I thought that if I helped my kids as much as possible, they would become helpful kids.
It turns out, that it makes them helpless to tie their own shoes, put in their own pony-tails, or get their own drink of water.
I thought that if I discussed decisions with my children, that we would come to unifying consensuses.
It's left me with arguments on every topic from every child every day.
I thought that if I ignored whining and tantrums that it would eliminate them. That's what everybody tells you will happen. They're wrong.
It just makes the whining pervasive, the crying louder, and the tantrums more intense.
I thought that if we had very little screen time in our home that it would help our kids find useful, enlightening, creative, active things to do.
It actually creates screen-starved children that will glue themselves to any baby show that Lucy might be watching or play solitaire on a one-inch screen with shoddy graphics late at night in their bedroom.
I thought that introducing children to a variety of foods would lead to a broad and accepting palette.
It's actually led to so many determined preferences that making a meal is like navigating a mine field.
I think I'm having second thoughts about it all.
2014
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Out of Balance
As a child, I loved to get the see-saw stuck perfectly balanced in the middle. I loved how a heavier person could scoot up and a lighter person could scoot back to achieve balance.
In my adulthood, I still love it at the playground. I would love it even more in my life.
Balance in my life is more like a mathematical average than a teeter-totter stabilized in mid-air. Chas's third grade math reminded me recently that there are four ways to look at average. I'll refresh your memory:
MEAN--In a data set, the sum of all the data points, divided by the number of data points.
MODE--The number (or numbers) that occurs most frequently in a set of data.
MEDIAN--The middle number in a data set when the data are put in order.
RANGE--The difference between the largest and the smallest numbers in a data set.
I achieve balance in my life by overloading our lives with activities and then retreating to nearly zero in the hopes that when you add them together and divide by the number of years, we will have achieved the all elusive balance.
If 10 is insanity and 0 is the number for hermits, I'm trying to hit a mean of 5. Last Fall there were 6 soccer practices, 4 church activities, 3 music lessons, 1 gymnastics class, and 8 swimming lessons, plus school every week. To average this out, I plan to do nothing until they leave home.
The MEAN of our lives is 7.5.
The MODE of our lives is tidying the disaster created by the mean.
The MEDIAN is food. No matter what order you put the data in, the median is always people hungry or people disliking the food in front of them or both.
The RANGE is 18 hours, not including the outlying data points of 2 am bad sleepers in our bed.
I sense that the balance is off a bit again. I yearn for that see-saw suspended in the air. I'm just not sure if I need to scoot forward or back.
In the mean time, I guess I'll enjoy going up and down. It can be pretty fun as long as the weight at the bottom doesn't bail and you're left with a sore tush.
"Remember, too much of anything in life can throw us off-balance. At the same time, too little of the important things can do the same thing." (Elder Russell M. Ballard)
In my adulthood, I still love it at the playground. I would love it even more in my life.
Balance in my life is more like a mathematical average than a teeter-totter stabilized in mid-air. Chas's third grade math reminded me recently that there are four ways to look at average. I'll refresh your memory:
MEAN--In a data set, the sum of all the data points, divided by the number of data points.
MODE--The number (or numbers) that occurs most frequently in a set of data.
MEDIAN--The middle number in a data set when the data are put in order.
RANGE--The difference between the largest and the smallest numbers in a data set.
I achieve balance in my life by overloading our lives with activities and then retreating to nearly zero in the hopes that when you add them together and divide by the number of years, we will have achieved the all elusive balance.
If 10 is insanity and 0 is the number for hermits, I'm trying to hit a mean of 5. Last Fall there were 6 soccer practices, 4 church activities, 3 music lessons, 1 gymnastics class, and 8 swimming lessons, plus school every week. To average this out, I plan to do nothing until they leave home.
The MEAN of our lives is 7.5.
The MODE of our lives is tidying the disaster created by the mean.
The MEDIAN is food. No matter what order you put the data in, the median is always people hungry or people disliking the food in front of them or both.
The RANGE is 18 hours, not including the outlying data points of 2 am bad sleepers in our bed.
I sense that the balance is off a bit again. I yearn for that see-saw suspended in the air. I'm just not sure if I need to scoot forward or back.
In the mean time, I guess I'll enjoy going up and down. It can be pretty fun as long as the weight at the bottom doesn't bail and you're left with a sore tush.
"Remember, too much of anything in life can throw us off-balance. At the same time, too little of the important things can do the same thing." (Elder Russell M. Ballard)
Thursday, April 25, 2013
why I don't share the gospel
it's not because I don't believe it's true. I do.
it's not because I'm not sure. I am.
it's not because I don't think it would bless every life. it would.
it's because it teaches so many things that I fail at.
it's because I'd rather share the gospel when I've got those things sorted out.
and that hasn't happened yet.
it's sort-of like not wanting to give you a present I haven't had time to wrap.
or not wanting you to arrive before I've finished cleaning the house.
I feel that when I hand you the gospel, all you'll see is the package I wrap it in with my life, and you'll miss the perfect gift that is inside.
why don't you let someone else give it to you instead? mormon.org.
it's not because I'm not sure. I am.
it's not because I don't think it would bless every life. it would.
it's because it teaches so many things that I fail at.
it's because I'd rather share the gospel when I've got those things sorted out.
and that hasn't happened yet.
it's sort-of like not wanting to give you a present I haven't had time to wrap.
or not wanting you to arrive before I've finished cleaning the house.
I feel that when I hand you the gospel, all you'll see is the package I wrap it in with my life, and you'll miss the perfect gift that is inside.
why don't you let someone else give it to you instead? mormon.org.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Sorrow and Wonder
And when bombs explode at a marathon
When tsunamis swallow up cities
Or a baby drowns in the tub
I wonder how people survive the sorrow
without understanding the eternal purpose and the relative brevity of life on earth.
I wonder how they find hope in a world so violent
without a certainty that God will reclaim the earth again and restore peace.
I wonder how they find comfort in their pain
without prayer and the Holy Ghost.
Because even with all of these things, I find it hard to keep going.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Growing Discrepancy
When he was four and ran with a patter-patter-skip it wasn't so different than all the other four-year-olds' goofy gaits. When he was five and couldn't ride a bike, well neither could most of the kindergartners. When he was six and didn't say any R's or L's or blended sounds of any kind, he had company. And so on.
But as time goes by, he's getting left behind with his bike standing dusty in the garage and so many sounds still alluding him.
As I watched him run down the basketball court yesterday, his differences were accentuated by the fact that he hasn't been feeling well and by comparison to the court full of other eight-year-old boys.
Sometimes I felt weepy watching him. The differences between his physical skills and his peers' are growing not narrowing. Then I'd shake my head and think, this was the kid we worried would be strapped in a wheel chair and mute. Here he is running, crookedly and awkwardly, but running nonetheless. And then I'd feel weepy all over again.
But as time goes by, he's getting left behind with his bike standing dusty in the garage and so many sounds still alluding him.
As I watched him run down the basketball court yesterday, his differences were accentuated by the fact that he hasn't been feeling well and by comparison to the court full of other eight-year-old boys.
Sometimes I felt weepy watching him. The differences between his physical skills and his peers' are growing not narrowing. Then I'd shake my head and think, this was the kid we worried would be strapped in a wheel chair and mute. Here he is running, crookedly and awkwardly, but running nonetheless. And then I'd feel weepy all over again.
Thank goodness we'll be back to watching soccer games in the rain soon. Easier to cry without being noticed.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
I've recently taken up exercising,
and I've decided that it's not the exercising itself that is so bad,
it's the extra time needed for the showers and naps to recuperate
that swallow my whole day that stink.
I think I'll take up napping instead. No exercise or shower required.
it's the extra time needed for the showers and naps to recuperate
that swallow my whole day that stink.
I think I'll take up napping instead. No exercise or shower required.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Proven Again
That anything that works with 3-year-olds will work with Seminary Students.
This was the vehicle that took us from the thoroughly furnished barbie house out to do our good works.
I love Seminary Students!
This was the vehicle that took us from the thoroughly furnished barbie house out to do our good works.
I love Seminary Students!
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Too Close for Comfort
The day after he proposed to me, Dallin was thrown from the back window of his pick-up truck and pinned underneath in the snow. They super-glued his arm together and he was disappointed he didn't get a bigger scar.
This week, Naomi dropped an extinguished match into her garbage can full of tissues. Next time she looked, it was in full flame next to her bookcase. Ten minutes later my biggest disappointment were the small holes in the new carpet.
At a few months old, I found Naomi under the water in our bathtub. She was fine, but I cried for 8 hours straight.
With three kids in the van, we flipped it over on icy roads and were suspended upside down from our seat belts while I asked whether everyone was fine. The milli-second until they all answered was an eternity.
At Christmastime, Mark walked up two flights of stairs to find me while he was choking (not breathing) on a frozen strawberry.
This week, Naomi dropped an extinguished match into her garbage can full of tissues. Next time she looked, it was in full flame next to her bookcase. Ten minutes later my biggest disappointment were the small holes in the new carpet.
And last week, with Dallin less than 3 feet away, Mark pushed out the screen on Chas's second story window and landed unconscious on the deck 20 feet below. Two ambulance rides, two hospitals, and two days later we were home with a glow-in-the-dark cast on his arm and a sore, healthy, whole kid.
Thank God! Again!
Monday, February 25, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Mission Accomplished
Tuesdays are the crazy day. Today was crazier still with no Dallin, two timing changes, and an extra errand. I announced the harried Tuesday schedule at Family Home Evening yesterday. I reminded everyone in the morning of the plan. I repeated the sequence of events to myself frequently through the day to ensure I had it. I made everyone their own personalized list of things they must do with no mother there to remind them--things like put on your basketball shorts, eat dinner, practice the piano, and walk to swimming lessons. On my first trip out the door with three kids in tow, I scratched out the drop-off/pick-up schedule because I felt sure I might confuse a drop-off or a pick-up somewhere along the line and Eliza would be left at the basketball court with her violin or Naomi would be abandoned at swimming lessons to walk home dripping in her swimming suit.
I got everyone everywhere. On time. Cheerfully. And I miraculously remembered it was garbage day and took the garbage out.
Monday, February 11, 2013
No Other Job in The World
I can't imagine any job in the world that I could work at for 24 hours a day, for 12 1/2 years, with almost no vacation time, or sick leave...
A job that I would desperately desire to be successful at and pour my soul and 100% of my energies into...
And yet, I would still feel like a failure.
A job that I would desperately desire to be successful at and pour my soul and 100% of my energies into...
And yet, I would still feel like a failure.
Any other job, if I failed for 12 1/2 years,
would fire me.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
I Heard it Again Today
Chas's reading teacher said how much Lucy looks like Eliza.
I hear it all the time. I love to hear it. Eliza loves to hear it as well.
The ones who know, say it with a question mark. The ones who don't, say it with certainty.
The funny thing is that their temperament and likes are the same as well. They are both calm and gentle and flexible. They both are infatuated with dogs and stuffed animals. They both love to look at books and do puzzles.
It makes me wonder if it simply means that all Caucasians share some physical characteristics that could be interpreted as similarities?
Or are people cut from a cloth that includes both temperament and appearance and because they are alike in one category it makes them alike in the other?
Someone suggested that people begin to look like their families, so Eliza has had ten years of developing into looking like us and Lucy genetically looks like us. Our looks are contagious? It sounded weird.
My most probable working theory is that our spirits contain who we are, both looks and temperament, and that we are grouped into families that have common spiritual heritage. (Whatever that might mean.) So, we are like our own families no matter how we joined them.
Anyway, I heard it again today.
And it warmed my heart as it always does.
I hear it all the time. I love to hear it. Eliza loves to hear it as well.
The ones who know, say it with a question mark. The ones who don't, say it with certainty.
The funny thing is that their temperament and likes are the same as well. They are both calm and gentle and flexible. They both are infatuated with dogs and stuffed animals. They both love to look at books and do puzzles.
It makes me wonder if it simply means that all Caucasians share some physical characteristics that could be interpreted as similarities?
Or are people cut from a cloth that includes both temperament and appearance and because they are alike in one category it makes them alike in the other?
Someone suggested that people begin to look like their families, so Eliza has had ten years of developing into looking like us and Lucy genetically looks like us. Our looks are contagious? It sounded weird.
My most probable working theory is that our spirits contain who we are, both looks and temperament, and that we are grouped into families that have common spiritual heritage. (Whatever that might mean.) So, we are like our own families no matter how we joined them.
Anyway, I heard it again today.
And it warmed my heart as it always does.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Honesty
Honesty, for me, sometimes gets all muddled.
I wonder if honesty should be sacrificed in my fight against cynicism.
And I wonder if "fake it 'till you make it" is a reasonable, albeit dishonest, strategy for optimism, good parenting, wisdom, charitable service, and many other of my pursuits.
I hate fine lines, grey areas, and muddles.
Umm...I mean...fine lines, grey areas, and muddles are an opportunity for growth and I'm grateful when
they come my way. See? so peppy, it's just downright dishonest.
(PS--"Muddles" is what Marko calls "puddles." Whenever we put on his monkey boots he says, "Now I can jump in Muddles.")
I wonder if honesty should be sacrificed in my fight against cynicism.
And I wonder if "fake it 'till you make it" is a reasonable, albeit dishonest, strategy for optimism, good parenting, wisdom, charitable service, and many other of my pursuits.
I hate fine lines, grey areas, and muddles.
Umm...I mean...fine lines, grey areas, and muddles are an opportunity for growth and I'm grateful when
they come my way. See? so peppy, it's just downright dishonest.
(PS--"Muddles" is what Marko calls "puddles." Whenever we put on his monkey boots he says, "Now I can jump in Muddles.")
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
American Proverb
Don't Put All Your Eggs in One Basket.
This Basket had:
all my photos for the last 7 months
my camera
the family calendar
our ward directory
the grocery lists
the codes for many online accounts
the notes for all the school meetings, cub scout meetings, etc.
my budget
multiplication flashcards
music note flash cards
our family phone
everyone's phone numbers
my new year's resolutions (good riddance)
All my eggs went into a sink full of water yesterday. All the king's horses and all the king's men can't put these eggs back together again.
This Basket had:
all my photos for the last 7 months
my camera
the family calendar
our ward directory
the grocery lists
the codes for many online accounts
the notes for all the school meetings, cub scout meetings, etc.
my budget
multiplication flashcards
music note flash cards
our family phone
everyone's phone numbers
my new year's resolutions (good riddance)
All my eggs went into a sink full of water yesterday. All the king's horses and all the king's men can't put these eggs back together again.
Friday, January 4, 2013
The Lost Years
2011 and 2012
In those years, Dallin's company died a painful death.
Lucy was born in a pitosin-laden-torpedo.
We sold our house.
6/7ths of us moved to Utah and 1/7th of us moved to Dale's house.
Sariah got a part-time job.
Chas won 1st place in the Pinewood Derby.
Naomi went to two girls camps and moved on both birthdays.
Eliza added the flute, the violin, and the recorder to her piano studies.
Marko didn't learn to talk and started speech therapy.
Dallin found a perfect new job.
We sadly left Canada behind.
We lived in a hotel for a month.
All with almost no photos, no blog, and no journal.
So, it's time to get back on the horse. Giddyup!
In those years, Dallin's company died a painful death.
Lucy was born in a pitosin-laden-torpedo.
We sold our house.
6/7ths of us moved to Utah and 1/7th of us moved to Dale's house.
Sariah got a part-time job.
Chas won 1st place in the Pinewood Derby.
Naomi went to two girls camps and moved on both birthdays.
Eliza added the flute, the violin, and the recorder to her piano studies.
Marko didn't learn to talk and started speech therapy.
Dallin found a perfect new job.
We sadly left Canada behind.
We lived in a hotel for a month.
All with almost no photos, no blog, and no journal.
So, it's time to get back on the horse. Giddyup!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
The Abyss
It's the same place we lose putty knives, fingernail clippers, scissors, money, hair elastics, and game timers.
It just swallowed up two years. Good Riddance. Who needs those years anyway?
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Is this Blog Worth $76.75?
And now that I've asked that question in print, am I ever going to let Dallin read it?
Well, it's off to the presses. 2009 - 2011 in all its imperfections and insecurities.
Well, it's off to the presses. 2009 - 2011 in all its imperfections and insecurities.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Final Questions
Is it OK to be an Ostrich?
Is it helpful to follow the drama of the news?
Do all punishments punish the mother more than the child?
What percent of my life is supposed to be bliss?
Why do I ever let my kids stay up past bedtime?
Did I actually get a degree?
Did I fake my way through Statistics?
Does voting make any difference at all?
Can a person who hates shopping successfully own a house?
Can we ever do "all we can do?"
What did Earth Life Prep look like?
Do my kids think I love serving in the church?
Is my mother right about me?
Why can’t my mother be right about me?
Is it hypocrisy to teach things I often don’t live?
When will I develop a sense of humour?
Do my kids know I like them?
Is it the thought that counts?
What will I do with myself when, one day, the laundry is all done?
How does Heavenly Father really want us to share the gospel?
Is it possible to own too many books?
Does anyone else fantasize about a fire destroying all their worldly possessions?
Can I throw away every toy in our house?
Will it be all right in the end?
Can it be all right now?
Is printing a blog a good idea, or would it be better to let it die in Cyber-Space?
What percent of my life is supposed to be bliss?
Why do I ever let my kids stay up past bedtime?
Did I actually get a degree?
Did I fake my way through Statistics?
Does voting make any difference at all?
Can a person who hates shopping successfully own a house?
Can we ever do "all we can do?"
What did Earth Life Prep look like?
Do my kids think I love serving in the church?
Is my mother right about me?
Why can’t my mother be right about me?
Is it hypocrisy to teach things I often don’t live?
When will I develop a sense of humour?
Do my kids know I like them?
Is it the thought that counts?
What will I do with myself when, one day, the laundry is all done?
How does Heavenly Father really want us to share the gospel?
Is it possible to own too many books?
Does anyone else fantasize about a fire destroying all their worldly possessions?
Can I throw away every toy in our house?
Will it be all right in the end?
Can it be all right now?
Is printing a blog a good idea, or would it be better to let it die in Cyber-Space?
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Happy Mother's Day
A Thought on Mother's Day
"Modern motherhood isn't hard; it's impossible. There are just simply not enough hours in the day to do everything. I'm serious. It's a rigged game. Add up the time it would take to do all the things you think you need to do—from dinner to quality time to soccer practice plus a good night's sleep—and if it comes out to less than 24 hours, then you are on the right track. If like, in my life, it adds up to 32 or 36, than it's time to give ourselves the only gift we really need this Mother's Day—the right to stop the madness.-" Raina Kelley, Newsweek, May 8, 2009
"Modern motherhood isn't hard; it's impossible. There are just simply not enough hours in the day to do everything. I'm serious. It's a rigged game. Add up the time it would take to do all the things you think you need to do—from dinner to quality time to soccer practice plus a good night's sleep—and if it comes out to less than 24 hours, then you are on the right track. If like, in my life, it adds up to 32 or 36, than it's time to give ourselves the only gift we really need this Mother's Day—the right to stop the madness.-" Raina Kelley, Newsweek, May 8, 2009
Monday, March 14, 2011
Who Are The Lost Ten Tribes of Israel?
Are they the ten that formed the Northern Kingdom of Israel, everyone except Judah and Benjamin, and were later scattered?
Are they the ones we don't really know where their descendants are (from patriarchal blessings, actual genealogy, etc.)? Everyone except Ephraim and Judah?
Are they the tribes that are neither Reuben (lost his birthright) nor Levi (birthright became temple service)?
Or are they ones we don't have records of, everyone except Judah (Bible) and Manasseh (Book of Mormon)?
Or are they the people who don't believe in Christ because "true believers in Christ, regardless of their lineage or geographical location" are of the House of Israel? (Bible Dictionary)
Try asking this question in Sunday School. It becomes a mess of theories.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Where Does Three Months Go Overnight?
I should try sleeping less.
(For a blurry wish-we-had-a-different-camera-and-a-better-photographer view of the last three months see 1000 Words a Day.)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Just When You Think It Can't Possibly Get Any Worse
Your husband puts his knee through the sunroof.
No stitches necessary.
Just a lot of duct tape.
This van is good for my funny bone.
No stitches necessary.
Just a lot of duct tape.
This van is good for my funny bone.
Friday, January 14, 2011
When Am I Going to Be Old Enough...
...to Not Care If Anyone Sees Me Running?
Not to run faster when someone is watching?
Not to run faster when someone is watching?
And not suck in when I wear a swimming suit?
Not to throw things into a laundry basket and hide them in my closet before someone comes to my house?
Not to throw things into a laundry basket and hide them in my closet before someone comes to my house?
From a woman who lived to be 92:
"Fifty was my favorite age. It takes about that long to learn to quit competing--to be yourself and settle down to living. It is the age I would like to be through all eternity." Marjorie Pay Hinckley
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