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.

Where's Katara?

And why did we leave her all alone for 11 days?

And can I really put up posters again?!!

What's Her Battle? What's His Battle?

He'd been under general anesthesia that day. He'd been in the car for four hours. The numbing cream on his hand hadn't worked. The IV hadn't gone in the first time or the second. But none of the other moms knew that as he squirmed and complained in his piano class. They glanced over their shoulders at me and I resented their children's private-school frocks and ties.

This quiet crying and sidelong glares IS holding it together for her. We're pleased with this response because it's so controlled compared to what it could be and what it has been. Please don't stare.

When you asked how I was at the checkout counter, did you really want to know? I left my three year old screaming from his hospital bed a few minutes ago. His cerebral fluid is leaking and it is excruciating. My daughters are lost without their parents. I am scared. But you don't really want to know that. And that's OK. Just please understand when I'm not friendly.

You got out of your car to yell at me. I'm not even sure what I did wrong. You used words that aren't allowed in PG-13 movies.

Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. (Plato)

When I am tempted to criticize, please let me remember that I can't see their battle.

When I am tempted to idolize her life and children and marriage, please let me remember that I can't see her battles either.

"Is That Baby Mark?"

Does Baby Mark like this song?

Does Baby Mark like hockey?

Is Baby Mark sleeping?

Does Baby Mark like football?

Does Baby Mark like this movie?

Is Baby Mark hungry?

Does Baby Mark drink milk out of your arm?

Can Baby Mark drink milk out of the owie on my ankle?

Will You Still Know I Love You...

...If I Don't Buy You a Christmas Present This Year?

I think I'm going to take a Sabbatical this year.

If it's "not about the presents" why does it feel so all about the presents?

do you ever have days

where you realize that you're not as good a friend as you thought you were?

when pondering upon this, do you ever realize that your parenting is poopy and your marriage is not a romantic comedy after all?

and sometimes these days coincide with the days that you realize that you can't keep your house the love filled temple we are all striving for.

and every now and then these days happen at the same time that you are fatter than everyone else at the PAC meeting.

they often seem to be near to the days where you clean all day and still end the day in a disaster zone.

it is not a good idea to check out other people's blogs on these days. their children will look beautiful and be well-behaved in all the photos you see. and their houses will look charming and finished too.

It's like Satan got all his guns lined up in perfect sync. I think I'll crawl under the bed. Let me know when he goes away.

What's Your Address?

If you did not get a Christmas Letter
you either live within 100 km
or we don't have your address.

Brooks Family Christmas Limerick

Christmas letters are so out of style,
I thought Limericks were worth a trial,
A stanza per member,
The Brooks to remember
Hope you think reading it worthwhile.

Mark Daniel Peter Brooks was born
With Dad gone hunting sheep (thin horn)
Mom in the bathtub
Nana instead of hub
August 7th he came in the morn.

Chas Frederick Lance Brooks and tumour
Maintains his sense of humour
Second time’s the charm
His surgery no harm
What a great year for our big bloomer.

Eliza Grace Laurel Brooks saw a slug
Ran to mom for a comforting hug
They belong in the city
These two are so ditty
Asking Daddy to kill every bug

Naomi Florence Katelyn Brooks scored
When she caught the ball off the backboard
Cross country she ran
With her energy she can
She always is talking and never is bored

Sariah Stock Brooks is painting her home
If it takes more than a day, well, so did Rome
A journal backlog
She started to blog
Painting’s unfinished for her to bemoan.

Dallin Lance Brooks and his bro shot a sheep
His job in Finland he’s trying to keep
Doing a PhD
Again in Forestry
Works on our basement to finish it cheap.

That is our story for this last year
A happy one we hope it appears
Pictures here thanks to mom
365000wordsayear.blogspot.com
We hope the Olympics will bring you here.

A limerick doesn’t really lend itself to expressing our more reverent thoughts. So we add a postscript here to tell the people we love so much about the Saviour we love so much. We believe that Jesus really came to earth and really is the Son of God. We believe that His teachings change our lives and our natures. And that we know that He provides the way to be with our most cherished people (you) forever. We are grateful for an annual excuse to share that with you and to celebrate His life. We send you our wishes for a happy Christmas and a year filled with hope and love and happiness.

Love, the Brooks Family

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