Thanksgiving

Today I am most thankful for feeling Really Almost Completely Better after a month of waffling between Please Put Me Out of My Misery and Tolerable Enough to Live.

I look forward to not feeling constantly hungry and enjoying mashed potatoes and stuffing in the near future.

Blessed are....

...the mother-in-laws who extend their stay to nurse their sick daughter-in-laws back to health and well-being for they shall be exalted.

It's like riding a bike

My rolling-Playdoh-into-snakes skills are undiminished even after 20 years of neglect.

My rolling-Playdoh-into-poisonous-snakes skills have greatly improved.

Surprisingly, my rolling-Playdoh-into-balls skills need some brushing up on.

I should have been a sculptor.

Or is that sculptress?

Strong Muscles

A normal morning in our household:

6:00 am: silence.

6:15 am: the first chirp of the day

6:30 am: laughing and chatting leaking out of the children's room

6:45 am: The Dude exits the room to report that the Cita is ready to be rescued from her crib and fed her baba


This morning:

6:00 am: silence.

6:15 am: the first chirp of the day

6:30 am: laughing and chatting in the children's room - perhaps a bit more than normal

6:45 am: The Dude exits the room with the Cita in tow


Upon questioning, the Dude reveals that he helped the Cita escape from her crib. Upon further questioning, the Dude declares that he used "my strong muscles" to liberate her. The mama decides that she doesn't really want to know more about this and wisely focuses on being grateful that neither child is injured and they seem to be quite happy. Until the mama is two seconds late in getting the Cita her baba, that is.

Primary Program Drama

Our Primary Program included screams. Not on purpose. Not the screams of overtired Sunbeams that have been on their best behavior for too long. Not the screams of nursery children that were aggravated by the extra time in Sacrament Meeting. All screams were courtesy of The Dude.

Not that I blame him. If I had gotten my hand smooshed as the motorized podium lowered to accommodate my friend as he recited his line in the program, I think I would have screamed, too. If my mother kind of just hovered for a bit because she wasn't really sure how bad it was, how to abandon her class on the stand, and how to exit gracefully, I might have been upset, too. If my hand looked swollen and purple and alien (and I were nearly 4 years old), howling would definitely be in order.

But the worst part was avoided entirely. The true tragedy would have been if the Dude had not been able to give his little talk that he had worked on for the past couple weeks. After he had calmed down a bit, he declared his intentions of giving his talk. A sympathetic counselor inserted him as soon as he returned, and he clearly wowed everyone in the congregation with his resilience and vocabulary.

By the time we got home, the purple had faded to pink and was completely forgotten. That's more than can be said for his latest Primary mishap. He has a lovely bruise on his cheek from a run-in with a bench.

Raccoon Wars

They come in the middle of the night.

Outside your window they howl. They hiss. They fight.

Hissing, howling and fighting for an hour. Or more.

And then - silence.

Who won?

Who knows?

Who cares?

All the (New) Books I Read While Sick

the higher power of lucky by susan patron

yes. it uses the word scrotum on the first page. it's not graphic. it's not even understood by the character until the last page of the book! so get over it people! totally recommendable. sweet, quirky, and a happy ending! plus, the bonus of all that french thrown in. lovable characters, transparent plot.

water street by patricia reilly giff

historical young adult fiction! cool! i liked the Mallon family - a non-dysfunctional family! huzzah! also, i have a weakness for stories about irish immigrants. it is a mostly character-driven book - nothing much "happens" to the family, and although i liked the Mallon family, i didn't feel drawn into their lives as much as i wished.

Penny from Heaven by Jennifer L. Holm

Another Historical young adult fiction book - this time focusing on the prejudice against Italian immigrants trying to make it in America. The mystery surrounding Penny's father's death is what drives the book, and it is sad to hear about the way Italian-Americans were treated during World War II. I love her extended Italian family, and I love the contrast between the grandmothers. (Of course, the Italian one is a great cook!)

Give Me Liberty by L. M. Elliot

Set in Virginia just as the War for Independence is starting, Nathaniel is an indentured servant about to be sold into slavery when an old man rescues him. The old man happens to be a passionate patriot and loves to listen to Patrick Henry and teach his charge music, reading, and 'rithmetic. You get to bump into Thomas Jefferson and George Washington, too. A much more fun read than a history book, but still feels contrived (which the author's afterward cements).

Gossamer by Lois Lowry

Lowry excels at finding a haunting way of telling a seemingly simple story. Ever wondered why you have bad dreams - or good ones for that matter? This story will give you a new perspective. The storyweaving is great, and I only wish the story went on for a bit more. I guess that's part of the appeal - everything is not tied up prettily at the end, but it is not messy, either.

The Outcasts of 19 Schuyler Place by E. L. Konigsburg

Konigsburg still has it after almost 40 years! I love her stories of young people feeling empowered because they decide being different can be a good thing. Told with her wonderfully quirky style, you'll be singing "God Save the Queen" for a couple days after reading this. The eccentric uncles, although outrageous, are completely believable and Margaret is deliciously self-centered until she finds a greater purpose enter her life.

AND just so you know, I DID read grown-up books, too. One.

The Ladies Auxiliary by Tova Mirvis

A delightful glimpse into an Orthodox community that is put on its head by the coming of a recently converted young, Hippie-ish New Yorker widow. I enjoyed seeing the struggle between Tradition and Action because of Faith. Mostly a book about not judging others and seeing the mote in your own eye, I found a sub-theme to be that you can't expect your children to grow up embracing your faith unless you really live it, not just do the surface things. And even then (as we sadly see) not everything turns out perfectly. Definitely worth reading again.

I feel a Svithe coming on!

Being (very) sick this past week, I have had a lot more time to ponder things than I usually do. Mostly I've just been thinking "this hurts" or "this hurts ALOT," but I've also gotten to read and re-read a lot and I ran across one of the quotes that greatly affected how I think about life. I think I was 14-ish when it sank in for the first time.

Anne (Anne of Green Gables Anne in a later book, Anne of the Island) has a dying friend who is afraid of passing on because "it won't be what I'm used to!" Walking home from that visit, Anne reflects:

"When she came to the end of one life it must not be to face the next with the shrinking terror of something wholly different - something for which accustomed thought and ideal and aspiration had unfitted her. The little things of life, sweet and excellent in their place, must not be the things lived for; the highest must be sought and followed; the life of heaven must be begun here on earth."

The last phrase, "the life of heaven must be begun here on earth" resonated strongly with me because it made the whole "death is just a continuation of life" make more sense to me. Heaven had always been this outlandish glassy bright orb with trumpets galore and I wasn't sure if I'd really fit in there, but something clicked as I understood that I would feel comfortable there if it would be what I was most used to. And if I didn't feel like I belonged, I would probably be happier in Another Place.

Since I've been convinced that it's the place I want to be, I work on trying to fit in there.

Even when I'm sick.

A bit early, don'tcha think?

Today while reading about nudibrachs (sea slugs), the Dude misread the meaning as, "naked girls" instead of "naked gills."

Hmmm.

Wishful Thinking

When we were in the doctor's office (yes, again) yesterday, the Cita and the Dude were having a grand old time zooming around the room on the doctor's stool, climbing up on the examination table to kick their legs and hear that lovely rustling sound, and generally amusing themselves (the Cita only got to wash her hands once, though).

As soon as the doctor smilingly opened the door, the atmosphere changed from fun to terrifying. I think people in white coats are going to be on the Cita's blacklist for a while (well, if one of them made your mommy hold your hands down and another person to hold your head while they shined bright lights into your eyes or stuck many pricks into your leg, you might be wary, too).

Frantically waving her hands "goodbye, Goodbye, GOODBYE!" she scrambled into my lap and huddled there like a cold puppy. The doctor was a good sport and didn't take it personally. Rosita whimpered and struggled against getting her eyes ("goodbye!") and ears ("goodbye!")and throat ("GOODBYE!!!") checked. For some reason, she didn't mind getting her chest listened to or her tummy squished about. Maybe she thought the doctor was as interested in her bellybutton as SHE is.

Diagnosed as "nothing much to worry about," the Cita vigorously kept waving the doctor out the door, extremely satisfied that she had (eventually) succeeded in getting the nasty lady in the white coat to go AWAY.

Alien Spaceship Engine Causes Strange Effects Near Santa Cruz

Yes, I have finally visited the famous Mystery Spot.

Yes, a lot of the weirdness of the site is just tricks with perspective, but I can't explain a ball rolling DOWN a PERFECTLY level board.

Yes, I will be returning with my own level and compass and Extremely Skeptical Spozo.

Soon.

Thank you, Sister Beck!

Listening to General Conference today, Sister Beck made my day. Sometimes, especially living where I do, and even occasionally at church, I feel that being a full-time mother just isn't "enough." She just reminded me that what I am doing is what I am supposed to be doing. And I feel inspired to do a better job (especially that "house of order" bit) instead of feeling weighed down by more expectations. I look forward to reading and re-reading her talk in a month.

Also, thanks to Elder Dallin H. Oaks for the "good, better, best" - as it applies to using the internet (ahem!), and other ways of distracting ourselves from using our "free time" to the "best."

It's a little late.....

So it's been 10 years since I graduated from high school. In honor of this most momentous occasion, I publish for the first time ever a poem that one of my good friends wrote me as a going away to college present (she's now getting her PhD in Children's Literature - not surprising since she was writing stories then that were cousins to literature even then!) I ask her to forgive me for any typos that I make.

old blue pianos and unbrushed hair

just as expressive gestures
span oceans for a second, then
falter and die,
and laughter fills a belly with bread, then
becomes a stranger,

ancient keys and wild locks,
globes we palmed for a moment,
limp listlessly from us
full-grown and faded,
like all fleet things
we think we understand

and the significance of sometimes
hardens into a grayish golden hope that
rests within the instep
and hangs loosely from the joints that
persist in remembering it all

vividly.

Is anyone else excited

when they see the Family Resources catalog that accompanies the Ensign every October?

Being Neighborly

I always have grandiose plans of meeting all my neighbors shortly after moving in by bringing them a freshly-baked-something and this opening the doors to us being great neighbors. This of course, turns the neighborhood into a friendly community and we all get along splendidly and have block BBQs in the summer.

Well.

It's been 2 years.

This past week I introduced myself to the first neighbor that 1) does not share yardspace and a laundry room with me, and 2) does not go to church with me.

And in exchange for some freshly baked cookies, I got fresh figs off her tree! She's already learned my children's names by heart, invited us into her home, thinks it's great I'm a full-time mom, and smiles whenever we see her.

So the freshly-baked-something tack does seem to work. It helps that I have dang cute kids, too.

Enjoyment is a State of Mind

At a recent baby shower, I was invited to give "parenting advice" for the mother-to-be. I gave advice that was useful, but not very insightful. As the evening wore on, I wished I had said something entirely different because I felt that motherhood sounded more and more like an ominous burden.

So, my advice to all the mothers-to-be out there would be: Enjoy your kids! Yes, they're going to be screamy. Yes, they're going to be poopy and drooly and gooey in general. Yes, you're going to need a break every so often. But don't let getting away from your children be the highlight of your life - because then being with them becomes drudgery.

I think what is hardest about being a full-time mother is how many different tenses you have to live in at once. You have to be in the present to enjoy it fully because if you're always rushing here and there and needing to be on time and life is generally just filled with Things To Do, you often miss out on the tender, wonder-filled, charming moments that pop up most frequently when you're not "doing anything" but Being with your child.

You need to live a bit in the future to remind yourself that everything passes to keep perspective on the relative smallness of all the disasters happening daily (your shirt is peed/pooped/burped on for the 317th time in one day; your child decides that it's a good time to experiment with heights and decides to throw his cup, your plate, and himself off the table; your child is feigning deafness when you ask her to pick up the toy/book/blanket). But not too much in the future because if the things you planned on don't get done, frustration inevitably sets in.

It would be nice to always live in the present perfect tense and the future perfect tense, but those imperfect tenses are also necessary, useful, and yes: enjoyable.

First Primary Talk - check!

The Dude and I have been working on his Primary talk all week. After brainstorming and crafting his talk on service together (I asked him leading questions; he answered them in his own words), we selected visual aids. He helped me pick "pretty" pictures of Jesus, of people hugging, and also contributed some artwork:



(a very abstract picture of Jesus that I decided should remain unlabeled), and handwriting:



(He wrote it all himself, but decided to ask me for help in spelling "you" and "thank").

He's been increasingly excited about giving the talk all week. We practiced it a couple of times, and he woke up this morning ready to Go! We made it into Primary uneventfully - but during the scripture, the Dude bonked his head on the bench and proceeded to howl. He bleatingly made it back to where I was sitting and sobbed into my shoulder. Certain that he would be asked to give his talk any minute, I tried to calm him down because I did NOT want to end up giving his talk. Thankfully, they decided to insert all sorts of announcements right then, and he was raring to go again by the time they announced his talk.

As I knelt by him, I immediately regretted all the cautions I had given him about speaking too closely to the microphone because he spoke quietly and too far away from the microphone (it didn't help that his sister decided to raise her voice about then, too). After urging him to speak louder after every couple of sentences, by the end of the talk he was audible. He did a great job reading (even though I inserted one last-minute change on him), and was so sweet and earnest and eager that I almost started crying a couple times.

I think giving a talk in Primary was an important milestone I hadn't even realized was a milestone, but it made me very aware that my little boy is getting less little every day. When I take the time to really look at him - observe that his face is looking more boyish and less babyish, I am just overwhelmed with the thought that he is going to be gone before I even notice that he's grown up.

Right now, I think I'll just content myself to looking forward to the end of his current obsession with dying. I think the Big O will be grateful, too.

Sheared Son

The Dude desperately needed a haircut. But it is always so sad to say goodbye to my fluffy-headed darling and meet the growing man-child that appears after the haircut, so I put it off as long as possible. Interpreted: he starts screaming a lot because his hair keeps getting in his eyes.

So here he is:

Before




After



Yes, he is rubbing his eyes. It is because he's fake crying to avoid getting a picture taken, not a hair-related cause.

Carrots, Roasted

The Cita has always loved carrots.

She doesn't like them to be in little pieces, raw or cooked.

She just wants to gnaw them.

And suck ranch off of.

Mostly suck ranch off.

Tonight, she discovered the joy of roasted carrots. She's had them before, but her mama committed the cardinal sin of cutting them up. They were tossed to the floor with great vim (Joining the dregs of cheerios, half-chewed raisins, potatoes, chicken, and sprinklings of rice).

This time around, the Rosita got them whole (I figure it's easier clean up if nothing else). And she loved them. She ate at least 10 baby carrots (which for a one-year old is pretty impressive). At first, she just enjoyed being able to bite through a carrot on her own, but soon she spotted some excess dressing on my plate and demanded that I dip her carrot in it. Six carrots later, she took a break for a couple bites of brownie, but had to finish her meal with 2 more ranch dipped roasted carrots.

The moral of the story: There are better things than chocolate?

Happy First Anniversary!

A whole year of blogging under my belt. Wow.

Thanks to all of you that have stuck with me for all that time, and thanks to all you who have joined in since then (whomever you may be).

This hasn't turned into the blog I was expecting it to be, but I think I like it.

What?

An anniversary present for me?

Oh, no I couldn't.

Really.

Well, since you insist: for my anniversary present, I think I'd like you to tell me which post you like best.