On the way home from the library

Miss M: Fake blood? Cool. Mom, do we have corn syrup?

Young M: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Miss E: When a mommy has a baby in her tummy, she shouldn't eat sweets. This book says so.

Miss M: A working model lung!

Young M: 10, 11, 12, 13. Mom, what does 1 and 2 make?

Young A: On Venus it's hot enough to melt lead!

Young M: Mom, what is this number?

Me: I'm driving. I can't look. Ask Miss E.

Young M: Miss E, what is this?

Miss E: It's a six.

Miss M: It takes twenty four hours for your food to turn into poop.

Young A: Venus's day is longer than it's year!

Miss E: There are two words "can" that are spelled the same but mean different things!

Miss M: A nutrition balance helps you balance your nutrition.

Young M: 12, 4, 16.

Young A: Venus's day is 243 days long.

Miss M: A model hand?!

Miss E: Like "The beans are in a can." or "George can paint."

Miss M: Make your own edible cell? Mom do we have some candy the size of a gumball?

A disagreement in chocolate

About a month ago, Young T discovered the drawer in my nightstand, the drawer I keep my chocolate stash in. I rescued one of my birthday chocolates with two tiny teeth marks on top. Ever since that first taste, Young T and I have been having a major disagreement. He makes a bee-line for the drawer, snatches a brown chocolate paper, stuffs it in his mouth, and spits it out in disgust when he realizes it is empty. He grabs a Lindt ball and chomps it almost in two until it begins to ooze from the side and he gets a taste. Then he howls in rage when I take it away. We compromise on the chocolate bars. I let him carry them around and chew on them, but I don't unwrap them. I don't think I've ever had this much competition for my sweets.

Do it.

Important Mothering/Life Principle I've Just Figured Out #467

Do it.

I tend to get caught up in wondering how to do all sorts of important things: Family Home Evening, cleaning the house, teaching the kids to clean the house, exercising, etc. Usually, I think up some great program/schedule. Then, I don't follow it. I love organizing a plan. I hate sticking to a plan.

I'm learning that the first thing to do is to start. If I worry about how to do something, it won't get done. If I start doing it, then I will know how to change it to meet our needs. But nothing will happen until I do it.

And how do you like your cereal?

Yesterday I took all five children to the grocery store. As we were shopping another lady started chatting with us. Noticing the boxes of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch in the cart, she told Eliza that we seemed to be buying the same thing she was. Then I heard her ask me, "Do you like yours with booze, too?" I didn't know quite what to say. I've heard of using orange juice instead of milk, but not booze. After a moment she clarified, she enjoyed her peanut butter cereal with the chocolate Boo cereal. She claimed it was just like Reese's. Ah. Suddenly it all made much more sense.

My choice

~Each day I waste my gifts and time on mundane jobs that nobody appreciates. I do everything nobody else wants to so that my husband and my children can go out into the world and enjoy and succeed. Each day, I sacrifice my career, my fulfillment, and my basic needs so that others can have them. I work overtime so they don't have to. No matter how much I do, it is never done and never enough. No matter which knee I kiss or which stomach I feed another need is waiting. I never pray enough, or read enough scriptures, or exercise enough. I eat too many sweets, crave too much sleep, and waste too much time on the computer. Life is hard.~

~Each day, my husband goes to work so that we can have our needs met. Each day, he works so that I can stay home and bless our lives and provide the stability and continuity the children need so much. Each day, I make a difference as I teach and comfort my children. Every time I exercise, pray, or read scriptures, I am strengthened. Each day I feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and lift up the hands that hang down. I am blessed to spend my days in the service of my children and my husband and my God. My husband misses so much of the sweetness of parenting so that I can be here for it. I am blessed to use my gifts in our house to enrich our lives. As I create a clean home, delicious food, comfortable children, and a safe haven, I create joy for myself and others. I am so blessed.~

Each day I choose with my thoughts and my words. Each day I teach my children that either I am downtrodden and oppressed or that I am uplifted and blessed. Each time I choose, I create a reality.

Which will I choose today?

Be still my heart

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

Before I was married, I was free to think and choose only for me. When I got married, I gave my heart away. My thoughts and choices were now split between my wants and needs and the Professor's wants and needs. As the children have joined us, my heart has been split and given to each of them.

Shortly after we were married, the World Trade Center was attacked. That morning, I vividly remember needing to get to my husband. As long as I was with him, I could face whatever came. Until then, my heart's demands to gather my little family drowned out any other need or desire I had at the moment.

Later, I was driving home with Miss M as my baby. We got caught in a blizzard. Again, I had an overwhelming need to gather my family, preferably at home. During the long drive inching slowly toward our little apartment, all I wanted was to be home with my husband and my family. Once home, the blizzard could rage all night, and I wouldn't care.

When Young T was born, he was whisked away to the NICU for a few hours. I had hardly gotten to hold him, much less get to know him, before they took him. While he was gone I thought I was doing pretty well at staying positive. The nurse asked me more than once how I was or if I needed anything. I kept replying that I was fine, and the only thing I needed was my baby. When he was finally brought to me, I relaxed. I hadn't realized how tensely I had been waiting for him until he was in my arms. Finally, all was right with my little world.

This year, the Professor has been traveling. His trips for work have been as exotic as Hawaii or Ireland and as mundane as the Midwest or California. Throw in a few trips with the family and one with the young men in our church and he's been rather busy. I miss him. Today as I checked his flights to see where he was, I realized that I've been kind of holding my breath just as I did all those other times. All week, I've been very aware that he isn't here. I think about what he's doing and what time it is. I don't want to go somewhere if he might be available to chat. I've been waiting without even realizing it. When he got back in the States, the tension eased. I'll relax more when he is in this state. And when he is finally here, my family will be gathered and I can stop worrying about the rest of the world. My heart is coming home.

Sweet things.

Today, I am grateful.

I am grateful for peripheral stereo vision and sweet children. I am grateful for a curly mohawk and friends. I am grateful for naps and repentance. I am grateful for the summer. I am grateful for my husband and to be home with my kids. I am grateful for an increased appreciation of both of those blessings. I am grateful for strawberries and ice cream and cookies and milk. I am grateful for a chance to make my life and home into a comfortable, content place for my family. I am grateful for hot water. I am grateful for health.

Next, I think I will be grateful for bed.