A Wonderful Day Indeed

If you don't know why I officially turned 38 years old the day before my birthday you can click HERE, otherwise, you can all rejoice in the fact that it is indeed,

the most wonderful day of the year.
my birthday.

What a fabulous day.

Happy Birthday TO ME!!

After Monday it will be back to business as usual. I have about 184 blog posts to get caught up with, 37 loads of laundry, 291 receipts to enter, 543 photos to sort through, 29 emails to reply to, and about 761 things on my calendar for the week. I'll enjoy Monday, my birthday, while I can.

Happy Birthday!

My Accomplished, Proficient and Skilled Children

(Please, please note the sarcasm of the title. Upon further reading it may make sense...)

Fairly early on in my parenting,  I received a free magnet with 101 ways to praise your children. It had all sorts of phrases on it, I suppose to add variety to the very quick and often over-used phrase, “good job.”

I threw it away last week. It sat on my fridge for YEARS, was never really good at actually holding a paper in place, and was not anything I referred to since probably 2001 when maybe I told Megan, “Her driveway chalk art looked sensational.”

For years now, I have felt that we as a society, specifically my generation, are over-praising and rewarding our children. Although I am a huge fan of making sure our children feel successful, accomplished, and have self-confidence and self-esteem, sometimes I think too many parents are rolling out the red carpet (so to speak) for anything from a single goal during a soccer game to a 100% score on a homework assignment.

Now, I’m not talking about situations where a lot of effort was put into it or a goal was set and reached. For example…

One of my children is a fabulous speller. The spelling words brought home on Monday are rarely looked at, and the child has yet to get below 100% on a spelling test. I have another child, who is not a great speller. That child (as a motivator) is given the chance to earn money per correctly spelled words. There have been times this school year that one child’s score of 12/20 received more whooping and hollering in our house than the 100% score of another.  

Lest you become concerned about the (100%) child not receiving a lot of praise, we choose to focus their praise on the areas of their life that they succeed after putting extra time, effort, and energy into something.

See what I mean? It shouldn't be about praising for the sake of praising. It is praising/rewarding when genuine effort is exerted or goals are set and achieved.

It’s probably no different than the fact we don’t shout any congratulatory phrases when the 14 year old “wakes up dry” in the morning, but we do when the 5 year old does. 

Mike and I were both raised in families where verbalization of praise and compliments were kept to the minimum. Early on in our marriage, we decided (among other things) we wanted to parent differently in that area. Although our intentions with our children are deliberate, probably somewhat due to our upbringing, we have equaled out to be fairly “average” when it comes to praising our children. We certainly have room to improve, and recently took on a new phrase shared by my friend "Raise the praise, reduce the criticize."

Perhaps some would argue that we’re way off base, but I am concerned that children seem to be rewarded and praised for everything these days.  I think more parents need to let their children “just be.”  

Currently, both Mike and I serve in the children’s organization in our church and are in the children’s meetings every Sunday. Before that though, we did not always attend every talk, prayer, or scripture recitation that our children gave. Although we clearly support our children, and have practiced numerous scriptures and talks in the week before, we have chosen not to be the parents in the back of the room giving a great big thumbs up, or recording with our cell-phones.  We make every effort to be sure our children know we support them, love them and encourage them, by telling them and showing them.

Perhaps I am alone in my thinking that praise can be overdone.  I get that everyone parents differently, I really do. I just can’t help but become concerned sometimes that a generation of children are becoming entitled, cocky and self-centered. And I think a large part of it comes from rewards and praise for every little action and effort.

I want my children to know that praise and rewards are given for good effort and hard work. Which perhaps explains why I don’t need a magnet suggesting 101 ways to respond to a cowboy and horse drawn on a piece of paper or every school-paper that flies out of my child’s backpack.

More children today need to understand that the very best praise or reward they can receive, is the personal satisfaction of a job well done or the confidence that their efforts really made a difference.  

For Posterity's Sake

Last month I met a young mother who had a photo of her mother on a bookshelf in her home. Her mother died when she was 6 years old. She admitted that she could remember very little about her mother, even though she thought certainly her similar aged daughter would remember her, should she die.

It was a fairly brief exchange, but the short conversation had a big impact on me. It also made me think about a journal entry I made in my journal when I was 13 years old, "I write in this for my children to read. Because I won't always remember."

Which is funny, because I haven't exactly turned over my journals to my children for their reading pleasure, and I'm not exactly sure I will. Except for the one I wrote in from age 4-13. The other volumes of journal can wait for a few years.

Anyway, teenage journal writing aside, that brief conversation with this young mother made me think about all the every-day things we do as mothers that one day our children (and even ourselves) may forget about us.

NOT that I'm planning on going anywhere soon, but because I have such strong feelings about personal journals and records, I decided to record things about now.

I love to play primary songs on the piano while my children get ready for school in the morning.

I absolutely love that Mike gets out of bed a good 1-2 hours before me each morning. As soon as he gets out, I roll into the middle of the bed and sprawl out across the mattress. I do believe my last hour of sleep is the most blissful.

Burping is allowed in our house. Enough said.

I don't like to eat food if I don't know who made it. (Example: church functions, anonymous gifts, etc.) I can't help but wonder if the person who "Boo-ed" us yesterday knows me well, as they were not homemade treats. Hooray! (I would have felt awful throwing a plate of homemade goodies away, but it would have had to be done.)

I have an awful tendency to laugh when I shouldn't. Like at the 5th grade maturation clinic, at a temple visitor's center when "Jesus" speaks in spanish, and when performing a musical number with people in college during a sacrament meeting.

My two small toes on each foot are triangles. (And we noticed for the first time last week that Luke's are too!)

I absolutely have to make my bed and open my blinds within the first hour or so of waking up. I require the same of my children. Except on Fridays. If the kids have made their beds all week they don't have to on Fridays. (Works out well for a "wash the bed sheet day" anyways.)

I squeeze the toothpaste from the top. It makes my husband crazy and every once in a while he wishes aloud that he didn't have to share a toothpaste tube with me.

I love to run up the stairs taking two at a time. I wonder frequently when I will get too old to do this.

I like to lay in bed at night and read or do a Sudoku puzzle, while I watch the evening news. Unless I miss the news right as it starts, then I don't bother with the rest.

I would rather eat chocolate chip cookie DOUGH than chocolate chip cookies. I can usually pass up cookies as dessert. Now brownies or Rice Krispie treats, is a whole 'nother issue.

I dislike making packed lunches. I'd make my children eat school lunches every day if I were a mean mother. Which I am a lot of times, but apparently not when it comes to school lunches.

I talk to myself. It irritates me when Mike or my children try to respond to me. I've even had people at the store think I am talking to them. I'm not. I'm talking to myself.

One day I will have a pair of shoes for every day of the year and one day I will attend an opera. They aren't related, but are two things I will do before I die. Perhaps I will relate them, when I go to the opera, I will wear a pair of new shoes.

I have never had a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, nor have I ever tasted Macaroni and Cheese. And don't try to get me to. I like enough unhealthy things, I don't need to incorporate anymore into my diet.

When I was a child, to fall asleep every night I daydreamed about being a mother and pushing a stroller down the street with a toddler walking close by. I pictured the same street, and the same stroller every time. Even now, as a mother of five, if I have trouble falling asleep, I always go back to this same scenario in my mind.

Perhaps no-one really cares if I have triangle toes or think burping should be socially accepted, but for today, I've done my little bit to preserve something for my posterity.

And now I must go fold my posterity's laundry. (Which incidentally, I LOVE to do.)

Happy Monday.

14 Years of Mothering

Fourteen years ago, Megan made me a mother. I feel like every birthday for her is a bit of a milestone for me too. She and I have been forging into new territory together now for 14 years.

I shan't make this into a anniversary about me being a mother, because it is her birthday after all. But I still can't help but feel a little sappy and even a little melancholy that while I blinked, Megan went from this...

(Megan's 1st Birthday-1999)

to this:

(Megan's 14th Birthday-2012)

I love watching the person Megan is becoming. Megan's soul is deep and it seems like she is still the same person she was when she was three, or five, or seven, just more refined and more polished. Although there are times I want to smack her upside the head, more often than not, I find myself thinking how blessed that she is my daughter and that forever and ever, my life and hers are entwined together. She's a pretty swell daughter to have had around for 14 years.

Even though she could totally have made herself a better cake than I could, she was kind and didn't say a word about my inept cake skills like she did on her 2nd birthday when she asked, "What is dat?". (It was a Barney cake.)

Which reminds me.
For Megan's 2nd birthday she received Barney Halloween on VHS. She watched it so much it broke. I myself was somewhat of a Barney fan too, and every fall we find ourselves still singing some of our favorite Barney songs from that VHS we haven't had for almost a decade.

I got awesome video captured this morning of the excitement on my 14 year old's face when she opened this present up this morning:

What a girl.
Happy Birthday Megan!

Gasping

Sometimes I can't help but gasp at my life. Sure I try to laugh about my life, and sometimes I cry. But there are other times, that instead of any laughter or tears, a giant gasp escapes my mouth.

Like the other day when I went outside to feed the chickens some scraps... I found myself endearingly and kindly talking to the chickens as they scampered on top of each other to get to the edge of the fence to see what I had for them. Not only was I telling the chickens to be nice to each other, I realized I was talking in a voice that up until that moment I have only ever used FOR HUMANS. 

Oh good heavens.

I think the chickens are disgusting. I refuse to eat any of the eggs they lay. I'm scared they'll peck my feet when I stand next to the coop, and I jump a mile (and let out a little scream) if one of them jumps up to try to reach what I have before it releases my hand.

But I love to go out and feed them everyday. I even spoke lovingly to the chicken laying an egg today, even though I inwardly swore I would never eat another egg for as long as I live. I also became mildly concerned, and let out a slight gasp this evening at dinner when after one bite of my chicken (from the store thank you), I pushed aside my plate.

One of my biggest gasps as of late, occurred this evening when I glanced out my kitchen window and saw Luke burying an elk head in my back yard.

Apparently, after it has been buried in the garden for 6 months, it will be reduced to pure bones, and the skull and horns will be ready to adorn his bedroom wall.

Whhaattt?? you say?

Yes.

I said the same thing.

Luke is thrilled that his dear friend Paul, saw fit to gift such a trophy to Luke. I am no animal lover (chickens aside), and I feel blindsided by this poor elk who met its fate on a mountainside three days ago and now gets MY garden as its final resting place?!

It doesn't quite make sense to me that my son Luke who always asks permission before he has a glass of milk, or asks me whether he should wear a sweatshirt or not to school, or wants my opinion on which chapter book he should read next, would not think to ask me whether an elk head CAN BE BURIED IN MY VEGETABLE GARDEN?!?!
Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I gasp.

I think the elk head has made me do all three.

A Book! A Book!

It seemed truly providential that my BFF Melanie happened to be at my house last Thursday morning when the UPS delivery man knocked on my door to deliver my box of....BOOKS!

It enabled me to have my own personal photographer while I couldn't help but smile as I cut open the box to see for the first time the published book that has an entire chapter, plus a few excerpts in other chapters written by Yours Truly. It has been a long time coming. I started writing that chapter almost 2 years ago. But when it is a book written entirely by mothers, it doesn't exactly get finished as quickly as everyone may have preferred. (It has something to do with all those children the authors are trying to mother simultaneously while writing, editing and publishing a book.)

Back to the fact I had my own personal photographer last Thursday morning. Melanie was kind enough to give all the right reactions to the excitement that I felt was bursting out of me.

It's nice to have a few fans.
Namely my personal photographer and my dear husband and five children.

My personal photographer put a picture of me on Facebook later that night holding the book with the comment, "I do races, she writes books. Congratulations to my bff on her published book."

Mike put flowers on the kitchen counter, the kitchen table and the bathroom counter, and my favorite chocolate bar under my pillow. When I thanked him not only for the flowers and chocolate but for the fact I know he had to make a special trip to a store. (They didn't come from Home Depot or any landscape supply store.) He detests stores and I was touched he made a special trip for nothing except flowers and chocolate. Turns out it was a HUGE act of love, because he just so happened to be hauling a trailer with a machine on it that evening and he had to park a fair distance away from the store to accommodate his load. I'm quite certain he's pretty much my #1 fan. (Especially because when I arrived home from somewhere Thursday evening, he was laying on the couch reading "the book.")

Although my children come in a close second for being big fans of me, for eagerly listening to me read some of my favorite parts of Chapter 10. Actually, I probably shouldn't include Joshua in that "top fans" category, because he asked more than once, "How much longer will you read for?" or made statements such as, "This is taking too long" and "Please stop reading."

Overall, it was a great day. It has been an exciting project to be a part of. There are some truly great gems found in that book, and I feel honored to have worked alongside some fabulous co-authors. It's been a long time coming, and despite having a couple of little regrets about the book (1. My title, 2. Drew is my only child not mentioned by name in the book), I can't quite describe the feeling holding that book in my hand last Thursday morning.

Although I loved the flowers around my house (I hadn't found the chocolate bar yet at this point), I thought we should do something to celebrate. We never take our children out for ice cream at Baskin-Robbins (although Mike and I go a fair amount ourselves), so it was quite the treat when the children found out we were going. As we piled into the car, I asked, "Why are we going to Baskin-Robbins?"

Sweet-minded Luke said, "Because our wonderful mother is a published author in a book."

Drew said, "Because I want ice cream."

For more information about the book, Deliberate Motherhood: 12 Key Powers of Peace, Purpose, Order & Joy, you can check it out HERE. Or you can purchase it HERE or HERE.

Laughable Politics

Although I clearly have plenty of opinions, (surprise!) I never choose to voice my political opinions or comments publicly. But I do have two things to say regarding the Presidential Debate between President Obama and Mitt Romney...

I'm not sure if it was the apple crumble and custard that I made, or the idea of a later than usual bedtime that enticed all my children to sit in my bedroom and watch it with me (and later Mike). Although I lost count how many times I had to say "shhh" or "be quiet" or "I'm trying to listen, close your mouth", I did hear some things during the debate that are worth remembering...

Backing up. A couple of days ago I heard Luke telling somebody in our family that President Obama smoked. I guess in class at school, the students were listing facts about the president, and this one came up.

Back to the debate. As Ellie and I sat on my bed playing a game of SkipBo, Ellie looked at me with a horrified look on her face and asked, "Isn't it illegal to smoke if you're the president?"

A few minutes later, Joshua glanced up to the television and saw President Obama on the screen. Excited to recognize a face, he stated, "There's Obama!" Then taking his voice down a notch and with his tone a little more serious, he asked, "Where's George Washington?"

And that is my political commentary following the presidential debate.

Completely unrelated, how did I not ever notice this photo before tonight?