Sunday, February 17, 2013

Mister Twister's Words

Mister Twister's words absoultely melt my heart.  I have wanted to record for some time the way that he is speaking so that I will remember what he says.  I have done this with each of my children.

Sister's name:  Cha Cha

Brother's name:  I ya ya

I'll have to add more later as I remember them.

Hot dog:  Hok, Hok, Hok, Hok dog!

Movie:  Roorie

Candy:  Nanny

Cake:  Gake

Cookies:  Gookies

Milk:  Guk

Admiral General Master I

Last week he received a notice from the Primary Presidency.  It said, "Thank you for accepting this assignment to give a talk in Primary..."  It was just a form letter that they give to the children to inform them of when it is their turn to give a talk.  I am sure that none of the other children don't give a second thought to the wording.  Master I was incensed.

I could see he was irritated when he came up to me after church with a furrowed brow.  He said, "I don't get it.  Listen to this.  (He then reads the letter to me.) I didn't tell them I would speak.  Did you tell them I would speak?"  He asked incredulously.  I tried to smooth things over telling them it was just a form letter and we take turns giving talks.  He emphatically refused saying, "I will not give a talk!"

I couldn't tell if he was more nervous about giving a talk or still irritated that they assumed that he would give one without properly asking him. " My mind raced with ways I could respond.   from, "Just give the talk." To,  "How embarrassing."  I have mothered him long enough that I have learned that it won't work for me to tell him, "Yes you will."  I started rehearsing ways in my mind I would tell them why he was offended by their letter and then decided to just tell him that he needed to tell them himself.  He agreed that he would talk to them, but I wasn't totally satisfied.  I want him to have the experience to speak in Church often.  I think it is a blessing of being a member of our Church that you have to overcome the fear of public speaking because you have to do it so often from so young.

Now that we had resolved some of the issue surrounding the way that he was asked to give a talk  I wanted to make sure that his reluctance came solely from his fear of speaking in front of others.  I don't believe in asking him to do something he doesn't believe in, but I do believe in persuading him to do things that he does believe in that are hard.   So, I asked him why he didn't want to do it.  He confirmed it by saying, "I don't want to speak in front of all of those people!"  

So I resorted to my new ace in the hole...food.  I told him, "I'll make you any dessert you want if you give that talk." Instead of seeing myself as a mother that was telling him It was too much to resist.  He gave in.

When I approach him and carry myself in such a way that  I see myself crossing my arms, holding my ground and saying, "You will do such and such a thing."  It never works with him.  I have more success when I carry myself in such a way that  I imagine myself as patiently, even painstakingly trying multiple ways to persuade him and call to him.  I don't always get him to do what I would like, but this mode of persuasion is the only way I can ever have any real success with him.  Only in this way can I  retain his heart and guide him to do what I would like.

The subject of his talk was that God knows him personally  and loves him.  I was helping him write his talk.  I wanted all of the ideas to come from him so I asked him, "How do you know that God loves you?"

He thought about that for a while and said, "Because He gives me agency.  He lets me choose."  I had never thought of it in quite that way before.   I never thought of His allowing us to choose as a manifestation of His love, but as I pondered Master I's uniquely independent personality I could see how that would make him feel really loved.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Happy Birthday Da Darling

It was a busy week last week. Mark worked close to 100 hours because he had a week of nights.  Those are always intense weeks because he of course is working so much, but I also want to keep the house as quiet as possible so he can sleep during the day.  So, we try to be gone for much of the day and come home to squeeze in a nap for Mr. W.  During one of theese quiet moments this week I thought I would just close my eyes for a minute while I was sitting on the couch.  Master W was asleep in his crib and I had just finished reading books to Miss R.  It felt so good to rest and the Sweetest Darling is so good at quietly busying herself that I couldn't help it.  After a short rest and then rousing myself, I walked over to the desk where she was just behind me.  I saw that she had cut the birthday check Mom H had sent into tiny little peices. I said, "Oh no Rach, what did you do?"

"Don't worry," she reassured me. "I am making more money."

Monday, February 4, 2013

Hard Labor

I went to the gym this  morning and for the first time in a long time I  did a cardio kick boxing class.  The instructor prided herself in being tough.  She was muscular, energetic, and demanded a lot from everyone in the class.  Her German accent added to the commanding effect  She went around to each member of the class offering feedback, or really pushing them to go harder or to have a less sloppy technique.  I have never experienced anything like it.  When she was making her rounds she came and told me I needed to squat lower and punch harder.  I humbly pled for mercy saying, "I can't.  I don't think I am going to be able to work out tomorrow."

I actually really enjoyed myself.  I like having a hard workout.  At the end of the grueling session we were stretching.  I felt grateful that my body could do such a hard thing.  Those thoughts reminded me of labor.  I though about my labor with Master W and painful it was.  I got an epidural right before it was time to push.  The contractions were so hard and I was told to start pushing.  I told them I wasn't doing anything until my epidural started to work.  They told me it probably wasn't going to work and it was time to push.  So push I did and screamed to whole way through.  My doctor turned to his nurse and said, "Can you believe all labors used to be like this?  When I first started my practice there were no epidurals."  When I finally pushed the baby out, I cried, but not for joy.  I cried for myself.  I couldn't believe that just happened.  Labor was too intense...there was not time for tears then.

Can someone explain to me why remembering labor fills me with yearning to experience it again?  I can't explain it, but I feel it.  I love labor and I am so grateful that my body was able to do that.  I love becoming a mother, I love being a mother.

So these are my stream of conscious thoughts that I had during one stretch: Grateful my body could do a hard work out, grateful my body could do a hard labor, yearning to go through labor again, submitting to the reality that I probably won't have this experience again, sorrowing, and then gratitude.  Tremendous gratitude.  Grateful that I was able to give birth to three babies and that my body was able to nurse them and nurture them. Such intense emotions in such a short period of time, I couldn't help but cry.  I put my face towards my knee instead of looking at my instructor, but I wonder if she caught a glimpse of my tears and thought her workout might have been a little over the top.