Have you ever had a day when you are turning in circles - literally.

I found myself actually spinning in circles in my kitchen trying to decide which to do first - the dishes, the laundry, the mopping, making my bed, the unpacking from being away for a month, addressing the clutter left by 5 travel weary children as they nearly rampaged through the house in a frenetic glee/horror at being home, the dead and dying (ick) spiders in every corner, the webs left by aforementioned spiders, the dead and dying (double ick) garden - sigh, and the very dead and dying food left the the fridge.  I braved a glance into the yogurt carton just for fun and saw probably the grossest melange of mold and whatever the pink and yellowish grey stuff is.  (triple ick)  Maybe I grew penicillin hmmm.  Anyway, with all that on my plate and plenty more I made a decision and you're looking at it right now....hang it all and go post on my slog.

The Big Four

I have learned that there are four words as far as health goes (probably more) that inspire A TON of sympathy when mentioned but can be quite benign:
1) MRI
2) Lumbar Puncture
3) Brain Surgery (not quite as benign)
4) Emergency Room

Somehow I have been on the receiving end of each of those things in the past two years.  When (usually IF) I mention any of those four things people get VERY concerned.  So I have a new list of things that have made it all not only bearable but a trial I am slowly becoming grateful for:

1) Love from family and friends, both here and miles away
2) Compassion from my children
3) Patience (not the way I would have liked to have learned it but okay I'm not in charge)
4) Prayer and listening to Conference with a heart open and begging for answers and relief

I have "miles to go before I sleep" but I also have the option to "submit cheerfully".  And I will because we know who wins. :)

Posh Spice

This cute gal is totally my daughter.  We were shopping for nail decals (not my thing) for a Mother's Day spa (not my thing) that my son needed to make the spa easier for him (totally my thing).  Girlfriend saw the Princess Press-on nails (not my thing) and I bought them to try out (increasingly becoming my thing).  We finally tried them out, after trying to pick the perfect moment - not before soccer, not before church, not after church, not right before bed etc etc.  She LOVED the attention and had to show her lovely hands off to every member of the household.  Since the rest of the household are boys they all stared blankly at her nails and went back to what they were doing.  Those dang nails weren't on her fingers more than 5 min. when she joined in a pick-up game of soccer in the backyard and she lost two.  As we were doing a little nail repair (the kit comes with two extra for all those little ones with 12 fingers) I very innocently mentioned that I keep my nails short so that I don't have to worry about losing nails or playing outside.  She turned to go outside, turned right around and asked me to take off the nails and maybe we could put them on later.  "Later" has never happen - she is totally my daughter.

The usual routine

Today in Sacrament meeting it was the usual routine.  I'm sitting with my brood trying to keep them quiet.  I try to sing and get at least one of my children to sing along.  I try to listen to the announcements and make a mental note of who has been sustained and released and tell myself to support them in their new callings.  The time for the sacrament comes and this is where I try to get the 3yr-old to listen to the prayers and sit quietly on the bench.  We have the sit-on-the-bench part down but listen-to-the-prayer and sit-quietly is still in the works.  At the start of every sacrament prayer since this child has been able to talk he asks me, "Who is saying the prayer?"  I attempt to answer him quickly and return to listening.  Today all went as usual except halfway through the prayer on the bread the speaker stopped and began the prayer again.  I had no idea why he had stopped and wrote it off to something rather small my very picky ears did not catch.  At the end of the prayer my 5yr-old says to me in a giggle, "He forgot it was the bread."  I had no idea what she was talking about.  After the meeting I approached the man who had said the prayer to get an idea of why my daughter would have said that.  It turned out that he had begun the prayer on the water and had said water until he was corrected and began on the right prayer.  I had been so busy getting my other child into an attitude of prayer that I had been a poor example of an attitude of prayer.  And my 5yr-old was the perfect example.  She was listening and knew the order of things well enough to know when the order was amiss.  It was humbling and gratifying.  I hope that, in the future, my opportunity to renew my covenants will not be the usual routine.

"It's soccer"

I was at the school for Track and Field Day and got a chance to see my sweet son in a pick-up game of soccer.  The festivities were over and he and a few buddies were just messing around.  The game grew and soon a bunch of kids were taking turns trying to make goals while other kids practiced being goalie.  I tried like heck to turn off my Mom-dar and just remain on the sidelines without calling out my dear one.  That is amazingly hard by the way.  When I'm at the sidelines during an organized game I can fall into sideline mode really well because the kids are disciplined and doing what they are trained to do.  When they are horsing around I am on high alert for misbehavior.  At one point the ball my kid hit collided with the face of a girl opposite him.  She left the field in pain and boy played on.  I watched the injured girl, who was immediately swarmed by her friends with overtures of sympathy.  I could take it no longer.  I signaled to my child to come and talk to me which I'm sure caused him no end of embarrassment.  I suggested that he should apologize to the wounded girl who by this time has limped (I have no idea why she needed to limp) to the swings.  Her minions had followed her and were casting nasty glances in our direction, to which my child was completely oblivious. "I think she's hurt and you should say sorry," I suggested in sweet motherie tones.  He shrugged at me, and as he ran to rejoin the fun he cast back at me, "Why?  It's soccer".

If that doesn't illustrate the difference between an 11yr old boy and 11yr old girl I don't know what does.  She is on the field to impress and be near boys.  He is just playing soccer.  I will relish these times and be grateful that he is completely unaware of the difference because in the not too distant future it won't be soccer.

Buyer Beware

Sans Necklace

I got "Happy" Meals for my kids at McDonalds.  (This is where I show my confidence by not explaining at length how it was Track and Field Day at school and the only day we can bring in junk food and I rarely if ever eat at McDonald etc etc etc)  I got the "girl" meal and toy for my 5yr-old girl.  I guess I should have emphasized 5yr-old girl.  The toy is a necklace sort of thing that plays music when a button is pressed.  Music is the operative word here.  Some messy concoction of sustained talking and computer generated fuzz is emitted from this box.  Had the lyrics not come with the "toy" I may never had known what the weird voice was saying.  And that might have been a good thing.  It is as follows:  "Yeah-e Yeah-e Yeah-e Yeah, my best friend's brother is the one for me."  And it repeats that refrain a couple of times.  Really?  I would love to know who in marketing in their ivory tower thought this was a good idea.  They are either as dumb as rocks or serious geniuses.  My little gal has no idea what the box is saying although she thinks she is repeating it as she croons around the house a sort of mumbly version of the thing.  But the tune is imbedded in my head and if she were to ever come across the song on the TV or radio (please never let this thing happen please) she would take to it like ugly on an ape.  I wouldn't be able to separate her from it to save my life...or hers.  So these marketers know EXACTLY what they are doing.  We are accused of indoctrinating our children by teaching them religion.  Well, it's either them or me and guess who loves them more...and you only get one guess.

Parable of the Lawn Mower and the Soccer Ball

Happier Days

I am convinced that one of the hardest things to do in life is watch your child suffer the consequences of their choices.  When kids are little it doesn't tug at your heart so much - boo hoo they didn't get to watch another hour of Veggie Tales.  Oh no - time out for 3min.  As they grow the ante grows and all of a sudden this all gets very real.  Our oldest and precious child is now a lawn mower.  This is a great and golden day in our lives.  I'm sure we have all heard of tales of children complaining about mowing the lawn and I had hoped they were exaggerated - they are not.  Golden child belly aches in volumes yet unheard of among child-kind.  We finally had to lay down the law and told him if it wasn't done in time he would not get to attend soccer practice.  This was not an aggressive requirement - it gave him 2 days to do it.  But true to tween form the time for soccer practice came and the lawn was still being mowed.  He approached me with the expected plea for leniency and somehow I mustered the strength to remind him of the stipulation and asked him to return to mowing the lawn.  His wails could be heard above the roar of the machine - I am not kidding.  His tear-streaked face shone during each turn in the lawn and reminded me and certainly him of what a hard mom I am.  My heart was in a small panic.  I could have easily caved and taken him to practice and the lawn could have waited for a day.  He could have finished the lawn after practice.  There were 1000 options that could have allowed him to go to practice however only one option was teaching him that choices have consequences and he had made his choice.  My heart bled a little for him that day and I was powerfully reminded that there are somethings we do as parents that our children may not ever understand until they are parents.  Until they are parents they will never know the incredible stabs of pain that go through us when we cannot rescue them from every hurt and all pain, every embarrassment and slight, all trials and difficulties and yes...all the consequences.