Sunshine in my soul

The weather this May has been fabulous.  I think more sunshine days than not.  You don't know what this means to me and my psyche.  Well, maybe you do.  It means I'm not whining.  I'm not scheming how to possibly get out from under the clouds.

Yesterday evening we met Adam at the choir room at Emma's school for her mock performance in preparation for her solo ensemble on Saturday. 

Afterward I told her choir teacher that she was wonderful and we loved her (because it's true) and she indicated my children and said, "You have a lot to be proud of."  I tried to look humble and gracious but what I was thinking was, don't I know it!

Adam, because he's Adam, suggested that we stay and play a little disc golf at the school.  Then he pulled some disc golf Frisbees out of the Mary Poppins bag that is the trunk of his car.

Both Frisbee and golf are in the realm of impossible for me so disc golf was no different.  (There was limited athletic ability distributed among my siblings and me.  Some of them got plenty but it didn't leave any leftover for me.)

With or without any skill on my part, it was still nice.

Also, we didn't stay too long because we were hungry.

I was in a celebratory mood.  Maybe it was because of the weather or maybe it was because Braeden had taken his AP test and felt pretty good about it.  Maybe I felt like celebrating because I had talked to another mother earlier in the day about the 8th grade celebration at Emma's school.  She was stewing about how to alter her daughter's fancy dress she bought for the occasion.  It is a Big Deal and the girls show up in heels way too high and skirts way too short.  My daughter, bless her heart, doesn't want to go.  She is my favorite daughter ever.  (Because I don't want to go either.  Celebrating the completion of 8th grade in an over the top way seems ridiculous.  Way to get a year older!  Just like everyone else your age, you're going to 9th grade! Yippee.)

So we decided last night for a riverside supper with riparian entertainment (inspired by the fantastic British TV show, Keeping Up Appearances.)

Chuck's Seafood Grotto in Snohomish provided the supper and instagram provided the riparian entertainment.

I don't know what other families do while they're waiting for the food to arrive at restaurants.  We take silly pictures of each other.

It was a perfect dinner in a lovely setting.  The kids gave me a few of their fries which I doused in vinegar.  To me, the french fry is just the vehicle for the vinegar.  Braeden ate the bits I left behind.  He made a terrible face and said, "This tastes like vinegar but I'm so hungry."

I promised him ice cream when we got home.  It was just that kind of a night.

I miss them

For some reason I was glancing through some pictures on the old laptop and happened across these:

As a bonus, Robert is in this picture...I love him too.

I am expounding on something here and Ammon is licking his lips...maybe I'm describing a delicious meal?

Despite their tendency to grow excessive facial hair (except you, Ammon...kudos for that kid) and their tendency to literally (not figuratively) talk over my head, I love those three boys.

My brothers are smart and funny and capable.  They are good men and they make me feel loved and taken care of and sort of short every time I see them.

I just wish I saw them more.


Addendum:  I just realized that I gave a shout out to Robert and not to Melanee, who is shown holding Ammon's hand.  I pointed out Robert in the context of brothers because he's like one too.  How I love my sisters-in-law though!  They are wonderful women and good to my brothers and good for my brothers and how could that not make me grateful and happy?

Ah.  So much love on this blog this morning.  I may get a cavity, I'm so sweet...

Parenting older kids

Yesterday:

1) While I was making the requisite fruit smoothies for lunch, Mark heated up leftover BBQ pork and got out everything we needed for sandwiches.  He also loaded the dishwasher while I cleaned the rest of the kitchen. 

2) Braeden needed help formatting his Word document.  I had no clue.  I said, "What you need is Emma."  And it was true.  Emma knew immediately what to do. 

3) Since he could utter words, Braeden has been arguing his position.  Even when it has nothing to do with him, he has an opinion and an argument.  Yesterday I told him my perspective in the debate we were having.  He said, "Yeah, you have a point.  I can see that."

Parenting older kids is not always, or even often, easy.

But sometimes it really is.

Just a typical day

My alarm went off this morning in the middle of a dream I was having where I was a waitress in the Ranch House, a casino that is no longer open, in Wells, NV.  It was "Chinese Night" at the Ranch House though.  All the food was Chinese and all the customers were Chinese and I had to wear roller skates while I was waitressing.

That's just kind of how things have been going.

Yesterday my cell phone wouldn't work.  The data worked but I couldn't call or text.  Then Braeden got home and told me his cell phone wasn't working and I realized that Adam's phone wasn't working either. 

It turned out that our account was somehow hacked.  Someone had purchased three new iphones with our account and they were working instead of our phones.  Adam got it all straightened out but how did that happen?

Stephanie and I took a walk yesterday in the early afternoon.  We live in the Seattle suburbs, we are not swayed by a little rain.  It was not a little rain.  There was thunder and wind and instead of the steady (and I mean steady) drizzle we usually have, the rain was pelting us.  We forged on.  By the time we finished our walk, my jeans were drenched (I had an umbrella and raincoat for the top half of my body) and the sky was blue and the sun was shining.

I took Braeden driving.  We went to the church parking lot so he could practice backing around a corner in a big space without people around.  I got out and stood, representing a car parked next to him.  He said, "Don't stand there.  I don't want to hit you."

I assured him I didn't want him to hit me either.  Then I considered the myriad duties of motherhood that no one can possibly prepare you for.

(Incidentally, Braeden didn't hit me.)

Last night, we decided as a family to try a new exercise program.  It was maybe more dangerous than  pretending to be a car in the empty parking lot.  It almost killed me.  Gavin was over for part of it and he and Mark were laughing and singing through most of it.  At one point, Braeden said, "Now this part is kind of hard."

I thought the entire thing was hard!  Later, I wondered if we would be sore the next day.  Emma said, "It wasn't even that hard, Mom."

Yesterday was a little bizarre.  It was also a really typical day.  Sometimes I look around and think who is in charge here?

A happy Mother's Day

This was not an original idea, but adapted from something I saw online.  I will take credit for the handprints though.  They are either mine or belonging to people I married or gave birth to.

Emma wrote me a poem, Mark built me a castle shaped box with a hinged lid (out of Lego bricks), and Braeden wrote me a card in French (that I couldn't read).

I am a blessed woman.

Mother's Day is a holiday that fills me with gratitude.  I'm grateful for my own wonderful mother.  She is a confident and capable woman and through sheer force of her formidable will, she infused me with confidence and capacity.  (Also, I got to talk to her yesterday which is a rare treat since she's a busy missionary.)

I'm also grateful for the opportunity I have to be a mother.  It is not a bad gig.  It is difficult, there's no doubt about that.  It takes skills I don't possess (or just very minimally possess) but still I am allowed to plow ahead and do my best and try harder next time.

I'm grateful for Adam.  He is my partner in every sense of the word.  I need everything I have and everything he has as well to try to take care of our children.  The responsibility to do my best for these three souls is immense and I'm glad to have an able teammate.

I'm grateful for my children.  They make me think that Heavenly Father must love me to send me them.  Gifts are my love language.  The gift of Braeden and Emma and Mark is the best gift I can imagine.  

Another reason to love a daughter

Last night we went to Costco.  I snatched up a box of those huggable hangers.  Adam looked at me like I'd sprouted a new head.  Usually I get wooden hangers from IKEA.  Wooden hangers from IKEA hang in every closet.  I like them.

But sometimes a girl needs a huggable hanger.

"We need these," I told Adam.

He looked doubtful.

"They're good for girl clothes," I said.

He shrugged.

This morning Emma is playing hooky and going to an author signing rather than school.  I went in her room to make sure she was ready. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Cleaning my room."

(Pardon me while I wrap my mind around that statement.)

She was trying to hang up a shirt with a wide neck on a slick wooden hanger.  "It keeps falling off," she said.

"Ah-ha!" I said, "I bought new hangers!"

She followed me in anticipation, because she's a girl.

I opened the box and presented her with the slim black hanger.

"Wow," she said, full of the appreciation no one else at this address would feel.  She hung the shirt with the wide neck on the hanger and it held perfectly.  "Dang," she said.

"I know," I said.

Sickness 101

Sometimes I marvel at people that don't do things.  They don't show up, they don't sign up, they don't say yes.  I wonder how they get away with it.  I wonder why I can't get away with it.

For about a week, I have felt sick.  Sometimes it's been just sort of miserable and I kept going as usual.  Sometimes I've been flat on my back.

I've enjoyed none of it.

I haven't shown up to things that I was supposed to go to.  I wasn't very helpful to someone who called me with an inquiry.  I've been trying to reserve my resources.  I've tried to say no to things I didn't want to do.  (My answers were not accepted.  I tried.)

I've enjoyed none of that either.

I want to be a person who shows up.  I want to be a person who signs up.  I want to say yes.

Sometimes it takes getting sick to help you realize what a blessing it is to be the type of person that people can count on.

At the same time, being sick has helped me see that maybe the people that don't show up, sign up or say yes would really like to be doing more, they just can't.

Also, my self worth is tied to what I do, what I accomplish, lines drawn through items on my to do list.  Adam has been trying to convince me that is not true.  Self worth can't just be tied to tasks completed.  I know, I know.

Who knew sickness could be so informative?