mama musings

My friend Codie and I were chatting this afternoon about mothers.  How to be a mother your children want to be around as adults.  We talked about not placing your baggage upon your children, about putting on a happy face when times are tough, and being a ‘safe’ mom. 

It’s overwhelming to think of all the things you need to juggle and balance in order to achieve this relationship with your child.  My mom just sent me a story about a small girl who convinced her mother to throw care to the wind and run through the pouring rain.  These are the moments that matter.  Letting your kids play in the rain (and mud) even when your busy, reading books with them, (when you would rather be sitting quietly on your own reading a book),  playing 52 card pick up, coloring the doghouse with them instead of yelling at them for it, launching marshmallows as a family gathering activity. 

I have a temper, there’s no hiding that fact.  But a thought crossed my mind a while back as I was standing above one of my kids and yelling about probably spilled water.  “Is this problem life altering?”  Usually not.  It doesn’t stop me every time I lose my temper, but it has softened my perspective and slowed my anger dramatically.  We should save our outbursts for things that really deserve it.  Losing a job, or a child, or a house.  Or even a broken window, red spray paint on a garage door, or a baby powder covered bedroom.

J and J on a jet plane

Have I lost this gift?  I think once you are over the age of 10 your brain no longer thinks to cut a steering wheel out of paper, strap on your flying helmet, assemble magnets as a control panel and spend a few minutes flying with your little brother at your side.

Weekend recap

• Baseboards and closet doors installed, after 2 years yeah!
• I had to do the walk through to see if it was done well enough, and I suck at that, so they aren’t right.  Grrr.
• Rained out camping trip with our friends the Hardy's and Allen's.  Darn.
• Had a pool party and BBQ instead with them and it was awesome.
• Made a few too many trips to the bathroom with an upset stomach. 
• Lost 2 pounds, yee haw!
• Spent an afternoon reorganizing the toy room after caulking and painting baseboards. 
• Kids spent hours in it since it’s ‘new’.   A kid kitchen is a delight after being moved to the opposite side of the toy room. 
• Spent 2 hours in the kitchen making fried chicken, gravy, biscuits and potatoes.  (I hardly make real meals,  mostly semi homemade) 
• Heard comments like…   This isn’t cooked all the way.   Can I have ketchup?  Ew, I only want a biscuit.  You have to try it before you get ketchup.  Mom?  What is ketchup?  Oh yeah, the red stuff. 

More for me then.

Survival of the pickiest

I was blessed with a picky eater.  I think it’s punishment.  My poor mom, I’m not sure how I survived most dinnertimes.  I am sure she had to laugh at my talent for disposing of food in creative ways. 

We had these chairs with cane woven bottoms.  And cushions over top of that.  We had mashed potatoes one night when my Grandma was visiting and while she was cleaning up the floor she noticed a pile of worms under a chair.  Upon further investigation I admitted to lifting my cushion and mashing them underneath and through the cane, hence the worms. 

My chair backed up to the stairs,  and under the stairs was open.  Mom used it for stashing things that were in the way.  We didn’t venture back there very often.  So, one night when we had a chicken dish I didn’t care for, I quickly and quietly launched one piece at a time, behind me under the stairs. 

Peas and other small veggies were often wrapped up in a napkin, but most kids have learned that trick by age 3.  I learned how to swallow them whole with a small swig of liquid and continued that for years. 

Pizza.  Oh how I hated the pizza sauce.  (I am sure my sisters are laughing at this point)  You always knew which plate was mine since I would peel up the cheese, wipe off the sauce and sort of wipe it off around the edges of my plate.  As I am writing this, I realize just how big of a pain I was.  Sorry mom.  Revenge is yours in the form of Jayce.

Miss you already

Mom’s moving next month.   Back to Cali.  I am sure she has wondered why I don’t seem to care.  I wondered why I was handling it all so well actually.  But I can feel it coming.  I just keeping pushing the thought aside.  Filling my head with thoughts of the shoreline 10 minutes from her new house.  Reminding myself that she needs to be where my dad is.  If I slow the craziness that is my life, I am sure the emotions will start seeping through the cracks and eventually…   the dam will break.   Damn dam. 

So, to my mom.   I will miss you more now than I have ever in my life.  Your home has been a refuge on countless occasions, your shoulder already heavy laden, has always an open invitation, your dinner table always equipped for extra settings, your candy cupboards always full, and I will miss you terribly. 

That being said.  I know you’re not dying, and we will see you later this summer.  But I will miss you. 

Worry about yourself

We are nearing 3 weeks without a warning.  I actually hold my breath each day as we walk back to the car and I ask how his day was…  Jayce’s teacher has a behavioral system in place where each day that a child doesn’t receive a warning (for turning around, hitting, talking out of turn etc…) they get a sticker on their weekly chart.  This year Jayce has had 4 different weeks when he has gotten all 5 stickers each week.   But never more than a week in a row. 

So as we are nearly to the end of the third sticker riddled week, I have to reflect back to the past 2 years…   Principles office for punching contests with a friend, sand throwing, temper flaring, and making sure a classmate gets what's coming to him when he breaks the rules and isn’t caught by the teacher. 

A common phrase in our home, when one of us is tattling or butting in, is “Worry about yourself”.  Jayce is catching on.  I am so proud of him and his improvements.  He is a joy to have in our home.  Love you buddy.

His quiet way

He has the day off.  I have a few clients scheduled.  I find myself caught up in the hustle and bustle of the normal morning, throw in a load of laundry as I walk by, feed the kids breakfast, all dressed, and ‘Oh? You want to drive him to school?  That would be fantastic, thank you.’  He did a few things on my honey-do list and after a few hours with my client, since the kids sort of run free, the house needed a little TLC.  After a break catching up on a Tivoed show and lunch, I find myself scrubbing baseboards.  We have contractors coming to finish installing them and they need to be cleaned.  This is when it started.  The grudge.  Each time I walked through the office and by Jason with earplugs in watching a movie, my mood got a little darker.  The sweatier I got while scrubbing, it seemed the more unkind I became.  He caught on pretty quickly this time and asked what was wrong.  It was then I realized my selfishness.  And since communication is the key to a happy marriage, I simply said, “I’m not sure why, but when I take a break it’s fine, but when I am working and you are taking a break, I feel like you need to keep up and work too.”   Here’s the kicker.   He simply smiled, turned and walked away.  No back lashing.  No claiming it’s unfair.  No calling me out on how stupid that is.   Just a smile that he knew I was learning.

Mom and me

Last weekend was our families first time participating in the ward’s fathers and sons camping trip.  My boys were thrilled and apparently had a grand time.   No pictures, I forgot to send him with a camera. 

Lainy and I didn’t quite know what to do with the silence.  As soon as the boys walked out the door we turned slowly, like in the movies and looked at each other. 

We reviewed the trailers to several children- themed movies and Lainy decided on Disney’s Earth.

 

SO COOL. 

Since a 4 year old can’t whisper, every comment made was at full volume.   Lots of ooo’s and aaaah’s and a few squeals and panicked squeaks.  We loved it. 

We came home and started in on our make-up. 

She did very well, with the eye shadow, and then blush and even the blending…

She decided her nose was too bare and shadowed it brown.  I drew the whiskers since we were on the brink of character make up anyhow. 

We painted toes and fingers, and watched Happy Feet until we fell asleep in my bed.  Grammy and Poppy invited us to breakfast the next morning.  We were thrilled.   And then stuffed.  I loved spending 24 straight hours with my little girl.  Love you Pretty!

hieroglyphic springs

We found some keys that said they were property of the state, but every number called can’t help.  Wonder what they open?  

All 3 kids did amazing on the hike.   Lainy pooped out near the end, and Jared needed some shouldering, but Jayce pretty much ran the 2 miles there and back. 

I looked up what these holes in the big rock along the way were and they were used by Indians to grind their grains. 

This was where we stopped.  Very cool rocks and much needed shade.  No hieroglyphics inside the cave, but there were a ton on the walls of the mountain nearby. 

The last time we took this hike, I went without a husband to help carry the load, I was 3 months pregnant, Lainy was nearly 18 months old and in a carrier on my back. I was told it was an easy hike and kids could do it. Ha! Not so much.  Meg and Bryan had the pleasure of being in that boat, with 2 little ones to carry the whole time.  Such troopers! 

This time, I had Jason with me, I am not pregnant, and instead of an 18 month old I had to carry Jared on my shoulders here and there. Needless to say I enjoyed this trip a whole lot better.

**We actually took this hike last month when it was not 100 degrees, but I am just now getting around to documenting it.

The itch has passed…

Jason and I are celebrating 8 years of marriage next week, and it will be filled with laughter. No, not because of the disbelief that we made it, but because Jason got us tickets to see Brian Regan! I am thrilled for several reasons. One, I think the guy is hilarious. Two, a very much needed date night. And Three, possibly the most important and best part, is that Jason remembered and planned something.

  

Jason isn't a romantic. He sometimes fumbles over expressing his feelings, and if I'm being honest, sometimes when he means to say something nice, it comes out sounding not so complimentary. I have come to love those moments.  But here's what I have learned in the 8 years since we wed...

• There's no faking. If he tells me I look good, I know I look good.
• When I need him, he is there. Period.
• He can't sleep without snuggling, until he starts twitching, then I'm done.
• His laugh is infectious.
• The man is a machine when it comes to work.
• While on the topic of machines, he works out daily and it pays off. Ü
• He knows the scriptures and loves the gospel.
• He is worthy the take me through the temple.
• He is quick to forgive, but never expects me to forgive quickly of him.
• He's a thinker. It took me a few years to figure out that his silence often just means he hasn't come up with the best answer yet. As much as I spout off as soon as I have a response to something, he takes the time to stop and reflect on what should be done or said. (This is not me saying he is always right, but sometimes he is!)

Thank you Jason for these 8 crazy years together. I love you.

Blah blah blah, blee blee blee. Mr. Bossy.

By nature I am fixer.   No waiting patiently by the sidelines to allow a person to figure things out for themselves.   No learning process for them.  If I know a better way, you need to know about it.  And follow through with it.   Ok, so some would call me bossy.  Whatever.  Jason talks me down so many times from making unnecessary phone calls or running my mouth off a little too long.  He has become my balancer.  

I have often said regarding someone who cannot get a hold on finances or life in general, “If I could just make an outline for this or that person, and they followed it,  everything would be perfect!”   Today when I said it, my brain must have made the obvious connection it had missed so many times before.   I am sure my Heavenly Father has said that at time or two on my behalf.   Except, He has made an outline for me and I still can’t get it right.

I have by no means mastered this process, but at least I am out of the denial phase.  Don’t they call denial the first step?  I can no longer deny that I can’t control or fix everyone.  Including my children.

Love Story meets Viva la Vida

Jon Schmidt.  Amazing pianist.  I have seen him in concert twice and will continue to go every year.  He’s the kind of musician that when I am listening live, or at home, I have a hard time keeping in my seat.   This is his brand new song.  LOVE LOVE LOVE it!

Triple threat

The first time I noticed it we were halfway across the country at a truck stop.  Poor Maple was in heat, and with a suburban full of kids, you can imagine the smell.   Mom had stopped to clean out the car, give my best friend Alaina and I break from each other and stretch our legs.  Our family used drive cross country from Cali to NY nearly every summer,   but that’s another story...   Mom walked around the car to get back in as a semi honked in the distance.  She repeated, “boop boop boop!” to herself.  As we laughed I don’t think we realized that boop boop boop would be repeated so many times over the years.  It was then we started to notice mom said things in multiples of three’s…     

Boy, is it hot today, hot hot hot. 

Please don’t fight with each other, we need to be nice.   Nice, nice, nice.

Yes, I have acquired the same repeating speech in coming into motherhood.  It also seems my children have caught on.   This morning I asked Jayce how his Fruit Loops were.  “Good good good”, he replied.

To yell or not to yell

I go back and forth on the yelling issue.  

Yelling:  You feel almost relief when you’ve told your child at least 20 times to stop making whatever repetitive noise they are making, and finally lose it and yell for them to stop.  Plus, they finally stop. 

Not yelling:  It takes so much more effort to try and distract them enough to forgot about the repetitive noise, and you have to repeat the request to shut it,  plus it takes way longer. 

I have learned that yelling all the time loses its affect quickly.  Soon your just a raging lunatic who yells when they blink at the wrong time.  And the added bonus that they seem to ‘talk’ in the same tone you are, back to you. 

I know patience is always the best answer.  I just haven’t mastered that one.  Sometimes yelling just makes me feel better.  At least for a minute. 

Elder James E. Talmage wrote, “No pang that is suffered by man or woman upon the earth will be without its compensating effect … if it be met with patience”  

Try try again…

Eggstremely long post ahead…

Easter started and ended well.  Friday the festivities started at Shelli’s for an egg hunt.  She has an acre so we had lots of fun places to hide them!

It went well, until I caved in to the begging and drove home with a blue chick.  Yes, you heard me.  Dipped chicks.  It was quickly returned to it’s original owner later that day.  That night we (and when I say we, I mean I) got through the motions of making our traditional Easter cookies.  Some years are better than others.  It wasn’t as reverent as I had envisioned when I was snapping at one or another of the kids to sit or not play in the ingredients halfway through a scripture.

Saturday was Easter dinner with the fam, and it was divine. 

Then the annual hunt at Grammy’s.   There are still some eggs hidden there I know they missed.   It was always fun when we were kids to find eggs throughout the year when you pulled out a book, or were cleaning the couch, or in the plants.  Mom and dad are pros at good hiding spots.  I think the money egg was in the mailbox one year… 

Slinkies were a hit.  Once we realized we could hold them in our eye socket and fling them around, each were begging for a try.  Ok, so it was only those pictured.

 

Easter Sunday.  Calm.  The Easter Bunny had arrived that night and doesn’t do a whole lot of hullabaloo so, it was a quiet excitement over his footprints and if the baskets were equal in it’s contents, and off to church we went without taking a picture.

We took Rachel and Martha Stewarts idea of Tie-dying Easter eggs and they turned out awesome.  Well, half did.   The half that wasn’t real silk ties stayed white.   Ah well.   It was way easier and less messy than dipping eggs in dye.  

Happy Easter!

Patience goo

Thank you Jensa for this lovely, probably new family tradition.   I made several batches for conference weekend.   It got played with.   But by the adults.   It’s such an interesting texture.   It reminds me very much of ‘Gak’.  But it takes quite a bit of patience to play with it.   You have to manipulate it slowly or it breaks and crumbles.  The boys found some very interesting things to do with it.  We started calling it goo, and it stuck. 

Here's the recipe:
1 ½ cups water (divided)
2 tsp. Borax cleaner (you'll find it next to the laundry detergent)
½ cup white glue
food coloring (optional)

Mix 1 cup water with the Borax. In a separate bowl, mix the remaining ½ cup water with glue until combined. Add food coloring if desired. Slowly pour the Borax water into the bowl of glue water. Stir for about a minute or until the mixture hardens. Pull the putty out of the excess water (there will be lots) and let drip dry in your hands. Pat dry with a paper towel if needed. Putty can be stored in a Ziploc bag.

Mother Dear

It had happened.  My seventh grade boyfriend with the sparkling blue eyes and brace covered perfect teeth had kissed me.  For real.  I ran the entire nearly mile home.  As Shannon and I were chattering in hushed whispers about what it was like, and how long it lasted, suddenly mom was there.  Standing over us.   Busted.   I knew 16 was the legal kissing age.  She could have given me the speech right there, but at that moment she chose to sit down on the floor with us and ask why I hadn’t shared my happy news with her. 

This was the moment I knew my mother was safe.  She had always been an incredible mother, but as a confidant and a friend without judgment, I knew she would be there.  She knew that I knew my standards.  She had taught me well.   She also knew the gift of giving enough teenage space.  I don’t think she knew that day that I had stamped upon her the ‘safety label’ making her not only approachable in the future with bigger and scarier issues, but she created a trust that made me want to confide in her.  

I can only hope to follow my mom in her gentle loving footsteps in raising my own daughter.  Thank you mom.  

Happy Birthday. 

Mrs. H, third grade teacher.

Names have been withheld to protect me from getting in huge trouble, since I just found out that this teacher still asks about me from time to time. 

Large gray haired woman.  Large brightly colored Hawaiian moo moo’s.  Large amounts of hair unshaven under arms. 

I was scared out of my little 3rd grade mind when I read my name under hers on the classroom list.  I did NOT want to be in her class.  She was scary and big and loud and mean. 

She sat on Eddie that first week.  I remember seeing his scrawny little twig like arms and legs sticking out from behind her body on that chair in the front of the room.  I thought Eddie was going to die that day.  He shaped up real quick. We came in another day and wondered at the large glass of water on the desk of a student in the front row.  Once she popped out her false teeth and dropped them in, the wondering ceased.   We learned to use the restroom before class or risk not being able to go, and peeing in our chair like Ryan. 

It didn’t take long to win her over though.   I was a whiz at math, and Mrs. H liked do-gooders. She also liked a healthy competition.  I soon became the one to beat in timed times tables.  She would bring anyone who wished to challenge me and set us in the front of the class with her brightly colored paper she found at a recycler, set the timer and GO!   My fingers flew.  I was shy, but math I knew.  I loved her that day and from that day forward.  I was her friend whether I won (which I usually did)  or lost.  And I do believe she sparked the beginning of my love for competition. 

I went back to visit every so often for a few years, and she never lost her quirkiness.  Thank you Mrs. H for the memories and now that I am an adult, the laughter.

Brother of Jared

Jayce was named partly after his dad.  We liked the name and were running out of J names that we agreed on.   Jared was in the same boat.  (pun, ha ha)  Not my or Jason’s favorite name, but it fit the J theme and we both could deal with it.   My feelings on their names have changed over the years.  I have come to have such a love for the story of the ‘Brother of Jared’ in the scriptures.  It started since I had a Jared and I had a brother of Jared. 

Our stake president  spoke several months ago about this story. (Click here for more info)  He talked about the barges they built to get to the promised land.  Sometimes the wind would blow and the ships would plunge underwater.  Even with the winds blowing all around them and I imagine it must have seemed like they were just floating at the mercy of the sea, but the barges always pushed toward the Promised Land.  He likened that to our lives.   There are moments and days and years even that seem like we are spinning and we are at the mercy of this crazy frenzied world, but when we are given that small glimpse at our life as a whole, we realize we are moving forward.  He explained our trials and tribulations perfectly.  He said it so much better, but I was trying frantically to get it all down. 

Trials are the things that the Lord gives to make us stronger.

Troubles are the things we inflict on ourselves because of choices we make.

Afflictions are things inflicted upon us by the choices of others.

Spanishy

Lainy: (Showing off her flip flops)  These are my flippy floppies.  

Bo:  Is that how you say it in Spanish?

Lainy: uh huh.