Mr. Sand Man

I read somewhere that around 40 pounds of dirt per year is tracked into your house. I think my son, alone, fills that quota each month just from what dumps out of his shoes some days. And that's just one shoe!  
Clearly he is having a good time during recess. 
And clearly I need to legislate a no-shoes-in-the-house law.

  

Bonds that Liberate

"People say of marriage that it is boring, when what they mean is that it terrifies them: too many and too deep are its searing revelations. ... They say of children that they are... brats..., when what they mean is that the importance of parents with respect to the future of their children is now known with greater clarity...than ever before.
"... No tame project, marriage. The raising of children...brings each of us breathtaking vistas of our own inadequacy.
"... [So,] we want desperately to blame [family life,] the institution which places our inadequacy in the brilliant glare of interrogation. ...
"The quantity of sheer...selfishness in the human breast (in my breast) is a never-failing source of wonderment. I do not want to be disturbed, challenged, troubled. Huge regions of myself belong only to me. ... Seeing myself through the unblinking eyes of an intimate, intelligent other, an honest spouse, is humiliating beyond anticipation. Maintaining a familial steadiness whatever the state of my own emotion is a standard by which I stand daily condemned...
"[Yet] my dignity as a human being depends perhaps more on what sort of husband and parent I am, than on my professional work I am called to do. My bonds to them hold me back from many sorts of opportunities. And yet these do not feel like bonds. They are...my liberation. They force me to be a different sort of human being, in a way in which I want and need to be forced."

-Michael Novak, quoted by Bruce C. Hafen, "Covenant Hearts: Marriage and the Joy of Human Love"

Guess What's in the Scripture Case!

And now it's time to play, "Guess What's In The Scripture Case"!!!

Today's scripture case is royal blue with black handles. It sports 1 exterior pocket, allowing an ideal spot to collect all sorts of treasures for a boy. 

If the scripture case's handles broke and a mother had to empty the contents of this pocket to fix them, what would she find?

If you guessed:

• Sunday socks that have been missing for weeks
• A golf tee
• A part for the Primary Program
• A bag of congealed Big League Chew bubble gum
• Artwork from Sunday school including- a somber group of children, a doubting Thomas?, and what appears to be an alien

...then you are a winner!

Perhaps I will someday treat you to a peek at the collection inside the pockets of MY scripture case. I am confident that some things date back to my college years. I suppose I could consider it a spiritual time capsule...

Life's a Potty

Here are enough potty stories to last a lifetime. This is my life...

• My daughter is currently potty training, so I am especially hypersensitive to the word 'potty'. A delayed reaction to that word is life or death. I was especially jumpy one weekend afternoon when my daughter kept talking about her brother being at a "birthday potty". It was like living with the Wiggles singing "it's a dinosaur birthday potty!" in their Australian accents (which truly did have my son confused when he was a toddler, until I explained what they were really singing). As fortune would have it, later that day my son created a song whose only lyrics were, "Disco party!" My daughters enthusiastic version of the song put a smile on my face (yes, I know I need to grow up).
• My daughter has just recently been introduced to "Despicable Me", and thanks to the dedicated tutorship of her uncle she has been taught to yell, "Oh yeah!"-- Vector style. This is normally cute, unless it is while I am carrying her to the bathroom after she has had an accident. 
• The other night, my son moved my daughter's step stool into the bathroom for her, a job that she was already undertaking. This resulted in my highly independent daughter crying and yelling at my son in protest and anger. My son claimed innocent intentions (which is questionable), but I advised him to just leave her alone and let her do it. My son was miffed by her ingratitude. In an effort to help him empathize with his sister I asked, "You like to do the things that you can do, right?" To which my son honestly responded, "Not always". Touche.
• And lastly, I think my daughter may be employing defense techniques of pythons when in distress. Twice now, she has had an accident while crying. Once on me.

The Party of the Century

At school, my son's class was practicing writing invitations. When he handed me the guest list, I knew we weren't talking about a birthday party at Burger King.

Note that the time runs from 1:00 am-12:00 pm, and that it appears our activities will include a baseball game and football Super Bowl. Not sure how our neighbors will like this... and we will need a bigger house.

Albert Pujols is honored with his top choice at #1. Looks like the list is heavy on athletes with several baseball and football teams invited. I was relieved to see I came in at #6, Dad came in at #14, sister is #26.

Personal favorites include: 
25. Author of Boxcar Children books
34. Crispey Cream people
35. Vance Law (former BYU baseball coach)
36. Andrew Law (played for BYU baseball)
37. Adam Law (played for BYU baseball)
38. Their other brother (played for BYU baseball)
43. Pizza place
44. Other pizza place
46. Duncan Donuts

And what I can only suppose is a bipartisan effort:
47. Obama
48. His wife
49. the children
51. their dog

Christmas 2012 Recap

Christmas break ended last week and we are officially back into the routine of "real" life. Now that my daughter is older, I was happy to find the break much more relaxing. It was so fun to reintroduce our Christmas traditions to her more mature self. She loved the music, was curiously disturbed by hanging ornaments on the tree, loved all the lights ("ites!") on the houses, and she was especially fun to watch Christmas morning as she learned all about opening presents. My son eminated Christmas joy all month long. He just soaks it all up. He especially enjoyed his annual visit from Joey (Santa's elf), who brought a friend for my daughter this year.

I found myself busier than I had hoped during the first week of my son's break. As I stood in line in a store one day with my kids (who were wearied by errand running) I made a mental note to myself to have my preparations done before my son's school break- and hey, here's a novel idea, maybe even start preparing for Christmas during November! If I can do that, I am hoping it will leave more time to just relax and enjoy the season together.

One night, at the end of my son's first week of break, I began to feel some real mommy guilt for having not even broken out a single craft or treat to do with my kids yet. It was truly unbearable, so I hurried and scoured Pinterest for ideas, then emptied my craft bin onto the table. With a few official projects in mind, the next morning we crafted. I was happy to give my kids some time with "fun mom", and my son cutely declared how much he loves crafts. A smile and a pat-on-the back for me, with a tinge of guilt that we had not done crafts earlier. Here are is a sampling of their work:

Our new Christmas presents have slowly been absorbed from our family room into our home, and Friday night we officially un-Christmased our house. The tree is on the curb (which sight always makes me feel like a thief who has stripped it of it's rainment, wounded it, and departed leaving it half dead) and the decorations are back in the garage. It's been sad to see the season come to an end. 

But, not to worry! That void in my life has been filled with something equally as magical and anxiety laden. Potty training! To be continued...

"I Det"...

... or, "I do it," for those who don't speak my daughter's language. 
These three words can strike fear in the heart of any within hearing distance... or at least those involved with said toddler. When those three words are spoken, I know 3 things: 

1. My daughter has had a sudden stroke of independence, 
2. A task that normally takes 30 seconds will now take 7 minutes.
3. Any form of "help" (even the smallest gesture) will result in my daughter protesting, undoing what I did, and doing it herself from the beginning- increasing a 7 minute process to 15 minutes. Crying can commonly accompany this process.

I then have 4 choices:

1. Choose my battle- If we have all the time in the world, I can indulge my daughter in her desire to learn to be independent.
2. Bribe/Reward- If we are short on time, this will sometimes speed up the process.
3. Rasslin' Time- If option 1 & 2 are not working or not an option, it can get ugly. She is surprisingly strong and determined for such a little thing.
4. Curl up in the fetal position until the moment has passed- If options 1,2, 3 have failed, this is the only choice left. I have not yet made it to this level, but I have been close.

I suppose history has proved that the road to independence is never easy. Especially, when you have tyrant that insists on buckling your car seat or helping you with your jacket.

Happy Thanksgiving!

- By My Son

The Flood

The other night, my son went swimming...

In the bath tub...

Filled 3"  from the top.

This resulted in a flood of water covering our bathroom floor, soaking the bathmat and my son's clothes, and creeping out into the hallway. My husband and I were of course shocked, and took advantage of the opportunity to teach my son how to clean the bathroom. Funny how certain chores force themselves into your schedule without your planning.

In retrospect, my son calling me from the bathroom asking for his swimming goggles should have been the red flag to go investigate, instead of casually calling for him to hurry up and get out. However, as aggravating as the situation was, it brought back vague memories of my own baths at that age, and deep down I could empathize. When you're a kid, baths are much more fun and much less practical than an adult's.

Juxtaposed

Mother dear, I love you so. Your happy, smiling face 
Is such a joy to look at; it makes home a lovely place.

This is the song the speakers filled our car with this morning when I pulled out of the garage to drive my son to school.... immediately after I had just lectured him about dilly-dallying in the morning. Needless to say, I felt a little silly and a little undeserving and I had half a mind to turn the music off, but I was afraid of drawing my son's attention to the irony as well. 
I guess I got a lecture this morning too.

Majority Rules at the Dinner Table

A few weeks ago, I was in an unusual mood. I was actually excited to make dinner! A new chicken recipe was the cause for my enthusiasm. As I grocery shopped, I remembered I had a bag of potatoes at home and decided homemade mashed potatoes would make a nice accompaniment. Homemade mashed potatoes on a weekday? Crazy! Some fresh cherries would complete the ensemble. Dinner was on the table by 5:15, much earlier than our average 6:30 dinnertime. I was pleased with myself and my meal. I was feeling like a regular Paula Deen.
It didn't take long for reality to pop my swelling pride. While my husband complimented me on how great everything was, my children obviously felt differently. My son didn't touch his plate. My daughter was busy pushing  pieces of chicken into her mashed potatoes. I looked at my husband with irritation. "This is great!" he exclaimed in an effort to distance himself from the behavior of our offspring. (In the past, he has been innocently grouped with my children during my rants of "Nobody likes anything I cook/ It is so unrewarding to cook for you people!"). He has has learned that constant compliments and eye contact are the key to imprinting his innocence in my mind, and therefore his survival. Despite my obvious strike out with the kids, I patted myself on the back for my efforts.
By the end of dinner, my son had eaten enough dinner to qualify for dessert. My daughter had given me her fork and was attempting to shove her dinner in her highchair seat. I looked at my husband. In a dejected tone he reassured me, "I really liked it. I wish that you would make it again." But he already new the truth. "Thank you," I said, acknowledging his appreciation, "But, I'm sorry. It'll probably be a while until I make this." A person can handle only so much rejection. It's majority rule at our dinner table.

Mrs. Hughes

Recently, a friend shared the first two seasons of  "Downton Abbey" with me (yes, I was late jumping on the bandwagon, but I usually am). For two weeks, my life was consumed with the series as I played each episode any chance I could get. I was basically MIA.
I found myself fantasizing about what it must be like to have a whole staff of people taking care of the chores. I wondered what it must be like to leave a room and return finding the pillows plumped, the floors cleared, and everything in its place- as if by magic. Perhaps, I even became a little bit resentful as I considered such a life of ease...
So, to help tame the green monster, I decided to name my washing machine "Mrs. Hughes". When I consider that 150 years ago, I would also be the one scrubbing my laundry clean, my appreciation for the maid I keep in the garage increases. I just pile clothes in and say, "Mrs. Hughes, my knickers are in need of cleaning. Please wash them delicately so as not to distress the fabric." And then I walk inside and nibble a little bit of chocolate on my couch until it is time for me to get dressed.... which I have to do by myself, but I get by. Upon returning to the family room I find the pillows on my couch piled into a fort and toys strewn across the floor. The children are hungry and Mrs. Patmore is nowhere to be found. I guess I'll have to make the sandwiches again. Mrs. Hughes is done washing, but failed to rinse the soap completely from the clothes. They stink. This is not the first time this has happened. She will just need to rinse them again and remember that a tablespoon is really all that is needed to get the water mildly sudsy. And for pete's sake, how long does it take to dry a blasted load of laundry? I don't have all day. Lord Grantham's trousers need to be mended, but have sat untouched for weeks. And what on earth is my toothbrush doing on the floor?
It really is hard to find good help.

Summer Reading

Last year was my first summer break entertaining two kids all day long. At that point, my daughter's waking hours demanded much of my attention. When my son would have been otherwise occupied at school, he patiently played alone while I tended to her needs. So, I tried to make a conscious effort to initiate one-on-one time with my son when my daughter was napping. I was surprised to realize that while he appeared to be contently playing alone, he would eagerly drop what he was doing at the invitation to read a book with me. He would play alone as long as I let him, but he was still craving attention- he just didn't demand it. (This is tricky, because it takes incredible self discipline on my part to seek him out because he is quietly playing vs. hanging on my waist begging for me to play with him).
While we have lots of books at home that we read, I decided that I would choose books from the library that I could read to him during the break. The school year required him to read to me a lot, so I figured he would enjoy the change. I specifically chose books that were much longer and would require days or weeks of reading to complete.  
Sometimes he is so wrapped up in a project I have to prod him to read with me. Often though, he happily drops what he is doing and sits by me on the couch while I read. This is the second summer, and I hope to keep it up as long as he'll tolerate it. I love that it gives us something to talk about, and I especially love when he shares his perspective on different characters or plot lines, because I can tell that he's really been thinking about it. Books introduce us to lots of different characters and how they react to their challenges. They provide incredible teaching opportunities.
Here are the books I have read to him so far (I would love suggestions too!):

2011
"Charlotte's Web" by E.B. White (Newberry Honor)
A classic. A great story about friendship and sacrifice. 
"James and the Giant Peach" by Roald Dohl
A quirky but fun adventure.

 2012
"Abel's Island" by William Steig (Newberry Honor)
I had never heard of this book, but I picked it up randomly at the library. I'm so glad I gave it a try. Wordy and deep. I am convinced it inspired the movie "Cast Away". We were so gripped by the story, my son and I finished it in a day.
"Gentle Ben" by Walt Morey
I remembered this book from my childhood when my dad read it to us. It is an adventurous story set in rugged Alaska. The book was almost too old for my son. It has a lot of descriptive paragraphs that stray from the plot, so it helped to pause occasionally to talk about what was happening.

Expect the Unexpected

Recently, our family traveled to Utah for two family reunions and a mini-trip to Moab. Considering that our daughter is a terrible traveler (and has been since infancy) we anticipated this trip with mixed emotions- happy to visit family/friends and dread that we wouldn't live to tell the tale. Our trips to Utah are always crammed full of activity. There is too much to do and see in too little time, and we still go home with things undone. Overall, the trip was a success and we had a great time, but it was at times a bit chaotic. A booklet about Moab that I found in our hotel instructed that the first rule of navigating the desert is to "expect the unexpected and prepare for it" (Which, in my opinion is lame, unhelpful advice. For someone who likes to be prepared, the Unexpected is far too vast to realistically prepare for it. Alien Invasions, stampeding zebras, bubonic plague... where do I start? But, I digress). This advice would certainly ring true with our trip. Here is a rough summary:

1. Family Reunion #1: Great fun, complete with a family picture, a trip to BYU, a chance meeting of BYU baseball players, playing with cousins, and many activities for young and old. On the last day, we had a "Hoo-ah Grand Finale" with a mandatory evacuation due to a threatening wild fire with only 15 minutes to pack our belongings and leave (a game to include in future reunions?). This was not an ideal way to part, but sure to make the reunion memorable... appropriate since the theme was 'Remember'. 
2. Mini-trip to Moab: Luckily, the evacuation landed us at my aunt and uncle's house for dinner. When they learned of our trip to Moab and how grossly unprepared we were for it, they equipped us with a child carrier, some camel packs, and Keens. I had foolishly minimized the threat that the heat and sun would be and was grateful for their intervention. As seasoned campers/adventurers, they gave us as much instruction as they could and sent us on our way. The first day we visited Goblin Valley. Despite the heat it was a hit, and my son discovered a love for climbing. Dinner in Moab and a swim in the pool rounded out our day. The next morning I opened our curtains to an overcast, threatening sky. It proceeded to rain intermittently throughout the morning and afternoon. (While packing my husband had joked, "Should we bring our umbrella?" With zero percent of rain in the forecast, we left it home. Little did we know that our prayers for a fun vacation would be competing with most Utahn's prayers for rain). The rain let up long enough for us to fit in a couple of hikes at Arches National Park: the upper viewpoint to Delicate Arch and Sand Dune Arch. The grey clouds were not picturesque, but they did eliminate the risk of heat stroke. After a late lunch, the weather cleared and we finished up our Arches trip by hiking Double Arch. We hit Dead Horse Point on the way out of town- which nearly didn't happen because my daughter had actually fallen asleep in the car (a miracle) and we seriously considered passing it by. Perhaps the hardest decision of my life to date.
3. Family Reunion #2:This reunion brought us more fun with cousins, lots of sugar consumption, Olympic competitions, and lots of music. We were happy to end our gypsy-like travels and find respite for a few days in peaceful accommodations. The rain found us again and our reunion was forced to finish up in a church gym. Somehow, my husband and I have picked up some bad vacation karma. We think that we should move to the desert. It would be a rain forest in no time.

The flight home nearly killed us, as our daughter had reached her breaking point. But, we survived and are slowly recovering and reminiscing about all of our adventures and missing our relatives. 
I must admit, through the stress and pressure of our travels, I could actually see my children growing closer together. Being in the car for hours on end forced them to entertain each other and it was so fun to watch (this mainly consisted of my son doing slapstick comedy for my daughter, which happens to be her favorite genre). One night, my son gazed lovingly into his sister's porta-crib and received such big smiles in return that his love for her overflowed, and he expressed to me a sincere and sweet love for her. It's moments like that that make it all worth it. I want my children to be friends.
That being said, I think it might take awhile for us to recover enough to go on another trip. This family bonding business is exhausting.

The Hungry Games

With school out, I have been feeling a lot like the mom in this funny video... "You can feed me, but I'll still be hungry! We're always hungry!"

Hunger Games Parody - Mom vs Hungry Kids
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VS3dxf-2jWA

Mom's the Word

Recently, my daughter learned how to get my attention. It started at dinner as an innocent game: "Mom, Mom, Mooooom!", followed by a giggle when I turned and looked at her. This was a game that lasted all dinner long. It got our whole table laughing.
Well, the pattern has been learned, and now I can expect to hear my name in any variety of ways, innumerable times a day until she is acknowledged. There's: "Mom", or "Mmmom", or "Moooom", or Mommm", and the ever urgent "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" This is something that could be found annoying, but it's not.
Because, several months ago I was watching a home video of my daughter as an infant. As I videotaped her newest trick, my son was overheard in the background calling, "Mom?" And right then, I heard my son's voice in a new way. I heard the sweetness and innocence, instead of the neediness that can sometimes be so exhausting in the moment. And I thought to myself, that little voice will one day be grown and gone, and my background noise will no longer be little people calling for their mom. And in an instant, I realized that as repetitive as my name can become, it is truly the sweetest sound in the world. 
I love to be a mom- their mom. I I belong to them, and they belong to me. They need me, and I can help them.
And I need them.

Time Flies

Last night, as I tucked my son into bed, this sweet conversation took place:

My Son: "Mom, in college do you have time to email?"
Me: "Yes. Sometimes you have time between classes, and also at the end of the day."
My Son: "Good. When I'm not in class, I'm going to email you."
Me: "Good."

It is cute to see my son preparing for the future, and keeping us a part of it. It seems like just yesterday he was playing T-ball and we were playing catch with him in the front yard. Wait... that was just yesterday! I can't think about this!

Paper Doll

While there are many obvious advantages that come with asking my husband to watch the kids while I step out, one of my favorites is, upon my return, discovering what he has dressed our baby in. While I keep a mental note of which clothes go well together, are in the dryer, or are outgrown, this is not always as clear to my husband. I don't him expect to keep track of where every item of clothing is, and I recognize that things should be put away when they are no longer wearable- but it still makes for a fun game to play!

"Wow, I would have never thought to pair that top with sweatpants..."
"Where on earth did he find those socks that she outgrew 6 months ago?"
"I wondered if she still fits into that onesie. Nope."
"Good thing girls can get away with cropped pants."

Dayton's Legs

Here is an inspiring video that will give you goose bumps- and possibly a tear or two. What an amazing 13 year-old.

Dayton's Legs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwwxBjpvDVQ

The Hand That Rules the World

Some years ago, this Deseret News article, "Mother's Influence Felt in Decisions of  LDS Executives" was brought to my attention, and has been lurking in the back of my mind ever since. The article is an excerpt from a book called, "The Mormon Way of Doing Business". While the book sounds intriguing enough, I admit I have not yet read it. On the other hand, I have frequently reflected on this article and the proactive approach Kim Clark's mother took in raising a boy with strong values, and how it paid off-  he is a former dean of Harvard Business School:
"...Clark's mother had three sayings she used to repeat to him every day as a child:
1. 'Be a leader.'
2. 'If it's not worth doing well, it's not worth doing.'
3. 'Remember who you are.'
"On most school days, Mrs. Clark would grab Kim by the lapels of his coat before he left the house and say: 'Don't you let those other kids pull you around by the nose. You be a leader. You stick to your guns. You do the right thing.'"

What a woman! She is my hero. (In fact, when my son turned 5, I tried her pep talk out on my son before school. I soon realized that I had to define that being a leader doesn't mean you're always in charge. Oops.) At any rate, I want to raise up a strong man, and I often consider how to accomplish this thing. It is certainly not something that our culture is promoting. The humbling thing, is realizing that it also takes self-introspection as to the kind of person we are, and what our examples alone are teaching.
We hear and remind ourselves time and time again that our roles as mothers are important, but the fruits of our effort are so painfully slow to ripen, it is easy to forget that our job has an impact beyond feeding, diapering, bathing, or reminding them to change their underwear. This article is a solid reminder of what we as mothers are building one day at a time- The Future.
And should we find ourselves pining for other venues, Sue Clark wisely reminds us, "There are seasons in life. Once childbearing years are over there are many years to pursue education and other things. But there are seasons, and it's essential to protect and guard these childbearing years because they are shorter than life expectancy. There is a narrow window for childbearing and child rearing."