Him and Me

I have loved only two children at home the last week.
After putting Drew down for his afternoon nap, I begin the bribing with Joshua to "watch shows in my room" which is code for 'take a nap.'  (fruit roll-ups, a sucker, or a thing of smarties and a timer on the television in my room work mini miracles at our house.)

I've loved the few days that I have had a couple of hours all to myself.  It is certainly something new around here and I love every second of it.

Even if Joshua's naps cause him to stay up a little later at night.... Mike is home by then....

But, sometimes the fruit roll-ups, suckers, smarties and television timer only work mini-miracles.  Which means, once the timer turns off, Joshua sneaks up to where I am and with a big grin on his face, and arms open wide, declares, "I waked up!"

And after a slight sigh that my personal time only lasted thirty minutes, I can't help but smile at his deception,  his squinted eyes and big smile, and I pull him into my arms.

And even though I still have bills to pay, or a PTA email to send, or a lesson to prepare, or a toilet to clean, or weeds to pull, or a phone call to return, or laundry to switch, or I simply want to read a book of my choosing, I don't.

And whether we are reading 'The Gingerbread Cowboy' for the 3,451st time that day, or Joshua is eating his 737th popsicle for the day, while I sit on a chair and watch, I am reminded of this:

"Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

Hang out the washing and butter the bread,

Sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I have grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew

And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

For children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

Ruth Hulbert Hamilton, 1958

A Memory For Monday (With a hammock)

Continued...
Early the next morning, before anyone else woke up, Mike and I took a drive through American Fork canyon.  Not much was resolved or said.  It wasn't that it was awkward, I think we just weren't fully aware yet that the stars were slowly aligning in our favor.

My 'I really like Chad' sentiment was very quickly forgotten by Mike, myself and even Chad.  (Call it what you want, but I didn't talk to Chad for almost six weeks later... But that is a whole 'nother story.)

A couple of days after the camping trip, the four of us, went to the Mount Timpangos temple open house.  Melanie had plans for strategically making sure Mike and I were alone, and she had big dreams that I would just plant a big ole' kiss on Mike's lips. (No, not while in the temple!)

It didn't happen.
I spent the next couple of days conflicted.  

Yet one thing was sure, my faith was strongly renewed.  I knew at this point, what I had told Mike three months previously was the right thing to do.  I am ashamed to admit, that it wasn't until after the camping trip that I fully understood the Lord was on my side!

At this point, I might add, this was the day before everyone had cell phones, and I was busy working two jobs, going to school and enjoying summer, and Mike was busy working (what's new?).  I think we played phone tag a fair amount, but didn't talk for a few days.

And then I bit the bullet and one evening, I drove down to American Fork.  I watched him water his big vegetable garden and then eat a Subway sandwich all the while him acting like our changing friendship was really nothing out of the ordinary.

We talked about us.  I wondered why Mike didn't attempt to kiss me again, but I am smart enough now to realize his male ego was on the line...
By the end of a conversation in a parking lot of the Utah State Developmental Center, I left irritated and frustrated.  (Mike has made huge strides in his communication skills since.)

I didn't see Mike for almost two weeks, until Brett  invited all of us to a BBQ at his house in Provo. 

(Brett, Melanie, Mike and Tiffany, August 1996)

And so it was there, in the front yard of an old charming house on 200 North in Provo, that Mike and I laid  on the hammock alone together, on a warm August night.  Without warning, Mike turned to me and asked, "Do you think you could like me for a really, really long time?"

And then, we kissed.

Two days later, I flew to England for a two weeks...
(And this was back when the US Postal service and a house phone were the main forms of communication...)

Hurry

School has been in session now for one week. We have had five days of getting back into the morning routine.  And for the most part, it has gone exceptionally well.
Except for one part.

On a slight side-note, the other night my husband was on the phone, (and sometimes I have things that I want him to say during particular phone calls),  so I kept whispering it to remind him to say it.
He hung up the phone and very politely in a voice, I'm not sure if he wanted me to hear or not, said,

"You're like a broken record."

For the record, I was not offended.  I was actually quite amused but we quickly moved onto other more worthy spousal conversations and it was given no further discussion.

So back to our morning routine...
I notice I am pretty much saying the same thing all morning long.
And it is driving me nuts.

Hurry and get dressed so you can practice.
Hurry and finish up your practicing so you can eat.
Hurry and finish eating so you can get your teeth brushed.
Hurry and get your teeth brushed so you can get your shoes on.
Hurry and get your shoes on.
Hurry so we can read scriptures.
Hurry and kneel down so we can pray.
Hurry and get your backpacks on and line up. (Aagh, do I really say, 'line up' to my children?)
Hurry so you don't miss the bus.

(And we are ALWAYS standing at the bus stop with time to spare. Last year included.)

I am slightly concerned that I am sounding like a broken record.  Or an extremely uptight parent.
Something's gotta change.

And I have a feeling, it's me!

Getting What We Want

Dear Megan, Luke, Ellie, Joshua and Drew,

I have a very big pet peeve.  Well, I have lots, but this one in particular really gets to me; the words

"I don't want to."

Does that really matter most of the time?  I don't care if you don't want to make your bed, brush your teeth, do your chores or your homework or practice the piano, etc.
Because guess what?

You don't always get what you want.

(Drew, August 2010)

Do you think I always get what I want?
Let's think for just a minute all the things I may get asked/told to do in the course of a day?

"Mom, will you untie this knot for me?"

"Drew's poopy, can you come change him now?"

"Will you get me a snack?"

"The toilet is clogged, come fix it."

"Help, I spilled my food."

"Read this book to me." (for the 1,067th time) 

"I sneezed and look what came out of my nose?" 

"My shoes are covered in mud and I need to wear them tomorrow."
"Will you sign this paper I have to take back?"
"Can we go to the store tomorrow and buy a horse rope?"
"Will you come wipe me?"

You really think I want to respond to all of those things?!

Each time those dreaded words escape your mouths, you will continue to hear me say the same thing.

"You can't always get what you want."

Myself included! 

Love, 

Mommy

A Memory For Monday (With Time)

The mantra that repeats itself through my mind almost daily, ''The days are long but the years are short," is beginning to ring louder and louder in my ears.
Will time ever slow down, just a little?
As I delivered each child to their classroom this morning, I cried. 
As I drove home I cried some more, and when I walked in the door, and reported to Mike, I cried some more. 

Where does the time go?

Somehow, in what seems like days, we went from this:

to this.

(a 3rd grader) (a 6th grader) and a (1st grader)

Thank heavens I still have this:

to fill my days.

I think I will spend this year of school loving, holding and treasuring my two little ones even more.  This is my first and last year of 'nothing' for a while.  Since 2004, I've always had a preschool or Kindergarten schedule to work around, this is my first year of 8:20-3:45pm of no scheduling...  After this school year, the next four years will be preschool for Joshua, kindergarten for Joshua, preschool for Drew, kindergarten for Drew. 
So this year, yay for Joshua, Drew and me time!

And, instead of wanting to step back in time or dreaming of time holding still, I will make the most of today.  Because it will be gone, before I know it.

Fair Fun

After our visit to the County Fair last night, Luke declared, "It's a good thing Megan danced there last year."  He was referring to the fact that had Megan's dance company not danced there last year, we would likely never have thought to go.

And what a travesty that would have been...

And though we would never have thought it five or six years ago, we have found the County Fair to be quite up our alley...

Megan, Luke and Joshua showing their skills on the 'Kinkanikan Bull'...

Joshua's declaration before bed was, "I wiked widing the horses and seeing the sheeps the best."

I could write a whole essay about the face painting episode, but suffice it to say, it was a dreaded wait in line for almost thirty minutes to get a much desired face painting only to come home an hour later and sleep it all off...

Company booths offering all sorts of chances to win anything from cotton candy to bracelets to suckers to frisbees...

(And we didn't even have to listen to a free insurance quote-they just let the kids throw bean bags in the hole for this prize.)

And even though I said the fair is 'right up our alley', I still made Drew fight and scream until a older sibling was available to take him into the petting zoo.  (It's not up my alley quite so much...)

I heard Mike sum the evening up in a phone call as we were leaving,

"It' was the best $2 I've spent in a long time."

Until next year, County Fair...

Man at Costco

The other week I took a trip to Costco with two children.
You know how chaotic Costco can get, especially at the check stand with carts coming and going, etc.? Frequently the question is asked,  'Is this (large item remaining in the cart) yours?'

This particular trip, it wasn't just the case of water they were referring to, it was the child buckled in the front and the other child swinging from the side?

"This yours, the worker asked?"

And in all fairness, the cart was closer to the elderly man behind me in line, and because it had been 'one of those Costco trips' I flippantly responded, "Unless he wants to claim them."

The aged man's face lit up and he responded,
"I'll take them."
And because I tell you, it really had not only been 'one of those Costco trips' but 'one of those days', I replied, "I have three more at home."
Then his face got somber and he more quietly than before replied,
 "I wish I had five kids"

Suddenly I felt a pang of remorse for bringing on this man's somberness, when I'm sure he didn't come to Costco to purchase bananas and milk and a little dose of regret.  But me, with my inherited nosiness keen interest in others (thank you Granny), did what I do too well... I asked questions.

Which turned into a little more somberness as this elderly man told me he had two children, a single son and a married daughter, his daughter though, not able to have children.   With a sigh, he concluded, "I have just two kids and no grandkids."

And though there are days, I find myself day-dreaming of loneliness as a luxury that will forever elude me, the elderly man's face from Costco and his somber words, "I wish I had five kids" come to my mind.

And though, today could well turn into 'one of those days', I will think of the kind, somber, lonely man from Costco.
And remember.