Same Mistake TWICE

In church every Sunday, Ellie routinely reads the Sacrament Meeting program to see the listings of the upcoming birthdays for the week. With Drew and Joshua's birthdays recently being listed, Ellie has been anxiously awaiting seeing her name in print.

The anticipation this week has been ongoing; "This Sunday my name will be on  'the paper' and they will sing to me in Primary." Ellie has excitedly repeated many, many times.

Well we'll make this story really, really short.
Remember this???
Well it happened again.

Except this time it happened to an almost-seven-year-old girl who has been waiting for weeks for this single event.

I don't know who was trying harder to suppress the tears from falling; me or her.
She was crushed, and I was sad for her, in a way only a mother understands.

And I know, I know, what some of you are thinking!
"What's the big deal?"
Well I'll tell you it is a big deal.  Especially to someone who's birthday is only five days away and who has been counting down the days for close to 364 days.

A birthday is a birthday and if you're going to mention some, you better make sure you mention them all.  It was just the wrong person to have missed.  Skip mine if you have to, but not Ellie's... that's all I'm sayin'.

Happy Birthday Week Ellie!!

Somebodys or Nobodys?

Recently in a phone conversation with somebody I said, "I'm kind of a nobody."  Now, before I start getting messages about all sorts of self-esteem problems; it was in the context of not having any connections for a particular event.

It's funny though, it really got me thinking about somebodys and nobodys.

Recently I saw this pedigree:

Can you believe it?  Look at this guy's posterity!!!
Look at some of those names!  My first assumption was it couldn't be true, but it was hanging in the Washington DC LDS temple visitor's center, so I'm sure it is fairly reliable and somewhat accurate information.

Perhaps my children will go on to have posterity which includes prophets, presidents and prime ministers.   That's still unknown, but what I do know is they come from some pretty decent stock.  Between Mike's parents and my parents and each of their parents, there's a whole lot of different blood we've got in us.  Without giving any credit or insult or naming of names--I will say we've got quite a variety.  We've got some culture, we've got some redneck.  Some brains, some air-heads.  We come from some cowboys, we come from some pearl and fur wear-ers.  We come from assertiveness, we come from passiveness.  We come from some that were funny, some that were ornery.  You get the idea--we come from a little of everything...

This:

(Mike's paternal grandparents, Helen and Spencer--1940)

And that:

(My paternal grandparents, Kenneth & Violet-mid 1940's)

Some of this:

(Mike's parents, Laurie and Steve, 1970)

And a little of that:

(My parents, Peter and Chris, 1972)

And that is who we are.  Just kind of your regular ole nobodys.  And for the most part it's all good.  I don't have too many issues with our lot in life as nobodys, but I do have this one:  I can't for the life of me figure out how some people pass along the potential for fabulous and famous people in their posterity, and my dad hasn't even managed to pass along that curly hair to any of his posterity as of yet.  So, not only are we nobodys, we're nobodys with straight hair!

(Philo T. Farnsworth statue at the US Capitol)

Although--we supposedly have Philo T. Farnsworth (the inventor of television) in our line of ancestors on my side.  I say supposedly, because for years and years we were related to Butch Cassidy too...  Until my brother, Casey did a report on Butch in 6th grade and with just a little bit of geneology research, dispelled the decades old family legend!

Oh well! Such is life.
Straight hair and no Butch Cassidy.  I'm sure it could be worse!
 

Other Days

My mother-in-law sent me a nice card for Mother's Day that I received today in the mail.  She wrote several nice little things in the card, but these sentiments are what have been going through my mind all day, "May you have many happy moments to blog about."

'Happy moments to blog about'?
Not today.

This morning, I stood by the side of the road near the elementary school in my pajamas and slippers (with no bra on I might add), forcing a child to stand on the sidewalk so I can drive off without them chasing after the car, and then hoping they will turn around and walk into the school. (The first two attempts at this getaway were not successful!!!)  Never mind we were 25 minutes into this episode, never mind the bus had long since left our cul-de-sac, and never mind the said child was continuing to scream and cry hysterically, (the wails were now ironically saying, "My throat hurts. I have to go home.")  We won't even consider the 4,397 cars with gawking drivers that drove by us as they exited the busy school parking lot.

I'll do my best to forget today's nice gesture when I gave some left-over soda (courtesy of Nana and Grandpa) to my two boys to drink with their lunch. One dumped the full cup upside down and then thought it hilarious to play in it and splash all over the other.

We won't mention the decibels my voice reached this morning when I couldn't open a closet door because of the piles of clothes stored behind it.  I swear the closet floor is housing every outfit worn by certain child since the day we moved into the house six years ago!

We'll totally overlook the charged power wheels battery that for about six weeks I've been promising to "charge it tomorrow" is finally charged and ready to go.  But, the rain didn't let up ALL DAY.  Imagine the whining and tantrums I put up with as a result of that!

There was no magic at all when Megan was attempting to give her Family Home Evening lesson and activity amidst a crying sibling, a hyper sibling, a naughty toddler and a very cranky mother.

I didn't laugh with the rest of the family when the made to perfection Rice Krispie treats were placed on paper napkins to serve.  I LOVE Rice Krispie treats. I do not however love Rice Krispie treats with paper napkins stuck to the bottom of them.

I'm not going to wrap up this entry with some little tender family interaction today that made it all worth it, or write about some little slobbery kiss that made me forget all the troubles.  I'm not going to tell you I tucked my kids into bed and thought they all looked angelic and innocent as they lay there sleeping.

Because the truth is, I just closed the boys door with a little extra strength than necessary after telling them in a not so nice tone to "Lay down, shut your mouths and go to sleep."

And now as I sit here typing, my husband is listening to some 80's music infomercial on the television.  In a sudden burst of cheerfulness, I couldn't help but sing along to Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton's 'Islands in the Stream' duet.  Only to be told, "Stop, don't ruin it."  He was smiling. I was not.

'Happy moments to blog about'?
Not today.

The Magic of Motherhood

Even though I am periodically known to 'magic things' for my children, I really think it is my children that have some type of magical abilities.  There's a myriad of things that I never thought I'd do, or things I say that I never thought I'd say, or places I end up going I never wanted to go.  All because of my children!  Please note, I'm not referring to an entitled attitude of a child, that's completely different.  I'm referring to some kind of natural ability our children have to work a wonder and magic over their parents.  And before we know it, we're filled to the brim with love and pride of our little ones, that somehow almost completely cancels out the filled to the brim feelings of frustration and exhaustion.

It's funny what motherhood does to us.

It's a little like yesterday...

I was exhausted from hours spent with the school carnival the day before.  I was exhausted from waking up at 4:30am to work my temple shift.  AND, the Saturday box on my calendar had absolutely no white space left on it.  But...  I sat at a dinner as an uninvited guest while Megan played background music on the harp.  I could have left, I could have sat out in the hall with my laptop and gotten some much needed computer work done.  I could have even come home and gone back to pick her up when she was finished.  Instead, I answered the plea, "If you don't do any thumbs up or wink at me, or dumb smiles, I'd like you to stay in and listen to me."

See again what I mean?  My feelings of exhaustion were completely overridden with a desire to support my child.  As insignificant as the whole event was to us, there was nowhere I'd rather have been.  (The food and company ended up being well worth it too!)

I think of Saturday night...
It had been a lllooonnnggg day.  I was so ready for bed a good nights sleep!  My slumber was interrupted in the middle of the night by a child crying.  Wanting to cry myself, I dragged my weary body to the crying child who didn't immediately settle.  Climbing into the bed with them, I held them as they went back to sleep.  The magic yet again replaced one feeling with another.

Disclaimer: Before anyone wonders why Mike didn't get up--he is a much deeper sleeper, and by the time it would take me to wake him up to go help the child, I would be wide awake and I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anyways, so I may as well have just gone myself!  Besides, very rarely do our children wake up, so it is usually a non-issue.

Just the other day, I was in a store admiring some beautiful necklaces, rings and bracelets.  There was nothing in the display that was super expensive, or of any worth, it was just some reasonably priced, stylish, costume jewelry.  I loved lots of the pieces, and even with the anticipation of Mother's Day just around the corner, prudence reigned, and I left empty handed.  And here comes that magical power of our children...  Bursting with love and pride, I wore to church today a beaded necklace made from fishing line with the clasps rigged from fishing lures that I received this morning for Mother's Day.  The bracelet I wore?  A plastic beaded one (with two cat beads even!) gifted to me by the same child, for Mother's Day four years ago.  

You see what I mean?  Whatever feelings of frustration I may have had the other day, about limited finances that prevented me from purchasing a new bracelet or necklace were completely canceled out and forgotten with the pride and love I felt wearing a silly little homespun fishing line with a handful of beads clasped together with fishing lure clasps!

And therein lies the magic; the good and the bad all muddled together into one magical thing called:
Motherhood.

Mother's Day 2011


PS-You may notice the different outfits in the different pictures.  We attempted three different 'photo shoots' at three different times to get a decent picture.  None yielded entirely desirable results.  I'm still looking for the 'magical' component of that whole episode to kick in...

Never Say Never

(No, sorry Megan, this is not a post about Justin Bieber or his popular song.)

It is instead, a post about eating my words.

I don't like animals.
Even as a kid when we had a pet dog, I rarely petted her.  I'm not an animal person. I poke fun at animal news stories. I laugh at people who treat animals like family members. I dislike yappy small dogs. I dislike big scary dogs.  I don't like animals kept in houses.  I don't like animals outside of houses.  I dislike rodents.  I hate reptiles.  I can't stand cats.  I don't pet horses. I don't 'ooh' and aah or 'Oh look how cute?' over anything alive that isn't a human being. I don't allow pet goldfish to live in a bowl on our counter for more than a couple of weeks.  I let Luke talk for hours about horses, I even go into the horse stalls most weeks at the end of his horse lessons, but I try to discretely plug my nose and avoid any physical (including eye) contact with anything with more than two legs. When Luke's eyes light up at the sight of an animal, I've learned to let go of the guilt as I say to him, "One day, when you have your own home."

Get my point?
I tolerate animals at a zoo. That's about it.

For a couple of years, I have had "Find a 4-H Club for Luke" on my to-do list.
(Do you know how hard they are to find?)

To make a long story short, Luke joined a little 4-H group that raises goats to sell at the County Fair at the end of the summer. They sell them for the meat. (Who knew there is a fairly decent market in Utah for goat meat?!?)

To make a long story even shorter,
1. Luke has been saving for months now to buy a horse saddle.
2. The Goat Teacher told Luke (and Mike) the price of the goat, feed, etc.
3. Mike, if you remember here, has an economics degree.
4. Mike knew he could teach Luke a good lesson in investing.
5. Mike helped Luke understand that if he were to spend some money now and combine it with some hard work and time, he could quite possibly have enough money for a saddle by the end of the summer.
6. Luke was on board immediately.  The opportunity to 'raise' a goat!  Entering something at the county fair! Getting a saddle even sooner!
7. Fortunately, Luke's dear friend Paul, was on board too.  Paul, who just happens to have an empty goat pen from the deceased goat of yesteryear was more than happy to 'rent' it to Luke.  (The 'rent'?  'Work' that Luke has done for six years and still does for Paul 'for fun'.  (Shoveling horse poop, moving hay, driving the four-wheeler to haul weeds, etc.)

The other night, the much anticipated night had arrived.  The goat was ready to leave it's family and begin it's 'raising.'

The journey from the back of our suburban to Paul's goat pen:

The release:

The immediate attempt at bonding:

The immediate bonding attempt that didn't go so well:

The pride:

That which had me standing in front of it today with my knees bent, lips puckered and a voice making some kind of clucking sound interspersed with a high pitch voice:

meet HANK the goat

Mike and I have had all kinds of goat discussions about the wonderful lessons all muddled together for our young son to learn.  Hard work, saving money, making money, having a goal in mind (saddle), responsibility, ownership, and the hardest lesson we may (all) have to learn?  Love, attachment and letting go.

Who knows if the goat really will meet it's fate at the county fair?
Only time will tell.

But judging from the first 48 hours?
Heaven help us all.
Luke (and his mother) have fallen in love with...

A GOAT!!!!!!!!!

A Whole Half

So to add a little spice to this half birthday remembrance, I planned on listing some of the reasons, I 'half' love Luke. You know some of those little idiosyncrasies he has, that we all have.  But then I realized that is what makes us, US.  No matter how undesirable some of Luke's traits, quirks or behaviors may be, they make Luke, Luke.  I wouldn't have him any other way.

So that was my first and last attempt to think about half loving someone.  Half loving someone is much like digging half a hole, or finding half a puddle--they don't exist.  A hole is a hole.  A puddle is a puddle.  Love is love.

Luke is 9 and a HALF!
Happy Half Birthday.


PS-This time around, I delivered the 'other half' of the cake to my friend Lori, who in the last half birthday post asked 'What do you do with the other half of the cake?'  Just sayin' it was worth the askin'...

Publish Post

A Little Late

When Mike's mom called him back in January and asked if Megan, Luke and I could come visit them in DC, she gave him the dates for us to be there.  One of Mike's first responses was, "It's Easter, Tiffany probably won't go for it."  After, when Mike called me telling me about the offer to visit DC he timidly gave me the dates, "Nope, won't do it!"  was my immediate response.

Of course, that is all old news now.  I was away from home for my very favorite holiday of the year.  I stressed more than anyone needs to know, and shed plenty of tears.  But, it all ended up just fine...

My husband who typically leaves most traditions to me, made sure the little kids did our daily 'Week before Easter' pictures and scriptures and my dear husband who usually blissfully sleeps every holiday eve away, did a perfect job of making sure Easter baskets were set out and everything just right for the Easter Bunny to make his traditional visit.

Mike appeased my incessant reminders and requests with photos, text messages and phone calls of the morning.  He even arranged for Ellie to have her hair done by our dear neighbor Kari before church, so Ellie didn't have orphan hair contrasting with her beautiful new Easter dress.

I missed our traditional Easter meal, I missed seeing the Snickers trail from the stairs to the baskets, I missed watching our ward choir perform, I missed dyeing eggs.  I missed. I missed. I missed.

(From the looks of it, I'm glad I missed the photo shoot...)

On Easter Sunday, my kids and I joined with Laurie, Steve, Kristin and Emily to do a musical number in Laurie and Steve's ward there.  As all seven of us sang the chorus to the song, the words, "I know He lives..." touched my heart and I knew that really, that is what matters most about Easter Sunday.  Whether or not my little family was together, we know He lives.
And that is Easter.