Sometimes...

I really love our ward book club. I mean, I really, really do. Maybe I'm putting too much emphasis on it, but it is so nice to get out and sit around and talk to women about things that are not necessarily child related--though they sometimes are. :) It's a recurring event on my phone, so I'm always reminded to go.

Last night, after coming home, I was completely exhausted. I mean, utterly. But I had to search for 45 minutest to try to find my iPod because it's part of my ritual to fall asleep. (insomnia, how I loathe thee) I never found it. So, today, I'm still ridiculously tired.

But, as I lay there trying to shut off my brain long enough to fall asleep, I had a mini-epiphany. I realized, in my quest to find the perfect time to incorporate physical activity into my day, I've had the perfect time all along.

And now I know what time I can walk every day. And it's perfect.

Sure, it's a small victory, but sometimes you just have to take what you can get.

But I still have to find my iPod. Grr.

Motherhood

My brother sent me an email yesterday. He's speaking about mothers and motherhood in church for Mother's Day, and wants to know the good side of being a mother.

I haven't answered him, yet.

It's not that I don't know what the good things about being a mother are, it's just that I struggle to express them properly.

This is what he wants: Can you each email me with a description of the benefits of
motherhood? What are the good things you, personally, have enjoyed
from being a mom?

His goal is to get his mom, grandma and sister (me) to weigh in on this, so he has a multi-generational picture to share with the congregation.

I feel a responsibility to show motherhood in it's proper light, but he only wants the good stuff (kidding, lol). How do I properly portray how I've always wanted to be a mommy, but how I didn't want to have as many kids as my mom because she never seemed to have time for us all? And then, how it ended up not mattering anyway because God has his own ideas about things like that. :)

What about how it feels to feel the first flutterings of life inside you? Or the bond that forms when you hold your child close, whether you can nurse them or not? Or the amazing feeling of giving birth (or at least the aftermath), when they put that squalling, wriggly baby on your belly and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your entire life (even though it's a gooey mess lol)? Or the heart-stopping moments after they take the baby out and before you hear his or her first sounds?

How about the ways you find to relate to each child individually, because they are each so unique? And yet, you still subject them to the same house rules and guidelines, because everyone has to learn to get along in this world.

Sigh. I'd better get started. Mother's Day is only 2 Sundays away.

Child-Inspired Poetry

So last week I bragged about my brilliant son who writes cool stories and poems for school assignments. This is a poem I wrote about him, in honor of his birthday tomorrow. Mind you, it's his birthday, his twin's birthday, and his little sister's birthday--kind of a busy day tomorrow. :) If you want to read the poem I wrote about his twin brother, you can find it HERE.

Daniel

If it weren’t for walls,
and the occasional door,
nothing would stop
this boy not yet four.
He sleeps with a blanket
flung over his head.
He runs with pure joy
and, yes, jumps on his bed.
He plays with his daddy,
his uncles and brothers.
He’d play with the baby
if she weren’t such a bother.
His eyes are so glorious
and full of sweet love.
His smile lights the room
as can no star from above.
I live for his hugs;
his kissies make my day.
His sweetness has saved his life
more times than I’d care to say.
I love my Danno, I’m worth more today
because he loves me--
that I’m proud to say.

April 23, 2002

Bragging Rights

I have this awesome overachiever son. He's the kind of kid who's ahead of his grade in math, has papers he writes get read aloud in class by the teacher, and scores A's on science projects. Ya--I have no idea how he got to be this way, either. But I'm loving it.

Today I'm sharing a fun poem he wrote:
What do Scholars do When the Teacher Isn’t Looking?
By Daniel Chesley

When teachers don’t look,
We make funny faces.
What else do we do?
Leave books in bad places!

We get out some paper,
Then fold it a lot,
Out comes the airplane,
Oh, yeah! Evil plot!

So then get it ready,
As the clock goes tick,
Pull your arm backward,
Then give it a flick!

It flies around the room,
The teacher doesn’t look,
She is way too busy,
She’s reading a book.

Down it’s descending,
The small paper craft.
Then, something’s just blowing;
A little wind shaft.

It blows the plane up,
High up to the sky,
Then down it descends,
To hit the teacher’s eye.

“Who threw that airplane?”
She cried in a rage,
She was nearly blind,
Not to turn a page.

The room is so timid,
No one says a word,
And so not a sound
By the class had been heard.

The teacher says, “Fine!”
Goes back to her book,
I yearn to get up,
‘Cause I need a look.

I creep off my seat,
Then crawl on the floor.
I am very careful,
When I dart out the door.

I sneak up on teacher,
Then take a little peek,
I see a little bird,
With a very long beak.

It is called a Toucan,
It said in the book.
I lean in closer,
Just for a better look.

That was a mistake,
For then I was caught!
The teacher was angry,
I had a dumb thought.

Was sent to the office,
Right on the double,
The principal was mad,
For I was in trouble!

So now, my dear children,
As I read to you,
Do not be naughty,
Or you’re in deep doo-doo!

How Big is your Box?

(image courtesy of legacytrunks.com)
My husband and I have been talking quite a bit about the growth and change I've gone through the last few years. And, subsequently, the growth and change my changes have put the family through. Don't get me wrong; he's nothing but supportive. Sometimes I think he wants this more than I do.

Because I asked him, "When do I get to crawl back into my box?"

And he said, "You don't." Gotta love him.

Before I accepted my other role in life, that of being an author, I was a mostly-contented wife and mother. The discontent came in the form of work. I hated my job, and always felt there was something "more" I should be doing. Don't get me wrong--I had a dream job, but it didn't satisfy me. If fact, over the years, it drained me of creativity and left me frustrated and angry. Mostly the frustration stemmed from why I couldn't just be satisfied by this dream job. I mean, I got to work in my pj's, didn't have to interact with customers, was highly respected and earned an incredible wage for a person with no college education.

Looking back, so much makes sense. The times I'd spend in the shower imagining what I'd say in front of large groups of people. I didn't dream of the public life--the part of my life I most enjoyed was being anonymous. But, in direct contrast with that, I'd practice what to say in front of crowds.

Then someone said to me (and the rest of the congregation), "Life's too short to not do what you love."

The timing was perfect. I'd just begun my journey of self-discovery. And this really hit me, hard. I knew what I loved--my family and writing. But, it was another year or so before I sighed, looked heavenward and said, "Okay. If this is what You want me to do, then I'll do the very best I can. You've got me."

The learning curve is sharp. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes I feel like I should be doing so much more, working so much harder, moving so much faster.

And, sometimes, I just want to crawl back into my box and be the invisible one again.

The problem? I think I outgrew my box.

Once Upon a Time...

Morgan was bothering me, blah, blah, blah...

Direct quote from my then 2 yr old niece. Priceless stuff.

I really love kids. Don't misunderstand; I'm not always a fan of all the work involved in raising kids, but I do really enjoy having them in my life. My own kids, kids I tend, nieces, nephews--it's like having my own, personal "Kids Say the Darndest Things."

My son, coming to me with tears in his eyes, "Brandon can't fly."
Stepdaughter, when learning she was not flying from AZ to OK, but traveling by car. "All the way?!" (they were in NM at the time lol)
Son, all alone in his room playing. "Jeffrey? What?"

And then there are the fun ways they choose to pronounce words:

Farmady (Pharmacy)
Feedeere (Theater)
Dutch (Brandon--no idea, my daughter started calling her big brother Dutch and we never learned why)

Limitless. Charming. Troublesome. Endearing. Children.

And, no, Brandon still hasn't master the art of flight. :)

Glorious, Elusive Sleep

Doesn't this baby look blissful?

I'd love to be asleep right now.

I admit it; I love sleeping. It's honestly my favorite thing to do, ever. And lately I feel like I've been trying to make up a lost decade of insomnia. It's not that bad, really, but, sometimes....

We were without internet last week, so I missed all my regularly scheduled blog posts. Never fear--I made good use of my time. Not only did I finish my book, I also now have 2 girls with 2 Easter dresses ready to go for next month. I read 4 books. I made dinners. And, I didn't really miss the internet.

Let's get real. I missed it. I honestly felt like I'd lost a limb or was in a cast or something. Part of my regular schedule had been interrupted. And my son thinks he doesn't deal well with change...

The hardest part was feeling like I let people down. My blogs didn't get done. Emails didn't get answered. My poor writer group showed up at my house Thursday expecting to hear a bunch of info on ebooks, and all my info was online still. Sigh.

But we survived. And, I do get a lot more done without the internet. :)