Here and There

While I was here, at a Power of Moms retreat at the Red Mountain Spa in St. George.

Mike, Megan and Luke camped, target practiced, fished...

and relaxed at Kolob Resevoir.

And my BFF, Melanie watched Drew, Joshua and Ellie.

The Little Things

The other morning, I drove in the car by MYSELF for 45 minutes. It really was quite glorious. No one asked me to turn on their music, no one told me someone was poking them, no one asked when we would be there, no one even spoke to me. I very much enjoyed my solitary drive. It gave me time to think, to reflect and to ponder. Considering where I was driving to, this was very valuable alone time.

I was driving to the funeral of a nine year old girl. My thoughts particularly reflected on what touched me the previous night at the little girl’s viewing. While we waited in line to greet the family for over an hour, we had the opportunity to watch different videos/photos of this little girl’s short life. What touched me the most were the home videos and the photos that were just ‘everyday’ events. It wasn’t the formal photo family sittings, it wasn’t videos of birthdays and holidays that made up the majority. It was photos and videos capturing day to day life, photos of funny pulled faces, silly spontaneous activities, impromptu family time, and all the little things that make up our days.

I have said it before, and the other day it was reiterated again, “Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.”

I think about all those photos and videos, our dear friends have taken for years, that are now priceless memories.  And even for those of us that are blessed to still have all of our children living with us, we never know what tomorrow may bring.  This week I am doing my best to pay attention to the 'not so obvious' moments of life.

Interview With A Three Year Old

What does Daddy do at work?
 "Work on the compooder"

What do you like to do with Mommy?
"Do holdies."

Why do you love Mommy?
"Coz you da best."

Why do you love Daddy?
"Coz he goes to work."

What do you like to do with Daddy?
"He jumps me up to do fwies"

What does Mommy do all day?
"Go upstairs and do the waundry."

How old is Mommy?
78

How old is Daddy?
45

What do you like to do with our family?
"Pway with toys when you get in the shower"

What are you going to be when you grow up?
"A missionary"
Where?
"On the highway. And then when I get big I'm gonna marry Mama at the temple, actually. At the church."

"Are we done now? 
I gonna go wope my horse."

(Don't you think this boy needs a real horse?)

A Memory For Monday (With An Old Man)

While in college, I worked part-time at a Medical Supply store.  I worked with some fabulous ladies much older than myself, but they treated me, a young, single, college-aged girl as one of their own.  I really grew to love and look up to those ladies.  It was one of my favorite jobs.

I primarily was responsible for the insurance billing, but occasionally if the store got crowded, was called upon to help customers.  We sold everything from support stockings to medical scrubs to colostomy bags to things I won't even mention here....  I could tell you story after story of my hours spent at that job, but out of respect for the privacy of strangers, (and because my daughter reads this...) I won't regale you here.

But, I do have this memory, that I must remember to tell my children about.  They'll enjoy it.

One summer day, we must have been short-handed at the Medical Mart, and I was called upon to make a delivery to a nearby nursing home.  And oh boy, did I have a story that had the ladies I worked with rolling with laughter when I returned...

As I was approaching the front doors of the nursing home, I noticed a nursing assistant helping an elderly man walk.  The elderly man's steps were slow and laborious and his strength quite weak as he relied heavily on the woman to his side.  After initially noticing them, I really paid  no more attention to them.  Until they were about ten-twelve feet from the front door, and I, a short distance behind them was suddenly being called by the nursing assistant.

I saw her pleas before I heard her pleas.

My face turned bright red.  (After all, remember, I was a young, single, college-aged girl.)
There in front of me was this poor, elderly gentleman frozen in place, with his trousers down around his ankles.  The 'slide down' of the dropping trousers had additionally pulled his loose underwear down slightly.

Oh dear.

The nursing assistant was holding the man steady.  The man was not steady enough for her to release her hold on him in order to pull up the completely fallen trousers and the slightly fallen underwear.

And it was now that I heard the plea,

"Could you please come pull up his pants?"

There was no mistaking who the nursing assistant was talking to.  There was no chance to hide. There was no chance to run.  It was just me.

Me, a slightly exposed elderly bum, some fully exposed underwear and a perplexed nursing assistant.

I set my delivery to the side. And with a red face, a stifled, nervous giggle and slightly shaking hands, proceeded to bend down, pull up the fallen trousers and secure them in place.  

(I'll admit, I didn't fix the underwear. I figured somebody else could sort that out later.)

I hurried and made the delivery and quickly returned to work.  And oh yes, did those ladies laugh.
And laugh.
And laugh.
By then I was laughing too.

And though I laughed at this experience then, and of course still laugh at this experience now,  I can't help but  think of the indignities of aging.  I hope that the dear gentleman, who I am sure has now passed away, is not offended by my laughter.
Because really, embarrassing moments happen to us all.
Young or old.

A Few Things

Just thought I should clarify/explain a few things.

1. The photo last week with me and Joshua's bare bum... Megan was messing around with the camera taking photos of me, I knew Joshua was standing close by, but I honestly had no idea he had no underwear on, until after the photo was taken and I looked at him and of course had to ask, "Where are your underwear?" His reply, "In the bathroom, I just pee-ed in them, I going to get some clean ones."

2. I was recently asked if I had lots of different cake pans to make all the different birthday cakes I have made. No, I pretty much use the same pan for every cake, but then I use a drawn template or free hand cutting it out of the pan. (I always freeze the cake before cutting...) So, no. I own no specially-shaped pans, just round, square and rectangle.

3.  And yes, I will definitely have to continue my story that I left hanging in my Memory for Monday with Mike...

4. For those of you that are familiar with Boy Scouts of America--specifically, Cub Scouts, what is the emphasis on 'Mother's pins?' Does a mother really need one, and really, DO MOTHER'S EVER WEAR THEM?!? I think they add clutter to a jewelry box and/or are a wasted expense. Where's a 'Father's pin' for the dad's efforts!!!???!!! I wore my pins to a family dinner the other night. I waited in anticipation for my BFF especially, to laugh and ask me about them. She didn't. For some strange reason, she thought I was suddenly strongly in favor of the BSA (I have VERY STRONG opinions about the BSA...) and chose not to ask  about me wearing them. Oh...and for some strange reason, I guess she also thought I was too ornery at the time to approach about 'a sensitive subject.' So really, with the exception of Luke saying, "What is that on your shirt?" my attempt to be funny really wasn't.

Please note the 'Bobcat' and 'Wolf' Mother Pins I am wearing:

5. Recently my mother bought me 'something.' I LOVE it. I was so EXCITED when I found that she had left the bag with 'it' inside in my kitchen one day. When I have worn it, this is a sampling of what I have heard,
Joshua said, "Tat is a pwetty dress."
Luke said, "What is that?"
Ellie said, "You are like a grandma."
Mike indifferently said, "My mom always wore those."

And Megan...Well, she made me PROMISE not to put a photo of myself wearing it on the blog...
And that is all I'll say about that, as dear friends and readers, I clearly didn't have your approval in the first place....

Gotta go. It's the last day of school today.
Happy Day!

Giving Up

I blame this all on a commitment a few weeks ago to allow more spontaneity in my mothering...

When we drove past a local park yesterday, Joshua as usual sighed, "I hope I can play at that park one day."  With a quick glance at the clock, I recalled my earlier spontaneity commitment and  I turned into the park.  I smiled as I could 'hear' shocked smiles and 'yeses' in the seats behind me. 

I sat in the car listening to Drew fight about being left in his car seat, and chatted on and off with Megan as she went back and forth from being young enough to play on a park toy to being too old to play on a park toy.

And in my defense before the real story begins.  I gave fair warning at ten minutes, five minutes and two minutes that play time was winding down...

Into the car returned Megan.  Followed by Luke.  Joshua straggled slowly behind.  And then came the first call, then the second, all the while Ellie went into her 'fifth amendment' mode.  (If you know Ellie, you can picture the scene well.) 

Ellie stood and stared, ignoring my kind pleas to get in the car.

(Wanting to capture stubborn moments more frequently on camera, to have frequent evidence to blame Mike for 'the gene' he passed down to Ellie, I got out my camera.)

My kind pleas, began to get an unkind tone to them:

My kind pleas, really weren't kind at all:

By now the four buckled up children were getting inpatient too.  I blame what happens next on another commitment I made a few weeks ago, that in addition to more spontaneity, I would try my hardest to say 'yes' more than 'no'. .

Luke, ever-thinking-outside-of-the-box-Luke, has a suggestion. And Luke, the always-prepared-cub-scout-Luke, announced as he gets out of the car,

 "I'll go rope her." 

And then the crying got louder, and the chasing proceeded.  Most non-stubborn people would simply walk to the car, right?  Well Ellie, bless her heart, does not fit in that category and so the chasing continued and alas, the rope throw successful. 

And then it was over.
It was a good thing we were the only ones at the park as the kind pleas were long forgotten as I walked towards my children, telling Luke to remove the rope and go buckle up and with an added touch to the bum, firmly told Ellie to GET!IN!THE!CAR!NOW!

And all that because I made a commitment to do and be better.

Guess I'll keep to my rigid schedules and say no...
Spontaneity and saying yes more, doesn't work so well for us.

I'm No Better Than You Are

Recently in a meeting, I happened to glance at the notes a lady in front of me was taking. Several of the notes she had written down were goals to be a better mother to her children. I suddenly became squirmish in my seat. It wasn’t the goals themselves that caused my discomfort, and it wasn’t even the fact that I was peeking into somebody’s private thoughts… 

My personal discomfort stemmed from my own weakness. You see, she is a mother that in the past I (ashamedly admit), have privately criticized her mothering .

For days after peeking at that mother’s paper I felt guilty, guilty for seeing her thoughts, and guilty for being so quick to frequently judge her. I forced myself to think of some of her mothering strengths. And guess what!? She has several. She even has some mothering strengths that I have yet to cultivate. Really, as a frequently sung religious song, says, “Who am I to judge another when I walk imperfectly?”

Too frequently, we as mothers compare ourselves to others and feel less than we are. We feel that we will never be as good as Martha down the street, or we will never master a particular quality that Sally over the road has perfectly mastered. But, do we not as mothers also do the opposite? Surely I am not the only mother that has compared myself to another mother and been quick to pat myself on the back for what I perceive to be better mothering practices.

She is trying. I am trying. You are trying. And maybe some days, your efforts and my efforts aren’t truly our best. But on those days, do we really need or want to judge or be judged? Ultimately, aren’t we as mothers much more similar than different?

As mothers, we are each other’s worst critics.

What a tragedy.

Let’s do better.

You can also read this here.