Roominating

I sit here in my tiny house looking about me and what do my eyes behold? Mess. Leftover chaos from our weekend cattle drive that really became a overnight campout with lots of bovine neighbors and mosquitos, dishes from two days of craziness and ten loaves of home made wheat bread, papers piled up because I've been too busy with everything else to really go through them properly, and miscellaneous bits of "stuff" providing proof enough that I share my tiny home with tiny people -- not of the same type/class as the fictitious Borrowers, but just as . . . permeating. Anyway, I sit here looking about and the thought occurs to me: "You know, if I were smart I would spend this precious time when all of my children are asleep and my husband is gone with church responsibilities and I would clean up tonight so that I can start my week off with a tidy home." But of course, at that very same instant, my psyche counters "WHAT?! It's SUNDAY!!! You're not supposed to work on Sunday! Besides, you have ALL DAY tomorrow to clean . . . how often do you get to type uninterrupted and unpressured? In a word . . . NEVER!!! Take advantage of the quite and solitude to do some writing -- You could update your friends and family to what's been happening in your life lately -- that counts as service, right?!"
"Wrong!" says my better half -- (and no, I'm not talking about Tim)"You know that if you go to bed with the house messy you'll wake up feeling stressed out and behind. It will put you in a bad mood for the whole day and you also know that "if Mama ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy!" So just suck it up & get to work! You could probably have this all tidied up in an hour!"
"An HOUR?!!" screams . . . the other guy (the bad voice simply MUST be male -- no woman would ever come up with such nonsense) "Have you even LOOKED at this place?! I mean, it would take an hour just to get down to the kitchen counters! We're talking DAYS here!"
"Shut-up you moron!" It's really getting heated now -- Better Half (B.H. for short) usually doesn't use such language. "An hour of uninterrupted work tonight would accomplish as much as an entire DAY of work with the girls awake or Tim home! Right now you have nothing to distract you -- no calls to make, no school to conduct, no baby to feed, no one to take potty, no dinner to cook -- NOTHING!!! Now, get off that computer & GET TO WORK before it's too late!!"
Gotta go - B.H. can be very convincing.

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Family pictures

So we decided on Monday that we've been working entirely too hard on our house & needed to take a break. So . . . we did family pictures! YAY! Tim did a great job, don't you think?!  Of course, it helps that my children are absolutely GORGEOUS!!! :) 

So, tomorrow we're going on our first ever family cattle drive  - Yipee-kiyay! :) 

Okay, so I just LOVE this picture of Lorin -- it TOTALLY captures her little attitude! It's just the total embodiment of "Two".  I was so glad Tim was able to catch it on film! 

This is Lily's 5-year-old picture -- she's already lost three teeth & has another one that's so loose I swear she's going to lose it in her sleep - I keep trying to convince her that she should just let me pull it, but since hearing the Joseph Smith story about his leg operation as a boy & how his father held him she's determined that she won't have another tooth pulled unless her Daddy is holding her & I just refuse to walk into that childhood trauma story. Can't you just hear it? "When I was a kid, my Dad held me down while my Mom pulled out my teeth!" No thanks!

This is my little Meg -- she's 5 1/2 months old now & SO cute!!! She has such a fun little personality. She is VERY ticklish & loves to chew on anything and everything. Total drool monster, but no teeth . . . yet. :) 

Just so you don't get the idea that Lorin is surly all the time -- because she's not, but that girl can throw out some of the orneriest looks! :) 

Mommy & her girls!

Our little family! YAY!

Mink and Motherhood

We moved a lot when I was growing up. At one point, we lived in Highland, Utah, which used to have a lot of mink ranchers (yes, that's right . . . mink . . . as in the coats -- hey, I didn't say my life was politically correct!). I had a good friend whose parents were mink ranchers (boy, the stories I could tell about that!) -- anyway, I remember asking one day to go into the sheds where they kept the mink - and was told that no one goes in there unless it's absolutely necessary. It was explained to me that at that time of year they have their litters. Apparently, when mommy mink get stressed out (as is the case when people are around their newly born pups) they become somewhat cannibalistic and can end up eating their young. This always seemed totally horrific to me . . . until today.

Picture this . . . My 5 month old infant is on my back in a back-pack type carrier, pulling what little is left of my hair ( you know, that tender, nape of the neck hair?) and screaming her head off because she's tired & hungry & sick of being packed around. I can't put her down however, because I am elbow deep in bread dough (ten loaves worth) and trying like mad to hurry and get the loaves divided  & in pans before they start rising again & the bread is ruined. My 2 year old has been whining for the past hour that she's hungry and five minutes before this I had washed up her hands and face -- she had been eating my freshly ground wheat flour. . . that's right, the FLOUR. . . yummy! So, I turned around to see where she had gone & I spotted her with her back to me sitting on a barstool in front of the stove where the cake I had made Tim's work crew for lunch had been cooling . . . two little hands covered in cake & a handful of it in her mouth. THEN, just as I was trying to get her down without actually touching anything (remember, elbow deep bread dough?) my 5 year old starts wailing for about the 20th time today because she found a bruise on her leg, pushed on it & it hurt (okay, so that  probably wasn't the reason, but from other experiences this morning, it was probably something just as serious and life-threatening). . . I was beginning to feel very . . . mink-ish.

You know, at moments like this all I have to do to regain peace and serenity is think of the pioneers and how rough they had it crossing the plains . . . Okay, so that was a total load of crap - there is nothing, short of direct divine intervention, that could have restored my life to a state of peaceful bliss at that moment. Honestly though, I think the only reason I still have all three children, and they are all still breathing and healthy, is that I could remind myself that someday this will be funny. Of course, the knowledge that these moments usually only last about 15 minutes helped immensely -- even the most unbearable things are temporary. 

Hearts and Flowers

While cleaning up the kitchen this evening I happened to be picking up grocery bags - you know, the standard, white, plastic flimsy things that tear over the slightest strain, but will resist 400 lbs of torque if you're trying to tear into them - anyway, I had made a trip to the store & was  just wrapping up the bags so they'd be ready for their next mission: lining my trash cans. As I swooped the last bag off the floor I noticed something red falling from it - about 20 little red construction paper hearts fell onto my kitchen linoleum. Lily had been cutting them out while we were outside this morning. I remember kneeling in the dirt, planting my strawberry starts, and every few minutes she would require my attention to show me some new configuration of cut-out hearts in a strip of red construction paper. At the time, I sort of brushed her aside, giving her latest wonder a brief glance and a cursory, "Yeah, that one's really neat!" before returning to my oh-so-important planting. As I looked at those dozens of little red hearts on the floor I caught myself wondering . . . how many more mornings will I have of red construction paper creations and carefully crafted heart patterns? How much longer will Lily be so excited to show me every new creation she makes?

I couldn't help but wonder at the speed and splendor of childhood. I, like most parents, have had many friends with children grown offer sage advice to cherish these years because they go so quickly. I don't know if it's because of the challenges we faced in starting a family, or because of the experiences I've had in my own life, or perhaps just a wonderful blessing from Heavenly Father, but the fleeting time of infancy, toddlerhood and now childhood has continued to strike me as an almost painful pleasure. I vividly remember lying with Lily on the couch in our apartment when she couldn't have been more than 2 weeks old and crying because I felt the time was already going too quickly. How is it that the days and weeks seem to fly by no matter how desperately we try to hold on to them, while a single night with a sick child can last for an eternity?

Why do the precious moments go so quickly? Could it be that the experiences we are granted in this life are but a small sampling of what is offered in the eternities? If so, then perhaps Heaven will be sharing an eternity of my baby's laughter and smiles with Tim. I cannot imagine anything that would bring me greater joy. What a particular treasure it is for me to have the opportunity to be home where I can at least have the option to appreciate every red construction paper heart, every "potty time" excitement, and every one of Baby Meg's smiles. Truly, Home is My Heaven on Earth.

Matriarchal Rantings

Okay, just to set the record straight, this "Venting" post is NOT about my mother, or mother-in-law . . . wrong generation. This is about ME -- yes, it's all about me. So, I've been recently beating my head against the wall with Lily's schooling. Primarily because I decided a few weeks ago that I was unhappy with my parenting and needed some improvement in the form of Love & Logic classes. The jury is still out on whether or not this was a good idea, but I'm still taking the classes & trying to implement the philosophies so, we'll see. I think it will work, long term, -- I just have to survive the "testing" period - you know, that lovely period of time when a new rule / strategy is implemented & it seems that your children become hired assassins bent on utter annihilation of the change. They whip out the knives, ropes, whips, maces, legos, horses, and baby doll clothes in an all-out affront on your attempt to create/maintain order in your home, insisting that chaos is happiness and ignorance is bliss. 

Speaking of ignorance, Lily is making me nuts. She's doing this "I hate school" routine and honestly, there are days when I can definitely see the appeal of boarding school . . . in Europe. When she does sit down to learn, she does as little as possible as poorly as possible - wanting to skip straight to the lesson assessment or unit quiz instead of having to go through the whole lesson. Then when she completely bombs out because I'm no longer "helping" her (aka- enabling her dependent behavior by giving her little prompts like, "Are you sure?" or "You may want to double-check that answer before you hand it in.") it's a puddle of tears as she tries to pass the ownership of her problem on to moi. Do I take it? No, but that doesn't stop the little temper tantrums with "You ALWAYS make me do school!", and "I can't do this, it's too hard." playing in the background. 

Basically, the problem I'm having here is that I don't know how much control to give her. I mean, in class, I hear parents talk about how they let their kids just choose when to do school and as long as they put in a full week's worth of work by Friday, it's all good. Well, I can see how that could work with a literate child, but what about a Kindergartner who can barely read? I can't exactly hand her the textbook & say "Here you go Honey, let me know when you're done". How do I give her choices (other than "what subject do you want to start with today?") while still making sure the work gets done and I'm not wasting my day sitting at her beck and call? I want her to learn to LOVE learning -- to love school. 

Lots of people get through life just fine with minimal formal education, but I don't want that for Lily -- I want her to have choices. LOTS OF CHOICES! Not just "when should I get married" but "Should I do an internship in India or London?" and "Do I want to be a surgeon or an orthodontist?". I NEVER want my children to feel limited and that's one thing that being un-educated does -- it limits. I know so many beautiful, smart, talented women whose families would starve and freeze if they had to depend on their ability to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. Why? It's not because they're selfish, dishonest or lazy, it's because they couldn't get a job that pays enough to support themselves, let alone their family. And why? Because they don't have the education to qualify for the higher-paying jobs. In these unsteady times, education is like life insurance -- it helps to guarantee that you, and your family, will be able to live.  I want that for my girls. I want them to grow up with the realization that the only limits they have are self-imposed. If they're not world-famous authors, it's not because they didn't have the opportunity, it's because they chose to pursue other avenues. If they never go to London or Brisbane, it's because they made that choice, not because it was out of their reach. How do I teach them that? How do I teach Lily that learning is the ONLY way to have freedom -- the ONLY way to have choices - the ONLY way to be able to enjoy life? 

I guess I could make it so that most of her freedom comes from school, but what would that look like? Up at 7, dressed, teeth brushed, hair fixed, room clean & at breakfast by 7:30. Breakfast from 7:30-8. Dishes cleared, counter washed, chores done & ready for school by 8:30. Opening exercises from 8:30-9 -- she picks the song, who holds the flag & what scripture we read. Reading from 9-9:30 -- she picks the book(s) & who reads (her or me). Course work from 9:30-11:30- she picks the subjects. Lunch from 11:30-12. Lorin down for a nap at noon. School from 12:15-2:15 - she picks the subjects again. 2:15-2:30 - piano practice. Then after school is done, she gets to make lots of choices for the rest of the day - what and where to play, what to have for dinner (A or B), when to get ready for bed (7 or 7:30), etc. . . . Okay this could work, but I think I'll need to put up some visual reminders -- maybe a poster or something with clocks on it that show the different times & what has to be done by that time. Then, I could get her a watch, so she could practice telling the time and develop some responsibility for making sure the day's needs are met.

 To make this work, I'm going to have to really focus and stay on task. I'll also have to be more disciplined with phone time and getting too chatty and distracted with my own tasks. I'll have to be more diligent in making sure that things stay picked up, or the house could become a disaster area very quickly. I think a lot of the resistant struggle that we're having right now is rooted in the fact that I've been inconsistent in our day-to-day routine. Some days are very structured, and others are just craziness. I need to be less impulsive and more organized in how I spend my time. Shopping trips and other errands should be planned around our daily schedule, not vice versa, and lengthy phone calls should be saved for non-school hours. School time needs to be sacred and uninterrupted. It is too important to let slack and Lily is too young to fully understand what a hindrance a lack of education can be in achieving your dreams. School WILL happen every day, and while I will let her make choices, lots of choices, about what we do first, and other little things, the parameters will not be flexible. I know that she will fight like mad at first, trying to break down these new limits, but I must stand firm. Her future depends on it. On this, I must not be willing to compromise. I am resolved that the future happiness and direction of my child's life begins under my direction. Although I cannot choose how quickly she will progress, or how often she stumbles, I can, I must plot the course under her watchful gaze until she is able to do so for herself. Only then can I fully relinquish the compass, confident that she will be its new master having learned how to chart a straight course, true and unwavering, by watching me in all my blundering attempts to show her the right way to go. This is my job. I am a Mother.