How many books is too many to take for a week in Mexico?

I've decided on ten, plus the scriptures and a Spanish dictionary.

On second thought, I think I'll leave The House of the Seven Gables for when I get home.  It looks like the cover may fall off. 

The Worst Feeling in The World

is yelling at your kid just before they go to school.


And It's Worser

to yell at them in public just before they go to school.


And It's the Worstest

to find out when they come home that they are sick and were probably acting like rotten kids because they felt crummy and that that's probably why you were acting like a rotten mom, too. 

He's got fame.

Now all he needs is fortune.

(see my 13 year-old husband in this video:)
http://www.woodbusiness.ca/component/option,com_seyret/Itemid,143/id,78/task,videodirectlink/

A van with bald tires

and a dented back panel
that is three months overdue for an oil change
on which our (middle-aged) friend wrote "wash me please"
that has leftover lunches
and forgotten school notices
and almost every jacket we own strewn all over the floor
(and probably all of the lost soothers too)

can still be home to a rockin' dance party
consisting of one six year old
his laughing baby brother
and the mother he still thinks is pretty cool.

Rock on.

When you ground a kid for a week

does it include church activities? 

Any thoughts?

the Baby woke up at 2:30 in the morning

ate some yogurt
and spaghetti
lay back down in his crib
and pulled his favourite yellow afghan over his face

then as I tiptoed out of the room
he pulled the afghan down and
asked in one pathetic syllable
whether I was leaving

"Shhh.  Mommy's still here,"
I said
and up went the afghan again

every two or three minutes
down came the afghan
and out came the plaintive cry

"Mommy's still here."
and up went the afghan again

he couldn't see me,
but checking in every few minutes
he learned to trust that I was still there

at 3:00 in the morning
I was very grateful to be someone's mommy

I wake up all through the day
fold some laundry
wipe a counter
and send my pleading cry

faintly I hear,
"I am still here"

I can't see Him,
but checking in every few minutes
I am learning to trust that He is still there

at 3:30 in the morning
I am very grateful to be Someone's daughter

once you've waited in line

paid your money
buckled your seatbelt
and been told to keep you arms and legs inside

you're in for the ride
like it or not

let me know when this ride's over

i want to get off

either we are becoming better friends,

or I am becoming a worse housekeeper

because everytime you come to visit
my house is at a lower standard of "clean"

I'm glad you're coming.
Please don't wear your glasses.

I used to believe

that babies were blank slates

that anyone could learn to play the piano

that everyone could carry a tune

that I wanted to be a farmer

that I liked animals

that I was organized

that I would have a clean house


I guess I was wrong.  Shucks!

"The gospel of Jesus Christ matters more than anything else."

"We value you as an individual, not just as one of the pack."

"We adore you whichever way you are, you don't always have to be easy and lovely and cheerful and helpful and peaceful (although, we love you that way too.)"

"There is a living prophet."

"Following his counsel will make our lives happier."

"Your decision to be baptized was a critical, wonderful step."

"Stay on the path forever and ever because it is so much easier and happier than all the other alternatives."

"We would give you all the money and time in the world if it were possible."

"Keep up your dilligent music studies--you'll be so glad you did."

"We are proud of you."

"We are grateful for you and the long road that brought you to us."

"Don't be so quiet that you get lost." 

"Please be quiet enough to keep setting a good example for the rest of the firecrackers in our family."

"Don't do drugs.  Don't drop out.  Don't date until you're 25.  Don't live in our basement at 30.  Don't move too far away.  Marry someone wonderful in the temple.  Accept callings.  Let your talents bless all the people around you."


Eliza, you had 72 hours.  Did you get it all?  Because we tried to cram it all in.  That and much much more. 


Please don't forget.

I think I understand

why the pioneers

kept putting one foot in front of the other

for so many hundreds of miles

in spite of so many miseries.

I think, maybe,

they didn't know

what else to do.

Nobody Pee

• My office floor is empty
• My desk is cleared off
• The car is cleaned out
• The lawn is mowed
• The bottom of the stairwell is painted
• The bathrooms are all clean
• The garbages are emptied
• The pool is winterized
• The dining room is tidy
• The TV room is tidy
• The Primary invitations are made
• I take bread to Sister Doerksen
• I call the people I visit teach
• The windows are all clean
• All of the miscellaneous baskets in my house are emptied

I'm getting happier and happier. 

Just, please, no one use the bathrooms
until the rest of my list is finished.

I'll Be Happy When...

• My office floor is empty

• My desk is cleared off

• The car is cleaned out

• The lawn is mowed

• The bottom of the stairwell is painted

• The bathrooms are all clean

• The garbages are emptied

• The pool is winterized

• The dining room is tidy

• The TV room is tidy

• The Primary invitations are made

• I take bread to Sister Doerksen

• I call the people I visit teach

• The windows are all clean

• All of the miscellaneous baskets in my house are emptied


I know I'll be happy then.  I just know it.

OK, Jodi, Merinda, Mom, and Shelley,

You can read my thoughts again

If you promise not to expect enlightenment
or insight,
or optimism,
or humour,
or consistency,
or everything in the form of a question.

OK?  Ok. 

Let this post serve as a reminder to me

to never have an opinion. Or at least not think I ever know what someone else could or should do.

I was a newly wed. I had money for cute haircuts. I was working for way more money than I needed, and considering other jobs with much lower salaries just for the potential enjoyment of them.

I stood in the doorway of a mid-life accountant, with a couple of teenagers at home, a too-large mortgage + reno payment to make, and a straggly no-style haircut adorning her worn out face. She told me of the great retirement package that kept her in a job she disliked. She told me of how it was too late to make a career change, or even a job change. She described trapped, stuck, discouraged feelings. She sounded hopeless.

I cheerfully explained to her how it was never too late to change where we are. I encouraged her to leave her dissatisfying job behind and strike out into something she would enjoy (I didn't bother with the arithmetic that would leave her without mortgage payment every month.) I threw together trite phrases about worlds and oysters and admonished her to live the Nike slogan.

As I walked away, I left very saddened for her limiting mental state that kept her caged in an unhappy life, and grateful for my much better way of viewing the world full of endless potential for me to be successful on every path.

Now, as I get closer and closer to mid-life land, with a too-large mortgage payment, and a no-style haircut, I'm sorry I ever opened my naive know-it-all mouth. I get it now. And I would gratefully trade my life of exciting potential success (rife with business loans that can use the word "million" in them) for a boring, trapped, great-retirement package job.

But our decisions have a way of putting us on a path that goes only forward, even if it's off a cliff. Backing up is great in theory but doesn't always work in reality.

Loveit, I'm sorry I ever gave you useless, demeaning counsel. I hope you've gone on to a comfortable retirement full of grandkids and dandelion bouquets and it is all the sweeter for the thorny path that led you there.

"You Could Keep A Kosher Kitchen,"

Noa said, "because you have two sinks." She is my lovely Jewish friend from Israel. She is not orthodox, but just Jewish "because I'm Jewish."

Her sister, on the other hand, lives a completely orthodox Jewish life, complete with two sinks and two sets of dishes. Her sister doesn't accidentally let her skin brush against her husband's as they pass in the hallway during her unclean time. Her sister has kept having children until she finally had a girl (child number 7) because she must have both sons and daughters unless specifically given permission by the Rabbi not to.

I could listen to Noa describe her sister's life endlessly. Noa always describes her with love and a shrug of the shoulders. I always listen torn between completely relating to the sister's way of life that seems so extreme to others and feeling that a lot of the steps (or limiting them on the Sabbath) are completely ridiculous.

And as I scrubbed my second little sink today that would allow me to live an orthodox and Kosher life, I wondered what practices I may have adopted in an effort to follow the Saviour that might be completely ridiculous too.

I Think It's Working

Chas's daily prayer:

Dear Heavenly Father,

Please make Mark grow up really fast so that we can do cool boy stuff and he can sleep in my room soon. Bless him not to be a baby anymore. Make him a big boy quick, please.

Amen

I think it's working. Darn it.

Chas, stop praying, OK?


(Chas and Mark having a sword fight.)



Homemade Taco Seasoning is Disgusting.

Why did I have to quadruple the recipe?

"Did You Wash Your Hands?"

"Yep. I did it while I was going to the bathroom.
I can reach the sink from the toilet."

"You mean, before you wiped?!"

"Uh-huh."

Efficiency gone wrong. Gross!

Why is it So Much Harder

to have him around, but not available,
than it is to not have him around?

It must be about expectations. Or attitude maybe.

Life is Really Getting Great...

when you can sit down on a Saturday night with your ten year old and enjoy the same chick flick together.

Two Epiphanies

The Thing I Am Most Grateful For...

is to have been born to parents who are genuine, loving, intelligent, reasonable people. People who are down-to-earth and emotionally stable. Ordinary and without drama. Cheerful and open. Honest and kind. A mother who taught me the gospel and a father who showed me how it can change your life. This is a gift in my life which impacts every moment of every day.


And The Best Decision I Have Ever Made...

Hands down, the best decision I ever made was the day I said I would marry a man who prioritized the gospel above everything else.

Not in a the-best-decision-I-ever-made-was-to-marry-the-hunk-of-a-dreamboat-that-I-did sort of way. But in the way that I decided what would matter most to me in the dreamboats (some of them not so much) that I did look at.

It was the moment when Dallin and I were dancing and he said that his friend had all these ambitions and dreams that he couldn't understand. I asked him what his dreams were. His answer changed the course of my life. He said, "My dream is to live the Gospel. I just want to follow the Saviour. That's all."

Well, that's all. And it makes all the difference in my world. It doesn't guarantee a successful business, or well-behaved children, or a house or a yard that look reasonable. It doesn't guarantee that no one will have a brain tumour, or a learning disability, or anything else. But it fills me with confidence and unifies us and prevents the myriad of marriage sinking difficulties that I see around us. Thank God!

How Could I Possibly Know What You Should Do With Your Life...

...when I can't even figure out my own?

Could we all just cut each other a little slack?

I'm convinced we're all faking it. None of us know how to raise kids or create ideal marriages or be amazing friends.

Certainty is a big facade.  Let's all be open about it. 

My Favorite Household Chore Is...

Vacuuming up spiders.



I got a 4-inch one today.

It's like Murder She Wrote.

Except I'm the criminal; not the Angela Lansbury.

It's very satisfying. In a creepy sort of way.

Has My Blog Always Been Yellow to All of You?

We got a new computer monitor and now my lovely hot cocoa with way too much cream in it is a banana-lemon freezie.

Why didn't anyone say anything?

Do I have something stuck in my teeth too?

I can't trust any of you.

Every Now and Then...

I want to blog even though I have nothing to say.
.
.
.
.
There. I said it.

A Year Of Questions Is About Long Enough,

Don't You Think?

(Thanks for reading. )

Why Won't This Baby Sleep Through The Night?

Is it because I said I knew the trick to getting babies to sleep through the night? Is it because I naively and knowingly gave advice at baby showers everywhere?

All right, already. I'm sorry I ever said it.

I've learned my lesson.

I'll never claim to know anything ever again.

Now sleep, already, would ya?

"Why Are You Throwing Away My Picture?"

This is my least favourite question in the whole world.

And the silver medal for least favourite question goes to...

"Where's My ________[e.g. brown puppy with the white spot that I won at the fair two years ago and have never ever mentioned or played with and looks like all of the other stuffed puppies in this house]?"

I always answer with a vague, "Hhmmm, I don't know where it could be or how it got in the garbage." But I believe there will be a day of reckoning where I will have to own that they all went to Salvation Army and the trash as soon as I could possibly sneak them out of the house.

I think that will be a bad day for me.

Why, Oh Why, Did I Open That Jar of Nutella?

I knew it was a bad idea!

And why did Superstore have that stupid deal where you have to buy two to get the good price?!

And why did I fall for it!?!

Were All Those Comments Just to Prove

That I Have a Readership of Six?

What's That About?

I have an irrational, disproportionate discomfort with being the last person to comment or ask a question before the end of a class.

In high school and college I would start watching the clock at about ten minutes before the class ended, and no matter how badly I wanted to clarify something, add my insight or answer a question that seemed to be stumping everybody else, I wouldn't let myself do it. Because it might be the last comment of the class. Gasp! And oh dear if it turns out that the question I asked 16 minutes before class ended winds up being the last question. Uugghh! Now I go through this same clock-watching exercise in Sunday School and Relief Society. Thank goodness I wear a watch.

This morning as I suggested a brilliant name for my cousin's fish on her blog, I realized that I kind of have the opposite thing going on for me in cyberspace. If I'm not the first to comment, I pretty much won't do it.

I think it might boil down to the pressure of having to be clever. I can't cope with it. (It's why I'm grateful to have a blog readership of four.)

If I ask the last question it will be what echoes in everyone's brains as they walk out of class. Like saving your bacon for the last bite so you walk away from the table with a bacon-flavored tongue (yumm), but in a bad way. If I comment when others have already typed their witty, loving, insightful words, well... I guess I just won't.

What does this say about my personality? Maybe I should work on this? Well, add it to the list.

If I Don't Know How To Do It, Is There Any Chance My Kids Will Learn?

to put away their clothes when they take them off

to play the piano

to chew quietly

to dance in public

to make their beds in the morning

to put on makeup

to exercise more than twice a year

to be proactive, not reactive

to laugh when it all falls apart

If It Comes Out Looking The Same Way It Did Going In

How Does He Get Any Nutrition Out Of It At All?

Won't Anything Work?!?

I am so sick of all the crap everywhere I could scream!!

Wait a minute. I did scream.

I do scream!

It doesn't make a difference.

I dumped out 3/4 of it while they were away this summer. They didn't even notice.

And then the junk mated with other junk. Or spawned. Or multiplied through mitosis. Or cloned itself.

But somehow, in a matter of months we're back to the same old place.

Stuff everywhere. Five puzzle pieces here, three baby toys there. Two winter mitts that didn't make it into the winter gear storage box. One Christmas ornament, four dolls, one deck of cards, two light sabers, 17 odd socks, the favourite pillowcase, 9 hair baubles, a comb, seven sweatshirts.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

Have I mentioned that I could scream!?!

The Crap makes me so mad. (Pardon my French). Unreasonably mad.

There's a little me sitting on my shoulder telling me that my reaction is illogically out of proportion.

But the little red me with horns is coaxing me to throw it ALL away. All of it.

No more puzzles, pony tails, ponchos, or pear scented lotion. They can all just sit on the couch and look out the window and count the birds that fly by.

NAKED!! (The people, not the birds. Well, both actually, I guess.)

So tonight I started PLAN #42--The Junk Trunk!!

See, this one is going to work because it has a catchy name.

The idea is simple. I dump everything that is not put away into the Junk Trunk (See it rhymes. It's reeling you in too, isn't it?) They can dig through it if they need something. When the Trunk is full, I dump all of it in the garbage. (Sorry, landfills. Sorry, posterity. It's either fill the landfill or the asylum and my research shows that landfills require less taxpayer support.)

What Are You Good At?

The next time someone asks me
what I'm good at.
Or what I like to do.

I'm going to say that I like to
make To Do Lists.
And I'm really good at it too.

Who Are You, Baby Mark?

I was surprised to read in one of our old Christmas letters what a calming influence Eliza was having on our family. She was three months old, and already I used the word, "peacemaker." I didn't remember that I knew so soon.

When did I realize that Naomi was the thoughtful person she is, or that Chas was so funny? When does the blank slate theory break and the reality of fully-developed spirit emerge? 

We see some of you already, Baby Mark.  You are energetic and happy and bald, but I'm hoping that last one won't last forever.  You bring joy and light to our home.

Do They Make Shower Karaoke Machines?

"Oh what a beautiful mooor-nin'! Oh what a beauuuuu-tiful day! I've got a beautiful feeeeee-lin'--Everything's going my way. Do-bop do do do do doooo do. Do-wop do do do do dummmmm...

"Dankashane. Darling Dankashane. Wah-bop. La-di-dah. Do-di-dah. Du du du...

"If I had a million dollars (If I had a million dollars), I would remember the words (I would remember the words)...

"Give said the little stream. Give Oh Give. Give Oh Give."

Of course, I can remember all those words. But no matter how jazzy Give Said the Little Stream gets, I'm just sure that my shower's acoustics and my vocal transcendence would be better utilized with all of the lyrics in tact on a Bare Naked Ladies Song.

They make everything in the world. Surely they make these.
And, by the way my birthday is just around the corner.

Was It You?

Or you?

or you?

or you? or you?

or you or you or you or you?


givinganonymously.org



Thank You!

Does Heavenly Father Get Tired of Us Asking For Blessings?

I often hear a sentiment similar to this expressed in Sunday School or other places. It often comes up near to when someone describes Him as resenting our lack of gratitude.

On the one hand, there is the Parable of the Unjust Judge who finally gave in because he was pestered so much. And the Lord does tell us that he will not give us a stone or a serpent when we ask for bread and fish.

And on the other hand, I wonder if we are assigning our own feelings to God.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:8-9)

Does God get tired?

Does He get tired of us asking for blessings?

Does He get sick of us the same way I get sick of my kids' constant requests and frequent ingratitude?

Or is asking for blessings just what He wants us to do because that is how we come to Him?

If the Unjust Judge blessed the widow just because she continued to ask so much, surely the Just Judge is ready to bless us. But how many times? Am I wearing out my welcome?

Does Squeegying the Shower...

...and Walking the Kids to School Every Now and Then Count as an Exercise Regime?

"Regime" makes it feel so likely to work.

The Million Dollar Question Is...

When on a path where every door seems to close and there are many hurdles,

does it mean

the Lord is saying,

"Turn back. Turn back. You're going the wrong way. Yoohoo. I'm trying to communicate with you. Hello? Take that other path."

or is He saying,

"Trials will make you stronger. Remember the pioneers? Their children died, their wagons broke, but they stayed on the same path and were better people for it."

???

"Why Are You Crying About This?"

"Cuz if I keep crying then you'll make me sit on the stairs and I won't have to finish unloading the dishwasher."

I think this indicates a breakdown in my parenting strategies.

Do You Know What Tempts Me To Lie?

When I do Chas's hair and it looks awful. I let them believe he did it himself. I even add that "Santa brought him his very own gel in his stocking."

When one tiny little, turns out to be stinky, toot escapes the hatch. Thank goodness for a baby to blame it on. He doesn't even mind.

When an official, permanent, document asks my weight. I'd tell anyone rather than tell that document that is going to be typed and stare me in the face every time we go through the border for years to come. The irony is that my history will show that nailing down any weight in type would be better what the real weight will be two years from now.

When something costs $1.94 and I bought seven of them. Can I just say they were a dollar each?

When my children are exhausted and cranky at 6:45 on New Year's Eve and I realize that a three hour movie only gets us to quarter of ten. Is setting the clocks forward a lie? Or is it more like optional daylight savings? It sure made for a cheerful New Year's Day.

When Is The Deadline For A Goal To Be A New Year's Reslolution?

New Year's Resolutions have so much more power. So much more longevity. So much more resolve.

I don't want my goals to just be goals. I want them to be RESOLUTIONS!

Is January 5th too late?

How about February 11th?

I think I'd have better hope of keeping them if I set them at the end of December. Will that still count?

I'm having trouble settling on a balance between the year that I set 81 new year's resolutions and fell flat on my face and the following year where I set only one and failed completely.

What's the Difference Between Cheap and Frugal?

.
What's the difference between generous and foolish?

What Difference Does It Make To Know That I Am A Child of God?

That's the question I'm going to ask the Primary kids in Sharing Time today.

It's hard to imagine not knowing this truth. It's so simple.

And so powerful.

I've known it for so long that I can't remember not knowing it.

But, when I think of it slowly, I think that it makes all the difference in the world.

I think it changes how I treat my neighbours, my enemies, my brothers and sisters.

I think it gives me confidence that I am valuable. And hope that I am heading somewhere.

It gives me patience. Not all the time, of course, but sometimes.

It gives me freedom and peace.

Why is it OK to Whistle in Public, but Not OK to Sing?

Why can't you stand facing the back of the elevator?

And why can't you sit at the same table with someone else in a cafeteria?

Why are you allowed to sneeze in public, but your stomach growling is faux pas?

Sometimes social customs just drag me down.

"Do You Remember The New Year's Resolution You Set This Morning?"

"No."

"To be nicer to your sister?"

"I didn't say I was going to start right away."

"Today is New Years Day. This is when it starts."

"I'll start for sure tomorrow.
I'll be nice to her for a whole week.
Starting tomorrow."


Oh dear. This must be a genetic flaw.