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?
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
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.
Monday, May 16, 2005
World's Greatest Toy
When my son Jacob was little, we decided to go visit my parents in Houston. I knew it would be a LONG 4 hour flight so I decided to invest in a few new toys for the plane ride. At the toy store, I discovered this fabulous looking toy that just begged to be added to the toy collection. It was called a bumble ball. It is a round plastic medium sized ball with these spongy multi colored bumps that stick out. You push down this button on the ball and this tame looking toy goes wild and bounces all over the place creating a visual treat. It is absolutely riveting to watch and hilarious to play with. So I bought this innocent looking toy and packed it in our travel bag for loads of airplane fun. Well, funny thing about the bumble ball...it kind of looks like a bomb when it goes through the x-ray machine at the airport and really balls that bounce all over the place in a violent, gyrating sort of way aren't super fun on airplanes. Once we cleared security and apologized to all the terrified, irritated passengers sitting around us on the plane, my husband confiscated the toy and announced it would not be returned until Jake and I learned how to choose appropriate toys for the appropriate occasion.
The bumble ball hasn't been played with much...until tonight. Tonight I decided Hannah needed to be introduced to the world of the bumble ball. I was so determined that even hunting for the tiny screwdriver and some live double AA batteries didn't deter me from my quest. Batteries were in, screws tightened, and Hannah and I sat and looked at the ball in quiet (slobbery) admiration. Then came the moment of truth. I pushed the little yellow button and set the device in motion. It was pure joy. Hannah let out the appropriate squeals and then watched in slobbery fascination as I danced all over the room trying to catch the bouncy toy. The best part of the evening though was when I handed her the ball to hold. The vibrating motion of the ball shook her from head to toe. Her delicious chubby cheeks jiggled, her precious Buddha belly jiggled and the 3 amazing fat rolls on her legs went crazy. I couldn't stop laughing and kissing her all over. She just held tight onto that ball and jiggled away. I have never seen anything so funny. It made me love that bumble ball all over again. I am not exaggerating when I say it is the greatest toy on earth. Seriously. Go get one and live the good life!
P.S. I am having a real moment of truth...I just went to find a picture of my beloved little bumble ball and after doing my google search, I'm discovering that apparently my favorite toy is really a canine chew toy! Every site listed was a "pet" site. I swear I bought it at a CHILDREN'S toy store. But hey, I'm considering the doggy chew toy for my teething baby. Such a fine line between us humans and our "pets"!
The bumble ball hasn't been played with much...until tonight. Tonight I decided Hannah needed to be introduced to the world of the bumble ball. I was so determined that even hunting for the tiny screwdriver and some live double AA batteries didn't deter me from my quest. Batteries were in, screws tightened, and Hannah and I sat and looked at the ball in quiet (slobbery) admiration. Then came the moment of truth. I pushed the little yellow button and set the device in motion. It was pure joy. Hannah let out the appropriate squeals and then watched in slobbery fascination as I danced all over the room trying to catch the bouncy toy. The best part of the evening though was when I handed her the ball to hold. The vibrating motion of the ball shook her from head to toe. Her delicious chubby cheeks jiggled, her precious Buddha belly jiggled and the 3 amazing fat rolls on her legs went crazy. I couldn't stop laughing and kissing her all over. She just held tight onto that ball and jiggled away. I have never seen anything so funny. It made me love that bumble ball all over again. I am not exaggerating when I say it is the greatest toy on earth. Seriously. Go get one and live the good life!
P.S. I am having a real moment of truth...I just went to find a picture of my beloved little bumble ball and after doing my google search, I'm discovering that apparently my favorite toy is really a canine chew toy! Every site listed was a "pet" site. I swear I bought it at a CHILDREN'S toy store. But hey, I'm considering the doggy chew toy for my teething baby. Such a fine line between us humans and our "pets"!
Monday, May 09, 2005
The Repentant Blogger
I just went to post my last blog and realized it has been over a MONTH since I last posted. Good heavens. I had a few lessons I needed to learn this last month and have been busy messing up, repenting, messing up some more, repenting, and then trying really hard to learn my lessons. Here is what I have been trying to learn and why I haven't been blogging.
1) Despite the passage of years, I still hate science. I understand it better now but the bottom line is that it really just isn't all that interesting to me.
2) People with cracked heels and a lousy sense of balance should just save their money and not buy high heeled shoes.
3) Be leary of pedicures given in shady nail shops in Murray, Utah. And if you choose not to heed that advice, at least take ALL your prescribed antibiotics and don't assume that just because the infected sores have gone away, that the staff infection is all cleared up.
4) When your child wakes up in the middle of the night with a bloody nose, don't let him wipe it on the furniture in the family room before getting him a piece of toliet paper.
5) It is OK to say "no" to babysitting other people's kids...even if you have to lie about it.
6) It is OK to let a child that is not your own sit in a poopy diaper. When you have enough poop in your life, you don't need to take on someone else's.
7) PBS is actually EDUCATIONAL T.V. so don't feel bad if your children need to watch it all day.
8) Stop wishing away my children's childhoods...I'll have plenty of time to get to all the things I want to do someday...although I'm certain when that time comes that I will be sitting in a rocking chair wishing I had all those days with my kids back.
9) Do your visiting teaching.
10) Stop cleaning the house and just get on the floor and play with your kids. Your kids will never ever remember if the dishes were done all the time but I'm convinced they will remember every moment that you put them off because you just had to do one more load of laundry.
Anyway, these are some of the reasons I've been unable to blog for the last month. They all have fairly interesting stories behind them but I'll save those for another blogging day.
1) Despite the passage of years, I still hate science. I understand it better now but the bottom line is that it really just isn't all that interesting to me.
2) People with cracked heels and a lousy sense of balance should just save their money and not buy high heeled shoes.
3) Be leary of pedicures given in shady nail shops in Murray, Utah. And if you choose not to heed that advice, at least take ALL your prescribed antibiotics and don't assume that just because the infected sores have gone away, that the staff infection is all cleared up.
4) When your child wakes up in the middle of the night with a bloody nose, don't let him wipe it on the furniture in the family room before getting him a piece of toliet paper.
5) It is OK to say "no" to babysitting other people's kids...even if you have to lie about it.
6) It is OK to let a child that is not your own sit in a poopy diaper. When you have enough poop in your life, you don't need to take on someone else's.
7) PBS is actually EDUCATIONAL T.V. so don't feel bad if your children need to watch it all day.
8) Stop wishing away my children's childhoods...I'll have plenty of time to get to all the things I want to do someday...although I'm certain when that time comes that I will be sitting in a rocking chair wishing I had all those days with my kids back.
9) Do your visiting teaching.
10) Stop cleaning the house and just get on the floor and play with your kids. Your kids will never ever remember if the dishes were done all the time but I'm convinced they will remember every moment that you put them off because you just had to do one more load of laundry.
Anyway, these are some of the reasons I've been unable to blog for the last month. They all have fairly interesting stories behind them but I'll save those for another blogging day.
Infants and Therapy
Yesterday in church I was having a conversation with a friend where I started a sentence by saying, "Well, Hannah's therapist told me..." My friend passed through an obvious range of emotions before holding up her hand and saying, "Whoa. I'm sorry. Hannah's therapist?" Given that sweet Hannah is 5 months old and that I didn't preface "therapist" with "PHYSICAL therapist" created some confusion although the ensuing conversation convinced me that maybe we really should start our children in therapy when they are young. I've considered keeping a notebook of all the bad mothering moments I've had to save my children money on therapy when they are older. Instead of spending the first 10 sessions recalling all the horrors, they could just hand the notebook to the therapist and get on to undoing all the damage. I should insert a disclaimer here that really I do try my best but way too often I go to bed with all the ungraceful moments I've had that day floating around in my head. I adore my children...love them from head to toe but I always like to start conversations with people I've never met that are either considering motherhood or just beginning motherhood with the warning, "I'm not a graceful mother. I promise that whatever you witness here today is not a reflection on how it has to be. I like to do things the hard way."
Today my children and I all ate breakfast on the floor because I've removed all chairs and stepping devices from our lives to keep Matthew out of the cupboards.
Tonight for dinner my boys had Cocoa Pebbles with bananas, 1/2 a frozen Cotton Candy gogurt and a paper towel with a piece of turkey on it.
At the wedding reception Saturday night I actually told Jake he had to eat 4 more bites of his butter frosted cake before he could have the mints (as if eating the cake were somehow healthier than the mints).
Hannah went to church yesterday with her onesie hanging out the sleeves of her cute tulip dress and by the end of church I'd stripped her of her ruffle socks, darling shoes, and head bow because I couldn't stand how confined she looked.
I actually had a conversation with a mother today that went EXACTLY like this:
Perfect mother: Excuse my hands. They're blue because the kids and I were dying wool in the backyard today.
Me: Dying wool?
Perfect mother: Yes. We dye the wool in Kool Aid (Sugar free kind I'm sure) and then prepare the wool for knitting.
Me: Yeah, we watched 3 straight hours of PBS Kids today.
Perfect mother: (Polite but horrified laugh) Oh, that's why we don't have cable.
Me: Yeah, I only have cable to keep me from giving away my children between 3:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. every day.
(Awkward silence)
I could have kept my mouth shut but it just begged to be said. And don't think I haven't called my husband on his cell phone and told him he could stay at work as late as he needed but if he stepped in that door one minute pass 6:00 p.m., he would have to go pick his children up at the neighbor's house.
Yes, starting therapy in infancy doesn't sound like such a bad thing. Happy Mother's Day!
Today my children and I all ate breakfast on the floor because I've removed all chairs and stepping devices from our lives to keep Matthew out of the cupboards.
Tonight for dinner my boys had Cocoa Pebbles with bananas, 1/2 a frozen Cotton Candy gogurt and a paper towel with a piece of turkey on it.
At the wedding reception Saturday night I actually told Jake he had to eat 4 more bites of his butter frosted cake before he could have the mints (as if eating the cake were somehow healthier than the mints).
Hannah went to church yesterday with her onesie hanging out the sleeves of her cute tulip dress and by the end of church I'd stripped her of her ruffle socks, darling shoes, and head bow because I couldn't stand how confined she looked.
I actually had a conversation with a mother today that went EXACTLY like this:
Perfect mother: Excuse my hands. They're blue because the kids and I were dying wool in the backyard today.
Me: Dying wool?
Perfect mother: Yes. We dye the wool in Kool Aid (Sugar free kind I'm sure) and then prepare the wool for knitting.
Me: Yeah, we watched 3 straight hours of PBS Kids today.
Perfect mother: (Polite but horrified laugh) Oh, that's why we don't have cable.
Me: Yeah, I only have cable to keep me from giving away my children between 3:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. every day.
(Awkward silence)
I could have kept my mouth shut but it just begged to be said. And don't think I haven't called my husband on his cell phone and told him he could stay at work as late as he needed but if he stepped in that door one minute pass 6:00 p.m., he would have to go pick his children up at the neighbor's house.
Yes, starting therapy in infancy doesn't sound like such a bad thing. Happy Mother's Day!
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Unibrows and Other Hygiene Disasters
My mother once gave me some profound dating advice...she said, "Amy, don't ever end a relationship over something that can be waxed, plucked, or fixed at The Gap." While I realize this reveals one of the shallow, insensative sides of my personality (or the fact that commitment terrified me so much that I was using some pretty pathetic excuses for ending relationships), I can now appreciate the sentiment. I'm sitting here in a chair actually scratching my scalp pretty regularly because I am in desperate need of a shower. Then it got me thinking about all the other "physical hygiene" things I probably need:
1) A haircut and color job
2) Eyebrow waxing and overall "facial" hair removal (nothing dark and course, just light and fuzzy)
3) Ear cleaning
4) Chapstick
5) Good body wash
6) An overall shaving of body places that are "culturally offensive" to let hair grow wild, especially with the all important "bathing suit" season upon us
7) A manicure
8) A pedicure
9) Help with really dry, cracked heels
I really could go on and on. While I don't want you to imagine some horrific beast sitting at a computer in her own filth, why is it that being a girl demands so much effort? My husband just wandered in and out of the room and I would really be willing to bet you that if I asked him what he thought would physically help alter his current state, he'd say, "Well, I have a couple hairs on my neck bothering me. Would you mind giving them a trim tomorrow?" Ah, the simple life. I'd just really like to get my hands on the women in history who got everyone thinking that women needed this complication just to be hygenically presentable. And I haven't even touched wardrobe, make-up, shoes, or accessories.
I need a simpler existence. When I get in the shower, it is usually with 3 little time bombs ticking away out on the couch with as much junk food and Tom & Jerry videos as I think will entertain them until I get clean. I actually find myself asking things like, "What is more important today? Clean hair or clean armpits? Only got time for one." I now find myself applauding the guys I dated with the unibrows, hairy backs and strange colored toe nails...I'd like to think they are off making a huge difference in the world with all the time they are saving in the bathroom.
1) A haircut and color job
2) Eyebrow waxing and overall "facial" hair removal (nothing dark and course, just light and fuzzy)
3) Ear cleaning
4) Chapstick
5) Good body wash
6) An overall shaving of body places that are "culturally offensive" to let hair grow wild, especially with the all important "bathing suit" season upon us
7) A manicure
8) A pedicure
9) Help with really dry, cracked heels
I really could go on and on. While I don't want you to imagine some horrific beast sitting at a computer in her own filth, why is it that being a girl demands so much effort? My husband just wandered in and out of the room and I would really be willing to bet you that if I asked him what he thought would physically help alter his current state, he'd say, "Well, I have a couple hairs on my neck bothering me. Would you mind giving them a trim tomorrow?" Ah, the simple life. I'd just really like to get my hands on the women in history who got everyone thinking that women needed this complication just to be hygenically presentable. And I haven't even touched wardrobe, make-up, shoes, or accessories.
I need a simpler existence. When I get in the shower, it is usually with 3 little time bombs ticking away out on the couch with as much junk food and Tom & Jerry videos as I think will entertain them until I get clean. I actually find myself asking things like, "What is more important today? Clean hair or clean armpits? Only got time for one." I now find myself applauding the guys I dated with the unibrows, hairy backs and strange colored toe nails...I'd like to think they are off making a huge difference in the world with all the time they are saving in the bathroom.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Ode to Mothers
I was cleaning out my files on our hard drive when I came across this little souvenir from last Mother's Day. I wrote it because I was feeling so guilty about yelling at my kids on mother's day but then I didn't know what to do with it. Ha! I love blogging. Now I know what to do with all my psychotic musings...anyway, I would wait until mother's day to post it but I have so much more to say this year on mother's day. Anyway, an ode to mothers.
The Sunday before Mother’s Day, I was sitting next to my 7-year old primary class in closing exercises when we were asked to practice a new song. I had never heard this song before but the children were told they quickly needed to learn it since they would be singing next week in sacrament meeting for Mother’s day. The song honored mothers with comparisons to lilac bushes, green earth after rain, and bluebirds singing. The children sang the song with about as much enthusiasm as a death march.
Midway through the massacre, I leaned over to ask a little girl in my class if she had ever heard this song before. She replied that they had sung it once in opening exercises. I asked if she knew what the song was about. She said it was about somebody’s mom but she wasn’t sure whom. It captured the essence regarding some of my complicated feelings regarding Mother’s day. Just whose mother ARE all those songs written about in the Children’s Songbook?
Please don’t misunderstand me. While I applaud a holiday dedicated to pampering and honoring all the mothers of the world, I am ready for a more realistic perspective on the day. Instead of feeling guilty because I don’t fit a single song lyric, poet’s verse, or heart wrenching story, I would like to be applauded because most of the time I am dressed before noon, sometimes I smell clean, and there are even days when the dishes get done. If we sang a song about a mother in yellow pajamas with cereal spilled down her front, my children would know whom the song was about. If we read a poem about a mom who knew how to build a pirate ship, get a spider web to come out of her sleeve, make a paper Spiderman mask out of toilet paper, or build a slide out of couch cushions, my kids could celebrate the fun moments. And if someone would tell a story about a woman, who cherishes alone time in the bathroom and appreciates the family’s sympathy when she breaks out into tears over nothing, I could sit and feel real. I have decided that this Mother’s Day, I’m going to celebrate all the "real" moms out there, the ones who occasionally yell, lose their cool, and have temper tantrums. The moms who aren’t always clean or pretty smelling but are in the trenches making it all happen. The ones who endure long games of make-believe, Wiggles videos, and endless excursions to the park because they know in the end how much those things matter. Being a mom is the most rewarding experience I have ever had. But it also involves more selflessness, sacrifice, and patience than I possess making me far from the perfect mom. The greatest part of the adventure is that when I stop and look at this little monkey on my knee who has the grossest diaper I have ever smelled and is determined to get me to stop typing and play with him, I know I am going to make it because I have the world’s best teachers. By the time they are done with me and waving good-bye from their dorm windows, I may start to get it. They get it and will stick with me until I figure it out. So hooray for all the imperfect moms and the families that love them!
The Sunday before Mother’s Day, I was sitting next to my 7-year old primary class in closing exercises when we were asked to practice a new song. I had never heard this song before but the children were told they quickly needed to learn it since they would be singing next week in sacrament meeting for Mother’s day. The song honored mothers with comparisons to lilac bushes, green earth after rain, and bluebirds singing. The children sang the song with about as much enthusiasm as a death march.
Midway through the massacre, I leaned over to ask a little girl in my class if she had ever heard this song before. She replied that they had sung it once in opening exercises. I asked if she knew what the song was about. She said it was about somebody’s mom but she wasn’t sure whom. It captured the essence regarding some of my complicated feelings regarding Mother’s day. Just whose mother ARE all those songs written about in the Children’s Songbook?
Please don’t misunderstand me. While I applaud a holiday dedicated to pampering and honoring all the mothers of the world, I am ready for a more realistic perspective on the day. Instead of feeling guilty because I don’t fit a single song lyric, poet’s verse, or heart wrenching story, I would like to be applauded because most of the time I am dressed before noon, sometimes I smell clean, and there are even days when the dishes get done. If we sang a song about a mother in yellow pajamas with cereal spilled down her front, my children would know whom the song was about. If we read a poem about a mom who knew how to build a pirate ship, get a spider web to come out of her sleeve, make a paper Spiderman mask out of toilet paper, or build a slide out of couch cushions, my kids could celebrate the fun moments. And if someone would tell a story about a woman, who cherishes alone time in the bathroom and appreciates the family’s sympathy when she breaks out into tears over nothing, I could sit and feel real. I have decided that this Mother’s Day, I’m going to celebrate all the "real" moms out there, the ones who occasionally yell, lose their cool, and have temper tantrums. The moms who aren’t always clean or pretty smelling but are in the trenches making it all happen. The ones who endure long games of make-believe, Wiggles videos, and endless excursions to the park because they know in the end how much those things matter. Being a mom is the most rewarding experience I have ever had. But it also involves more selflessness, sacrifice, and patience than I possess making me far from the perfect mom. The greatest part of the adventure is that when I stop and look at this little monkey on my knee who has the grossest diaper I have ever smelled and is determined to get me to stop typing and play with him, I know I am going to make it because I have the world’s best teachers. By the time they are done with me and waving good-bye from their dorm windows, I may start to get it. They get it and will stick with me until I figure it out. So hooray for all the imperfect moms and the families that love them!
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Visual Evidence
A few blogs ago, I told the story of my darling son and his smelly rubber rain boots. Well, he is still wearing them which has proven useful over the last few rainy days but seem ridiculous when it is 65 degrees outside and sunny. When I asked him the other day if they were making his feet hot, he said, "Yeah Mom" and sat down, took off his boots, took off his socks, and put back on the boots. So here is my favorite picture of Matthew and his blue boots.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Calling All Opinionated People
First of all something must be said...without really being able to explain why, I have a feeling my brother Chip is lurking around these blogs without identifying himself. I can't tell you why this "spidey" sense is telling me so, but if you are my dear brother, you have been caught and now must make yourself known!
Over the past few months I have been compulsively compiling lists of "must read" and "must see" books and movies. I have assembled all these post-it notes and scrapes of paper into one pile where I shall now ask my faithful readers to help me sort out what is really worth reading/seeing and what can be left alone. Here is my "wish" list:
MOVIES
The Sea Inside
Finding Neverland
Born Into Brothels
Yesterday
Lemony Snickett's Series of Unfortunate Events
Story of Weeping Camel
As It Is In Heaven
The Chorus
Downfall
Tupac Resurrection
Twist of Fate
Maria Full of Grace
Spanglish
Meet the Fockers
BOOKS
Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight (Alexandra Fuller)
The Hours (Michael Cunningham)
Caramelo (Sandra Cisneros)
What Should I Do With My Life? (Po Bronson)
Executioner's Song (Norman Mailer)
Raising Ephraim's Child (author?)
Given the limited amount of time I have these days, I really want to spend my time on things interesting and thought provoking. If any one has opinions on any of these things, let it be known!!
Over the past few months I have been compulsively compiling lists of "must read" and "must see" books and movies. I have assembled all these post-it notes and scrapes of paper into one pile where I shall now ask my faithful readers to help me sort out what is really worth reading/seeing and what can be left alone. Here is my "wish" list:
MOVIES
The Sea Inside
Finding Neverland
Born Into Brothels
Yesterday
Lemony Snickett's Series of Unfortunate Events
Story of Weeping Camel
As It Is In Heaven
The Chorus
Downfall
Tupac Resurrection
Twist of Fate
Maria Full of Grace
Spanglish
Meet the Fockers
BOOKS
Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight (Alexandra Fuller)
The Hours (Michael Cunningham)
Caramelo (Sandra Cisneros)
What Should I Do With My Life? (Po Bronson)
Executioner's Song (Norman Mailer)
Raising Ephraim's Child (author?)
Given the limited amount of time I have these days, I really want to spend my time on things interesting and thought provoking. If any one has opinions on any of these things, let it be known!!
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