Daily Gratitude - Day 9

I can’t decide which is worse. Being in the rinky dinky ward choir or leading the rinky dinky ward choir. Without a doubt, I enjoy singing more than I enjoy conducting. However, I also enjoy having a say in the musical programming (what songs are being sung when) so it’s nice to have control over the choir music. None of it is very fun when five people show up for choir.

Because of our low, low numbers, I have curtailed ward choir to a seasonal thing. I’ve learned that most people don’t enjoy being at church for an extra half-hour to hour, even if they enjoy singing. Besides that, ever since I have been the primary music leader, I’m rarely in the mood to cheer lead another music session. So, ward choir will learn something for Easter, usually something for the summer, like Pioneer Day or Fourth of July and then, of course, music for the beloved holiday season. It’s not asking for a lot of extra time. Still, there are usually only about five people that come - three of them frequently relatives of mine. It’s disheartening.

A very talented musician in the other ward and I have become good friends and two years ago, I helped her put together a musical fireside for Christmas. She did most of the work but I had our choir perform a few numbers, I sang a solo and I accompanied a string ensemble on the piano. I can’t quite remember why we didn’t do it last year but we decided to do it again this year but have it even more combined. We’re going to combine our two rinky dinky choirs into one small but stable choir and add other numbers to enjoy the wonders of Christmas music. Our first practice was right after church today.

There were only seven people there. I know we’ll get more trickling in for our next three rehearsals but it’s still so frustrating as a director because you can’t really ever do much more than teach parts when you have new people showing up each week. The great thing about this exercise in gratitude had me searching for the good, however. And I found it listening to Henry’s wonderful, off-key, enthusiastic young voice.

There used to be an unspoken (well...it was probably spoken. I’m sure Jay did some vocal encouraging) rule that my family was in the choir. They were there anyway and I wanted other families to know that choir certainly wasn’t limited to only the adults so for the past few years, all of my boys have sung with us. Henry often didn’t as quick speech and quick singing are so hard for him but as he’s gotten older, and he’s become a solid reader, he’s become the most eager to sing, by far. In fact, Seth and Sam have reached an age (Sam earlier than Seth because younger brothers are so heavily influenced by their older brothers) where no amount of persuasion really can get them to sing with me anymore and I would never force it. So...Henry and Jay were it from our family today. Henry  (and any child) really should stick with singing the melody but he sits with his father and, truly, whatever he sings is usually in an endearing and loudish monotone so he learns the men’s part. As I went over the part a few times for Jay and one other young man from the other ward, I looked over the top of the piano at Henry, sitting on a chair where his feet couldn’t touch the floor, glasses sliding down his nose, hands struggling to hold the music open and singing of Christ’s birth, my heart nearly burst from love and pride.

Henry is who he is. He has no real guile. He is charming and friendly and innocent and unique. There really is no one quite like him. For years, I haven’t quite known how to handle this curious person sent to our family. He is not always easy to handle but I know I can learn a lot from him. When I watched him enjoy each “Gloria In Excelsis Deo” and my brain connected the dots between teaching everyone the notes and Henry reminding me about the spirit and joy of the phrase, even with only seven singers, I felt grateful.

Monday Musings

I can't think of a single thing in my life/house/calling that doesn't need attention. Everything needs to be done. The whole house could use a big ol' decluttering and spring cleaning. My church bag overwhelms me and is so disorganized with visual aids for various songs stuffed in and my newly acquired laminator sits on the counter, unopened, because I haven't found the time or energy to figure out how to use it. My children have yearbook orderforms and buy-one-get-one-free bookfairs slips to fill out and the yard...oh my goodness. I thought this was my year with Daniel loving being outside and all, to finally get outside and have flowers and less weeds. I might get some of this stuff done if I had any free time but I have convinced myself that I do not so it all remains in the pressure cooker of my brain....ready to explode at any minute.

Except, I do have moments of free time. They are just so random and in such small chunks that I waste them playing some dumb game like bejeweled blitz on my phone instead of spending those 20 minutes on my closet or pantry or dirt encrusted windows. While I sat for the first time of the day thinking, "my kids will be home in 30 minutes" while mindlessly arranging orange and blue and yellow "gems" into groups of 3, I thought, "This is when you should blog." I played for a few more minutes because how can I organize all of....this....into something that is readable and then decided that was setting the bar too high. This is going to be pure stream of consciousness.

One thing that has kept me busier than usual is that I am co-head of the elementary school talent show. It isn't really a big deal except for the time it takes to get it organized. Friday, the other mom in charge and I spent 3 hours at the school listening to auditions and talking about what the show will be like this year. We only had 16 acts and all of them prepared enough to accept so we decided to make it fun for the kids and post a list rather than simply announcing on afternoon announcements that all who auditioned made it. The principle thought it was a little bit cruel to send the kids home for the weekend without knowing but we thought it'd be fun for them to come to school Monday morning, see their name on a big, glittery list, and proudly walk around the halls all day as a reward for their courage and talent.

Well...that was the ideal. The less than ideal is leaving a 3rd grader off the list! It was completely my fault although I will place part of the blame on my co-chair as her notes were jumbled and hard to read and his name was easy to miss.  But, his name was on there and I made final list and so when the teacher emailed us and said, "What the heck?!" as the poor boy was distraught at not making the talent show, I had to bust a move to fix the list, drive out there, repost and send a personal note of apology to the boy (who had a GREAT talent, by the way) that I was sorry. Little things like that can send my day into a tailspin. Thankfully, Jay is home today so I was able to fix it without having to wake Daniel up from his nap and deal with a grouchy, under rested toddler for the rest of the day.

Mother's Day is also floating around in my head. My cleaners came this morning and asked the expected, "How was your mother's day?" question to which I replied, "It was ok." Because it was. But, it wasn't the day that apparently gets posted about on Instagram and Facebook.

I don't know how I feel about Mother's Day. I think the naysayers who say it is a purely Hallmark creation and has no place at church are wrong. As a church who believes families are essential to the plan of salvation and motherhood a divine institution, I think it not only belongs in sacrament meeting but should probably not be limited to a once-a-year event. I understand their grievances, even if I feel like they have become trite and overused. Yes, speakers can sometimes wax nostalgic and emotional about their own specific mothers or wives and I agree that those kinds of talks might not be especially suited for Sacrament Meeting. But, they do have their place. Perhaps the speakers aren't fantastic at intellectualizing their thoughts and experiences and extending their memories or stories to serve as a teaching tool or warning. Like talks every week, I believe it is mostly our experience to take something away from the prepared messages. The bitter I'm-not-going-to-church-on-mother's-day excuse is pride in disguise. You're infertile? You have a horrible relationship with your mother? Your child no longer comes to church? Your husband left you? You resent motherhood? You didn't get breakfast in bed? The common denominator in every one of those phrases is "you" and therein is both the problem and the solution. Just take back the day. Be grateful to be a mother or for your mother or for the beautiful babies that depend on mothers risking their health and bodies to exist, whether that is a child of a friend or a niece or some gorgeous brown eyed creation you flirted with in Guatemala years ago.

As for all of the hoopla and brag fests, I admit it is hard not to be jealous. Past experience has taught me the simple rule to keep expectations low and to truly concentrate on being a mother and not thinking the day means I don't have to mother. My husband is great but he went and fed cows in the morning while I made cinnamon rolls and eggs and bacon for the bread intolerant. I had to leave the house early to fulfill some volunteer duties for the dumb local soccer tournament held in town over the weekend which required my purchasing some ice at Walmart. Then, I had to set up my singing time and get my visual aids in order (see note above about their state in my bag) for the mother's day medley in sacrament meeting. When we got home, the boys came out of the bedroom with gifts including some hideous crocs (they are orange and blue and white so in addition to being ugly because they are crocs, they are particularly nasty.  But, it was a funny joke gift from Jay because I always steel his black crocs to wear in the mornings), two books (The Great Gatsby and Catcher in the Rye) for my personal library and a really cool leather bracelet.  Henry made me a sweet homemade card at school and a beautiful hand painted picture with a poem in art.  Thank goodness for elementary schools helping mothers everywhere receive priceless gifts!  After that was all done, we went to Vaughn and Patty's house for dinner and even though it was great not to cook, we stayed a lot longer than I imagined we would waiting for their missionary son's phone call. I had that brief moment of, "I'm not going to get to take a nap/blog/go for a walk" mental whine and then got over it. I played with Daniel outside, let him cover himself with dirt in their garden, and then, once home, got him bathed and in bed. By this time, it was close to 8 pm and Seth asked me if I had any desire to rekindle my scrapbook hobby. This weird request meant he had an enormous Language Arts project due that involved making a scrapbook about a historical figure and I spent the next 3 hours helping him with that, trying my very best not to be resentful.

So, when the cleaners asked me how my mother's day went, I responded, "It was o.k" which it was. Then I got a lecture about how I need to train them all to cook for me and clean up and how to shop for what I wanted and blah-de-blah-blah-blah-blah and so...yeah, I don't quite know what to think about Mother's Day.  I know I love being a Mother, even though it is hard and not really what I'm best at, and i know that I love my mother and I know that God loves mothers and I know that we have been commanded to honor mothers so...I guess I'm a fan of Mother's Day. I just want everyone else to stop being so gloaty or depressed about it. That's all. :)

Well...time's up. I hope this time was better spent than seeing if I can beat my score of 688,700 (I play WAY too much). Maybe some pictures next time!

Five For Friday

1.  Jay and Seth are going on a boy scout Klondike campout tonight.  With our -15 degree overnight low temps of late, it is a relief that the expected low is only supposed to be 7 degrees while they camp.  Jay is nervous as scoutmaster that the boys he doesn't have control over, in other words, everyone else besides Seth, will be underprepared for the conditions.  I don't envy him his task or his chilly environment.

Ready before school this morning.  Jay is going to pick him up and off they'll go!

One of the challenges of the camp, besides staying warm, is a sort of Iron Chef Cook Off.  They have 50 minutes to present a meal to the judges with three components.  The meal must include something pickled, and the ingredients lime and cilantro.  Exactly the kind of things you'd think boyscout aged boys would enjoy eating, right?  Crazy enough, we found a couple of recipes that just might be good, depending on how adventuresome your tastebuds are.  For the pickled food, we found a pickled pulled beef sandwich on Paula Dean's website.  Those southerners sure think of some odd ways to prepare food.  Simple enough, all Jay needed was a 2 pound chuck roast and a 24 oz jar of dill pickle spears.  Dump the pickles with juice onto the roast, crockpot on low for at least 12 hours, add some pepper, shred and....voila: pulled pickled beef.  His troop is going to top it with a cilantro and lime coleslaw and serve it on a hamburger bun.  Neat.

I hope it tastes better than it smells

Jay considered cooking it overnight up there with a dutch oven, but neither of us have ever used one and he is already taking a large camp stove we purchased for the pioneer Trek a few years back, so, for sake of ease and making sure the meat was actually cooked, he cooked it in the crockpot, here in the house, and plans to reheat it on the campstove.  All perfectly legal but I woke up nauseated by the pungent smell of cooked pickles on beef!  It's a good thing I am not pregnant because this is the kind of smell that would have sent me hurling.  The website warned us as much (look at the bottom of the recipe) so we set the crockpot in the sunroom, thinking that would be far enough away from where we usually are that the smell wouldn't be too bad.  As luck would have it, Jay can't smell a thing!  It's like his olfactory glands don't pick up this particular scent of nasty.  Unfair but it'll all be over soon enough.  If only it would have been the coleslaw that needed to be pre-prepared.  That looks tasty!

2.  It seems like a chocolate protein shake would be right up my alley for meal replacements.  Sometimes, if its cold enough and I'm feeling motivated to be skinny enough, it is.  But, I think I like to chew too much.  I miss chewing if too many smoothie type beverages are in the lineup.  Today, I was a little disturbed when I opened my pantry cupboard to pull down the Jay Robb Egg White Protein mix and see this man staring back at me.  I get that he's ripped and he's probably trying to associate his physique with his miraculous brand of powder, but, if you're going to be showing off a bare chest, you better be at the beach or post workout.  Just posing in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt is sending me mixed messages.  Messages like, "I'm a creepy guy and you shouldn't buy my product!"

The cross...the shirt....the body oil...the goatee.  It's just not my thing. 

3.  I just got back from a soda run and noticed I am wearing my pants inside out.  That isn't good.

4.  For the past three months, our primary chorister has been very hit and miss.  At least twice a month, I have had to step in at the last minute and do an impromptu singing time.  If it was a sharing time, I'd have anxiety ulcers by now but I'm much more comfortable leading a singing activity on the spot.  Unfortunately for the kids in our primary, those off the cuff singing sessions don't come with any primary glamour, namely laminated visuals.  Truth be told, even with advanced warning, the likelihood of me bearing cricut produced good is very low.  If it can't be done on the chalkboard, it's probably above my artistic level.

Well, primary chorister has been released and new primary chorister has yet to be called so I am also officially the interim primary chorister until further notice.  The song of the month is "I Am A Child of God" and most of the kids know the first verse well enough but if I were a gambling woman, I'd bet against most of them knowing the other three verses.  So, here's my idea using a crazy combination of three oft-used primary games.  I am going to sit the children in a circle.  Following the format of the game Hot Potato, they will pass around an actual potato while singing (or listening to)  the various verses of I Am a Child of God.   Before the song begins,  one participant will roll a number die.  Whichever number faces up is the number of words in order the person holding the potato when the music stops will need to produce.  In a twist of the game "Hangman", I will bring a Mr. Potato Head and if whomever's turn it is to deliver the next few words can't successfully remember, parts of Mr. Potato Head will come off.  The last piece will be his mouth.  I'm calling the game, "Don't Let Mr. Potato Head Lose His Voice!"  We'll keep repeating a verse until he either loses his voice or I decide everyone knows it well enough to move on to another verse.  Too confusing?  Too many games going on?  I'm a believer in musical repetition being a great memory device and if you can trick kids into forgetting how often they are singing the exact same song, the words get into their head.  I write this all out because I've been burned before.  Sometimes, an idea I think is great or even just plausible, will go very badly.  If something doesn't make sense or you can imagine  this entire game going down in a ball of bored singers' flames, please speak (comment) up!  I've still got a day for adjustments or an entirely new idea.

His mouth would be the last to go.  He even looks like he's singing!

5.  I leave one week from today for Israel!!!!!

Let's hope there's none of this:

No missles!  No need to use the Iron Dome!

And lots of this:



Not promising an exact recreation of pose or outfit, but I'll try.

Some Busy December Therapy

It's snowing! Yay! Except, now the driveway needs to be shoveled and I remember that I don't have four-wheel drive and have to go down a steep, windy hill in order to get to town and my main occupation as a mother of four is to drive little people around.  So....snow.  Yay.  

Seth can't be bothered with warm things like pants and coats.  It would cover up the awesome Nike Elite socks he is so proud of and he might not be able to "air shoot" a basketball in restricting pants.  Must have baggy basketball shorts on for that, even if there is almost six inches of snow outside now.  Oh, to be in 7th grade.

I have done absolutely nothing this week.  As I type, I am sitting at my broken iMac (Henry broke the commuter...surprise, surprise) in my winter nightshirt and slippers.  I know this is because I have my busiest weekend ever coming up, not to mention the week following that includes our anniversary, Daniel's first birthday, the arrival of my sister for the holidays, the 4-H club Christmas party, and all of the presents to organize and wrap.  This weekend, I have to bring gluten-free offerings to the ward Christmas party, play the piano at the party, make program copies for the Sunday music fireside (this program has taken me hours and hours to make as I have never done anything on Pages and it was not nearly as intuitive as Steve Jobs thought it was), have our primary program (I am no longer YW president.  I kept intending to write a long-winded post about how that ended and now I am in the primary presidency and ward choir director but it has never happened so....I am in the primary presidency and ward choir director!) bring homemade lunchables for primary activity/sharing time following program, have a short choir practice following church to run through music with new accompanist, flute player and violin before the evening performance.  Bring cookies for fireside refreshments.  Play for string ensemble.  Sing a solo.  When my brain is full of these kinds of to-dos, I almost shut-down in the days before hand.  I think it's a coping mechanism because I am not one of those people who thrives on being busy.  I can get it all done but not without some major meditation in advance.

Messy house.  Pajamas.  In real time:)

It just....fell over. Onto the floor.  While Henry was playing Angry Birds. 

Daniel is kind of walking.  He initiates walking all day long but still hasn't mastered it as a mode of transportation.  He has figured out stairs, both going up and coming down on his belly, feet first, so there really isn't anywhere he can't go.  This means there are lots and lots of messes everywhere now, instead of just downstairs.

I am not going to be on Facebook for two weeks.  It is my cooling off period because after all of the election posting, from BOTH sides, which I suffered through (everyone has a right to their opinion, after all) even though all of the "You're wrong!" tied me up in knots, now I am being tortured by posts featuring both those intending to wear pants because a woman has yet to pray in general conference and those who can't imagine anyone could ever feel unequal in a pretty dress.  Can I just say that I wish I were a man right now?  Not because they have the priesthood and not because they get to pray all the live long day in general conference but because women are crazy.  And kind of mean.  I really wish I could just stay home this Sunday and not have to wear or not wear pants but it's the primary program and fireside.  I'm a victim!

Seth and Sam had a piano duet recital last Saturday.  I am a vocal advocate of piano recitals.  In my opinion, they are the games to practice and the tests to homework.  It's a means to measure progress under pressure.  Huge fan!  But, I am not a huge fan of overlong recitals.  The boys' piano teacher has participated in a few area-wide piano recitals lately and while I can understand the theory behind it (combining all of the students from seven different teachers.  You get a larger audience, a wider variety of music and ability) I don't think any non-professional or very good semi-professional production needs an intermission.  It was an hour and a half long.  An hour and a half...in a concert hall....with Daniel and Henry.  Hell!  And this was as long as Seth and Sam's number was.  It was too easy for both of them and so it actually got messier the more they played it because they kept going too fast.  Duets are a challenge!  Anyways, as I obviously have no backbone when it comes to speaking with the piano teacher, this may go as another unreported grievance.  Although, I may say this one out loud because it's not against her personally.  Maybe.

So much other stuff to say but I'll stop here.  Life's good.  Expensive....but good.  I'll post again soon.  This was very therapeutic.

A Gaggle of Girls

Last Friday night, I invited the young women over to my house for a sleepover.  My niece, Delanie, had a great idea to make Venetian masks for a personal progress project but it was time consuming and needed several days to complete so I knew we’d need a setting like an overnighter for it to be successful.  I was also motivated to have the girls come together outside of the church setting to see if some barriers between groups could be broken down.

The girls started to arrive at 6 pm and I put the take-n-bake pizzas I bought at Walmart in the oven.  My second counselor brought a bunch of soda and my secretary and 1st counselor brought snacks and treats for the rest of the evening.  Just because they are awesome, two of my girls who are sisters brought scrumptious brownies and muffins as well.  We had plenty of food!

After eating, Delanie instructed the girls on their mask making.  Each girl getting masked had to layer Vaseline onto her face.  It was amusing to see them freaking out about it but then it got eerily quiet.  With half of the girls on their backs being completely still and silent, we had much less noise.  To help them remain as still as they needed to be, I put on some soft music.  My sister turned me on to Joshua Radin’s Pandora station and it is the best music ever when you want some to play mellow, popular music.   The girls loved it and I frequently heard, “Oh...I love this song!”

It took about 20-30 minutes for the masks to be applied and then the girls had to continue to lie still for another 20 or so minutes for them to dry.  We only had a couple of girls get claustrophobic and panic but even they did o.k.  They just sort of wiggled their arms and legs to vent a bit.  Once the first group started to pry their masks off their faces, the merriment of the evening really began.  It was an amusing sight.  One of my mia maids was sure she was ripping off her eyebrows and once her mask came off, there was this huge dark blob right where he eye was.  We saw it, she saw it and she ran to the bathroom to see if she had any eyebrows left.  Thankfully, it was only her mascara that transferred and all of her hair remained intact.




The first group of girls getting their masks made.  Delanie is in the middle putting a mask on Kristen and monitoring every one else’s progress.



Brooke was the girl who got the most panicked.  You can see why.



Tanessa went with a Phantom of the Opera look and only did a half face.



Alyssa also did a half face but hers is the more traditional shape.



My wonderful and adorable counselor, Kristen, was game to make a mask.  I would have but it was tricky with Daniel.  You’re pretty much glued to a spot for an hour so I didn’t.



Kaeli and her sister Afton were very detailed and spent the most time on each others’ masks.  They came out perfect.



Some of the masks drying and Delanie’s example of the mask she made in one of her classes.



Afton right after her masks was taken off.



Elise getting her vaseline on.  Look at the glob of it on her fingertips.



Kaeli’s turn being the victim.



Staysha didn’t want to get masked as she has sensitive skin and feared a breakout or allergic reaction but was willing to apply Elise’s mask.  Jenna gets a half mask to match her cousin, Tanessa.



Victoria was a pro at lying still.



Elise is covered.



Another Kaylee came with her friends, Brooke and Victoria.  I hope she had fun.



Jenna’s mask coming off.  Hers was the eyebrow scare.



Eyebrow intact!



Kaeli post mask.  Funny girl.

The second group went much the same.  All of us leaders hung out in the room talking to the girls and it was a nice feeling of camaraderie.  I was really proud of Delanie and her leadership and am excited to see how the masks turn out.  They dried overnight and the girls plan on decorating them tonight at mutual with glitter, feathers and paint.  Oh my!

After the masks, we snacked and started in on Karaoke.  I never know how successful Karaoke evenings go.  Some girls had a blast.  Some girls didn’t sing at all.  It’s a toss up.




Alyssa has Aspergers and struggles at a lot of our activities because they are too loud or she just doesn’t like them.  She is a very sweet girl and loves to sing so this was perfect for her.  She has such a nice voice too.



Jenna and Tanessa were also fans of the microphone though they liked to giggle more than sing.



Elise, Afton and Kaeli take a turn.  I kind of forced Elise and you can see how eager she was to sing (she has the braid giving away the microphone):)

By the time Karaoke wound down, it was 10:20 and several of the girls who had early morning commitments went home.  I started the move Flipped, which is really cute.  I used the website commonsense media.org to research the film and I think it was o.k in spite of the few swear words thrown in.

At the end of the movie, every single girl minus two was asleep.  I quietly turned off the TV, made sure everyone was covered with blankets and had a pillow underneath her head and went to bed.  I know!  I didn’t even sleep out there with them but there wasn’t really room and I didn’t think I’d hear Daniel crying in the night if I stayed in the living room.  My counselor was out there so I knew they were fine.

The girls left early in the morning and I have to say...easiest sleep over ever!  They got a bit hyper during Karaoke  and I’m sure Jay was nervous that we’d be having those squeals and shouts all night but they calmed down at a decent hour and everyone got sleep.  Success!

Um....Three on Thursday??

I know...I know.  Kind of lazy blogging.  I do have ideas for posts but they take time to write and make sense of and I don’t have that kind of time today.

It’s been a busy week.  Not busy in that go-go-go way, however.   In fact, most days, I’ve managed to stay home the entire day until I absolutely have to leave.  I think I’ve planned it that way on purpose because of my upcoming weekend, which has my stomach all in knots with its schedule.

1.  The Young Women in my ward are coming over to my house Friday night for a retreat/sleepover.  I know I just wrote about the horrors of sleepovers and this is not my usual schtick but something needs to happen with this particular set of girls to help them become better friends with each other.  Girls are girls and this may totally backfire with the usual girls only interacting with their approved list of comfortable friends the entire evening but I hope spending more than 45 minutes in a row of hard folding chairs like they do on Sunday or an hour and a half on Wednesday nights whining about participating in a planned activity is a means to better unity.   The retreat activity is to make venetian masks, which one of my laurels is heading up as one of her personal progress projects.  It sounds insanely messy but sometimes I can handle mess if I know and expect it advance.  There’s nothing a mop and vacuum can’t clean up, right?  The original plan was to have dinner (pizza), make masks, sit in the hot tub and maybe watch a movie.  Then, Jay cleaned out the hot tub for me so it would be fresh and ready to go and...it’s broken.  Some motor on some part and the repair people can’t get here until next week.  So...now I’m hoping that they’ll settle for karaoke or a dance party - two activities for which I’m always game.  And, can any of you help me with a movie choice?  Obviously, it has to be clean and cute and entertaining.  I don’t watch a lot of movies and with all the males in the house, I really don’t watch many of what might be considered “feminine” movies.  A little advice would be nice.

2.  Saturday, as soon as the last person leaves, I need to get Sam down to a town about an hour away for his soccer game.  No big deal except that I also have to get Seth to his soccer game by 1:30 and be at the church by 6:00 so that I can present a 15 minute class on having a cash budget for a ward activity on having financial peace.  Jay also happens to be on call so he’ll be away and busy the entire day.   I’ve thought a ton about what I want those 15 minutes to feel like but I haven’t written much down.  I’d like it to be informal enough for someone to throw a question or opinion in whenever so I’m trying really hard not to over prepare like I sometimes do.  Instead, I’d like to rely on the six years of cash budgeting experience we have and what has worked, what hasn’t, and why I think it has far greater implications than just financial peace.  I think it brings relationship peace/ spiritual peace and parenting peace.

3.  On Sunday, Jay, Seth and I have been asked to speak in Sacrament meeting.  We’ve been given the topic of praying vocally as well as in secret and, for some reason, from the moment I heard the topic I knew I was going to speak about music.  Jay was a bit surprised by my interpretation and for as prompted as I felt initially, the preparation sure has been slow going.  There just aren’t a lot of talks to use as references and that’s usually my mode d’emploi for talks.  I want to use some personal experiences but it’s hard to talk about music and its influence without using the actual music.  You know what I’d really like my talk to be like?  I’d like to break out into song here and there to make my point.  Obviously I can’t and I won’t.  That’s just not how things are done.  But, reading the lyrics to music isn’t the same thing.  It’s a big part and hugely moving but the music - a melody and harmony and rhythm and dynamics - well...it’s more.  Now, with only two days left, I’m wondering if I should have gone in a different direction because my talk could be a big ol’ flop.  I am forcing my family to sing the special musical number.  I’m rarely bossy but I am quite comfortable with it when it comes to music.  In spite of their protests and groans, we are going to sing “A Child’s Prayer” and I hope the three boys can know it well enough to sing the first verse by themselves, have Jay and I sing the second verse and then...you know what comes next...the mash up.  Oh yeah.  I love those dual melody songs.

Of course, I’m avoiding all of this weekend reality and procrastination in a very dangerous way.  So, if the blog is quiet until Monday, you know why.

Three on Tuesday

1.  My sister, Sarah, came to visit me this past weekend.  Have I ever mentioned on this blog how much I love my family?  A few times?  Well...let me just say it again.  I love my family.

This weekend was going to be so stressful.  Jay is in the stake young mens and the stake had a youth temple trip planned.  He had to be there all day and as the temple is two hours away, he had to leave at 5:45 am to get there and get set up by the time the first group of wards came.  I also had to be there.  I probably could have delegated but at a YW presidency meeting months ago, we each chose which scheduled temple trip throughout the year we would like to attend with the youth.  I chose the April trip as it would be the first time Seth went to the temple to do proxy baptisms.

Of course, that was all before I knew that Daniel would refuse a bottle and that Sam would have a double header soccer game and that Sam’s school sleepover would be that same weekend.  As I had to meet the youth at 7:15 am to head out, I didn’t know how to get Sam home and to his day of soccer, not to mention what I was going to do with Henry and Daniel.

I started working out a complicated he-goes-here-and-he-goes-there with lots of help from soccer moms and friends but then Sarah called and said Daniel’s 17 week pictures were telling her she needed to come visit.  She even took a day off of work so she could be here all day on Friday to help me paint the nursery (yes.  I am just now getting around to assembling Daniel’s room).

She arrived late Thursday night and Friday, she followed me into town as I dropped of my car that needed some work (surprise) and then we went to the paint store and got all of our supplies to paint.  I am not ashamed to admit that I am completely attempting to copy a room design I found online.  Of course, it is impossible to completely copy as I do not have cream wainscoting nor am willing to spend $1,000 on a metal crib, but I am trying to do the rest starting with the Benjamin More Gentle Grey paint color.  We got the entire room painted in just a few hours.  The next day, while I was at the temple, she had Henry and got Sam to both his soccer games, earning my love and a nasty sunburn as a bonus (it was 80 degrees on Saturday!)  I took Daniel with me and my mother-in-law, another saintly family member, watched him in the temple home next to the temple while I was inside.  He got a comfy and quiet nap and I got to watch my adorable 12 year-old attempting to help the priesthood holder baptizing him by really bending his knees.  Have you ever gotten the giggles in the temple?  Luckily, Seth didn’t see his mom’s eyes watering and shoulders shaking.

The whole weekend worked because Sarah came to visit.  Sisters rule.  Especially when they laugh at your hair color and cut because it is the worst cut and color you have ever had!!








2.  Speaking of the nursery, I have spent the entire day thus far online shopping for the rest of it.  I wish I could have online shopped for the room to be painted ( I do not love painting) but so far, I have found the sign, the wall decal, a chair (that one was too expensive and I went with a chocolate brown instead of beige because),  and bedding.  Still needed is a crib.  I have looked and looked at dark ones and it isn’t feeling right so I am going to go with a light crib.  Probably white as I don’t want to spend very much and will probably just get one at Wal-Mart or Target.  I don’t need it to be an heirloom crib as we aren’t planning on having any more children and some of those conversion cribs are ugly to me.  I just want a simple crib.  I have an old dresser that I am going to spray paint whatever color I end up getting.  Then...I think I’m done.  Pics will come when I’m done.  Hopefully in two weeks it will all be done and Daniel will finally get his own room.

Here is the room I am copying.  I just realized I still need drapes.

contemporary kids design by minneapolis interior designer Design By Lisa

3.  I don’t want to get too much into it because I’m still not sure where I’m at, but the most interesting thing happened on Sunday.  The talks in Sacrament meeting were about personal revelation.  Hmmm.  The Sunday school lesson was on having our tents face the temple.  The teacher also brought up Lot’s wife which is astonishing because her story has been on my mind for months.  Months!  The comments made in regard to Lot’s wife were a bit infuriating only because I think she gets a bum rap and all the comments were the typical ones always said about her but of course I didn’t say anything because that wasn’t the point of the lesson (which was on King Benjamin) and I’m still not sure what I think about certain things.  But the fact that she was mentioned felt...bizarre.  Like someone was playing tricks on me and I was on candid camera because everything so far was about things I had been thinking about.  Then, the lesson in YW was on the priesthood.  My 1st counselor did a great job with the lesson and just talked about the order of the church.  It was great and rather than seeing gender in the priesthood, I saw order.  After church, we had a meeting with the bishop that has led me to spend the past two days diligently working on my personal progress.  The scriptures that I have read and the things I’ve thought about and recorded in my journal have been immensely soothing.

I’m just saying that it’s either a HUGE coincidence that these very topics have all been brought to my attention within days of each other or the Lord is trying to tell me that he knows me.  I know, I know..many things in the scriptures and lessons can be generally applied to many adversities but everything felt so directed to some of my specific concerns.  My questions weren’t all simply answered and everything isn’t just hunky dory sail off into a Jack Weyland sunset but I do feel like the Lord was saying, “I know the troubles in your heart, Lucy,” and, for now, being acknowledged like that is the comfort I need.  

What I Actually Do

Disclaimer:  Written this afternoon after a poor night’s sleep and another unsuccessful attempt at bottle feeding.  I’m a bit punchy and crabby right now.






There are these memes going around right now, mostly on Facebook, called “What I Actually Do.”   Apparently, they are pervasive and getting annoying to some but I’ve only seen two:  The Stay At Home Mom and the Mormons, and they seem quite funny to me.

Well...they did yesterday.  This morning, as I began preparing the lesson I’m supposed to teach to these girls on Sunday, the “funny” reality at the end didn’t seem so funny.  Only real.  And annoying.

The introduction of lesson 7 begins with this:

Job survey


Ask each young woman to imagine that she has just been offered a job. As you read the following description of that job, have the young women raise their hands whenever a characteristic about the job appeals to them.


Job Description


You will accomplish something worthwhile that can affect the happiness of those around you.


You will help choose the working conditions and establish a pleasant atmosphere for others.


You will help control expenditures.


You will decide what work will be done, when it will be done, and how it will be done.


You will enjoy being around everyone in the entire organization and will have the opportunity to bless their lives and help them accomplish great things.

Can you guess what dreamy job this is?  It’s homemaking!  I almost gagged.

After an hour, an hour people, of trying to coax Daniel into drinking a bottle of perfectly good breast milk that I pumped for him this morning because my children have always taken a bottle because I NEED them to be able to take a bottle for my sanity, I finally gave up.  I’ve been doing this everyday for five and a half weeks and why doesn’t he get it?  I’m too tired to try anymore today.  He screamed off and on last night from about 4 pm last night until 10:30 for who knows what reason (I ate pizza?  Chocolate?  Reflux?  Tired?  Constipated?  Or just...colic?) and then he slept fitfully with me in the living room chair until 1 am.  Then, I transferred him to his bed a.k.a carseat, where he slept until 4, then fed him again and tried for one more hour of sleep while he was in his swing but woke up at 5 when Jay left to feed the steers, then again at 6, when Sam and Henry came downstairs, then for good at 6:30 when I realized if I slept any later, they would miss the bus.

I lost my temper at Seth this morning who over filled his bowl of Tootie Frooties so that they spilled onto the floor...again.  And then he left the milk out on the counter....again.  And then Daniel woke up needing to be changed and fed.  Again.

I made lunches.

I started a load of laundry.  Then another one.  Then another.

I cleaned up the breakfast dishes and started the dishwasher.  Then, a few hours later, I got the kitchen dirty again making crockpot lasagna for tonight.

I unloaded the morning dishes and filled the dishwasher back up with spatulas, bowls and ladles.  I wiped off the counters...again.  I wished I had postponed vacuuming the floors because cheese and broken off lasagna noodles speckled the area around the stove but, so help me, they are going to stay there because I am not getting that hose out again.

I showered.

It’s not like this everyday but...yeah...it kind of is.  Thankfully, most of the time, I manage to have a better attitude about it.  And THAT’s what I want to teach these Young Women.  That the glorification doesn’t come from running a comfortable home or the noble nature of mothering, but in choosing to do it, even when it is awful (and it is more often for some of us than others).  Because our families need us to do it and our families are worth doing it for (I know that’s a bad sentence.  There’s a lot of them today.  Deal.)

I hate the Young Women’s manual.  I know I shouldn’t say that and hate is probably too extreme a word, but it’s how I feel right now.  I hate its prettification of the role of an LDS woman.  It feels false.  Our job is hard and sometimes ugly.  It feels like Groundhog’s Day a lot of the time.  There are lots of days I don’t do it very well and days when I feel unappreciated and not very patient or loving about it.  I am not a feminist.  I’m not.  I don’t feel the need to prove to any man or woman that I have worth or that what I do is valuable in today's society.  I know it is and that is enough for me.  But, darn it all, I feel like a veritable Goria Steinem when reading some of these lessons.

I know I should be teaching the “What The Church Thinks I Do” lesson on Homemaking, but, today, I want to teach the “What I Actually Do” lesson.  Hopefully, come Sunday, I’ll be inspired to teach whatever the Lord means for me to teach.

It’s probably the blasted lesson from the manual.  This is why I should have a music calling.

Here’s the mormon one.  We DO set up and take down a lot of chairs:)

I Don't Want To Teach French Braiding

In seventh grade, part of an English assignment included giving an oral "how-to" presentation.  I'm not sure what this had to do with the English language, grammar, writing or anything at all.  Perhaps it was a major time killer.  I've blocked all of that out.  What I do remember is the project I chose: the French Braid.

Why I chose to demonstrate this particular task, I have no idea.  While I have a rudimentary idea about the steps involved in braiding (three strands of hair each taking turns crossing over on top to become the middle strand...picking up additional strands of hair as the braid moves along the scalp) I am not good at it.   More accurately,  I'm really, really bad at it.  I can just barely braid my own hair (and it wouldn't win any beauty contests) and while I can't think of the last time I even attempted braiding someone else's hair, I don't imagine I was any better at it all those many years ago.

In fact, I know I wasn't because the one image I have stuck in my memory of this presentation is using a classmate who was known for her beautiful long hair as my model.  She sat with her back facing the rest of the class and I awkwardly took the hair spilling down her back and created a sort-of braid that certainly didn't inspire anyone.  Then, I demonstrated securing the braid by wrapping an elastic band at the bottom, promptly tangling her hair into one giant knotted mess.

My point is: I had no business teaching anyone about French braiding because I didn't really know how to do it.  I can still see that poor girl struggling to get the elastic out of her own hair, her face wincing painfully as she pulled her hair with each tug.  Mostly, I remember feeling humiliated because it not only didn't go as planned, it went poorly.

Tomorrow night, I have all of the Young Women coming to my home for mutual.  I had originally panned on only having the Laurels, but with Christmas time busy-ness, it just worked out better to have all the girls come.  My plan for the Laurels was to teach them how to make Kung Pao Chicken, a dish I think works well for single girls because it's easy to adjust ingredients to make it for one or several.  Although I successfully navigated my first year living away from home eating Campbell's tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches on my snackmaster, I feel compelled to prepare these girls for adulthood and, like it or not, the need to eat never goes away.  So, I imagined these girls learning a few recipes...something to impress the beaus, if you will.

Now, less than twenty-four hours from my so-called instruction, I am filled with French-braiding anxiety.  You see, I am not Chinese and have only made this dish about a half a dozen times and although I think it tastes pretty good and each time I've made it I have gotten great feedback from my family, I suddenly know that I have no business teaching these girls anything about cooking.  What was I thinking?

What do I do now?  Carry on hoping to avoid a repeat of the Giant Knot of '87?  I'm pretty good at soup.  Should I demonstrate that instead?  It's not nearly as....va-voom-y (watching a pot simmer for a half hour isn't exactly as exciting as a sizzling wok) but safer.  I also thought about making fudge and peanut brittle and wrapping it in pretty packages to hand out to the widows and widowers on Sunday.  Fudge is a no brainer but I have a pretty spotty record with the peanut brittle, last winter being the first time I attempted to make it.

Basically, I want our mutual evenings to have a purpose.  I want to prepare these girls for their future world.  I want to arm them with confidence and knowledge and the ability to bless the lives of others. And, since I've already changed the location from the church to my home, I feel like I need to have a real reason for it being here (i.e. using a kitchen).  But, maybe I should just scrap all those plans and pull out the Karaoke machine instead.

Now, there's something I feel comfortable teaching.  The art of karaoke.

That surely gives them a skill while blessing the lives of others, don't you think?

Sunday Thoughts - Called To Serve

I am the new Young Women's President.

Crazy, right?  I've never served in Young Women's.  I don't have daughters.  I don't have teenagers.  I have only been in the ward for four months and don't know the young women, or many other women in the ward, so even thinking about counselors was hard.  I didn't earn my Young Women's recognition award.  I struggle with the notion that homemaking is the highest, most noble profession to which a woman might aspire.  Teenagers scare me.

When the bishop extended this call to me two weeks ago, this resume of mine lodged in my brain and I had a hard time focusing.  All I felt was overwhelmed.  How am I supposed to know who to call as counselors?   Who am I, who slept in the guest room for three nights in a row because I don't know how to handle conflict with my spouse more effectively than giving him the silent treatment, to teach about the virtues of marriage (we have since patched things up and I'm feeling much more confident).   Where am I going to find the time and energy to do everything that needs to be done to magnify this calling when I already need down days if I have too much going on?

That was last week.

This week, I have felt a divinely given calm.  Names came.  Ideas came.  Priorities stood in a clear order.  As I've thought about the girls, I've realized that they are each unique and amazingly talented.  I'm looking forward to getting to know them better.  Mostly, I realized that while I may not be able to teach them how to make a cute skirt or handmade jewelry and I have absolutely zero vinyl lettering experience, those things, while lovely, are not essential.   What is essential is that these girls understand that they are daughters of God, important as individuals and as women, endowed with spiritual gifts that need to be developed and shared, beneficiaries of an infinite and eternal atonement that will allow them to return home to their Heavenly Father and entitled to receive continuing revelation, both personal and through restored priesthood keys.  And I can help them because I have a testimony of each of those things.

I have an excellent, excellent presidency that I'm excited to work with, a supportive husband and in-laws close by willing to help when Jay can't be around and even though I'm still nervous about all of my original doubts and worries, I trust that this is what I have been called to do at this time.   First up:  Priest/Laurel dinner on Wednesday night.  Wish me luck!

The Trek

For at least the last six months, Jay and I have known that we would be spending four days dressed like pioneers and leading a group of teenagers and a handcart across the wildnerness in an activity known as a trek.  

If you are a member of the LDS church, you probably know what a trek is. For those who are not, the idea is probably very bizarre.  I know when I told the women who attend the same bookclub as me what I would be doing the third week of June, most were bewildered as to  the "why?"

I think there are a lot of "why"s.  For me, it was because I was asked and because my husband really, really wanted to do it.  I've been a member of my faith me entire life and it's fair to say that I took for granted the stories and history of the early mormon pioneers.  Knowing the names and details has never been very important to me.  Instead, I let myself be content with the more general "it was hard and they were brave" summary.

My greatest worry about being a "ma" for this experience was the pressure I felt to be a strength and not a burden to the youth assigned to my family.  Knowing it would be a challenge both physically and emotionally (I have had an aversion to teenagers since the moment I stopped being one), I was most concerned that many of the spiritual moments would not be fully utilized if I wasn't better prepared to understand the parallel experiences those in charge were attempting to re-create.   I use Jay's gift of memory and his zeal for pioneer stories as a crutch, but did read The Price We Paid to prepare myself.

Upon arrival, I felt butterflies in my stomach.  In my blue bonnet and skirt, I longed to hang back and put off the transformation of myself into "Ma."  But, as I looked around, I noticed most of the teenagers looked even more uncomfortable to me so I flipped on my uncomfortable switch, and gathered my new kids together for introductions and fun get-to-know-you games.

Jay and I were a great team.  I never had to concern myself with any part of the handcart.  Early on, he drummed up enthusiasm with his contagious love of pioneer history.  I channeled my former student council self and quickly depleted my ideas for name games and bonding moments.  It seemed like we'd never get started....but then.....

Wagons- ho!

Each person was allowed one five-gallon bucket for clothes, scriptures, toiletries, eating utensils and one plastic trash bag filled with a coat, sleeping bag and blanket.  

Able to stand back and take pictures while Jay gets the family working together on assembling the handcart.

Unlike historical handcarts, we had canvas covers to help keep all of our stuff in.

Our family zigzagging from left to right:
Nicole, Brian, me, Tierra, Brandon, Kerby, Darien, Derek, Sassie, Tyler, Becca, Jay and Alex.

I could tell right away that we had GREAT kids.  Everyone was genuine and happy to help and no one was complaining.  I could tell that one of the girls wasn't over enthused about being there and the likelihood of getting dirty, but she didn't whine about it so I watched and waited to see what the experience would be for her.  

Getting started

Our wheel came loose right away.  Thankfully, this fix did the trick and we had no more worries the rest of the time.

The first day was a purposely long day.  We didn't get started until well past 1:00 in the afternoon and there was lots of stopping and waiting.  As everyone was getting to know each other, most of the breaks were welcome and spent playing more games.  

As the day turned into evening and the evening turned into night, the playfulness transformed into fatigue and some impatience from not knowing when we were going to stop.  Most everyone had heard that the first day included a "big hill" and the sun was long gone before we got to that part in the trek.

It was hard.  As I remember if physically, I can remember thinking, "I can do this.  We get breaks just when I need them and I am going to be able to do this."  During each pull and push, I'd get to the point where my heart was beating too fast for comfort.  I never wanted to be the out-of-shape "ma" that had to hold back the much more fit teenagers with my heavy breathing, and I'm happy to report that I never had to be.  A much needed break always came at the right time and as hard as it was, I made it.

After the first big hill, which was deeply rutted and windy, we approached a station where leaders borrowed the ropes that tied onto the front of the handcarts used for pulling from those that were waiting to ascend the final steep section up to camp.   As we reached the front position, an additional two rope systems were added to our handcart to enable more people to pull the handcart up.  There were probably a dozen extra bodies helping us get up that hill and as we reached the top, I started to involuntarily cry because I had never felt so sick and tired from over exertion.  I was completely spent and felt my spirit murmur about how ridiculously hard those in charge had made the first day.  

Grumpy, tired and totally nauseated, I felt a prompting to pray.  The few members of my trek family that were around had already crawled into their sleeping bags to sleep.  The others were either back down the hill to help others up or getting a bowl of soup to eat.  Knowing there wouldn't be a better time, I knelt down on my sleeping bag and understood that this trek was going to be an eye-opener for me.

Becca rests while we wait to start on the hill.

I wish I could have taken pictures of the hill.  some of the kids went back and saw the really steep section the next morning.  I went down the hill for awhile, but realized with every step down, I was going to have to come back up and I was still very, very tired from the day before and a night of absolutely NO sleep.  This is the last part of the path to camp, the cruel not-at-all steep but still uphill part that followed "the hill".

What camp looked like the morning after.  Not very organized when you are setting up at 12:30 am. 

Each morning, we gathered as a family for a devotional and scriptures.  Even though we had all known each other for only a day, the feelings for each other were warm and loving.

A day of sweat and bonnet wearing was not kind to me.  Becca, a master braider, helped me with my hair.

After only a short pull, each handcart company was stopped and asked to assemble to a gathering place.

There, the men were asked to leave their families and help their government.  It was an extremely emotional moment.  Many were in tears knowing the hard day ahead of us.

The boys took the buckets from the handcart to lighten the load and followed the officer.  

We girls were left with the handcart, our bedding and water and the resolve to get it done, just the six of us.

Again, it was a very, very hard pull.  The road we followed was uphill the entire way, with many switchbacks, and there were times it felt like I was the only person pulling that handcart.  I know it isn't true, but it must be what each girl in my family and in the entire group felt.  Those handcarts are 500 pounds.  They are heavy and hard to pull.  We took breaks and had some timely help along the way from some silent helpers.  The lessons learned from this experience are personal and extremely buoying.  

Later that day, we reached what became known as "Base Camp" and had an afternoon to play pioneer games and get ready for an evening hoe-down.  I thought asking us to participate in anything physical was a bit presumptuous, but again, teenagers have an energy that's contagious.

I did participate in the hair washing station.  It felt nice, but as I was one of the last women to use the water, I think I would have been better off to have just kept my braids.

We set up our own campsite and finally got to cook our own meal.  It was a lot of fun working together and our kids did everything!

Jay and I doing the reel at the hoe-down.

The third day of the trek included no hiking.  It was planned as a spiritual day and after a morning family devotional, all of the kids were given over an hour in what was referred to as solo time.  We walked up to an area as a family and then we spread out and had time to read scriptures, pray, write in journals or just think.  The views were amazing and I really enjoyed the quiet time to reflect.  There was an afternoon fireside with Elder Webb from the seventy and that evening we played games, exchanged personal information to keep in touch and ended with a family testimony meeting.  I was amazed by the things I heard.  That night convinced me that every penny and every minute spent planning and carrying out large scale events like this are worth it.  These youth are bombarded on every side with hard and heavy things.  Seeing them lift each other up and share how much they need to know that they are not alone touched me.  

The view from the area we had solo time.  Back together again!

The boys relax in what became known as our condo:)

Jay tiding up after our last family dinner of turkey and potatoes

The last morning started early with a sunrise devotional.  We had to wake the kids up at 5:30 to watch the sunrise.  I hope they enjoyed this moment.

Last look at the condo before we pulled down camp.  

Impromptu game of Ninja played by our boys.  

Pioneer dress may not be the most flattering, but it sure was functional!  I had no problem sporting a skirt, bloomers and bonnet for four days.  I think Jay looks ruggedly handsome by day 4:)

The dust was noxious on the way down.  This is how you brake a handcart.

At the pick-up spot right before saying good-bye.  We really felt like a family at this point and I love these kids.

Alex and Nicole sum it up perfectly.

If you ever have a chance to be on a trek as a ma or pa....go. If you have youth that have an opportunity to go on a trek....send them.

I had an amazing experience that I will treasure forever.