There Will Be Beauty Too

My favourite thing about being me right now is this sense I have on being on the cusp of some great discovery.  When my eyes open each morning, it's with anticipation.  Before I close my eyes again, I'll have dozens of little (or maybe gigantic) failures and sadnesses among the sticky floors and laundry and snow banks that compose my life right now.  But there will be beauty too.  I will read stories and chat with a friend and find a hidden store of courage and make something good and practice yoga and sing and help someone and drink a cup of herbal tea and remember something and there will be vegetables and hugs and comforting and laughter and sound effects and games and scripture and maybe poetry and nice socks and blogging.

Jared Might Not Accept Future Snow Shoveling Offers

I woke up early today and it was a day like any other day.  I read for a couple of hours before the others began to stir.  I gave some good morning hugs.  I was ready for my workout when Jared came downstairs.  We noticed the snow blocking the van.  I offered to shovel in exchange for breakfast.  For the next forty minutes, I picked away at the icy chunks left by the plow.  It was twenty five below.  And I decided that I am a winter embracing Viking and needn't wait for spring to get the dog I've always wanted.  Then I convinced Jared that a puppy would make a great Christmas present for "our children," fell in love with a photo on the animal shelter website, adopted a black lab hound mix whom we've named Josephine, or Jo for short, took five wriggling children to buy a leash and food and toys, and sang Daniel to sleep with the following ditty, "Jo, Jo, Jo is a dog, and Daniel is her boy."

In other words, today I tricked my husband, made a fifteen to twenty year commitment, got in over my head, and made the dreams of five children and their mama come true.

Happy Birthday!

I turned thirty-four on Sunday.  I woke to breakfast in bed.  Mary is only twelve, but she makes the creamiest scrambled eggs.  I lingered over them before I plunged into my day.  Then there were songs, and chocolate, and special gifts, and hugs, and phone calls, and laughter, and prayers of gratitude "for Mama's thirty-four years on the planet," and cake with sprinkles, and pistachio ice cream, and a long hot bath.  It was a wonderful day.

I only thought about aging twice.  Once when Beth let me know that I'm so old that she can't imagine ever being my age, and once when the ladies at church told me that I'm much too young to understand menopause.  I suppose I'm a grown up, but am I young one or an old one?

As always, Raffi knows just what to say.

Confessing

Sometimes, I sing to my children. 
Sometimes, I call them goofy names. 
Sometimes, I do both at the same time.

Confessing

Sometimes when my children are in need of comforting, in amongst the, "Poor sweetie little pumpkin,"s and the "Shall I sing a song,"s, there's a secret, silent, "Dang it! How long is this going to take!"

Without the Bow and Arrow

This was fun.  Plus the hero is a hard-working young girl.  Who loves her sister.  And thinks critically about ethics.  And politics.  And illusion.  I may be raising people like this.

Big Cats and Cold Feet in the Moonlight

Last night, for Family Home Evening, we donned our winter coats and jumped on the trampoline.  My children taught me how to butt slam.  We lay back and looked at the moon.  And the stars.  Our feet grew cold.  We were ready to wind down when someone suggested some Animal Fighting.  I'd never heard of Animal Fighting.  It's a game Mary invented when she was six--six years ago.  For the next twenty minutes, I sat beside Jared on the edge of the tramp and watched in amazement.  Those children became panthers (or maybe tigers).  I could almost see muscles rippling under black fur as they leapt at one another growling.  Hannah snuggled next to me and in occasional comments, explained the game.

"They need to bite each other on the neck to get a point."

"Right now, they're playing for three points."

"Oh!  Jonah's not supposed to do that.  Standing up is against the rules."

"They don't actually bite, they just do this (her mouth opens wide in a snarl and she creates a something between a hiss and a growl).  That counts."

"Jonah has a really good leap.  Beth's is silly (she says this giggling), she looks like a frog, but she does go higher."

Mary gets two points on Jonah quickly.  Her legs are longer, which in this game is a huge advantage.  She offers to "make things interesting" by giving him two free points, "So, the next point wins."  He gets her and she shakes his hand and congratulates him before moving on to Beth.  Their match lasts longer, maybe because they keep pausing for Daniel.  He wants to be part of things and Mary lets him pounce on her with his extended claws and cute little growl.  Each time, he returns to my lap crowing jubilantly, "I did it!  I did it!  Your turn, Mama?"

Sitting there in my moonlit backyard, surrounded by the laughter of independent, interesting people, I felt deep happiness.  They had welcomed me into their rich, secret world and it was beautiful.

Seven People Have a Lot to Say in the Woods

Hersey Lake has some beautiful trails.  We know because last week our family walked them...for three hours.  It was epic.  Frankly, Jared is the "everyone get your shoes we're going for a walk," parent.  I'm more "thank you for taking the kids I'd love a nap."  Now I know just how much I've been missing.  Everything smelled so good.  And the leaves were crunchy.  And there were birds, and squirrels, and tall, straight trees.  And we talked.

Confessing

Even though I've been a parent for twelve years next week, I still can't seem to remember to check for clean faces, hands, socks, and shoes until we're in the van, on the way to church.

An Impression Is Made

I remember this time when life was heavy.  We'd been married for four years and we lived in a tiny apartment with our two-year-old and newborn.  Jared was in flight school and I was barely coping.  This one afternoon, we were quarreling about somesmallsomethingorother, when my high school boyfriend called.  He said he wanted to catch up.  We chatted.  I mentioned our two little girls, our stint teaching English in Taiwan, my husband and his Commercial Pilot's License, and then he said, "That sounds wonderful!" 

Ten years later, I still think of that comment and wonder how often the outsides of things match the insides of them.

Multitasking

Today we learned about perseverance.  There may have been a few temper tantrums involved (one of them may have almost been mine).  There were certainly fine motor skills, and recognising patterns, and self-acceptance, and trying hard things, and apologies, and math, and laughter, and generosity, and second chances, and goofy jokes involved.  And the whole time, my children thought we were making beautiful paper bracelets (and one sweet pink crown).



*This post is part of a series.  I've set aside one afternoon  (or morning) a week to do fun activities with my children.  In an effort to work out why it both draws and repels me, I choose these activities from Pinterest.  This one comes from here, and I've pinned it here.*

Hannah and the Paradigm Shift(s)

On Sunday, I held Hannah's hand on the walk home from church.  As we (she) skipped along, I asked her playfully, "Hannah, how much do I love you?"

"A lot," she chirped.

"And what do I think of you," was my follow up.

"I'm cute and adorable."

Gulp.  Head whip.  Full stop.  Maybe calling her a cutie-little-fluff-ball has not been my best parenting move.  In my defense, she is cute and adorable...and so much more.

"You're right about that!  What else do I think?"

Shoulder shrug.

"Do I think you're smart?"

Smile.

"And strong?"

Giggle.

"And fun?"

"Yeah!"

"And funny?"

"Yup!"

"And brave?"

She paused before lisping, "But, I'm shy."

"It's okay to be shy.  Most people are shy sometimes.  You can be shy and brave at the same time."

Head nod.

"So what do I think of you?"

"I'm strong. And I really am strong.  I can lift stuff."

"That's a good point.  What else do I think?"

"I'm fun and funny."

"And?"

"I'm brave."

"And?"

"I farted."

Morning, Noon, and Night

This morning, I woke late.  The house was already in motion.  As I came downstairs, I saw little five-year-old Hannah sitting on a low stool holding Daniel on her lap and talking to him quietly about the day ahead , a calm centre.

As Jared and I were doing odds and ends around the house this afternoon, Jonah often found us to tell us about hatching fish.  He was given a package of eggs over the summer and he's been so excited.  Finally, he popped in to say, "I have something for you.  It's a triops."  He held out a little paper fish he'd drawn for us as a gift.

It was already evening when I turned to Mary, "If you hustle, you could do your math right now."  She responded quickly, "Good idea!"  Soon, Daniel was ready for sleep.  As I carried him upstairs, we heard voices from my room.  When Daniel saw Mary and Beth in my bed, he cheered.  They greeted him happily as he climbed under the covers with them.  Mary put her arm around him and continued her assignment, his curly head on her shoulder.

One Story Told Twice

I just can't seem to get going this morning.  The children are watching cartoons and still haven't had breakfast.  I was a little sharp with my husband and I'm putting off my workout by blogging.  Plus I failed to run (or even load) the dishwasher last night.  It's always an off day when the kitchen's a mess.  I just felt so free the other night on that bike.  It had been almost ten years.  Cycling through our town, I didn't think once about stretch marks, or the extra forty or fifty pounds I could afford to lose, or all the things I should be doing instead.  Why can't I be like that all time?

My kids look forward to mornings like this when they can watch a few cartoons and get their own corn flakes...in plastic containers.  Family Home Evening was such fun last night that none of us thought about the dishwasher.  It only took me a minute or two, this morning, to get it going, plus vacuum the upstairs hall.  And now I'm blogging while my husband rubs my shoulders.  I'm on fire!  Maybe I'll ride my bike to get groceries later.  Cycling, the other night in the moonlight, I kept thinking about my brain.  Brains are amazing!  They store so much information (how to ride a bike) for so long (almost ten years) and they're always there, right below the surface (skull).

Another Saturday Post Not About Books

I thought I would write about my summer reading today.  Instead, I planned a car rally (also known as a wild high speed scavenger hunt race around town in cars).  Our ward (also known as a congregation) has had one each year for awhile and I have planned the last two (also known as last year's and tonight's).  Car rallies have a zany energy.  There's a hum as people start to arrive, and then a quiet listening to instruction, and then a mad dash for the cars, and then silence, and then excitement and rush as people come running in with ice cream toppings and puzzles and photographs and stories. 

"I did a handstand on home plate!"

"Do we get extra points for finding two red shoes?"

"We had to kick some kids off the teeter totter!"

"I still have sand in my socks."

"I made sure they had their feet off the ground."

My vacation was a bit like that--all booting it across town, seven of us in a minivan, and sunrise solitary swimming the misty lake, and jumping in the waves with my crew, and barefoot walking the beach while they slept.

My life is like that too--breaking up raucous quarrels, and silent snuggles and laughing hard at armpit noises (my husband's), and blogging in a sleeping house.

Inventory

I spent a good chunk of today sorting and organising.  Going through the clutter, I found a lot of trash--mismatched knitting needles, broken rubber bands, scraps--and one or two treasures.  Digging in one bag, I came up with a little packet of paper all folded up.  It was something I'd written more than ten years ago, the first chapter of a novel.  I remember writing it when Mary was a tiny baby.  Looking back, I can see that I was unsettled.  I was twenty-one.  About two years in, marriage still felt new.  I had just finished my degree.  And suddenly, I was someone's mama.  There was a lot of adjusting.  Everything was unfamiliar.  I was unsure.  Reading today, what I wrote then, I felt impressed by the bravery of my effort.  In a bewildering season, it took a lot of courage to believe in my ability, or perhaps my right, to put together ten (clumsy) pages.  It could be time for chapter two.

Balanced

On Monday, we had our Family Home Evening in the bush.  We carried empty yogurt containers and bug spray and tromped into the woods in search of blueberries.  It was beautiful.  I slowly filled my pail and watched the six fascinating people around me, "Look what I found," "Where are the raspberries," "How many do you have," "I spilled mine...again," "Here, you can have some of these."  I felt so full.  As time wore on, it seemed like a lot of walking for Daniel's small legs, but any time we offered cue, which is his easy, dear way of saying carry you, he refused.  He happily wandered among his favourite people.  He didn't want to miss a thing.  I understood that completely.

The next morning, I woke up early to a quiet house.  Everybody was still sleeping when I started the pancakes, honey and whole wheat and blueberries.  I savoured the silence and the taste of honey on my tongue, as I licked the spoon.  Still they slept.  So I started a yoga practice, there in my pajamas in an empty living room.  I breathed deeply and marvelled at my own strength, happy to feel my legs, and arms and lungs.  As I finished up, I thought to myself "Solitude is good too."

Confessing

Last week, I made an apple crisp.  Maybe you know that apple crisp is better with ice cream.  Off I went to the grocery store--fruit, vegetables, eggs, milk, ice cream.  Two litres is usually enough but when ice cream is on sale, ten is better.  That evening, I felt like a superhero letting my children have a little bit from each bucket.  The Cookie Dough ice cream must not have complemented the Smartie ice cream in the way he expected, because after a few bites, Jonah piped up, "This tastes like chicken and barf."  Of course, we laughed...hard...before I reminded everyone that talking about gross things at the table isn't okay.  My reminder didn't register.  I know because a few minutes later, I was chatting in the driveway with my Relief Society President who was dropping something off, when one of my children yelled, "Where's Beth?" Hannah's helpful reply could be heard through the open windows, "She's in the bathroom digesting chicken and barf." 

What do you mean?  I didn't hear anything.  Could it have been the neighbours?

Roughing It (With Shampoo and Chocolate)

Our church has a Young Women Camp for girls from age twelvish to eighteenish.  Growing up, I loved it.  It was loaded emotionally.  I mean there were (huge) quarrels.  But there was also flag raising, and tuck shop, and campfire songs, and generally goofiness, and swimming in Lake Mush-a-mush, and bonding.

This is Mary's first year attending.  It starts tomorrow.  We rushed around, today, getting all the things she'll need (treats and toiletries).  I hope camp is a special memory for her.  I'm going too, as a leader for the third year girls.  Which means that I'll be able to look out for her, but from a non-smothering-Mama-what-Mama distance.  She's a little too grown up to want her mother with her all the time.  It's funny how perspective changes.  For your fifth and sixth years of camp, you're considered a junior leader.  I remember being a junior leader and feeling so old and thinking that the little first years were so cute.  Now I see junior leaders and think they're so young and I wouldn't call any of the campers cute.  They deserve words with more dignity.  Try smart, bright, zany, strong, mischievous, wonderful.

If I get a chance, I'll write.  I don't know whether there'll be good cell phone coverage at camp.  Some other things I don't know are how to be a Young Women Camp leader, how to get to the campsite, how I went from being that little sixteen-year-old junior leader to married in three short years.

Confessing

Yesterday, Hannah turned to me and said, "Mama, you look kind of fat-ish.  You know, like you're going to have a baby soon."

I turned to her and said, "Wow!  Aren't bodies fun!"  But I thought, "Dang!"