Do You Know That I Think Of You?

1. Do you know that I miss you every time I blow dry my hair with that round blue brush you gave me 15 years ago?
2. Do you know that I picture us in the foyer of the church laughing when I hear the word phrenologist?
3. Do you know that I think of your lullaby voice when I sing to my kids at night?
4. Do you know that I think of you as I put on my makeup and realize that I haven't bought one piece of it without you there to help me?
5. Do you know that I think of you every time I make bread and wonder if it really is saving me money once you calculate the energy costs along with the ingredients cost?
6. Do you know that I think of you whenever I hear that someone is going to Europe? And also whenever I think of gross hotels?
7. Do you know that you represent New York to me?
8. Do you know that I think of you (and Miss Pearl) when I see my kids dance?
9. Do you know that I think of you constantly because my daughter has your name?
10. Do you know that I wish you were here when I need someone to tell me if I missed a spot curling the back of my hair?
11. Do you know that I think of you and smile when I fold socks, lose socks, store odd socks, and wonder about nearly holey socks? Also every Monday and Wednesday when I swim in the slowest lane at the pool?
12. Do you know that I remember you roughhousing with me on Grandma's ugly orange carpet when Dallin tickles my kids?
13. Do you know that you give me courage when I'm struggling with a child at the piano?
14. Do you know that I think of you when I go running and wish there were an ice cream parlor at the end?
15. Do you know that I wonder what you are up to when they sing "Search, Ponder and Pray" in Primary?
16. Do you know that I remember other lessons you taught me every time I empty the lint catcher in the dryer and on summer mornings when I shut all the windows?
17. Do you know that I think of happy parties at your house when we have to make another trip to the pool store?
18. Do you know that I admire you for a million reasons as my kids whine when I ask them to fetch something from the food storage room?
19. Do you know that I remember the day you bought me the pink Idaho T-shirt every time I do something nice for my nieces?
20. Do you know that I wish we were in touch when I try to think of the right word to use in something I'm writing?
21. Do you know that I feel grateful for you most Sundays because I can sing the alto line of the hymns?
22. Do you know that I long for the good old days whenever I need a cup of milk or two eggs?
23. Do you know that I admire you when I read terms in a cookbook that don't seem like English to me (maybe they're not)?
24. Do you know that I feel strengthened knowing that you feel sorrow too?
25. Do you know that I think how much I love you every time my stomach growls in public?

Do you know how very grateful I am to have you all in my life? Probably not, because I don't tell you very often.

I am so very grateful that you are part of my life. And I'm grateful to have trivial things that remind me of you in a real way so often.

Can you figure out which one is you? (1 Becky, 2 Heather, 3 Julie, 4 Jennifer H, 5 Shelley, 6 Amy, 7 Jennifer S, 8 Merinda, 9 Eliza, 10 Christine, 11 Colleen, 12 Fred, 13 Christina, 14 Katherine, 15 Jennie, 16 Grandma Barbara, 17 Melanie, 18 Ellen, 19 Mary Ann, 20 Karen, 21 Larissa, 22 Reena, 23 Shawna, 24 Jodi, 25 Dallin)

Will You Check On Me Before You Go To Bed?

Naomi has asked this every night for about three years.

Sweetheart, I never miss and I never forget. This is the highlight of my day. It's the sacrament for parenting. It's the time when all is right with the world again. When there are no struggles and no interruptions. It's where I stand over you and marvel that you are mine. Regret the hurtful things I may have done through the day. Determine that tomorrow will be better. Adore your beautiful faces. And cherish your miraculous spirits. In these few moments I pray that you will remain steadfast and that you will find happiness. I beg the heavens that Grandma Barbara was right when she said that children are resilient. And I thank God for letting me have a chance with you.

Good Night.

Can I Have A Bell All The Time?

Yesterday morning my family skipped in to my room at 7:30 am with breakfast in bed (corn pops, bacon and orange juice), flowers, and a bell.

When I ring the bell a smiling face bounds in and asks, "What can I do for you, Mom?"

Now, this is a glorious invention! Cheerful, obedient children with the ring of a bell. Why didn't we think of this sooner?

Can I have a bell every day, or only once a year?

Who Has The Best Sense of Humour In Your Family?

This was the question we pulled out of the box for dinnertime conversation last night. After explaining to them what it meant to have a good sense of humour, the kids each had a turn to answer.

Chas was sure that it was Chas.

Eliza thought that it was probably her.

Naomi said that since Sister Murley was not part of our family, she guessed that she had the best sense of humour.

Well after all that, I couldn't say what I had thoughtfully concluded was the real answer (me), so I made up something about how they were all so fun that I couldn't decide.

The good news is that Dallin, under a little pressure later that night, agreed that maybe, although I was not as funny as he is, that I did, possibly, have the best sense of humour in our family. Maybe.

Answer #4--My Brother Is The Best

You rock my world.

You always have. Literally actually. Like the Led Zeppelin barreling out of your Nautilus Avenue room at 7 AM, followed by a groggy, stinky lug that I admired every speck of.

By the time I was in Preschool a week, Mom tells me that every teacher could say, “Now we know who Mark is.” There was no one I’d rather tell about, no one I loved more, no one who did cooler things. Like take me sledding and carry the sleds up every time. Like bounce me to the moon on the trampoline (except for the one time it didn’t end so well.) Like let a little sister hang out with you when you were a teenager. Like come to Boston and set up everything, even a hook for my bike to hang on. Like give me a speeding ride in the grocery cart on the way back to the store. (That trip ended up “rocking” my world too.)

I once said, “What if Mom and Dad had more kids than just us?” You rocked my world when you said, “I wouldn’t have liked them as much as I like you.”

I rocked your world too, sometimes: “STOMPEO. DANANANANA. STOMPEO.” Better than the Rolling Stones ever could have.

I feathered my bangs and had my hair cut like yours in 2nd Grade. The school nurse thought I was a boy. I tried to strut like you, but that didn't work out very well.

You were the man of my life for 22 years. You are still the man of my life, you’ve just become the silver medalist. But I’ve noticed that I’m a silver medalist now too. But I don’t mind. We used to talk every day. Now, not as much. That’s what you get with the silver medal—less fame. But I think the achievement is no less great.

I want my kids to be a sibling just like you. I want them to be gregarious and gentle and generous like you. In fact, I want to be gregarious, gentle, and generous like you. I want them to say to their younger sister who’s had a bad dream, “Garrruuuggghh,” which means, “Come on in, Kiddo.” I want them to sneak food to each other in bed after I’ve sent one of them to her room without supper. I want them to race to a train station to put their little sister on a train to the temple when they’ve overslept, even though the temple might not mean much to them at the time. And I want them to take their younger sibling for brunch at Bendix.

I love you. For 31 years I’ve looked on you as my rock. I’ve always wanted to be just like you. I want to be confident in job interviews like you. Fun with kids like you. Generous in time and money like you. Brave in skiing like you. Unruffled by criticism like you. Cheerful like you. Casual about broken things like you. A great sibling in-law like you. An awesome omelette maker like you. And a million other things like you. I just want to be smaller. And less smelly than you. And listen to better music.

Happy Birthday!

Which One Is Really My Life?

My life looks better in pictures, I've decided.

It looks like I have my act together.

It looks like my children are carefree and content.

It looks like I create happy, meaningful experiences for my family.

It looks like my children cherish one another.

In pictures it looks like all of those other blogs. All those scrapbooks. All those Christmas Letters. It almost looks like a Mormon commercial.

Why Don't I Live In Utah?

• A babysitter who adores my children. Even when they're awful. (And she's free.)
• Chicken or Hamburgers on Sunday evenings that I didn't cook.
• "One more hand around," at 11:00.
• And Ten No-Trump without the Joker.
• A second opinion in my decorating.
• A shopping buddy who says, "Let's take it home and think it over there."
• Piano performances full of motivating praise for my children.
• Golf pals for my husband.
• A mortgage 1/4 the size of ours.
• Big Chas for Little Chas.
• Aunt Nicole for my girls.
• My Big Brother.
• A break for a moment.
• A date every now and then.
• The headquarters of our greatest (only) fan club.

What are we thinking?