Basketball

Well, here I am again.  I have very fond memories of praying my heart out for my older brothers while they were playing basketball.  I wanted so much for them to have glory.  I even visualized the coach turning to me, putting me in the game, and then winning the game for them.  My brother would be forever grateful for me.  Then I got to pray for my younger brother while he played.  We lived in California again because my husband was in medical school.  I prayed throughout the game and I prayed at home for him, on my knees that he would make the team.  I cherish the feeling of love that I have for my brothers as I watched them play basketball.  Now, I get to do it again my my own son.  I hope and even pray for him in the game.  I love it.

Cousins!

Look for the Good

There is probably nothing that gets on my nerves more than when my children are mean to each other.  I started a new program with them to try to incentivize nice behavior.  They earn a token for being nice and they loose on for being mean.  They used all of their tokens having fun at a place called Oasis.  It was a lot of fun.

Picking up Master I

The kids come with me to pick up Master I.  The walk is a perfect bit of exercise for them.  They anxiously wait for him and try to spot his face out of the distant crowd of returning children.  When they see him they yell his name.  This is one of my happy moments... when my children love each other.

The Tot Lot

There is a lovely little park in our town that is just for little kids.

We can't wait for warmer days to come.  We still play outside, but look forward to days when we can feel a little more comfortable and stay out a little longer.

The Please Touch Museum

We have a lovely friend that took us to the children's museum in Philadelphia for a special outing for Ms. R's birthday.

Ms. R's Turns 4!!!

We had a family birthday party for Ms. R's birthday.  

Ms.  R's presents were a painting easel &

A Rapunzel doll.

What a Hike in Penryn Can Teach You About Life

One Grandpa no problem 

I spent much of the summer with my sister and her children.  One day last summer my sister Emily and I took our kids on a small hike in Penryn.  We walked on our old street from the bus stop up the hill to our old house.  The sweeping vista was only more beautiful than I had remembered it.  My sister and I throughly enjoyed each peice of the nature that we grew up with--the sound of the gurgling water of the irrigation ditch, the quiet of the countryside, the smell of starthistle.  our children tried to enjoy it with us.  Their first distraction was the dogs.  Dogs in Penryn aren’t tied up or behind fences and they aren’t always nice.  We told them not to worry and gave them Penryn Dog Safety 101.  1 if a dog barks, don’t look scared and don’t ever run.  Face it and look it in the eyes.  Stop to assess if it is going to come near.  Command it to go, pick up a stick and brandish it, bend down to pretend like your are going to pick up a rock to throw at it, and if the dog still doesn’t stop, pick up a rock and throw it at it as hard as you can.  Then we started to climb the hill.  They thought the hike from the bus stop up to our house was too steep.  We showed them the trick of when your legs got tired to turn around and walk backwards because it uses different muscles.  Then we got to the part of the walk were there was a small trail over grown with a nasty weed with thorns called starthistle.  At this point they were in tears again and totally paralyzed.  We showed them how to step on the root of the weed to push it out of your way.  Near the top of the hill I mentioned that we had to be careful for snakes and to keep your eyes alert.  At this point I remember the questioning look of the oldest.  She didn’t want to complain, but she seemed about why we would put her in this awful situation with all of these perils.  I thought about it and reflected on how overwhelming all that we had taught her in the last  half hour might make it so that she couldn’t enjoy the lovely natural world around her.  Her mind was consumed with the new rules and information so much that she couldn’t enjoy it.  I remembered the first time I was mature enough to understand the dangers of snakes.  I lamented that I would never enjoy hiking again because I always had to be on the lookout for snakes.  I love hiking.  Looking for snakes has become second nature to me so much that I don’t have to focus on it anymore.  I can enjoy hiking.  There is no nature without the hard parts.  But don’t be discouraged.  All of these coping skills can seem overwhelming now, but they will become second nature to you and you will be able to shoulder that burden with ease and be able to enjoy nature again.  

Being a parent can feel totally overwhelming.  There is so much that is so hard and unpleasant, but there is no way around those difficult tasks.  Just like in nature, if you would have the vista, you have to hike.  We can’t find a path that doesn’t have difficulty.  We learn to shoulder the difficultly and 

My dad has learned to shoulder the difficulty and enjoy what is good.

Twister's Foods

Twister loves meat more than anything.  Meat and fruit.  For meat he loves sausage, chicken, turkey, hot dogs or whatever else.  He loves blueberries, pinapple, oranges, strawberries.

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.

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."

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.

Conversations with my Posterity

I have been having an imaginary conversation with my posterity in my mind this evening in which they ask me, "How did you overcome ______?"  The blank is filled in with some of the harder things that I have been through in my life.

My answer to my posterity is, "What?  You think I can give you a one word answer of how I worked through such a complicated that took me months or years to get through?" As I look back on some of those times tonight I think of my Wonderful Counselor, the Lord Jesus Christ.

This is the rest of my answer to my posterity: "It is too messy and too complicated to give you a guidebook.  Besides, even if you go through the exact same experiences that I have had and have the same baggage that you are lugging around in your life, you will respond to it differently than I have and so you will need to be counseled differently that I was.  But, I want to tell you that I know that you have a Wonderful Counselor too.  And that He will help you.  He will listen to your erroneous and jumbled thinking when you are at your lowest points.  He will accept you when you come to Him and are a mess. When you are humble His comfort will come gently, almost imperceptibly. At times when I didn't feel humble, but felt indignant and hurt instead, it helped me to remember times in my life when I had a deep need of a Savior and He saved me.  Then I felt humble again.  He knows how to sort through your brokeness.  And He knows how to help you work through it one step at a time.
I can't tell you how I got through because the help was given to me in such small, bite-sized doses that changed every week  or day according to what I needed.  As thy days may demand, so thy succor shall be."

And if my posterity says to me, "But Mom/Grandma, I feel ______."  The blank is any number of  negative emotions that are supposed to shock me.  However, I am not shocked because I already had to get over  the shock  I felt for myself when  I had those negative feelings and thoughts when I went through that hard experience.

And so my answer will be, "I know.  I felt that way too."

Tom Sawyer, Joseph in Egypt and the Case of the Split Personality Disorder

During the administration of the sacrament Master I turned to me and said, "The bread tastes terrible."  I didn't respond so he repeated himself, "The bread is gross."

I whisper to him, "It doesn't matter the flavor of the bread. We are just supposed to remember that Jesus gave his life for us. Did you know that the during the time of Joseph Smith there was a time that the members of the Church were so poor that they didn't even have bread?  They used potato peels instead.  Doesn't that sound gross?"

With an expression indicating that there was a simple solution to all of this, if people would just see the world as he does, he said totally seriously, "I think we should just get Jolly Ranchers instead of bread.  I mean then you could really focus!" He said that last part emphatically, with out a smile.

Sundays and showers.  These are the two hardest things in my boy's life.  Every week it is the same when Sunday morning rolls around.  He complains about it being Sunday and complains that he hates it.  He puts off getting ready to the last minute and then fights us when we ask him to take a shower.  He has always hated Church and he has always dreaded showers.  I am ashamed to admit that I don't even have him take a shower everyday anymore.  I have been worn down.  Ever since we moved from Utah I can only work up the motivation to make him do it once a week.  Even then he still fights me and protests in total exasperation about the injustice that he has to shower.

Here was last Saturday night's conversation:

Master I:   "Mom, can I take a bath?"

Mom:  "Yes, but you have to finish your chores first."

We finished our chores and then I asked Master I if he would like to take his bath.

Master I: "No, I was just saying that to get out of doing chores."

Mom:  "Well, you have to take a shower.   You haven't had one all week!  You can either take one tonight or you can take it in the morning.  I think it would be better to take it tonight."

Master I:  "Why would it be better tonight?"

Mom:  "Because you get mad at me every time that I ask you to take a shower and I think it will make tomorrow go smoother if you do it right now."

Master I: "I am going to take one in the morning."

So, this is how it went this morning:

Mom: "Get in the shower please."

Master I: "What?!!  A shower!"

But to only remember and record these experiences with my boy would be an incomplete picture of him.  Juxtaposed with all of this typical, boyish,  Tom Sawyer type of behavior we also have wonderful spiritual experiences.

On Friday night I was by myself reading in the Book of Mormon.  I am reading the last chapters in Alma, typically referred to as the "war chapters."  I am reading with the intent that I might learn how to protect my family from the battle against them.  I believe the prophets when they say that Satan is waging a war against families.  I am learning great things.  In Friday's reading I contemplated how when the war began Moroni or Heleman didn't even consider using the rising generation that would later be known as the stripling warriors.   The idea didn't even occur to them.  And yet, I think that the Nephites might have lost if it weren't for their contribution.  I just let my mind sit on that for a while.
Then I wondered, "Maybe I haven't fully realized the contribution that my 9 year old son can make in our family."

I determined that I would have a conversation with him the next day sharing the feeling that I had.  Saturday morning he woke me up by coming on to my bed and saying"Mom, I had the most interesting dreams last night."  He then shared with me his dreams.  I was fascinated.  I wish that I could record all of the details because I know that I will forget it, but he is very private and has insisted that I not share with anyone these things that he tells me.   Anyway, after his sharing I said, "How interesting!  That fits right in with these feelings I had last night..."

It was a wonderful conversation.  I was sure it was going to be a wonderful day, but it felt much more like I was raising Calvin and Hobbs rather than Joseph in Egypt.  So, who am I raising?  Both, I think.  I love to write about my experiences as a mother, because in the writing I begin to see life more clearly.   Saturday I felt oppressed about him trying to get out of cleaning, fighting taking a shower, etc.  Today, as I write, I feel blessed.  I feel like I am living the dream.  I get to raise a  typical, adventure-loving boy as well as a very special spirit.