Jayce’s thoughts

Jayce is rounding the corner of the ripe old age of 10 and his mind is full of wonderful things… 

Tonight at dinner he asked, “Do you think there are more facts than opinions?”  I thought it was an odd question and told him there really isn’t any way to measure that sort of thing.  He rambled on for a few minutes about whether or not people knew more facts, or had more opinions.  Then he said, “So, would Heavenly Father be a fact or an opinion?”    I slowly turned my head toward Jason as he was slowly turning toward me and we half smiled at each other with pride and admiration at our little boys acuteness.  I told him that in my mind He was a fact but that there were many people who viewed Him only as an opinion. 

This line of questioning comes on the tail end of a conversation we have had with Jayce over the course of the last couple of weeks about religion, God and faith.  His testimony is far beyond what mine was at his age, his questions so much deeper and meaningful.  He pulled out all of the old gospel principles books we tossed while packing and I found him in his room reading through them.  He draws parallels in the scriptures, and loves the characters like he knows them.   I love the maturity he is gaining in the little moments between little boy noises, an squeals of laughter, and (almost) harmless rebelliousness.

Mother’s Day 2012

In the weeks leading up to Mother’s Day I was in charge of planning a mutual activity for our young women with Mother’s Day in mind.  I spent some time collecting old photos of their mothers and stories and tid bits from their moms childhood.   I put together a board and planned to have them figure out who was who's mother.  My kids decided it was a good day to puke and so I passed all my planning onto another leader to present.  I was grateful for the time spent learning of these great women.

 

This year I learned how to play my moms favorite primary song on the piano (I am a beginner!) and taught the kids the words.  We videoed it and emailed it her.  Each year of my life I realize new reasons to love my mom more than I did before.  Each phase of my children’s life brings more feelings of admiration and adoration of her.  For so many years I tried to be just like her.  I’m sure it seems a little slow on my part, but I realized just this year that I’m not my mom.  I won’t ever be.  I could spend my whole life striving for a goal that is likely never going to happen.  My mom is one in a million.  Not only will I never fill her shoes, but I just wasn’t given some of the talents and qualities she was.  I am grateful for the few I have been able to replicate and for being given the privilege of being her daughter.

Jason hit the nail on the head with this gift…  Angel food cake (fav cake) iced in yellow (fav color) wrapped in red vines (yes, I love them) and just a sprinkling of milk duds on top.  It was a sight to behold! 

The kids showered me with crafts they had made throughout the week, and a questionnaire from church.  A few highlights:

My mom weighs this much: 200 lbs.    (Jared)                                                                             

My moms fav food is: Salad (Jayce and Lainy!)  If you’ve known me more than 5 minutes, you know anything green isn’t easily ingested.

It has to be enough

We each do the best we can.  My best may not be as good as your best, but it’s my best.  The fact is that we know when we are doing our best and when we are not.  If  we are not doing our best, it leaves us with a gnawing hunger and frustration.  But when we do our level best, we experience a peace.  -Marjorie Pay Hinckley

For me, the thoughts that came to me as I read this today were of judgment.  All to often I am ashamed to say I have been on the offensive end of judging another according to my own abilities.  I assumed those around me should be doing my best.  Unfortunately (or fortunately!) most of whom I have come in contact with don’t have that common flaw thought process.  How kind and non judgmental they have been toward me! 

I have the opportunity to serve in the Young women's program and the differences in the strengths in each member of our presidency are vast. It is all too easy to get caught up in the comparison between us.   My best is certainly not as good as the best of those who I serve with.  I cannot give fluff and décor as one, I am not a trained teacher and cannot give lessons with the same Zing as another, or be as soft spoken and understanding, or be a super camping mama.  I hate camping, my thoughts are often spoken out of order and jumbled, my handouts and visual aids are hit and miss…  But I am doing my best!  And I love those girls and I love the women I work with.  And if Sister Hinckley says that’s enough, then it’s enough! 

The Blast

In preparing Jared and explaining what was going to change once mommy quit doing hair, I told him that we were going to have a blast.  He asked, what did I mean?  I told him that we would be going swimming, bowling, summer movies, going to see Grammy and poppy in Cali regularly, and whatever else we could come up with.  Since then he has asked daily when “the blast” will start.  Today is the blast mom?  Tomorrow does the blast start?  Last weekend was my first free weekend, Jason was home and we thought we would spend some family time.

We hit IHOP (where I had NY cheesecake pancakes DELISH), then the mall where we had an exciting ride (note sarcasm) on a mini train through 1/4 of the mall.  Then a conversation that must be recorded took place outside of the restrooms…  The kids were checking out the payphones built into the wall and thought the clicking noises he buttons made were wonderful.  clickity  clickity  they went giggling along the way running back and forth between the 2 phones and pretend calling one another until I noticed Jayce (age 9) was looking carefully at the phone.  Peering this way and that as if looking for something.  As I approached him receiver in one hand, he asked “Um, how do you X out of this thing?” at that moment Jared ran by, grabbed the phone and hung it up.  Jayce said, “Oh.”  I laughed and laughed.  And laughed.  That must be what my mom felt like when I asked her what an 8 track was… 

After the mall we headed to Skateland and fell on our rears for a whopping half hour until we decided we had had enough.  We played arcade games and laughed for a good long while, hit In n Out for lunch and then headed for the destination that had been asked for the entire day… 

The Dollar Store.  I was tired and falling asleep in the isle.  They had been saving and each had money to spend.  Oh mama, I now have cheap toys littering every floor in my house.  Yay. 

Such a happy day.  I love my sweet family.  Here’s to the beginning of…  THE BLAST.

His Oakley's

Jason has always loved Oakley sunglasses.  For as long as I’ve known him that is all he wears.  His current pair cost well, more than a pair of sunglasses should cost and he has had them for a couple of years.  There have been many near misses when they were nearly lost, swept away, or dropped. 

Well this week he thought he would take in the old Oakley's he has (apparently) had for years, to have the broken arm fixed.  When he relayed this story to me I envisioned a sweet young blonde girl who said ‘like’ multiple times in a sentence…   So he brings these broken glasses in and asks the girl if she might be able to direct him to where to have them fixed.  Picking them up and examining them, she says, “Wow!  Umm, how old are these?   I have worked here for a few years and I have never even seen a pair like this!”   I had a good laugh.  Vintage Oakley's.  Nice.

Give it a rest will ya?

A hunter met a young Indian brave deep in the forest, and noticed that his bow wasn’t strung up. 
“Why don’t you keep that bow strung all the time?”
“If I did, than my bow would lose much of the flexibility that nature has given it, and it might fail me when I need it the most.”
And the hunter went his way believing that the human mind shouldn’t be strung tight all the time, but, like the Indian’s bow it needs relaxation. 

Today is the day.  My last day of “work”.  I know the work never ends as a mother, wife, leader, civilian, etc.  But I have been worried that I won’t be doing enough once I am no longer doing hair.  When I read this little story I realized my poor bow has lost so much of the flexibility that life has given it.  My string has been would so tight for so many years that I forgot that rest is also a necessity.  Wise words of counsel I have been to busy to listen to!

Wrestling with myself

Yet another un-mastered parenting technique. 

The boys are finishing up their wrestling season.  It’s been a lot of fun.  Jayce seems to do well in individualized sports.  And he has enough competitive nature in him to give him the drive he needs when there is a bump to get over. 

Jared is 5.  That explains half of it.  He’s still such a tiny person.   Also, not much competitiveness.  And much to my embarrassment, he’s… my own creation.  He’s the youngest.  The one I’m softest on.  The one who isn’t allowed to be picked on.  The only one home with me all day everyday. Which translates to crying every time he loses a match, gets a minor injury, has his feelings hurt, feels uncomfortable, or blinks.  

Here’s my dilemma.   Do I start now being tough mama (by losing it and yanking him by the ear while in tantrum mode into the hallway) or by kindly and lovingly (and embarrassingly) let him sit out whenever he wants and sniffling?  I tell him suck it up, toughen up and get back out there to which he responds with defiant and loud no! and I hate… (wrestling, the coaches, the mats, the other boys, me) too!  Coach muscle and tattoo sleeves tried to help, talking to him and telling him it will be fun, (which was met with death stares and no’s by Jared) who finally picked him up out of the chair and carried him back to the group.  Jared was ticked. 

Sigh.  I know in 15 years I will sit and laugh as I tell this story to him, but today it makes me tired and worried. 

Thanks for nothin’

For my children:

Thank you bringing home the flu from wherever you got it.  Thank you at least for making it into the bucket.  Please try not to spill it next time when you stand up.  Thank you for feeding yourselves whatever you could reach while I had my fair share of the bucket.  Thank you for taking one AIMS test before you decided you were not quite done and graced the other children at recess with the news by puking on the basketball court.   Thank you for being home from school on the day I was in charge of mutual, and on the day it was scheduled to be at our house.  So, as I listen to you all jumping upon the bed upstairs (health always follows the sound of the days end school bell) please know that I love you and that the hand sanitizer is in the bathroom.

Learn. No matter what you do.

“Education, formal education, is a wonderful thing. No matter the class you may choose to take, learn. Learn as if your life depended on it. Perhaps it will. When you open a new textbook, say to yourself, ‘I want to know what this book has to teach me.’ Learn the thrill of digging for fossils on the mountainside, or working over a test tube until dark, or getting on the trail of something in the library and searching it down feverishly for hours. Be a real student, an intellectually curious student.” – Marjorie Pay Hinckley

I have done hair for 10 years.  It seems such a long and short amount of time.  In 2 short weeks I will sell off most of my hair styling supplies, and focus my efforts elsewhere.  So much sadness is attached to this change.  Loss of friends, schedule, and a small sense of self.  The thought  “Am I as important of a person without being a hair dresser?”  I know, silly and self centered.  But I still own the thought.   

When I read this quote this morning I realized I am whoever I want to be, and will become whatever I invest into myself.  I have a list of talents I want to explore and find out of I possess.  I want to be available to my children more often.  I aspire to have a clean house! 

So to myself…  hello goodbye!

I love me.

Reminder #26

Look at yourself and see what is right instead of what is wrong.

I wish I had internalized this line of thinking as a youth.  It is easy to find the things we don’t like in nearly every life situation.  I tend to whine a lot more than I express gratitude.  And that is exactly what we are doing when we criticize ourselves.  Whining about something we didn’t get.  Or about something that isn’t perfect. 

There is a section in a parenting book I read about counting the number of negative interactions between you and your child, writing them down and doing the same with the positives.  I was shocked at the numbers.

We need to take stock sometimes of our attitudes about ourselves.  Take the time to think about how you view yourself, the way you look, your actions, and then choose to focus solely on everything wonderful about yourself.  It’s refreshing. 

And then climb down off your high horse…   Ü

Too tired

Today’s reminder is quite a bit deeper than I had intended.  I am exhausted and don’t have the mental capacity to do the rest of it justice. So instead, I found reminder #13 to be appropriate for the occasion:

Say a short prayer even when you are too tired to pray.  

G’night.

Déjà vu, Armpit hair and other such things…

Jayce learned a few concepts this week that I found humorous. 

Déjà vu-   We were driving to piano and he quick turned to me and said, “whoa! That was so weird. I just saw… all of these things on the freeway, in my dreams last night.  I think.”  I laughed and tried to explain what he was experiencing (how does one really give an explanation?).  It was really fun to be able to see him try and figure out what he was feeling. 

Also on this same drive we discussed armpit hair.  His legs are getting quite hairy and I mentioned as much.  I told him hair would be arriving at some point, under his arms.  He laughed and said, “I already do!”  (baby hair.  Peach fuzz.) 

Irony-  The kids and I were discussing as we passed a CVS pharmacy, what exactly a pharmacy was.  That they sold drugs.  The good kind, that doctors give you to feel better.  A few minutes passed and Jayce started to giggle.  He said, “we just passed a store called smoke shop,  the kind where they sell the bad drugs, like cigarettes, and they had a no smoking sign in the window.”   I had to laugh that his 9 year old brain caught the irony. 

Reminder #2

Invite the missionaries to your home once a month. 

As a kid the missionaries were in and out of our house like a revolving door.   There is just something about having a person who’s life is dedicated to the Lord 24 hours a day, in your home.  So many tid bits of memories are attached to those young men and women who came through our doors…

-Sitting at our piano (probably 11 years old) next to an Elder playing what was probably a beautiful piece of music, and I would hit a key randomly to be a pain.  Finally, I assume he had had enough of it because he took my hand and bit my finger!  I was shocked into behaving properly and to this day am reminded of just how annoying it is to interrupt a pianist during a song. 

-There was a older woman named Sally who lived down the street and back then the missionaries used to live in a room in her house.  We loved Sally.   She had one of those singing voices where the vibrato is slow and old ladyish.  But I loved it.  She was thin and had exaggerated facial features and chin length grey hair, but she was an angel.  We would hang out at her house (sometimes when no one was home!) and I remember laying on the floor with our feet propped up in the seat of the couch and we would roll silly putty into a ball and throw it against the wall racquetball style.  I never pulled any pranks on Sally, but I am pretty sure Shannon was one of the ones who was in on saran wrapping her toilet or filling it with jello…

-Ashley was from England (I believe).  I don’t remember too much of what he was like as a missionary serving in our area. But I do remember when he brought his new bride back to the states to visit.  They were hilarious.  Driving on the wrong side of the road both on accident and for humor.  Hanging outside in 50 degree weather in shorts and a t-shirt while we were bundled to our toes.  Vanessa (his wife) even took the time to teach Shannon and I to say the name of the longest city.  Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.  Yes. We can still say it. 

We have had the missionaries in our home on too few occasion.  The excuses are many and some are relevant, but I need to work harder at making sure my home is a welcome place to these young men and women who need a meal or a moment.

Hymnnnnn

In an effort to re-boost my desire to keep blogging, I have decided to use a little book of “reminders for Latter Day Saints” as a guide for idea starters.  Todays reminder is:
Share your hymnbook with the person next to you. 
When I was young, singing along with the hymns in church was mandatory.  We are not a musical family by any stretch, but I do believe singing in church is a form of worship, and I need all the help I can get.  As a youth I remember my dad’s rendition of well…  any song we sang.  He was forever ‘forgetting’ where we were in the song and would (along with the correct tune) sing something like “ IIIII don’t knowww where we aaaare.  Thiiiiis song is realllllly looooong.”   To which we would respond with either a burst of giggles (as smaller children) or an eye roll as we got into our teens. 
Today I love singing the hymns.  A few years ago I joined in with the church choir.  I figured I could be one of the filler voices.  I could read music and learned how to harmonize.  I love to sing and just as my mother did, once my kids can read, they can and will sing the hymns.

Heat waves

My butter is melting on the counter. 

I refuse to turn on the air conditioning in March. 

On the up side, my trees have exploded is green sensationalism. (is that a word?)

It’s officially Spring! 

Summer in Arizona

Friendship

Friendship has been on my mind today.  I have been blessed throughout my life with more dear friends than I am sure I deserve.  At each milestone in my life I have had a friend by my side to laugh, cry, or carry me through.  I was made aware recently of a situation of a woman I know feeling very lonely.   Feeling as though she doesn’t have a friend, and feels so isolated at home with her children.  This is when it dawned on me.  How ungrateful I had been.  Here was a gift I had been given my entire life, and I had rarely given it any thought in gratitude.  First, I was brought up in a church where your social framework is practically set up for you.  Second, I was given the gift of gab.  And third, the opportunity to have friends in my home nearly everyday, for hours at a time to talk and get their hair done.  What a giant pile of friendship I have been given!  So to all of you who are my friends from the past or present.   I am grateful for you.   And to my Heavenly Father, thank you for giving me the gift of friendship.

Back in the saddle again

I thought I would wait until things calmed down around here and when schedules slowed down I would get back on the blogging horse.  Well, that’s not happening anytime soon, so when I caught my kids all gathered ‘round a book of photos and memories of themselves, I knew it was time to make time. 

We just came home from a week long trip to visit my parents in CA.  It was a week filled with hiking, trips to the park, many hours with feet propped up on the couch drinking in my latest book,  many many moments of scolding my children, and laughter, naps, waaaay too much fast food, and much needed relaxation. 

Never did go to the beach.  Minutes from the ocean and my kids practically begged to avoid to altogether.  I think we have been in AZ too long.

I miss my mom and dad.  I was ready to get back to the grind after a week though.  It’s nice to stick a pin in the crazy for a few days, but I’m happy to be home.

Best compliment EVER.

Jared: (hugs me) When I’m a dad, I want you to be my wife.

Me: (melting) Ok, but what about dad?  Who would be his wife then?

Jared: He could just find a new wife. 

Me: You won’t want me as a wife by then anyway.  I’ll be old and wrinkly.   

He just smiled. 

Sooplee list

When we were kids,  well probably closer to teenagers, we were traveling in the car together as a family.  I’m probably wrong, but I envision that we were somewhere between California and New York on one of our annual cross country road trips where all the best memories are made.  We took to traveling car games and often read the passing signs.  Shannon read one once that she will never live down…   A sign that read Army Supplies.

 Shannon asked, “Mom?  What are army… sooplies?”   Supplies Shannon, I remember my mother saying through a giggle.  The word supplies has always been connected to that silly little memory.  Not too long ago I heard this from my 7 year old daughter,  Lainy was reading the words written on one of my spray bottles.  "Sally beauty supply"   But she read it, "Sally booty sooplee.  Mom? What are booty sooplees?"

 

10 minutes can change everything.

I have mixed feelings about whether or not every parent should feel the way I felt this afternoon. 

Lainy and Jared ride scooters outside on a regular basis.  We live on a quiet street and I just keep the door open to listen for them.  Today was no different.  Well,  yes it was.  Today I lost and found Lainy.  I came out to Jared telling me that he couldn’t find Lainy.  He said she had crossed the street to pet a dog. She isn’t allowed to cross the street.  Red flag.  He said she followed it.  RED FLAG.  He said it was a dad with the dog.  At that point I was a wild screaming desperate mother running and yelling my sweet girls name.  I called 911 immediately.   They ask you seemingly simple questions. But when you have to tell a 911 operator that your daughter has blonde hair blue eyes and what she is wearing, it is the most terrifying feeling I have EVER felt in all of my existence.  Jayce took off on his bike to scope the closest streets.  He found her around the corner and down the street. She was petting a cat. 

10 minutes. 

She was only gone 10 minutes and it changed me forever.   The police came in record time just to make sure all was well.  He said that there were 30 units en route before we had found her.  My sweet baby.  All 3 of my children came into Lainy’s room while their very emotionally charged mother said words that I am sure they will forget.  But I am sure none of us will forget the feeling we had as we all cried and hugged together in realization of what could have been.  I am immensely grateful for the outcome.  I am grateful that I could learn this lesson without losing my Lainy for longer than 10 minutes.