New Years Eve Stew

I'm spending my New Years Eve, stewing. Unlike Mrs Biddlebox, I didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed on a dreary day. I have a cozy bed, and today was beautiful. We watched The Little Mermaid, went out and enjoyed our bicycles in the sunshine, had a Pho family lunch, naps, and even a promising Family Home Evening lesson, complete with cheesecake bar treats.
Life is good, eh?
Except for the complete meltdown from the seemingly non-stop arguing, bothering, aggravating, name-calling, whining, crying, miserable two boys of mine. I must have told Joel to "respect Jamie's space" a hundred times today. Joel's not the only culprit.
Jamie wanted a snack. Simple enough, right? But after complaining about every suggestion I made, I let him rummage through the cabinets himself to find what he wanted. Since I was unwilling to call candy a suitable snack, we couldn't come to an agreement. Jamie doesn't eat with us at mealtimes because he only is hungry for snacks. Even at breakfast, he'll eat 3 bites of whatever he said he wanted and was served for breakfast, leave the table "Full", only to cry for a snack 10 minutes later because he's "hungry" again. Then I get to listen to 3 hours of whining and crying if I want to insist on him having an appetite for something other than fish crackers.
Even separating the two of them wouldn't work, today. I felt so completely helpless when I realized that they WANT to make each other cry. Even when they are forced to be on separate floors, they wind each other up verbally, and they don't even stop once one of them is to the point of crying.
Lately I've been noticing that Joel tunes out any corrections or timely interventions. Maybe that explains the 100th "respect his space". When I say "no" he just argues. Jamie just turns on me and yells "No" right back. It sounds like I've lost the parental control. Maybe they're just in a phase of testing my limits. Maybe it'll all work itself out in a couple of months or years. Maybe every parent has this problem. Maybe I've been too easy on them. I truly thought I was a strict parent with firm house rules. But I'm starting to consider adopting more severe consequences for lack of respect towards elders, brothers, environment, etc. What if I put all their toys in boxes and donated them all to Goodwill? What if they were only allowed to play outside, rain or shine? What if they only had chores to do? Any ideas?
When "no" didn't mean anything, that's when I left the house to drive around the block and have a good, long cry and talk to God. I came back with very little to say. Harlan had a chance to talk to them and make them considerably kinder to me when I got back. Thank goodness for him.
So, they aren't all bad. And I don't want to suggest that they are. The day started out shiny and new like most others. Joel had this really sweet moment reading books to Jamie before his nap today. Most of the time when the kids are in public settings and not around me, they blossom into these angelic, sweet boys that I dream of having. So what is it with me? Am I supposed to be satisfied that they are learning good values to take out into the world, but at home they're going to make me crazy? Not what I had in mind when I dreamed of having kids.
So, do the offenses really just accumulate until the breaking point near the end of the day? Should I just plan on putting them to bed when I notice I'm nearing the end of my day's quota of bad behavior? What if that happens at 11am? (Naptime) or 4pm? (Is that too early to put kids to bed?)
I seem to go through these periods of excessive frustration followed by abundant satisfaction. If this is consistent with the rest of the patterns in my life, there's a huge life lesson that I'm on the brink of learning. And if this is just a lesson about forgiveness, I'm going to be really dismayed. I can't believe I'm having to learn this lesson all over again. I thought I had that one down. Nope.
Happy New Year.

Proper Penmanship Followup

Since most of the responses were of concern about controlling my temper, I wanted to follow up on the rest of the day.

Joel ended up spending a good deal of time wiping up the ink. It didn't come off without baking soda, so we let him get pretty frustrated with it not coming up before we agreed to help. I was pretty mad about the marks, but I recognized that the table's just "stuff". Wiping up ink for a while seemed an appropriate consequence. Plus, the time it took to do that gave us plenty of time to talk to him about our primary concern that he know that we have zero tolerance for lying.

We had a big discussion about lying and how important trust is to us. It seemed too early to discuss the concept, but last night he brought it up. He said he wanted to earn trust with us and wanted to know how. It was a prime opportunity to do a better job of explaining it, and so it went.

I seem to underestimate Joel consistently. I think concepts are too advanced for him and then he surprises me with an understanding of them. Over and over, I simplify things and find it was unnecessary. Two steps forward, one step back, for me. It's a parenting thing every parent has to go through, I guess.

Anyway, after a little more investigation, it seems likely that both boys were guilty vandals. So, Joel might not have been lying as much as I thought. There's another parenting lesson for me.

Proper Penmanship

I have a question. Consider this an open discussion, so please post your answers.

What would your parents have done to you when they came home from work and found that you had etched a big figure 8 and scribble marks into the new dining room table with ball-point pen, and then you lied to them (at least 5 times) insisting that your brother did it??

White Christmas

When I told Joel it was Christmas Eve, he immediately ran to the window and looked out. "Was he looking for Santa? or Nonny and Pa?" I wondered. No, he was looking for snow. All the descriptions he knows of Christmas have snow in them. It wasn't snowing, and I could see his gears turning: "Maybe mom meant it's almost Christmas." The faith of a little child is impenetrable.
Christmas morning, Santa had come and presents were unwrapped. We had Christmas music, and Christmas Strata. It felt like Christmas to me. Joel again ran to the window and looked outside. I explained that it doesn't have to snow on Christmas for us to celebrate. I felt like I was taking a big, ugly, black marker and drawing all over his visions of sugarplums. We got dressed to go to Jefe's house and Joel starts announcing "It's Christmas! IT'S CHRISTMAS!!" It was snowing big, fluffy flakes just like we all dream about. How amazing! I have to wonder if Joel's faith made it so.
Because of this one day of snow, the "magic" will live on another year in our boys' heads, and I will have a story of faith to tell forever.

Merry Christmas!!

Product Placement: Negative

Product Placement: Positive

Jamie Tells Us a Story

Jamie asked me to tell a story before nap-time today. Before we could get off the changing table, he told me the following, which I immediately transcribed:

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Jamie.
He lived in a house with his mommy, daddy, and Joel.
One day, he fights with Joel.
And the manager told him not to fight with Joel.
And he did it again.
Then the manager told Joel not to fight with Jamie.
And he did it again.
The manager told him not to fight with Joel.
And he did it again.
So the manager put him in jail."

I have no idea who the manager is or when he learned to tell stories. I'm pretty sure this is his first.

Sweet dreams

Priceless

Does your babysitter do this for you?
We love Brynn.

Happy Hanukkah!

From mamam, dada, J, j, the dog, the reindeer,....

Decorations

I had no idea how important decorations were. OK, if I think back to my days as a youngun, I remember getting excited to see the garland wrapped around the banister and the colorful kitchen towels with Santa on them. So, I shouldn't have thought "what a novel idea!" as I realized that Joel loves Christmas decorations and could take over the job of decorating. And maybe I wouldn't have been so reluctant to spread my decorating wings to include more than the mantel and a tree as targets for Christmas cheer.

In the past I have not acquired much in the way of Christmas decorations. They have all fit snuggly into a 1' x 3' box up until last year. There was only one way that everything fit into this box; it was a puzzle remedy for those post-Christmas blues that a 20-something without children could amuse herself with. But with memory not what it used to be and children who make one think, "put it away as quickly as possible, before someone sees it and decides it's a toy until July," I bought a 2' x 3' box. But still, I know Rubbermaid makes several sizes larger, so I call it "medium". This is therapeutic. As long as all of my decorations fit into this manageable box, I can comfortably assign it a space to take up residence in my house for 11 months of a year.

But this year, I'm concerned about all the decorations that might someday soon have to fit into the new 2' x 3' box. In addition to the paper snowflakes, the reindeer puppets, and the wreath made from green hand-prints (thank you, Brynn!!), we have this nice, Mother's Day bookmark (can you see it there on our tree?), a key chain, and lots of silly Christmas toys from an advent calendar.

And I just want to mention how proud I am that I have begun to let go of some of my compulsions and accept the tree being redecorated every day anew. Sometimes the "NOEL" &"JOY" ornaments spell "JOEL" and "NOY". Sometimes it just looks like ornaments have fallen off the tree, when, really, they are just weighing down the bottom branches that would otherwise skim the floor. Our tree has more decorations on the bottom 3 ft than the top. But I'm OK with all that now. There's a spring in Joel's step and a myriad of craft projects at his fingertips. Boredom is rare and we all know how dangerous that word is, enough to relish the season of joy.

My first thanksgiving

This was the first Thanksgiving meal done by myself. Most of you already know that I don't really like turkey and all the fixings. Even pumpkin pie is pretty low on my list of eats. But I managed to put this humble meal together and feel that sense of accomplishment that many of you have felt for years. Here are our photos from the day:



Joel wasn't happy about having to sit at the table and wait, but after I threatened him enough, he forced out a half-cheerful smile for the camera. "A" for effort, Joel!








Time for some exercise:

Happy Thanksgiving

My children's smiles.
My husband's laugh.
My mom's steadfast love.
My brother's understanding.
My dog's constant warmth.
Health, safety, prosperity, and kindness.
My Savior's grace.
Heavenly Father's constant care.

Have seeds of joy and thanksgiving stored up in your heart
And always keep a spade for sowing.

Joel's Party

Happy Birthday to my bouncing baby boy! 5 Big Years.

To Our Old Shoes

To skate in the valley of Kent you see
On ice with three dear friends and we,
Our shoes we traded
For boots well bladed
Adventurous we felt such glee.

When toes went numb and backs bent down
We seated ourselves and rested a round,
Watched the zamboni
Shave ice like baloney
We waited and fussed and frowned.

Then our turn came again to skate
Our legs held out but toes did hate,
Stop and go
Start and woe
For some other day we'll wait.

But alas our toes won't rest warm yet
Our dear old shoes a thief had met.
Oh what despair
Not under our chair!
So our socks went home all wet.

To my surprise the next day a call
A sudden warm fuzzy on a wintry fall
"Your shoes are here."
"I'll be right there!"
A round of forgiveness for all.

Biscuit Boys

When I was a girl, there was a man who called me biscuit, all the time. I did think it was embarrassing, but when you're a kid, it doesn't much matter what you think. I'm not going anywhere with this. I'm just jotting down the memory before it disappears into oblivion.

Tonight, I made biscuit boys. Why, you ask? Is Suzanne a budding Martha Stewart? Nope. Perhaps, I'm just resourceful. If I don't have buttermilk, I'll use skim. If I don't have a biscuit cutter, I'll use the gingerbread cookie cutter my mom gave me for Christmas. Good girl.

Anyone want to register shock that I made biscuits in the first place? Yup, I got my hands all covered in flour like my grandma taught me. What possessed me? It was the magic Apron. Put that baby on, and something's gonna get made!

So, I married a Halo warrior

Chapter 1: Understanding the Halo warrior without playing Halo
Chapter 2: Making eye contact and avoiding guilt
Chapter 3: Meeting the other warriors in person
Chapter 4: Discovering vast amounts of "me-time"
Chapter 5: Rescheduling TV time and sleep cycles
Chapter 6: Jealousy's overrated
Chapter 7: Picking a suitable, quiet project
Chapter 8: The "sexier-than-the-TV-screen" body
Chapter 9: The marathon Halo weekend
Chapter 10: Giving up and going to bed

Preschool dropout

One day, when Joel's grown into some terrific airplane pilot or architect, we'll look back on today and laugh about how he got kicked out of preschool when he was 4 years old.

*sigh*

Could we have been given a more strong-willed son?
Couldn't we just turn off certain traits until they have found their useful places in society?
Couldn't I have the perspective of a parent of 15 years instead of the one of 5?

This is one of those days when I feel like I've failed him.

Today, it's hard to laugh.

What are you?

You Are 9: The Peacemaker

You are emotionally stable and willing to find common ground with others. Your friends and family often look to you to be the mediator when there is conflict. You are easy going and accepting. You take things as they come. Avoiding conflict at all costs, you're content when things are calm. At Your Best: You feel connected, trusting, and fulfilled. You feel at peace with your place in the world. At Your Worst: You compromise your values to make sure peace is maintained. You give in to bullies. Your Fixation: Harmony Your Primary Fear: Causing conflict Your Primary Desire: To preserve things as they are Other Number 9's: Marge Simpson, Ronald Reagan, Audrey Hepburn, Jerry Seinfeld, and Abraham Lincoln.

What Number Are You?

First of all, I would like to ask Abraham Lincoln when he took this quiz? What about all the other answers about "getting bossy" when I'm stressed and people probably say I'm too critical. Do they just exclude the answers that don't fit the characterization?? Whoever "they" are. And if my primary fixation is on Harmony, why didn't I have an advantage in music theory classes? Do I sound like the peacemaker, now?

Pictures

I can relate to my friend.

I like photos that embellish a story or highlight a part of life that was great, but too fleeting in "the now" to make much of an impression, until I peruse the file of odd snapshots collected by my camera and see that something magical was happening, and if I don't stop and point it out, I'm liable to have been ungrateful for it.

Princess followup

Joel hasn't brought up the princess idea in a while. We are biding our time.

But I've been proactive:

Harlan and I are not allowed to say the "p" word. I don't think it was much of a standard in our vocabulary, anyway, but conscientious effort has been made.

Joel said he'd dress up as a pilot (same costume as last year) for Halloween, so I wasn't really thinking of getting another costume for him. But when the "p" issue came up, it seemed necessary to have a few more masculine costumes around.

He considered Bob the Builder for about an hour, but rejected it. It seemed like an inward struggle was going on between having cool tools handy versus not having long hair and a fancy dress on.

The fireman wasn't even considered.

So we're back to airplane pilot, partly because airplanes are so awesome and partly because airplane pilots look dressed up all the time. Go figure.

Thank you, Mimi, for that very important gift!

Hotdogs anyone?

Need an FHE idea?

Bitamins

Have you ever sneaked up on vitamins before?

Princess Joel

M: What do you want to dress up as for Halloween, Joel?
J: A Princess!
M: No.
J: WAHHHHHHWAHHWAHHHWAHHH!!! *tears*, *red face*, *kicking*, etc.
M: Boys can be princes, though.
J: I want to be a PRINCESS!! Wahhhwahhwaahhh....
M: What do princesses wear?
J: Dresses.
M: You can't wear a dress. You're a boy.
J: WAHHHHHHWAHHWAHHHWAHHH!!! *tears*, *red face*, *kicking*, etc.

I'm like my tree

I'm like my tree
Waiting around
For a sunny day
That might not come,
Dropping leaves
That no longer
Hold their color,
Conserving energy
For a cold, dark winter,
Reminding myself
That Spring will come,
When comes the man
With sharp metal hands
Who grips me roughly
Snips my branches
Expecting me to heal.
Sadness takes over
Like the Nothing;
Where is my Spring?

PS: Harlan is not the "man".

11 Years

Things I like about Harlan:
He makes blueberry pancakes from scratch, w/o a recipe, that I like w/o syrup.
He can take my computer apart and put it back together better than it was.
He can play all the brass instruments well, and then some.
He gave me two beautiful boys.
He makes me laugh even when I'm mad.
He loves our library.
He goes to church with me and supports me even when it's difficult.Happy Anniversary, Love.

Joel's Reading

He's such a wiggly reader this was pretty much the only photo I could get of him that was in focus. It took me a month to post this one, and he had been doing it for a while before I could catch him in the act. We just love these milestones, though, and are so proud of our smarty pants.

Anyone who notices the mismatched pajamas can contribute to the one-piece pajama fund.

The Big Kid Cooks

My Big Kid has a great sense of humor and is frequently required to laugh me out of a funk. That alone was worth marrying. However, there are other great features, like his love of learning new things. In this case, we're talking cooking skills. I admire his desire to improve his knife skills, or learn some Thai cooking, or sushi making, to the point of taking a class on it, carving out the time for it, and then showing off his new skills to his family.

I'm not a notable cook. In fact, I could probably manage to feed us during famine, but I wouldn't make many friends doing it. I'm a grumpy cook. I just want it done. But not Harlan. He smiles and jokes and just enjoys the whole process. And I can't help but take a moment to smile and bask in the joy he brings us all. Lucky me.

The final frontier

This was Joel's prayer tonight:
"Dear Heavenly Father, please help us to live on another planet. Thank you for our toys. We like our house. We like all of our stuff on Earth. Please keep the monsters and scary things far, far away. In the name of Jesus Christ we pray, Amen."

October Planning Meeting

Here's what we'll be doing next month, for those of you who might be involved or want to tag along... (We're going to be busy!)

1 Easter Egg, Christmas, Zoo, Dance, and Read Books
2 Look for Stars
3 Ice Cream
4 Do Pumpkins
5 Sunshine Day
6 Looking for Dinosaurs in the Desert
7 Marry Somebody
8 Play with Hats
9 Go to the park with Nonny and Pa
10 Have Joel's Birthday
11 Pick Roses
12 Play Musical Instruments
13 Play More Musical Instruments
14 Draw and Read Books
15 Look for Clovers
16 Somebody's going to be a Doctor
17 Painting Day
18 Halloween
19 Light Candles
20 Play Xylophone
21 Do Laundry
22 Ride Bikes (Jamie's going to ride a fire engine). Mamam can walk.
23 Soccer
24 Do an Airplane flying Class
25 Look for American Flags
26 Have my Birthday
27 Do Presents
28 Pick Flowers
29 Snuggle with My Bear
30 Go to School
31 Go on a Bus

Mamam: Joel, what are we doing on the 28th?
Joel: Hold on, I need to fix it. Sorry I can't talk to you right now.
M: huh?
J: So, I got it right. Make sure Jamie doesn't mess this up.

The Hand

Weightless for all of its two years of need
Unlike my thirty three
That presses, squeezes, grabs, and grasps;
A force that never goes unnoticed
With scars and spots
Coarse, calloused and
Shaking with doing and accomplishing
Numb with use or misuse.

No, his is subtle, unmoving, steady
But for the shift of one small finger
For assurance of my mere presence
Or the twitch of initial sleep
Yet with power to keep one so large unmoved
Daring not to undo this brief moment:
This love.

How long
Before this hand reaches no more
Needs no crossing guard
Touch of comfort
Or encouraging tug
But pushes me away
To court softer hands
To find his strength alone?

Chop City - Part I

No, not the chinese food... my horn chops. I've been putting this post off until I had enough time to reflect on the process of auditioning. Two in one month. The second was today. I'm exhausted. My chops, though, are on fire. Both auditions were personal bests for me.

After the first round of my first audition, I thought that I had become someone else. I think I played one note poorly. That's never happened to me before. I'm strong on musicality, weak on technical prowess. I nick notes all the time... The second round was rough, though, more like what I might have expected from myself. I didn't win the audition. I think I got second or third. The standings are still unclear. But I was extremely happy with experiencing what it's like to do well at an audition. It definitely helped boost my confidence for future auditions.

The second audition was a long shot for me going into it. I was underprepared. Two weeks of work on that amount of music (three excerpts I had never even heard before!) was not enough time for me to really dig through all the layers and gain enough confidence in my preparation. One excerpt, in particular, was really giving me grief. It was the last one that we had to play in round one, and I didn't pull it off. On a different excerpt, I played one note weakly when I ran out of breath towards the end of it. And I nicked a couple of notes on other stuff, but not memorable enough (to me). But in spite of that, I was extremely pleased with my ability to focus on playing well and use the incredible, nervous, audition energy productively. My chops felt really solid.

Nevertheless, I didn't advance to the second round. Looking back, I wasn't really out of my league. I might not have won the audition with more preparation, but I might have advanced to finals, and perhaps gotten close. The guy who won is terrific. I'm very happy he won.

Auditioning stinks, but there are some really good things that come of it. More on that in Part II.

Early Mid-Life Crisis

For some, mid-life crisis happens around 40. A red corvette might be involved. Maybe a jump from a perfectly able aircraft. Perhaps a marathon (or a triathalon) is required. But it's a right of passage. We all make it, if we're lucky enough to exist that long. Mine might be occurring early?
Maybe I did this because I wanted to draw attention away from the gray.
Maybe I was tired of being taken too seriously.
Maybe I felt compassion for those judged too harshly.
Maybe I needed to be my red-obsessed son's hero.
I'll admit, I've gone too far.
We'll be taking corrective measures soon.

Calm

Do you need a break?Do you need to work on your blog?Do you need a shower?

Even the best mothers know there is bliss to be found in a bag of popcorn and "Jay Jay"

Harlan was inspired...

Harlan read my poem last night which probably inspired his email today:

Someone had written the Cendant Internet Engineering group, asking what the zip code was there. Someone else (Mark, mentioned momentarily) said 02142, and I corrected them by memory to 02141. Mark insisted it was 02142, when Tanya wrote:

> [...] according to USPS it was 02141.

And then I wrote to the group my haiku:

Boo-YAH... take THAT, Mark!
Oh two one four two indeed
Utterly whack, yo

It may be that it's the first haiku to use "boo-yah", "whack", and "yo". :-)

--Harlan

Summer 2007

Sliding down
Splashing contests
Spraying plants
Soaking brothers

Warm fun with summer sun
Green, green grass to cut and smell

Playing tag
Pushing trucks
Plucking weeds
Picking berries

Shiny smiles and sticky fingers
Small, bare feet to wiggle and run

Bearing fruit
Beaming joy
Borrowing time
Bonding hearts

Open arms and moist eyes
Our precious souls to learn and love

The Golden Rule

Harlan: "What did you learn in school today?"
Joel: " Respecting yourself, Respecting others, Respecting the envirnment [sic]."
Harlan: "Oh? What can you do to respect others?"
Joel: "Don't do mean things to babies, or they'll grow up to think that's the right thing to do."
[...]
Joel: "Don't kick a baby in the face."
Harlan: [suppressing laughter]
Joel: "Don't poop on a baby's head."
Harlan: [unsuccessfully suppressing laughter]

Doggonnit!

There was a day when Mabel was our only child. When people came over to visit us, I'm sure we were annoying. We'd actually compare our dog to their kids. And sometimes Mabel would win the Best Kid Award. I mean, she had some pretty impressive tricks when compared to some 1 year-old humans... (would sit on command, could stand up, cleaned the floor, didn't need diapers, etc).

Before Joel and Jamie came along, Mabel would have been the highlight of this blog. Oh, how times have changed. I realized about a week ago that Mabel hadn't even been mentioned, yet. And it took me another week to get around to mentioning her. I think she knows she's been demoted. Yet, I think it happened gradually enough that I can't point to a particular moment or time when she seemed to protest it. She's always been the Omega dog in the family, so maybe it was a relatively easy transition. Or, since her sleep has been just as affected as ours by the new kids on the block, she's too tired to worry about one-upping them.

Alas, she's as patient as ever. She loves us still. She remembers her tricks, even without frequent practice. And, like us, she lives for the kids' bedtimes when she can resume her place on the couch curled up between us.

Baptism

Joel said, "Jamie, do you want to get baptized?"
Jamie said, "Yeah."
Joel said, "All you have to do is get a good breath. Do you want to do that?"
"Yeah."
"Just get a good breath and go underwater. Davis did it." [referring to his friend Davis who he saw get baptized over a year ago]

DDM Followup

"The Dillydally Monster is going to eat you." Joel said to Jamie after they went to bed.
Jamie said, "I don't want to be eaten."
Joel said, "He won't eat me. Just you. And then we'll get a different Jamie. Not you. Someone else. Do you want to live?"
"Yeah."
"Then go to sleep."

"I'll do it my way"

Joel had Soccer Camp this week. Or rather, Joel was at Soccer Camp. The other kids were playing soccer. Not sure what Joel did. But he had fun. And he came home tired. Mission sortof accomplished.

Spiritual Growth

I'm not very good at sharing spiritual experiences. They're personal. Putting them into words trivializes them for me. I love to hear others, though, and so, by that same token, maybe another could benefit from hearing mine. Not all, though. I know most people may prefer to skip this week's post. But this week has been one big spiritual growth spurt for me after another. I'm overwhelmed in a most exquisite way.

It was just last week that I asked God if this was it for me. Was my life just going to be a series of enjoyable struggles and triumphs with marriage, childrearing, music, etc.? Was I not really going to grow much more? Will it just be this steady ebb and flow for the rest of my life? That was the vision of my future that I had. It wasn't that bad an outlook, but it was somewhat disappointing. I certainly wasn't asking for trials or hardships to come along. Marriage and childrearing is packed with plenty of difficulties for a lifetime. But I was asking God if this is what He had planned for my life when he sent me to this earth. Was raising two boys and managing a stable household all that was expected of me because perhaps they or their progeny would be the ones to become something more?

The next day or so, I got a resounding "No." More on that in a later Blog. For now, this is what the Lord has been telling me this week:

• There's a lot for me to do and it's high time I start doing it. Stop being lazy and use every moment for something useful.
• There are a lot of scripture stories with which I am unfamiliar. I've read them before and studied them here and there, but the retention isn't there. And I'm going to need them soon.
  
• My children and my spouse need to hear about my spiritual experiences, so they can benefit from them, too.
• I need to listen to people more and talk a lot less. They will tell me ways that I can make the world a better place.
• Family Home Evening needs to happen every week. For me, for the kids, and for our relationship with Heavenly Father to grow.
• Be sensitive to the comings and goings of the Spirit. I need the Spirit constantly with me. Don't do things that jeopardize that.

I love that Heavenly Father always answers my prayers. It's humbling and wonderful to know that all I have to do is ask and listen. Then do.

Rhinestone shades or cheap sunglasses
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Hurray! No more laundry!!

A few days ago, when I asked Joel to put away his freshly folded laundry, he complained that he was tired of putting clothes away. "No More!" he said.
OK, granted, he had just put two loads of laundry away that night, but, really, how old is he? Of his four and a half years, he's only been putting his laundry away for one of them. I'm inclined not to give him a voice in the matter. Except, the little voice inside me said, "If you don't wash clothes you won't have to put them away."
"Fine," Joel said. "I just won't ever take these off."
Realizing the little voice wasn't just inside my head, I felt the need to reinforce the point, "So, those are the last clothes you'll ever wear?"
"Yup," he said, "until I'm 5."
*Shrug* Good enough.
But then he took another look at what he was wearing and realized that he wanted to go change. I'm likening this to a burial outfit or cremation or birthday suit or whatever you've decided you'd like to accompany you when you to return to the dust. For Joel, who was wearing a blue shirt and some long blue pants that he swears are black, clearly this outfit wouldn't be up to the task. I told him that he would have to put the "blue" clothes in the laundry and actually put them away again in the near future if he chose to change into something else for his last outfit. This thought made him well up like an irrigation ditch. "But I want my red clothes to be the last thing I wear."
Melting, I decided to leave the decision in Joel's hands. He understands the laundry process. He can work this out.
So, after wearing his red clothes for the rest of the day, like all creatures of habit, he changed into his pajamas for bed, and got up in the morning and put more play clothes on and so on. After a few days, I figured this is a closed issue, and he's decided that clean laundry's worth the effort.
Until today. He wakes up, puts on this red outfit and, as serious as any 4 yr old, says these are his "last clothes".
So, now, while trying not to think of Mrs Piggle Wiggle's radish cure, I rejoice. No more laundry for Joel! Until he's 5.

Bedtime antics

[Necessary setup for today's blog: We have three phones (one on each floor) and a base station. We have a designated phone in the boys' room so we can use the system's monitoring feature to listen in on them wherever we are in the house. It also has an intercom feature that pulses the desired phone with loud, high-pitched alarm sounds which we've rarely ever used until now.]

When the boys go to bed in the same room together, "sleeping" becomes a very loose term. It seems we've tried everything (punishments, separations, music, exhaustion, what am I missing???). For Joel, it's too tempting to respond to Jamie's unrelenting invitations to jump on the bed, make up nonsense words, and dork around all through the night. Except when the "Dillydally Monster" is coming.

Tonight, I rang the intercom whenever the noise turned particularly chaotic. I did it 3 times. They didn't know what that sound was that was interrupting their fun, and they stopped to listen, then started up again, each time.

Finally, I called Joel out, as if, like other nights, I was informing him that his chance to sleep with Jamie was over, and he would have to go sleep in the closet crib, again. But instead, I asked if he heard the dillydally monster alarm go off. It dawned on him that he did, indeed, hear the alarm. And with recognition came panic. [Fortunately] He remembered that the Dillydally monster doesn't come if you're in bed asleep, so he made a bee-line for bed. Then he turned to me and said he had to go tell Jamie what was about to happen. He sounded so urgent and pleading...that he had to protect Jamie and convince him that they needed to go to bed right away! In 15 seconds, all was quiet. Joel was even too afraid to get up and help Jamie get his pillow and bears that he had thrown out of his crib. And there hasn't been a peep out of them since.

I'm sure I will regret this one day, but for tonight, the Dillydally monster equals peace and harmony.

Bean

Bean is Joel's best friend. Joel has buddies, like Boon and BeahBeah (also pictured above), but Bean is his Best friend. They do everything together, so much so that we had to put a moratorium on Bean 's extracurricular activities. We got tired of calling people to ask if they'd seen him and fetching him from here and there. So, now he's a SAHB.


Bean's name has a little history. He started out as Bluebeary, thus named by the company who made him and called by his parents while Joel was a babe. But as Joel began to talk, his word for blueberry was "bea," so naturally he called his bear Bea. Then one day, quite suddenly, he added an "n" to Bea's name and thus he became "Bean." Nobody knows where the "n" came from.

It didn't take long for us to realize that Bean could really be lost one day. With Joel's attachment to him becoming more and more apparent, we were concerned about the future civil unrest in our home. In preparation for this day, we ordered another blue bear identical to Bean. He arrived all fluffy and clean, so, like any wise parent, I spent a few weeks washing him and wearing him down so as to pass Joel's scrutiny. And, of course, when the time came to slip in the new bear, Joel would have nothing to do with it. As far as he was concerned, Bean's brother, Boon, was here to visit, and Boon was the far less superior bear. I can almost taste the lesson here, but I can't decide which one is worth mentioning. Are siblings unequal? Man was created equal, but not bears? Rotate bears before an attachment can be formed?

Maybe that's what the comment section is for.

Today was my day off. I didn't manage to take a nap until after the kids went to bed for the night. I couldn't just put myself to bed at 8pm, could I?? And I couldn't keep myself up past 8, so, I'll be up late tonight, practicing, probably.

Harlan and I enjoyed playing games with Joel while Jamie napped. Then we all picked blackberries in the backyard. Harlan made cobbler. He figured the only way to make it with fresher blackberries was to preheat the oven while we're picking them. We enjoyed the weather in our backyard chairs thinking about ways to fill our yard with more fruit. August really rocks here.

Bubbles

Kids have these huge spirits packed into tiny bodies that can do all those amazing things that I wish I could do but can't, like crawl into that space between the couch and the wall and disappear for hours, jump and tumble all over the furniture and from all heights without waking up stiff in the morning, and covering their entire (or almost) surface area with bubbles.

I'm not really going anywhere with this. I'm just a little awed and jealous.

Yesterday, Joel fell off the dining room chair (which is actually a bar stool), headfirst, and just like a lump of jam, he molded to the floor and sprung right back up saying, "I'm OK." He just smiled and hopped right back up on his chair. I tried to imagine what he might have hurt, thinking that if it were me, I'd be checking for broken bones and mortal wounds... But, to him, it was as if nothing happened really.

Just another testament to the thought and perfection Heavenly Father put into creating us.

Buy our lemonade!!

It was a 5 star day for our Bake sale at a nearby park (I wish our street had a lake on it...but that's for another blog). Joel rode around on his trike with a sign on the back until he got tired of his wheels getting stuck in the grass. Jamie stayed behind, for the most part, to man the stand or eat muffins, depending on your point of view. I think he had the best job.

So, Joel has the best sales strategy one could have. He walks right up to a perfectly content stranger who is soaking up the sun or watching kids playing in the lake and holds his sign up to her and waits for a response. At this point, a decision must be made. "Do I tell this kid to beat it?" or what? Because he is a patient fellow and a man of few words when he is put to task, he stands firm until this poor stranger is utterly convinced that he has been sent here to show her the way to lemonade heaven.

He really brought in the customers from all around the park. I dare say he stood out possessing a real gift for salesmanship. I don't really want to think about the long-term prospects and will continue to push the pilot/musician route. But, for today, it was really fun to see him shine.

Everything's coming up roses.

Who doesn't love seeing their children picking dandelion flowers? That's one less flower that will pollinate my yard with more dandelions. I do dislike dandelions!! Is it exploiting child labor to encourage them to pick all of them? "OK, Let's bring flowers to Mama!" When they do, should I smile every time and pretend they are a dozen red roses? I think that's the effect they are looking for, but it's awfully hard to turn a weed into a rose a dozen times or more, if only in my imagination. But when I look at their faces as they look for the pleasure and love in mine, I am reminded of how important it is to look often into my children's eyes and give them what they need every time.

Mrs Incredible

Every time Mr. Incredible saves the world, it always manages to find itself in peril again. He said he just wished the world could just stay saved for a while. Is it too much to ask?

The frustration of seeing my work reduced to rubble is one I don't let wash over me naturally. On some level, I wish my dishes would never get dirty in the first place. If they sparkled neatly in the cupboard all day and never required cleaning, that would be fine with me. It seems the boys are constantly pulling toys out. I'm constantly putting them back again or telling them to put them back. Every day I'm supposed to take a shower, but I'm just going to get dirty again.

I have not figured out how to solve this puzzle. It's not that I don't want to shower or clean up.
It's that if I bother to spend the time cleaning up, I certainly don't want to turn right around and get dirty again. This personal law governs a lot of my productivity questions of the day: I want to exercise, but I have to do it when I'm already dirty. The same with yard work. I don't want to practice horn unless I'm clean. Some days I plan all our meals around keeping the freshly cleaned kitchen spotless. I take the kids out of the house to keep it clean. On and on.

And since I haven't really found a routine that works every day or a way to balance my all equations, I have tried to think of myself in terms of what Mr. Incredible would do. Did he shake his head in despair when he looked around at all the work he had to do? Probably. But I think he did go on and save the world over and over again.

So, maybe what Mr. Incredible was really asking for was a day off. A Sunday. (So many of my mantras come from "Sunday in the Park with George". I connect with Sondheim on many levels in this show, it's the backbone for my Blog.) Sundays are my days off. I don't have to balance the equations, I don't have to get dirty, and my dishes don't have to be cleaned. I'm blessed to live with a big kid who understands this day and who understands my need for it. So, by Monday, I'm ready to be Mrs. Incredible again.

The nut and the orderly

Getting Started

This is quite an undertaking for me. I abandoned almost every effort to journal our boys' lives in their own baby books when Jamie was born. So, after being inspired by an eloquent blogger, I decided this is a lofty, yet worthwhile goal for me as well. Hopefully I will be rewarded for my efforts with wisdom as I look at my family from this perspective.