would be a fun, "girlie" experience. A "Dancing Under the Stars" spectacular at the outdoor Scera shell theater. My 4-year old daughter also has a dancer's heart and I envisioned us sitting on a blanket under the dreamy night sky sharing a tender moment as our hearts took flight. But as it has a way of doing, reality crept in. Actually, reality is never that subtle. It just plopped itself down and took over our blanket.
We stopped for a light KFC dinner and headed to the park. We paid our dues, found a place to spread out our blanket, and dug in. Dinner was great although HB ate more Whoppers than chicken. Then she wanted to go play. And when the actual dancing part of the show started, she pooped in her underwear and announced that she wanted to go home. After some whining and serious stink (I'm not kidding about the poop...I just didn't have alot of options. I thought we were pass this part of childhood...didn't come prepared), HB laid herself down on the blanket, told me she was going to take a nap, and promptly fell into a deep, deep sleep. The stink was overwhelming so I double wrapped her in the blanket and prayed the wind would stay downwind.
And I haven't even gotten to the "dancing" part yet.
I guess I missed the part where they said this was basically a glorified dance recital for a local studio called "Center Stage". While they have a national reputation and have turned out dancers who have appeared all over the country, they did a fabulous job tonight making me sick to my stomach and really mad.
The first charming number had a bunch of 1st and 2nd graders dressed in their adorable hot pink short shorts with their black knee socks, and ghetto tennis shoes bumping, grinding, and shimmying to some song about "pimpin' out your car" and "lettin' me be your girlfriend." Seriously? SERIOUSLY?
The whole evening alternated between:
a) Really whinny slow songs full of teenage angst and dancers with flexed toes and jerky dancing b) Hard core rap and hip hop with costumes that really didn't have enough fabric to be called clothing.
c) Ballroom dancing with lots of hip and "cha-chas" (think metaphorically) flying everywhere
and
d) An occasional number done by a real professional dancer that was actually good.
There was even one dance that involved some type of metal cage and a few dance steps that looked a little like pole dancing.
Now keep in mind...with the exception of the 2-3 professional dancers they had, the majority of the numbers were being performed by the studio's teenage dancers. High schoolers. You know, the ones we spend all our time worrying about because of their low morals and disrespect for virute, modesty, chastity, reverence, etc.
I'm not saying that the dancers weren't talented. There obviously were some very talented dancers. But I couldn't believe what this studio was teaching them. Children are children. The period of time they spend in childhood is so short. Why are we dressing them up and pimping them out and teaching them to act like adults? And then why do we act surprised when they start imitating adult behaviors and bad habits at an earlier age than we can comprehend? I have attended many dance performances. And I have left many of them filled with joy and respect for the human body and its ability to express such majesty through movement. But tonight felt really base. I hated the costumes, the music, and the choreography. I was disgusted that there was a dance studio with the potential to teach beauty that was teaching a cheap imitation instead.
I was glad that my daughter was asleep on the blanket. I was embarassed by what was being shown and we left early. It wasn't dancing to me. I know what dancing feels and looks like. It makes me happy and carefree and can make me feel beautiful. It always makes me marvel at the divinity of the human body and our capabilities. It makes me celebrate the real joy in life. It feels my heart with all the possibilities of the world. Tonight I didn't feel any of those things. Tonight was not real dancing to me and I am disappointed and sad. And I wanted the parents of those dancers to care more about what these dances and costumes and music were saying to their children about the world than the few moments in the spotlight on a stage in Orem.
I'm going to go find my Mariah Carey cassette mix and do me some dancing. My heart needs a little boost tonight...