Two of my favorite faces...

This was Em's baptism day, posing with her proud papa. It was one of those days that you just tuck in the center of your heart to remind yourself what life is all about.

What a blessed life we live.

Quote of the Week...

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony."

---Mahatma Gandhi

Belated Quote of the Week...

" To laugh often and much: to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."


--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Gasoline: $140
Sunscreen: $8
Snacks for the road: $25

Getting to spend the weekend with my extended family: Priceless

Why I haven't been here...

*our sweet daughter was baptized
*I started a new "good enough for now" job
*I had a special musical number to rehearse and perform
*my husband and I celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary (IWLYSFA, babe)
*aforementioned hubby turned 39...hanging on to those 30s by the skin of our teeth, man!
*I am continuing to work through the hiring process for "the one I'd really love" job
*my wonderful sister and her equally wonderful husband were in town
*I went to a funeral where a cell phone rang...loudly. Seriously, people. Is this what things have come to??? We can't even lay someone to rest without some cheesy island congo ringtone interrupting?? Sometimes I am so embarrassed to be human.
*it's the last few weeks of school for my older kids
*the weather has been insanely warm, requiring my children to whine to be taken all manner of outdoorsy places
*the quarterly activity for our women's auxiliary group that I am in charge of was this week
*we are gearing up for a family reunion which is a) out of state; and b) hubby cannot go to since he will be out of state for Army Work (that's what the kids call it).

Here's a quote, and fingers crossed for my improved ability to come here and write. I miss it.

"All my possessions for a moment of time." --Elizabeth I

Quote of the Week...

"If a man is called to be a streetsweeper, he should sweep the streets even as Michelango painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great streetsweeper who did his job well."

--Martin Luther King, Jr.

Quote of the week...

"We can do no great things, only small things with great love."

--Mother Teresa

It was 82 degrees yesterday...

So, we went to the water spouts and had some fun. It was such a gorgeous day, and after a long winter and a very wet spring, it felt really good to come out and just PLAY.

As usual, little man just wanted to survey the action at a safe distance. But the other kids surprised me with their fearlessness! Even the little ones just ran right in and giggled and splashed. At first, Dad and I tried to tell them not to get "too wet". Yeah, right. We realized quickly that if they were going to have any fun, they had to just let loose and go for it.

So they did.

They had such a ball. And they got SOOOOO wet!! They'd run around in it til they couldn't take it anymore and then would lay on the ground in the sun to try and warm up. I am so ready for summer, now. Sitting outside, watching the kids play like this, reminded me of what is so terrific about this time of year.

Quote of the week...

"When you look at the world in a narrow way, how narrow it seems! When you look at it in a mean way, how mean it is! When you look at it selfishly, how selfish it is! But when you look at in a broad, generous, friendly spirit, what wonderful people you find in it."

--Horace Rutledge

5 years ago today...

I almost became a widow.

Here's an excerpt from my journal:

April 26, 2002
"If I do not write in here, I will be an ungrateful daughter to my Father in Heaven, and I am so very grateful to Him that I must write...
My darling husband was nearly killed in an accident at work. He was ticketing someone and as he stood at their vehicle issuing the citation, a semi truck drifted onto the shoulder and hit his patrol car, driving within inches of him. The girls that were in the car by where he was standing thought he had been hit, because the truck came so close to him, and he was thrown several feet by the force of side wind. His patrol car is totaled, completely crushed on the driver's side.
As for my husband, he is bruised and sore from being hit with debris ... He felt the impact of things on his back, but he thinks his bulletproof vest protected him from any serious injury in that area. He also has a knife that he always carried on his outer right thigh in a slit pocket...it is destroyed, from something hitting it.
He called me after it happened. We talk often on our cell phones while he is at work, so at first when he called, it didn't really sink in that he was explaining that HE had been in this accident. At first, I thought he was saying that another trooper had been hit. Then, I thought he was IN his patrol car and was hit. When I finally understood the gravity of the accident, my heart just sank. I could hear his voice, but at that point, all I wanted was to see him, to touch him, to know that he was okay.

The moment I hung up the phone with him, I fell to my knees. My prayer was something like this: "Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

He was much calmer when he finally got home. We embraced for a long time when he walked in that door... and he hugged and kissed his children just a little bit longer than usual. He had to call several people who had heard about it through the Patrol grapevine, and reassure them.

We both had a hard time sleeping, and we talked about it. We both had this visual of the accident in our minds. What "could" have happened continually played out in our thoughts.

We both talked about the fact that he could've died. We both talked about how different this day might have been, that I might have been a widow, planning his funeral. It is a sobering thought. One thing I said to him was that I was comforted to know that if he had died, there was nothing left unsaid between us."

I think of this every year on this date. I look at our lives and what would be missing if he were not here. Our 5 year old son would never have known his daddy. We have 2 children who would never have been born. I am reminded that every moment is a gift, and too often we just sail right through it...as though it is our right. We too often act as though the people we love will just always be there--for one more day, one more memory, one more chance to tell them how much they mean to us.

I am glad on that day, I was granted that gift.

Awesome Mom tagged me for this meme. I am thrilled that she thinks I make her think.

The rules:1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).

Here are the five blogs that I have picked:

1) Mental Tesserae. This is a wonderful, thought provoking blog. She uses pieces of art to illustrate her topic of the moment in a terrific way. I like to see art through another person's eyes, because too often I find that I am looking at a painting, and not really looking at it. She makes me pause a bit and really take something in. I love that.

2) Thoroughly Mormon Millie. This gal makes me think about geneology. Even though my mom was a geneology freak and my grandmother actually has a geneological library named after her and records that made the Daughters of the American Revolution drool, I have never really gotten into the idea. I always said, "It's not my time and season." But, Millie is getting me thinking about how perhaps there can always be little moments for things, if we make a space for them. She is also flippin' funny, but this isn't flippin' funny blogger award, so.

3) Too Many to Count. I love this lady's accountings of her family. It's the "everyday-ness" of her blog that draws me in, and I find myself thinking about ways I can incorporate more meaning into little things. She also gets me thinking about family home evenings, and how to really make them special. She is also the mom of many children who has them in all stages. And watching her helps me to think about how to be the mom to each one effectively as they go through such different times of life, since I have them in all stages as well.

4) Life and Hope. Because she has VHL, reading this woman's posts so far (she is a pretty new blog) I am gaining a much better understanding for those who live with chronic illnesses that are passed down to their children, and the impact that has on all facets of life. She is also a dear IRL friend, and I have found from reading her posts that you can know a person and still not really "get" the struggles they have in life, or how they feel about certain things. I feel blessed that I have a window into her soul, so to speak, through her blog.

5) I am going to be weird and say me. I am learning more about myself and my thought processes through this blog than I ever imagined. Writing this blog has me thinking more about everything in my life: what brings me joy, what lessons I have learned, what experiences have changed and impacted me. I think about how the little moments are the ones with resonance. I think about how what I see or don't see in my everyday life influences how I see the world at large. I think more about what I am saying, how I am saying it, and who I am saying it to.

Quote of the Week...

In honor of my friend, Kay, whose husband passed away last week after battling cancer:

“There is a comfort in the strength of love; ‘Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the heart.”

—William Wordsworth

Busy night...

This morning, I came downstairs and saw my 5 year old son eating his breakfast with puffy eyes in a zombie-like state.

"Hey, buddy...you okay?" I said, all motherly.

"Last night, I saved the wowld (world)." he answered groggily.

"Well, then. No wonder you're so sleepy. That can really wear a guy out."

Quote of the week...

“Teach this triple truth to all: A generous heart, kind speech, and a life of service and compassion are the things that renew humanity.”
—Buddha

A Mom singing a Hymn...

Jesus, Once of Humble bir--
(shhhhh!!)
Now, in Glor-y comes to--
(stop it!! I will give you the toy in a second!)
Once, He suffered grief and--
(will you quit swinging that??You almost hit your brother!!)
Now He comes--
(don't even think of leaving this bench, missy)
Now He comes on Earth to--
(why can't you just SIT there??)



Repeated, three times.

Quote of the Week...

"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn."

--C.S. Lewis

Did you ever...

Have one of those nights where you can't sleep and so you get on the computer and start roaming around? And then you go to MySpace and start looking up everyone who says they went to your high school and then you start waxing all nostalgic and wondering how all these people are doing, and maybe you even send a message to some of them to see how they are? And then, when the insomnia wears off, you think, "Crap. High school was 20 years ago, and I only ever liked about 6 of those people anyway. What the heck was I thinking??"

Yeah. Me neither.

Interview Me...

Awesome Mom did this fun game called, "Interview Me".

Here's the general idea if you'd like to play along:
The Rules: Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me.” I respond by asking you five questions (left in my comments) so I can get to know you better. If I already know you well, expect the questions may be somewhat personal! You can update your journal/bloggy thing/whatever with the answers to the questions (please don't leave your answers in my comments unless you don't have a blog). You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

So, here are the answers to the questions Awesome Mom asked me:

1 Do you think your teenaged self would be happy with the way that your life has turned out so far?

I think my teenaged self would be surprized by the way my life is turning out. I never expected or particularly desired to be a mom, or really to get married. I also think that my teenaged self would be interested to see the strides I have made at overcoming my own weaknesses, and making changes that needed to be made. But I also think my teenaged self would tell me to do something about my fat butt.

2 Do you prefer gold jewelry, silver jewelry or neither?

I'm not a jewelry person--much. I would wear more if I hadn't been conditioned not to by necessity. (the first time a baby pulls your earring nearly out of your ear, you tend to forgo the earrings. Same with nearly being choked by a necklace.) But I have 3 rings that I love, and they are gold. Two are my wedding rings, and one is a ring my hubby bought that symbolizes our children--3 diamond baguette stones for the girls, 4 diamond square stones for the boys, intermingled.

3 What has been one of the most surprising things that you have discovered about motherhood?
Just how much you learn about yourself, and how much you want to change the faults and flaws that you have to be the best possible example you can be for them. I look at my 17 year old, especially, and I pray that my role modeling for woman/motherhood has been sufficient. I am also surprized to see how much I have come to understand about God and His nature by being a mother.

4 What are some things that would be in your dream home?

*A HUGE mud/laundry room. HUGE. With two sets of large capacity washers and dryers, and hanging and basket space for everyone. And all. their. stuff.
*hardwood floors everywhere in common areas. I miss my hardwoods. Hopefully next year!!
*children who cleaned for fun

5 What is your favorite flower? Why?

Yellow roses. Roses to me are extravagant and romantic. And I like the yellow because it's cheerful and warm. My favorite is red roses (my hubby's favorite) and yellow roses together.

Ok, if you want me to interview you, let me know!

Quote of the Week...

"But it's not just learning things that's important. It's learning what to do with what you learn and learning why you learn things at all that matters."

--Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

Time to buy some more Clairol...

A conversation between my 3 year old and 7 year old daughters while they brushed and "styled" my hair the other night:

7 year old: Ok, it's your turn to style now.

3 year old: Ok. Here, you brush and I will style.

---slight pause as the 3 year old parts my hair and leans over to examine it more closely--

3 year old: Oh, my goodness!!! Emma!! Look at all the WHITE!!!!

Excuse me while I run to the store.

Coming to a doorknob near you...

I hear there's a DVD floating around about the church I belong to. They're being hung on people's doorknobs across the US and Canada. It misconstrues some of our basic beliefs, asserts that we aren't Christian, and in general tries to "witness" to us poor little misguided Mormons and our unsuspecting neighbors.

Here's the thing: I don't particularly care if you think my husband has 13 wives, or that we have horns on our head, or that we wear funny underwear. I really don't. Mostly because it's outdated, silly, and in the case of the underwear--none of your dang business.

But I have all kinds of problems with a person telling me that I don't know who I worship.

Ever since I was a little girl, I believed in a Father In Heaven who loved me, and in His son, Jesus Christ. I was taught, in a Mormon church (gasp!), that it was through Christ and His atoning sacrifice that I would be saved. I read the Bible and the Book of Mormon, and reading both of them I have come to obtain the surest testimony that He lived and died and was risen again, and that He stands at the right hand of God, as my judge and my Savior.

Every day of my life, I try to live in a way that shows my devotion to Him. There are days when I pretty much stink at it, but I keep trying anyway. I trust Him when He says He will be merciful with me. I teach my children by word and example that they should look to Christ for peace, for eternal life, and for remission of their sins. I live my religion, and it's my religion that has taught me to do all these things.

So, I feel Christian, even if there are those who would tell me I am mistaken. And the hard part is, how do you refute someone whose entire argument is, "You're not a Christian!" "Yes, I am." "NO, you're NOT." It gets to the 'I'm rubber and you're glue' stage pretty quickly.

Well, I'm just gonna keep doing my thing...and hope that the one who really knows my heart will find my meager offerings acceptable.

Four of my wonderful leprechauns...

This is from St. Patrick's Day. The hats were from their Aunt, and you don't even want to know how much my oldest will scream when she sees I have posted this. I guess the hat isn't the fashion statement she cares to make!!!

Quote of the Week...

"Men acquire a particular quality by constantly acting a particular way... you become just by performing just actions, temperate by performing temperate actions, brave by performing brave actions.”
--Aristotle

Life is good...

A warm spring day after a long winter.
A trip to the park.
And a big sister to tickle your toes as she pushes you in the swing.
Yep, life doesn't get any better than that!

Quote of the Week...

"Do one thing everyday that scares you."

---Eleanor Roosevelt

hard little life lessons...

Yesterday, my 7 year old learned how hard it can be to make things right when you do something wrong.

I found a tiny gold child's ring on my bathroom floor the other day, and I knew it didn't belong in our house. I started asking all the kids about it, and it became clear to me pretty quickly that this daughter wasn't being truthful when she said she had no idea how the ring got in the bathroom. Every mom knows that somewhere during pregnancy--or maybe while in post partum--you become equipped with a sixth sense when it comes to your kids. I don't know how it works, all I know is that once you've been a mom for awhile, you can sense which cry is for hungry and which is for sleepy; you can sense that little hands are about to dunk a toy into the toilet; and you can listen to your child tell you something and hear loudly in your head, "liar, liar, pants on fire."

So, after some intense interrogation (I knew those 150 watt bulbs would come in handy!), she admitted that she had taken the ring from her cousin's room during a sleepover last week. Little did she know that admitting her mistake to mom was probably the easiest part.

We had a tear filled drive over to my sister's house, with her pleading with me not to make her go. "PLEASE, mom!!! I can't do it!! I can NOT look her in the eye and tell her I took it!!"

"You can do it." I said. "And you will feel SO much better after you do."

I held her hand as we walked to the front porch and let go as she rang the doorbell. She looked so pitiful...the ring in one hand, a tissue for her tears in the other. At first, I wasn't sure if she would be able to pull herself together to do what needed to be done. My sister and I figured our presence would only make matters worse, so we quickly found other places to be.

After about 10 minutes, my daughter and my niece came bounding down the stairs. I could instantly see that the task had been completed and that all was once again good. They played for a while and then we said our goodbyes.

On the drive home, I was all set to talk to her more about how it's not good to steal because it's wrong and it makes us feel bad and we hurt people and ourselves and blah blah mommy blah. I thought this was my teaching moment. But from the back seat, my daughter piped up:

"Mom!! That was the hardest thing I ever did! I cried the whole time and soaked my tissue! But I did it! I looked right at her, gave her the ring, and I said, 'Megan, I took your ring, I know it was wrong, and I am very very sorry.' I feel SO much better, Mom. I never want to feel that way again. It was AWFUL, Mom, awful. But I feel okay now! And Megan's not mad at me! I am never going to take anything that isn't mine again...what were you going to say, Mom?"

"Nothing, sweetie. I'm just proud of you, that's all," I said.

Turns out that the experience was the teacher, I just provided transportation.

Quote of the week...

"All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action."

--James Russell Lowell

The tea cup...

I have a china tea cup and saucer that sits on a shelf in my office. I love to look at it. It's really pretty, a delicate pink rose floral pattern with gold leaf along the top edge and the handle. It's stamped with "Victoria, Bone China, Made in England" on the bottom. My husband's grandmother gave it to us several years ago.

As with most everything she owns, she had a story that went along with the tea cup. The story was that this was her son's (my father-in-law's) favorite cup. He loved this cup, she said. Always had to use this particular cup. Used to tell her that he'd never marry a girl who didn't love this cup and take good care of it for him. That was the story that grandma always told about the tea cup and saucer she had given us.

Not so much the story that I heard from her son.

Once, when my father-in-law--supposed lover of said cup--came to visit, I pointed out "his" cup to him. I relayed the story that his mom had told me about the cup, thinking it would bring warm memories, and please him that the story behind the cup had been passed on.

His face went blank. He paused for a moment--just a moment--before he said something just short of "my mother is a crazy woman who makes up things that have no basis in reality."

And this, and only this, is why I keep that tea cup on the shelf in my office.

I love to look at that tea cup and be reminded that life is viewed through subjective eyes. I look at that cup to be comforted, understanding that no matter how hard I try, the way I see things will not be the way other people--even people I love--see them. I could strive to do every single thing right as a wife, friend, mother, etc. and still our stories wouldn't match up. Because we all filter our stories through our own personalities, our own life experiences, and our own sense of what is important.

Looking at that cup makes me fret just a little bit less when I mistakes. Maybe some of those mistakes will be the stories that aren't remembered. And yet, looking at the cup also makes me a little more careful. Maybe something done or said in a seemingly small moment will be a story that IS remembered. That cup silently witnesses that I have little control over what people choose to remember about me. I can only live the best life I can and hope that the scales will balance out in favor of my being a good person.

I don't know which story is true about the tea cup on my shelf. Nor do I care to know. The truth is what they believe it to be. I suppose I could put them both in a room and let them shout it out, who is right and who is wrong in the whole "Significance of The Tea Cup" Debate, but what good would that do?

I'll just keep the cup on the shelf, my own personal lesson in perspective.

Quote of the Week...

"The purpose of having children is not to create opportunities for our glory or for theirs. The purpose of having children and raising them to be self-reliant, compassionate, ethical adults is to ensure that there will be people here to honor God after we are gone."

--Wendy Mogel, The Blessing of a Skinned Knee

Grief, laughter, and the weight of both...

We attended another funeral today.

This is the second in 7 months, and I gotta tell you, I'm not getting any better at them. This is one of those life events that we all go through, and yet we never seem to get good at them. Whatever "good at them" would mean.

The interesting thing that I am discovering about attending the funerals of family, friends, and family OF friends is this: the weight of every other loss comes up. And the memory of each funeral is pulled out of the portion of my brain that houses the category:

family and loved ones, funerals of. See also: death, grief, melancoly

So, as I sit in the funeral home chapel, watching a friend grieve the loss of her 22 year old son, my mind recalls my sister-in-law, grieving the loss of her baby girl...my dad, the loss of a brother--and then another brother...a friend, losing her mother...a friend, the loss of his wife...another friend, also losing his wife...myself, grieving the loss of one parent, and then another. At a funeral, it feels like a heavy burden.

So that's where the laughter comes in.

Today, the grief was overwhelming in that chapel. And then my dad got up to speak. He had known this young man well and was asked by the family to share some thoughts. As is his way, he began recounting silly and irreverent stories about this young man. The spirit lifted and I could see the weight of grief temporarily leave the family and friends as they were caught up in the life and spirit of this man, as opposed to his death. There was laughter through tears and it was wonderful. The weight became one not of grief--but of carrying the love and memories of someone that was special, and honoring that. Even though the grieving has just begun for this family, they were shown in that moment how to ease their pain and soften their heartache.

The weight of grief and the weight of laughter are gifts. Each one reminds us that we lived, loved, and mattered to each other.

Quote of The Week...

"It takes courage to live--courage and strength and hope and humor. And courage and strength and hope and humor have to be bought and paid for with pain and work and prayers and tears."

--Jerome P. Fleishman

Left behind...

It's so sad to be the littlest brother. All your big brothers and sisters take off outside and you are stuck. A prisoner in your own home.

[please forgive the edits and changes as I figure out how to post pictures!]

The Great 'Soup' Mystery solved...

So, the hubby calls me a few days ago and the conversation goes something like this:

The Hubby: Uhh, babe?
Me: Yeah?
TH: I , uh, finally read your blog.
[been telling me for weeks he'd get around to it...but to be fair: 1 wife, 7 kids, 3 jobs. Nuff said.]
M: Oh, yeah? So? What did you think?
TH: It's good, very funny. You know I think you are funny. But, ummm...the soup??
M: the soup? What soup...oh, yeah, what about the soup?
TH: That was all me. I bought it when you had that dental work done and couldn't chew. I thought you might like it.

So, from this we learn a few things. One, my husband is thoughtful and downright precious about taking care of the wife when she is hurting. (this I already knew, but those little reminders mean a lot after close to 20 years together) and Two, my husband thinks I would eat soup with little green floatie things.

So close, and yet so far.

Quote of the Week...

"Reflect on your present blessings, of which every man has many; not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some." --Charles Dickens

A to Z...

Got this meme from Mormon Millie, who cracks me up. She tagged everyone who reads her blog, and I read it daily. Because of the cracking up which I previously mentioned.
ACCENT: I tend to soak up whoever I am talking to's accent. I am a good mimic, but it makes it hard for me because I tend to slip into everyone else's way of talking.
BIBLE BOOK THAT I LIKE: Hebrews
CHORE I DON'T CARE FOR: mopping the floor
DOG OR CAT: I have children, I don't need any more animals to care for.
ESSENTIAL ELECTRONICS: Computer, TV with my DVR, my Cricut machine
FAVORITE COLOGNE: "Lovely"
GOLD OR SILVER: Gold
HANDBAG I CARRY MOST OFTEN: Big, black, leather looking bag from Old Navy
INSOMNIA: More than I care for, yes.
JOB TITLE: Homemaker
KIDS: 3 girls: 17, 7, and 3; and 4 boys: 14, 9, 5, and 17 months
LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: with my husband and offspring in a house far too nice for all of us because we are loud, messy hooligans. (well, them. Not me.)
MOST ADMIRABLE TRAIT: Great resource when you have the nagging question, "Now, what else have I seen that actor in??"
NAUGHTIEST CHILDHOOD BEHAVIOR: I used to steal gum from my mom's nightstand and blame my brother for it
OVERNIGHT HOSPITAL STAYS: Once at 10 or so for what they thought was spinal menengitis, then for each of my children's births
PHOBIAS: Snakes, snakes, and did I mention snakes?
QUOTE: "I have 9,768,423 things to do...other than that, I'm free all day." -a friend named Dottie
RELIGION: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
SIBLINGS: I have one brother I grew up with, and then 9 adopted siblings
TIME I WAKE UP: 5:00 AM. Thanks for reminding me.
UNUSUAL TALENT OR SKILL: As I mentioned with accent, I can mimic other people pretty dead on
VEGETABLE I REFUSE TO EAT: Brussel Sprouts
WORST HABIT: Procrastination
X-RAYS: Dental, when I was 16 and fell off of a car and broke my tailbone, about 7 years ago after a bad fall at an aquarium
YUMMY STUFF I COOK: Swedish Meatball Soup, Crock Pot Ravioli, Pumpkin Chocolate chip Muffins
ZOO ANIMAL I LIKE MOST: Giraffe
If you didn't already take the challenge from Millie to do this meme, take it from me!

Quote of the Week...

"Marriage hath in it less of beauty but more of safety ... it hath more care, but less danger, it is more merry, and more sad; it is fuller of sorrows, and fuller of joys; it lies under more burdens, but it is supported by all the strengths of love and charity, and those burdens are delightful."

--Bishop Jeremy Taylor

How did THAT get in there?

So, I'm digging in my pantry to make some effort at dinner, and I come across some items that, well...have me a little confused. Because I have no recollection of seeing them in the store, putting them in my cart, paying for them, bringing them home, and then placing them in the pantry on the shelf next to all the other stuff that is in there.

Since I know that I am the only one who actually purchases food for our household, that means it must have been me. Huh. Here are a few of the items in question:

"Southwest Style Pepper Jack" cheese soup. Seriously? What little lies did I tell myself that made me think that my kids would come within 10 feet of reddish orange soup with green floatie things in it??

1 regular sized box of pilaf Rice-a-Roni. This is just confusing on so many levels. First of all, we have 7 kids--I never buy the regular size of ANYTHING. Sometimes, if I am in a pinch and they don't have the jumbo bucket of something I may buy a smaller size...but then I'll buy 4 or 5. So the "one"ness of this box just doesn't feel right. And we don't even eat pilaf--unless it's my mom's homemade pilaf, because when she makes it it is just so goooooood.

1 box of Red Velvet cake mix. Now, this actually could be explained. Not that I would ever MAKE a red velvet cake, but I buy cake mixes by the dozen because my kids like cake mix cookies. So, it falls within the realm of possiblity that I--while reaching for the spice, chocolate, or yellow cake mixes--inadvertently grabbed this sad little never-to-be-used box of red velvet.

Creamy Ranchero Tomato soup. Again with the soup. Now, on the label it says: Great for Cooking. So maybe I thought that somehow if I bought these soups that I would actually cook with them. Or that maybe they would cook for me. Or something. But, again--little green floatie things. Hello!!!??? Little. Green. Floatie. Things.

Oh, and for those who may be wondering...I ended up making meatball stew.
And none of the above ingredients were harmed in the process.



Cake mix cookies:
1 box yellow cake mix
2 eggs
1/3 cup of oil
1 cup chocolate chips

Mix first 3 ingredients into dough. Then stir in chocolate chips. Roll into teaspoon sized balls and place on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 8 minutes @ 350 degrees. Cookies will look "wrinkley" but not browned.

Another version:
1 box spice cake mix
2 eggs
1/3 cup of oil

Bake same as above.

Quote of the week...

"I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but I realize that it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as though they were great and noble."

--Helen Keller

Books that have changed me...

Where the Red Fern Grows, Wilson Rawls. This was the first book where I learned that someone could write something that could make me feel a powerful emotion--as though I were really witnessing what they wrote about. I was 9, and I can still vividly remember having to put the book down--because I couldn't read through the tears in my eyes--when Little Ann and Old Dan met their sad fate. At first I felt a little uncomfortable, thinking "why am I crying over dogs and a boy that aren't even real?" and then somewhere in the back of my mind came the knowledge: that is what a good book can do. It can make you feel something real within a story that is not.

If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What am I doing in the Pits?, Erma Bombeck. I'm pretty sure that I must have read my mom's copy, because I remember reading this book when I was in 4th grade, and I doubt I would have sought it out. I loved that she talked about everyday things that all moms and families go through, but she made it laugh out loud funny. (and I wasn't even a mom!) This was the first book that made me laugh out loud, and it was also the first book that I found could have me laughing one minute, and tearing up the next. Make me cry without meanness and I like you. Make me laugh and I love you. Make me cry while I am laughing...and I am yours forever.

The Tell-Tale Heart, Edgar Allen Poe; and Stories That Scared Even Me, Alfred Hitchcock. Ok, technically, Tell Tale is a short story; and Stories That Scared is a collection of stories compiled by Hitchcock; but I have to put them in here and put them together because they scared me to death. They were my first exposure to literature designed to frighten and boy, did they do a good job. It was disturbing and yet oddly exciting to find myself feeling the panic and madness come over the narrator in Tell Tale, and finding myself having to resist the urge to run to my parent's bedroom after reading one of the Stories That Scared. To this day I cannot read frightening or very suspense filled books if I am alone in the house. I've never put a scary book in the freezer, a'la Joey on Friends...but I've thought about it.

Days of Grace, Arthur Ashe w/Arnold Rampersad. This book amazed me and taught me that there will be literally thousands of brave and honorable people in this world that I may never know about. I picked up this book knowing very little of Ashe except his gentlemanly nature on the tennis court, but he became one of my heroes. His grace (hence the title) and courage against racism and illness, and his quiet dignity in doing the right thing is something I still look back on and try to require from myself. He once said: "If one's reputation is a possession, then of all my possessions, my reputation means most to me." He deserves that possession to be a valuable one, he worked for it and he earned it.

Woman of Independent Means, Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey. It sounds like a romance novel, but it's not. It's written entirely as letters that one woman writes to the people in her life over the span of some 60 years. This book was where I was reminded how much I truly love letters...I will read letters by people I have never heard of, and have no idea about. I think it must be because letters seem so intimate, so private. And because you can feel the relationship that the sender and the recipient have based on the tone and feel of the correspondence. Because of this book, I put copies of letters and emails to different people from me in my journal. I know that each one reveals a little bit more of all the sides of me. I also learned in this book how I can love a character and still not like her. I found myself completely shocked at some of the things Bess Steed would say or do; but then still find her ultimately, and overwhelmingly, endearing. I re-read this book every year or so, and every time I still find myself sad that Bess is simply a character and not a real woman. Because I'd love to have tea with her.

This is a short list. I haven't mentioned all of the books that have changed me, mostly because there are too many. And some, I really couldn't tell all the things that have changed about me because of them. How could I possibly try to explain the impact of the Bible and the Book Of Mormon, for example? They permeate my soul. They have changed--and are changing--every facet of my personality.

Please feel free to share some of your special books with me in the comments, or if you blog--make your own list. If you do, let me know so I can go and take a look.

Quote of the week...

I am a quote freak. I have a collection of quotes that is growing constantly, because I love it when someone puts together a finely crafted sentence or thought. So, in order to be gracious and not horde my lovely collection, I have decided to share a quote every Monday.

Here's the first:

"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy."

--George Bernard Shaw

Fear....

It's been a while.

I've been pondering fear a lot lately, because I had to go to the dentist. I am terrified of the dentist. As in, I start shaking and crying at the thought of making an appointment.

But, you know, pain can sometimes outweigh fear and you do what needs to be done. Or, well, let's be honest: you have a husband who hates to see his wife in pain who sneaks and makes an appointment for you.

So, I went and I cried in the dentist's chair and felt like a complete moron. This dentist is very kind and wants to help me to be less afraid so that I can get the work done that I desperately need. And, for the amount of money that all this work is going to cost, he'd be stupid not to try. We will probably pay for his summer home.

I am a strong woman in so many other ways that it is an endless source of embarrassment to me that I can't think about going into a dental office without a full on panic attack. I have bad experiences that certainly justify some fear, but I'm also intelligent and should be able to reason with myself that bad experiences in the past don't guarantee bad ones in the future. But, it's a visceral response that I have little control over.
So, I went again and had a tooth extracted. They doped me up with Valium and Sonata and since I don't ever use mind altering substances, you'd have thought I'd have been pretty mellow. But, it just relaxed me enough to allow me to white knuckle my way through it. There were complications (because, with me, there are always complications) but I got out of there with a small amount of panic and pain. Went home and a few days later had a severe allergic reaction to the antibiotics I was put on. Nice. It seems I am not going to catch a break with this thing, dang it.
So, I guess what I am saying is that I am learning that no matter how many other things you stood up to in your life, there will still be things that scare you. I can pull my "birthed 7 children" card out and my dentist fear just laughes at me. I have gone through things that seem far more difficult than having my teeth drilled.
But, that is the nature of fear, I think. It doesn't have to be the worst thing, the hardest thing, the most painful thing...it just has to be the thing you are afraid of.

My Three Moms...

I have 3 moms. This was completely unintentional on my part, I assure you. But there it is, and there they are. They have some things in common (such as me for a daughter, I suppose) and lots more that is different. Here's my shot at describing them.

Mom #1: my birth mom. Apparently we met, but my being only hours old, not much of a memory sticks with me. I learned from non-identifying information from the adoption agency that she was 19, of Albanian descent, and didn't know she was pregnant. That last one kind of strikes me as funny. See, I've been pregnant a few times and I can't imagine not knowing...once my bladder shrunk to the size of a walnut and some foreign object was punching my rib cage...I'd have to guess that something was up. But, she says she didn't know. And since I, too, have a remarkable ability to see things as I wish them to be rather than as they are, I can only figure that denial can be inherited.

Mom #2: This is the mom I grew up with until she died when I was 18. From her I learned that sometimes, even if you want to be a good parent, your own mess can get in the way. And you can leave a huge legacy of things you really never meant to if you aren't careful. Sometimes I feel so far behind the learning curve of people who had less traumatic childhoods than I did, and I hate that I never feel good enough because of what was drilled into me as a child. But you know what? I wouldn't care half as much about what kind of parent I was were it not for my need to make sure that my kids weren't handicapped in the same ways. So any measure of a good parent I become, I owe to that and to her. I also owe a huge debt to her for the compassionate nature I have, and my fearlessness of ill, disabled, and elderly people. Were it not for her, I would never have this keen desire to reach out to those kinds of people, and that desire has brought me great happiness.

Mom #3: This is the mom who came along when I was a young mother myself, and took me in. She and her whole family just embraced me and loved me and included me. I am the "adopted" daughter, and I find that interesting considering my previous history. It seems as though I am meant to be drawn in, as opposed to born into. From this mom I have gained so much insight and wisdom...I have found a woman who has walked many of the same roads I have and can warn me of where the curves and dead ends are. She is a grandmother to my children, a mom who calls just to see how I am doing, and someone who knows when to let me complain and when to help me make changes. I cannot imagine I would have learned anywhere near as much as I have so far if I didn't have her love and acceptance.

As I think of each mom, I am struck by the parts of me that have been formed because of my association with them. I'm both grateful and a little sad that none of these relationships have lasted all through my life so far. There is comfort in looking at someone and knowing they have known you since you were little. But then, there is an independence and ability to stand on your own two feet when you have no one like that to turn to.

In the end, I am who I am. In no small measure, that is because of my three moms.

Friendship...

I've been thinking about friendship.

I went out to breakfast a little bit ago with my best friend from high school. We live in the same neighborhood, and two of our children are school mates. But that is where any parallels end.

We are pretty different in our life choices. She is an education professional [a principal, no less! When did people our age get to be people in CHARGE of stuff??] ; I am a stay at home/sometimes homeschooling mom. I got married in my teens, she got her Masters. She is a social worker background die hard Democrat; I am a right leaning traditionalist who weighs my religious beliefs against any political position. In fact, she and I accidentally ran into each other at the voting booths this past election. Upon making eye contact, we started laughing and said, "Oh, good. Now we can cancel each other out!"

And yet, 20 years after we first became friends, I still find myself sitting across a table from her at Village Inn, laughing and talking and loving every minute of it.

There is something unbelieveably comfortable about our friendship. And no matter how much time passes in between visits, we pick right back up and have that same easy cadence with one another. I have been thinking that, perhaps, it is our differences that make our friendship so strong. There is a bedrock of acceptance that I find lacking in some of my friendships with people who are more similar to me. Maybe some friendships get so built on how alike two people are, that any shift by either person becomes a threat to whatever common bond the friendship was born under.

When two people who are very different become friends, there is an immediate understanding that this is not a friendship based on seeing oneself in each other...but on seeing things through different eyes. Eyes that like you, respect you, but don't always prioritize life the same way you do.

It's wonderful and comforting in ways I never could have imagined.

Tag, I'm it, Part II...

TXMommy tagged whoever felt like it to do this meme. I feel like it.

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? Hot Chocolate. But it has to be really good, like grown up hot chocolate. No Swiss Miss for me, thanks.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Santa wraps the one present he gives to the kids, in paper with his face all over it. He also stuffs the stockings and leaves them under the tree.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? White. I like a country, simple Christmas look.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? No, we never have! Hmmmmm...

5. When do you put your decorations up? Usually the day after Thanksgiving, depending on my hubby's shift schedule.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Excluding dessert is just wrong. Ummm....Ham and au gratin potatoes

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child: Spending Christmas one year with my dad's mom and stepdad. They lived near Chicago and I had never been to that area, and I just thought everything about where they lived was cool.

8. How and When did you learn the truth about Santa? It must have been early, because I really don't remember.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We let the kids open one. Usually something boring like pjs.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree? Lots of different things. We have the little ornaments that the kids have made or been given, and we have ornaments left from when my hubby was a child. Sadly, I have nothing of the ornaments from when I was a child. Then we have a tin star on top, and cream ribbon bows, and gold bead garland.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? I love it as long as I don't have to go anywhere.

12. Can you ice skate? NO, I only ever went ice skating once. I remember it hurt my ankles!

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? I had one of my daughters on Christmas Eve. It was a lovely, lovely time.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you? It isn't the MOST important, but I really, truly love to find or make a gift for someone I love, something that I know they will love and enjoy.

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Baklava made by Greek women. I have converted SO many people who didn't think they liked baklava. Uh huh. You just need to taste REAL baklava, made by my sisters, mom, and me in my mother's kitchen.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? We have a progressive dinner with my family that is really fun. I also love the feeling of sitting under the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve...all is quiet and the presents are out and I always feel so overly and completely blessed.

17. What tops your tree? A tin star that has white lights inside of it. It is a new addition, since our old one died last year.

18. Which do you prefer giving or Receiving? Giving. Like I mentioned, it really brings me the most fun and happiness.

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? I have tons. Music is a HUGE part of my life. I even collect carolers that I display at Christmas time. I'd say my few most favorites are, "Good King Wenseslas" "Still, Still, Still" "Away In A Manger" "Some Children See Him".

Sometimes, the Circle Of Life just sucks...

My hubby's grandma, or my "grandmother-in-love" as she likes to say, has to move.

She's lived on the same street in Yonkers, NY--just a burrough over from her birthplace, the Bronx--for close to 30 years. She and her husband moved into the current apartment (which is actually a home, divided into one apartment per floor) in 1987, just up the street a few houses from where they had resided before. Her husband died in that apartment, less than a year later. It's the home that we have always come to when we visited NYC. It's the spot we always picture her in when we call her to check in. It is filled with her Hummels, her photographs of my children, her wonderful Grandma smell, and her spirit.

And now, she is leaving. The house is being sold, and the current trend is for new owners to come in and restore the house to its original single family dwelling. So she must leave that place and find another. And Grandma is not well. She suffers with chronic pain and limited mobility now, her 91 year old body finally deciding to act its age, after years of it behaving a good 20-30 years younger. So, when she leaves this home, it won't be for another place filled with her things. It will be for a place where she can have "assisted living".

My heart aches for her in a way that I couldn't have imagined. To have to leave all that she has spent her life gathering...all that she feels comforted by and that reminds her of the times and people she loves. Grandma Peg has always been fiercely independent. When she was in her early 80's, I asked her once what she did to fill her time. She stated without a hint of getting the humor in it: "I drive old people to their doctors appointments."

There is just no way to soften the blow of this for her. We live half a country away, and even if we were close by, there is just no fixing this. All we can do is pray and hope that she will find some comfort in the situation. She is a wonderful, lovely, and very sad lady right now.

Bad mommy day...

This was my husband's drill weekend for Army Reserves. Mommy doesn't like drill weekend. Daddy is gone and the kids always decide to see if they can make the veins in Mommy's neck turn blue and poke out as she "whispers" to them in church.

We got to church late (see: drill weekend), and because there are so many of us, there was no place to sit inside the chapel. So we're crowded on the couch in the foyer and I am alternately chasing after little ones and giving the stink eye to the big ones for not helping. I was NOT in a loving, kind, patient, motherly type of mood. I was in a "will you sit down and stop touching each other and NO you cannot eat that and for the love of Pete I will clock each and every one of you if you don't start behaving" mood.

Then, because God is just that cruel, the gentleman that teaches an early morning scripture study class I attend walks by. He has never met my family before, so he stops and wants to visit and say hello. Trying to be friendly and engage my kids, he says: "So, how is she for a mom??"

They. All. Just. Sat. There.

Like deers in the headlights. Fake little smiles plastered on their faces. You know, the look like when you take a huge bite of something repugnant and then the cook wants your honest opinion on whether or not you liked it??

Finally my 9 year old piped up: "She's....goooood???"

Oh, yeah. You heard me right. HE PHRASED IT AS A QUESTION.

Bad, bad mommy day.

Why don't you come with me, little girl...

...on a magic carpet ride. (if you don't know what song that lyric is from and don't instantly start singing it in your head, well, then, I just feel sorry for you.)

I won a prize. Carpet. 630 sq. feet of it. Seriously! You have to know my family to appreciate the utter shifting of the balance of power in the universe that my winning this has caused.

We don't win stuff. It just doesn't happen. Okay, yes, there has been the odd talent show or cake decorating contest (Most Patriotic, thank you very much) but those were based on SOME measure of merit. We don't EVER win things that you just sign up for and then are randomly plucked from obscurity to get a prize.

In fact, there is a running joke in our family. Our kids will see some thing on TV saying to "Sign up to win the brand new QRY!!! You could be the Grand Prize Winner!!" and they will start getting excited, saying, "Dad, we should totally enter that contest!! We could win a new QRY!!"

"We aren't going to win a new QRY."
"But, why??"
"What is your last name?"
"_______!"
"Uh huh. Well, _____s don't win contests."

I cannot even tell you how many times that conversation has gone on in our house.

But now, the streak is broken. And just in time for the family who was looking sadly at their not-yet-finished basement and wondering how to get everything they needed to finish it. And we're talking, how to get the rest of the drywall and paint, let alone nice carpeting for the 600 sq foot floors. That's right, 600 sq feet.

Magic carpet ride, indeed.

Tag, I'm it...

Ketchup Queen, one of my favorite virtual people, has tagged me for a MeMe. I love that she thought of me. I love her devotion to ketchup, my favorite condiment. But, mostly, I love that doing this MeMe is keeping me from folding my laundry.

1. What's the scariest movie you've ever seen?

When I was little, it was The Ten Commandments. I seriously had nightmares for several days after seeing that movie in the theaters. I was just sure that the Angel of Death was going to come into our house in the night and kill my brother, because he was the firstborn. (yeah, I was a little dramatic)

As an adult, I really don't go to scary movies. (maybe PTSD over 10 commandments) but I did see "What Lies Beneath" and I gripped my hubby's arm HARD the whole time.

2. What was your favorite Halloween Costume from childhood, and adulthood?

From childhood: I once dressed as a gypsy and won a school contest. (back in the day when you had Halloween parties at school) Also, one time my brother and I got these "old people" masks and dressed as old people. We stopped at one home with a very elderly couple and the woman invited us in saying, "Oh, it's so nice to see some folks OUR age out tonight!" We thought that was Sooooooo cool. I love older folks. I should blog about that sometime.

Adulthood: Once I dressed up as every man's nightmare. I had on a green facial mask, a tattered robe, curlers, a remote control in my pocket, a box of chocolates, and gossip magazines.

3. If you had an unlimited budget, what would your Fantasy Costume be for this Halloween?

I would love to dress our entire family in costume as different characters from the Wizard of Oz. I would be Glinda, the Good Witch. Because, after all, Halloween is about becoming someone you are not.

4. When was the last time you went Trick Or Treating?

Ok. Confession time. I don't really like Halloween. It is strictly in a "have-to-get-7-children-in-costumes-and-out-the-door-and-sometimes-it-snows-that-day-and-that-is-lots-of-walking-which-usually-means-carrying-a-toddler-or-three-most-the-way-home" kind of way.
So, all my siblings and I bring their kids over to Grandma and Papou's house for chili and donuts, and then Daddy takes all our little ones out to trick or treat while I get to stay back in the warmth of my mom's house and chat with whoever didn't want to go out there, either.

5. What's your favorite Halloween Candy?

I love 100Grand bars, and Reeses cups. I also love candy corn very, very much.

6. Tell us about a scary nightmare you had.

I have nightmares all the time. Usually someone is trying to shoot me. I am generally driving, and keep thinking to myself that if I can just duck and drive away fast enough, I will be okay. I also "play dead" in dreams where people are trying to kill me. I don't know what this all means, nor am I certain I wish to know.

7. What is your Supernatural Fear?

I'm good with the supernatural. It's the here and now reality that scares the crap out of me.

8. What is your Creepy-Crawlie Fear?

Snakes. Oh. I am so scared of them that I didn't even want to write the word.

9. Tell us about a time when you saw a ghost, or heard something go Bump in the night.

I have never had any ghosts in white sheets, doors shutting, books moving kind of things happen. My experiences with the spirit world have been much different.

10. Would you ever stay in a real Haunted House overnight?

Maybe. Would my kids have to be elsewhere?

11. Are you a traditionalist (just a face) Jack O'Lantern Carver, or do you get really creative with your pumpkins?

I am a traditionalist, but we usually buy the kids those little cutting kits for fancy shapes. You know, the ones where the kids all get hyper because they want to carve out their pumpkin RIGHT NOW not pull out all the stupid seeds and where they fight because of course 2 or more kids will want to do the same design and where the kids get bored about 3 minutes into the project and whine to go outside and play so Dad ends up finishing all of them?? Yeah, we get those.

12. How much do you decorate your home for Halloween?

I have a shelf above my wall coat rack in my entry way that I decorate for each month. So I decorate about 2 1/2 feet's worth.

13. What do you want on your Tombstone?

"...and her children shall rise up and call her blessed."
And I tag TxMommy to do this meme.

Moms don't get to be sick...

This is one of those unwritten rules they don't tell you about when you are pregnant with your first child. They just figure that you'll find it out soon enough.

And you do. You find it out, big time.

Just because moms don't get to BE sick doesn't mean moms don't get to FEEL sick. Oh, no. You go right on ahead and feel like you just got hit with a MAC truck, Mommy...but there are still dishes to be washed and laundry to be folded and dinner to be cooked.

I used to feel comforted when my hubby would say, "It's OK, sweetie...don't worry about the house, just go upstairs and rest until you feel better." Uh huh. What that really means is "you rest and when you feel better, everything will still be right here...where you left it...and perhaps even a whole lot worse than you left it." Nothing can force me out of bed quicker than the thought that the longer I lay there, the more work I will have waiting for me once I get up.

And I love the little pep talks we moms get when we're sick. From the toddlers we hear wonderfully tender remarks like, "Mommy, are you in there?" while poking Mommy's eyes open. "I need a peanut butter sammitch." From the husbands we receive the loving advice, "You'll feel better if you get up and vacuum something." Tears build in our eyes as our teenagers come home from school and empathetically inquire: "What's up with you? Can you drive me over to Jessica's?" Ah, family. Nobody cares about you like they do.

So moms don't get to be sick. And you learn to live with it. Just like all the other "mom" things you learn to live with. Like afterbirth pains, longer boobs, and finding crayons in the wash. Like having "company" when going to the bathroom, Radio Disney on your car stereo, and spending 15 minutes getting your kids bundled up so they can go outside for 45 seconds and then come in soaked and needing hot chocolate.

It's what moms learn to live with, but fortunately the benefits far outweigh the inconvenience.

When you can't do what you're known for doing...

My almost 14 year old son broke his arm a few weeks ago.

It was his first football game of the season. And his last, as it turns out. He was starting quarterback, last year's MVP, and spent all summer in football training camps. And after one bad fall, he's done until next year.

So I've been worried. Not about his arm--after a scary couple of hours in an ambulance and emergency room, we knew his arm would heal just fine. I've been worried about his spirit.

See, my son is an athlete. Everything in his life is geared around playing sports. And he is pretty good at it, which earns him respect and a place as a leader among his peers. His focus all through fall is football. All spring it's baseball. And in between, he plays basketball just for fun. What about school, you say? Well, it's what he does to fill in time before the next practice or game. And he keeps his grades at acceptable levels so mom and dad will drive him to those practices and games. To my son, in many ways sports isn't just what he does, it is who he is.

What will he do when he can't do what he is known for doing? Like I said, I was worried.

You know my favorite times as a parent? It's when you step back and watch your child and they completely and utterly amaze you. Without so much as a hint of advice from Dad and I on how to handle himself about things, this young man has taken this situation on with the same calm confidence he used on the football and baseball fields. He attends every game, and cheers his team on. He tries to go to the practices, as well, and helps out the coaches. He has focused on scouting with a renewed determination to get his Eagle by the time he turns 16. He has even stepped up his focus on school, becoming interested in doing as well as he can, not just in doing enough to get by.

He aches at what he is missing out on, though. I see it in his face as we drive home from a game that he didn't play in. I see it in the way he kind of "hovers" around the house each afternoon when, with no practices to rush to or plays to memorize, he finds himself with too much time on his hands. But even with that, I see in him a resolve. An understanding and an acceptance. He might get down, but then he will jump up and get moving again. I wish I could say that he got that from me.

I remembered yesterday what I said to him as he was in the ER waiting to be seen by the orthopedic surgeon. He had mentioned his concern at not being able to play anymore. I said, "Spencer, I love who you are. And football has nothing to do with it."

It was true then, and even more so now.

You so lucky...

Yesterday I waited in our pediatric dentist's office for my 7 year old to get a tooth pulled. As I did, my almost one year old toddled around the waiting room, showing off his newly acquired walking skills for Mommy. As I waited, an older Asian woman came in with her grandchildren, and she immediately engaged me in conversation.

She asked me how old my baby was, his name, those kinds of things. Then she asked me if I had "the 2". Assuming, I suppose, that I had the baby and then a child in with the dentist. So, I hesitated and gave the dreaded, truthful answer. "We have 7."

And then, something lovely happened. Her eyes lit up and she cooed! "Ooohhhhh...you so lucky!" She told me that she had 8 children: 6 boys, 2 girls. She asked me about mine: what ages, what genders, are they helpful, do they keep me busy, do I get to be a homemaker. She asked about my husband: what does he do, is he home a lot, does he help out, does he like having lots of children. And after every response, she replied enthusiastically, "Ooohh, you so lucky!!"

Well, I have to come right out and say that prior to this conversation with my chatty little Asian friend, I wasn't feeling so lucky. I was in the 5th day of the 30 day suckfest that is September, and had spent most of the day in one dental office or another with children who didn't want to be there anymore than I did. I was feeling a lot of things, folks...but lucky wasn't one of them.

I probably didn't speak with her for more than 10 minutes...but that sweet lady turned my heart around right then. I really AM so lucky. Blessed out the ying yang, and too stupid in that moment to see it. I had to have a stranger point it out to me.

Thank you, stranger.

On being weird...

"I'm weird."
"Nooooo...you're quirky. Quirky and weird are...two very different things."
--Runaway Bride

I am weird. There, I said it.

It's not that I ever tried to be weird; in fact, quite the opposite. All I ever aspired to in life was normalcy. (perhaps that is weird in and of itself!) But, I have found myself making a mental list of things I do or think that are just at home in the weird category.

For instance:

--When adjusting the television volume, I must have it on an even number. 16 or 18 is fine--17 or 19 is not. If 17 is the perfect volume at the time, I will still lower or raise it and have it too loud or too soft. Sacrifices must be made.

--I think that if I never buy a 12- or 15- seater passenger van that I can pretend I don't have 7 children and therefore retain a level of "coolness" while driving. (You know, because my filthy, white, almost-10-year-old mini-van with the "Troopers wear safety belts" license plate cover just screeeeeeams cool)

--I find myself deliberately buying odd numbers of canned goods when shopping. Look--I realize this flys in the face of my "even number only" T.V. volume thing, but in my defense: this is a complicated system, folks.

--I blow a kiss to the roof of my car and shout "Mazel tov!" when running a yellow light. (this I blame on a high school boyfriend)


--I think that "away" uniforms in football look wimpy. Therefore, I have reached the following conclusion: when they lose on the road, it's not that they don't have home field advantage. It's that they look wimpy and the other team thinks they can take them. For real.

--I have to ask my husband how old I am. This is completely understandable in the context that age is a number and numbers involve counting and counting is math and I stink at math.

--If my house is clean when a guest enters my home, I no longer care if it stays clean. They have seen it clean, and they recognize that since it was clean when they got there and now it no longer is, it is somehow their fault and not mine.

--I have to have reading material wherever I go. Bathroom, driving the kids around, doctors appointment, eating, going to a party. I have actually made myself late for things looking for something to read for if I got there early. Oh, yeah. I am just that good.

Well, I have decided to embrace my weirdness. And I invite all to do the same. Glory in your collection of eccentricities! Heaven knows somebody should.

A Woman's Touch...

I've always believed that a house was the reflection of the woman who lives there. I think that the way a home is decorated and kept says volumes about what is important to the woman who claims that space as hers. How she feels about herself and those she loves; what she finds beautiful; what matters to her--it is all there within those four walls. And it doesn't seem to matter who else shares that house with her...there will be glimpses of others but the heart of that house really will be the heart of that woman.

Never was this more clear to me than this week.

We helped our dear friend say goodbye to his wife yesterday. She died this week after a long illness. And we have tried, as best as we can, to help him and his family through this painful time. When I first was told that Christie was gone, I didn't really think about much beyond the grief that her husband and 8 year old son were feeling. It didn't really occur to me what I would miss about her.

Then I walked into her home.

Suddenly I was surrounded with memories of Christie. The detailed conversation about her paint treatment on one wall; the laughing and joking in her backyard eating area; her rambunctious dogs scaling the backs of her sofas while she rolled her eyes and explained they believed they were cats.

And it wasn't just memories; it was how the house just was her. Christie. Warm, stylish, centered on family. There was the wall; the one that she patiently added photograph after photograph to until it was filled from top to bottom with the smiling faces of family and friends. Her kitchen; organized and filled with every thing she needed to be hostess to her friends. Every nook and cranny filled with something interesting to look at.

In high school, whenever I saw Christie I felt compelled to watch her. I wanted to see what she was doing and what she was wearing...she had such charisma. And I found myself feeling that again, standing there in her home. I wanted to see it all and soak it all in and just enjoy what she had put together. So I did.

After being in Christie's home, knowing she would never return, I have had cause to evaluate my own home and the legacy that lives there. I hope that when I leave this life, that my home really will be filled with me. I hope that one day, people who didn't even spend much time with me could come to my home and understand who I was. Like I was able to do with Christie. I wasn't her close friend, but being in her home...I could feel her and know her in a powerful way.

And I am grateful for that. And so I go away with her example, and I will do as she did--live my life and keep my home with my very own touch.

Listen, Kid: I'll tell you when you can think for yourself...

One of the least amusing challenges in parenting is when your children figure out that they can make up their own minds. I mean, really--how dare they? We've been doing a perfectly fine job of handling that for them. (with the exception of the time we thought we'd save money by cutting their hair ourselves, what was that?)

It starts with the day they find out that if they want to, they can refuse to wear the clothes you'd like them to. Then, its pretty much war--unless your mommy fantasies included your sweet toddler girl wearing a flowered skirt with an entirely different type of flowered blouse and bright green (a green which does not exist in nature, let alone on her skirt or blouse) snow boots. Or unless, deep in your heart, you really truly hoped that your little man's outfit of choice would be cowboy boots...and a smile.

Then it moves into a lot of other arenas having to do with what they like and don't like; who they choose to be friends with; and what they are going to do with their time.

I had some ideas. They weren't big ideas, but they were my ideas about what my kids would like, and do, and be. In a cruel streak of divine humor, my kids have exactly NO desire to even HEAR my ideas--let alone embrace them. Dang it.

"You should really think about cutting your hair, like in a bob, it'd be so cute if..."
"I don't see why you don't try out for the debate club, I mean really--all that good arguing skill just being wasted on your parents..."
"Honey, please, could you just wear this outfit, there are going to be pictures taken and people there I want to think well of me..."
"Why don't you spend more time with the little Jones boy? He seems so sweet and polite..."
"You know, when I was [insert age] I would have LOVED to have the chance to..."

But, no. The little buggers seem to be determined to to find their own way, make their own mistakes, and decide for themselves what things are of value to them. And really, when you get down to it, that is really what we should want for them. To find their own way. To discover where their hearts are, to learn what they are passionate about and what makes them happy. There are a million different ways--all fine and all legal--for a child to live their life. But I think sometimes as parents we are so afraid that their choices may bring regret that we push a little too hard for them to be what we want. And really, what we want for them is what we want for ourselves. Maybe, instead, we should become who we want to be and let our children do the same.

As we raise our children we do the best we can to instill in them the things we hold most precious. We can teach them and train them and hope it sticks. But in the end, it should be as a wise prophet once said, "we teach them correct principles, and let them govern themselves."

Toddlers & Teenagers...

There is very little difference between a toddler and a teenager, I've decided. And since I currently have more than one of both, I feel fairly qualified to make this claim.

They both:

...function under the assumption that the world revolves around them.
...scream and cry if they don't get their way.
...hate whatever is put in front of them at the dinner table.
...want to wear clothes that make no sense whatsoever.
...speak in a dialect that takes great patience to understand.
...never think anything was their fault.
...tell you they hate you when they are mad.
...NEED to have control of the T.V.
...can't sit still in church unless they are sleeping.
...try to get behind the wheel of a car in spite of the clear and present danger of them doing so.
...expect to have their needs and wants RIGHT NOW.
...spend too much time in the bathroom.
...believe life is not fair.
...make messes that they figure their mom was born to clean up.
...are at their sweetest when they are asleep.