Quilting II

We have about three more rows to go!  I want to finish it today.  It won't be as easy since my mom and Olivia and Lili aren't here, but I think we can do it.

Here is the first day when we were getting it ready to go on the frames:

Cameo appearance of Mark's toes because he took the picture.

The quilting:

We all wore masks to keep my mom safe.

Braeden quilts without a thimble!  He thinks thimbles get in the way.

Despite my eye being at half mast, I have not recently suffered from a stroke.

Olivia and I coincidentally wore the same colors both days.  Also we were all sitting that close because we didn't plan well and that was all that needed to be quilted before we could turn that side.

It was a lovely way to spend a few days.  Olivia and I had a where are they now discussion about the people we went to high school with.  (In almost every case, she knows and I don't.)  We pulled out my yearbooks to remember names of a few people.  

I loved the time we had to visit with everyone.  I'm grateful to Adam who prepared all our meals.  Mark and Ruben were his assistants.  Here they proudly displayed their spread for lunch.

notice the cracker peace sign....

Time together and family and traditions and a pretty quilt.  I am counting my lucky stars.

Quilting

 My mom made a beautiful quilt top for Braeden and Anna for a wedding gift.  She used fabric from all of our wedding quilts and it is a treasure.  Anna wanted to learn to quilt and we decided to work on it during Christmas break.  

Yesterday my mom and Olivia and Ruben and Liliana came.  Ruben had an appointment and the rest came to quilt.  My mom brought quilt frames and tacks and needles and her $52 thimble.  My mom doesn't mess around.

She shared her expertise in getting the quilt on the frames.  I'm so grateful for her and Olivia because I 100% would have messed it up.  We all sat around the quilt--even Braeden, which was an unexpected pleasure.  We talked and laughed and quilted and it was sublime.  Adam was our caterer and provided lunch and dinner.

I remember once, years and years ago, quilting with my mom and sisters and both of my grandmas.  It felt like such a rare treat.  I think of my grandmas when I quilt.  Olivia and I talked about how they epitomized unconditional love.  I think of my grandma's grandmas.  Sitting at a quilt feels like a link to them.

I don't know if they had Braeden playing Beatles songs from his phone onto a Sonos speaker while they quilted, but I think a lot of it was much the same.  There's the rhythmic in and out of the needle.  There's the easy conversation.  There's the sharing of scissors and spools of thread.  I love it all.

We're quilting more today.  The only thing that would make it better is if Marianne and her girls were here.  

And my dear grandmas.

Here's the quilt this morning, ready to go.  I'll post more pictures tomorrow.  Adam took some yesterday and I need to get them from him.

Being a mother

On Christmas Eve, at Braeden's request, we watched some home movies.  There is a lot more video footage of Braeden and Emma as toddlers than Mark because our camera broke and we were too poor to replace it.  There is enough footage to paint a picture though.

When Braeden was a baby, I didn't do anything (dishes, laundry, cleaning) unless he was napping.  I didn't think I could.  I just sat and watched him and interacted with him and set him up as the supreme chancellor of our household.  

When Emma was baby, my time was divided between the two but I still had time.  Braeden loved Emma and he was pretty gentle with her (with two blaring exceptions:  the day she came home from the hospital, he covered her with a pillow and the day my mom flew back to Nevada and I was alone with the two for the first time, Braeden accidentally kicked Emma in the head.  Both occurrences did little to bolster my confidence in my success as the mother of two).

We have video of Mark as a newborn, lying on the floor.  Emma and Braeden are adoring him and fawning over him at very close range.  Emma moved his head "like it was a gearshift" (that was Mark's assessment watching the video).  Braeden stuck a toy inches from his face.  Mark looked miserable and overstimulated.  In another video, Mark was clearly beyond sleepy and it was after Braeden and Emma had gone to bed.  I was cooing at him and snuggling him and he just wanted to go to sleep but the house was quiet and I was keeping the poor baby up.

In later footage, Mark is cruising along the couch and it is the first day of home school for Braeden (1st grade) and Emma (kindergarten).  I am recording them telling me what they liked about school and Mark fell over and started crying.  I said, "You're OK, Mark.  Get up."

I 100% guarantee if that had been Braeden I would have stopped everything and rushed to pick him up and comfort him.

Mark stopped crying within seconds though.  He was OK.

Watching the videos made me realize why Mark was such a sturdy and tough kid.  He always has been; he didn't have a choice.  It also made me feel less bad about spoiling Mark in later years.  I clearly didn't spoil him when he was a baby.  I didn't have the time or energy.

Despite my uneven blend of smothering/neglect they are kind to me.

I read an article about exercising after Covid that kind of scared me.  It reported about healthy active women who died of sudden heart attacks or blood clots that traveled to their lungs when they resumed exercise after having Covid.

I decided that when I felt energetic enough, I had to ease into exercising again.

Yesterday I asked who wanted to go on a short walk.  They all four did.  We were walking and Braeden and Emma and Mark kept saying, "How are you?  Are you OK?  Do you need to stop and rest?"

I was OK.  My chest was burning but I was OK.  I am grateful for these kids and for the many things they have forgiven me for over the years.  I have video footage to prove that I didn't really know what I was doing.

Things I want to remember about Christmas

Adam and I went on our annual Christmas Eve shopping trip.  We saw Sheri Dew!

On Christmas Eve, Adam constructed a new cover for the vinyl record Mark was getting as a present.  The original one had offensive cover art.  The new one was made out of a frozen pizza box.  (It fit perfectly.)

Adam gifted the family with the last Christmas bear.  Her name is Joy.

We talked about some of our favorite bears and how they made their appearances.  Most of the bears reflect something that happened that year and taken as a whole, they do represent a lot of joy.  They are a weird scrapbook of our family and remind us of trips we took or people we love or the year the Snohomish Valley completely flooded (that was the year Noah joined the family).

Some of us (not Mark who is always stoic) got a little teary because we're grateful for each other and our shared history.

It is tricky having grown up children.  You want them to be excited about their Christmas gifts but they aren't that exciting (although both boys did get Lego sets).  Braeden's favorite gift was a book called Upswing so I guess he is a grown up after all.  Adam got the same book.  It's just the kind of political, big idea, history book they both like.  

Emma cried when she opened the t-shirt quilt I had commissioned Desi to make for her.  It's beautiful for one thing and for another thing, it is a snapshot of things that mattered to Emma when she was growing up.  Also, it was a big surprise.

Santa Claus led Emma on an obstacle course.  There was a piece of string by her stocking.  She followed it through the kitchen, through the garage, out the side door, around to the front of the house and through the front door.  Her gift, a digital piano, was in the room with our piano.

She wrote a song on it with different instruments and layers of sound.  It is a gift that will come back to me many fold.

Braeden had a cold and felt kind of lousy but in typical Braeden fashion, he kept rallying and smiling and exuding cheer like he does.

It is a pleasure to have Braeden and Anna staying with us.  They are super helpful and Anna took one of my books off the shelf to read.  She asked if that was OK.  I said of course.  Also, I told her it felt like a compliment.

Since my love language is gifts, I was happy to note that everyone seemed to like their gifts.  A few years ago, Mark got some duds for Christmas and I've been trying to recover ever since.  I think this year I was more on track.  Mostly though, I think he was really happy to have his siblings here.

I know I was.

Merry Christmas

If I'd had my act together to send a letter along with our card this year, here's what we would have sent:

Holiday greetings dear friends and family,

 

We don’t want to let the pandemic mask all the good things that happened this year. The earthquake we had in March was exciting but the wild fire behind our house this summer trumped it.

 

We spent quarantine time together working from home and playing from home; movie nights, board games and some home improvement projects.

 

Fall brought the start of senior year for Braeden, Anna, and Emma (BYU), and Mark (Pleasant Grove High School), and a second wave of third graders for Thelma to teach.

 

In October, we had to cancel what would have been our first trip to Hawaii and elected to go to the Florida Keys instead.  It was the off-season, so we weren’t plagued by tourists.  We enjoyed snorkeling, Key lime pie and air conditioning.

 

We are looking forward to the holidays and Biden our time until the New Year.  

 

We are happy to celebrate this season of joy, grateful to remember the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  We know that by following Him, we can have peace in this world, no matter the conditions.

 

We wish you a Merry Christmas and a very happy and precedented New Year!

Since I'm face down in that picture, here's me at school.  My home away from home.  I think that is the look I get before I open the door to my class in the morning.  Bring your worst!  I'm ready!

To give credit where it is due:  the idea for the zoom picture was collaborative and Emma did the photo shop magic.  Adam helped with the Christmas letter we never sent.  I alone took the derpy selfie at school though...I can't blame anyone else for that one.

Merry Christmas!

Deals, bets and arguments

Still aglow from my successful holiday used book sale outing at the Provo library, I bought a bag of books for $1 at the Orem library and five books for $2 at the Pleasant Grove library.  (It tries its best, but it is really anemic compared to those other libraries--even its used book sale doesn't measure up.)

I can't seem to stop.  Cheap used books!  Now I just need time to read them all.

After the Lindon temple was announced, Adam and I placed a bet (a milkshake was on the line) about where it would be built.

A few days ago, the Church announced the spot.  I gleefully texted Adam that I'd won.  It was where I'd thought it would be.  Adam argued that that wasn't where I'd said it would be.  Righteous indignation (from me) and smug Adam-ness (from guess who) ensued.  He texted me a map and I said we had to drive by the spot before I'd concede anything.

So after delivering pineapples and stopping for hot chocolate, we drove by.  I said, "This is exactly where I'd thought it would be."  

Adam said, "This isn't on the mountain."

I said, "It absolutely is on the mountain."

(In case you're wondering about this high stakes bet of a milkshake, we have a joint bank account.  It was the principle of the thing.)

We asked Mark, the hapless rider in the backseat.  "Is this on the mountain?!?"

He said, "Well...compared to the valley."

Ah-ha!  We both felt vindicated.

I said, "I knew it would be by Jamie's house and this is by Jamie's house."

Adam said, "Text her and ask her if she lives on the mountain."

I said, "It's too late, I'm not texting her this late."

Adam said, "It isn't too late."

But I didn't need to text her.  

Because I was right.

On Sunday the missionaries visited us.  One of them was from the Galapagos Islands.  After they left, Mark said something about the penguins there.  I said, "There aren't penguins there!  That's part of Ecuador.  Ecuador is on the equator!"

Mark insisted.

While I was at the library, I saw this book.

I texted Mark that it was amazing the lengths he would go to to perpetuate the myth that there were penguins there.  I mean, he had a book printed?  How desperate is that kid to be right?

I'm good

Twice on Sunday Emma checked if I was OK.  

The first time I was lying on the floor with two tennis balls under my neck.  It is my remedy for a messed up neck when my chiropractor appointment isn't close by.  It sort of helps.  Emma walked into my room and said, "You good?"  She said, "I was afraid you'd fallen and couldn't get up."

I'm glad she's prepared for that possibility.  You never know.

Later she asked, "You good?" when I was laughing so hard that I started gasping for air.  She was singing a made up version of Small World with a cockney accent and Mark was singing Les Mis songs in a Scottish accent and then Adam started a Scottish accent and it all just was too much for me.  Sometimes being around these people is dangerous.

I'm glad Emma checks on me periodically.

Speaking of Emma, she asked Adam if they were going to go shopping together.  When Emma was a little girl, Adam would take her to work with him one day before Christmas and they'd go shopping together in downtown Seattle.  Adam's ready answer is nothing when anyone asks him what he wants for Christmas.  I think Emma landed on the perfect gift though.

She asked Adam if they could go shopping together and I think it made his whole year.

Mark had work and Adam and Emma were going to be gone on Monday and Adam said, "Will you feel abandoned being home alone?"

I said, "Have we met?"

Home alone suits me right down to the ground.

I took Mark lunch.  I told him it's starting to get embarrassing, me bringing him lunch and/or dinner.  Mark said it made him feel loved.  I said, "Do the other ushers mommys bring them lunch?"  

He said, "No.  But they wish they did."

When I take his food into the office I want to say, "He's not spoiled.  He isn't."  I don't even believe myself though.

When he was a toddler, for a little while, he refused to walk up and down the stairs.  He'd cry at the top or bottom and I'd lug him up or down.  I thought, this is ridiculous.  Then I realized how short lived it would be.

I was right. In less than a week, he decided he could do the stairs alone.  Then I turned around and he was bounding up and down them skipping steps.  (Last night he jumped from the top of the basement stairs to the landing with a terrific crash for reasons only he understands.) It all goes too fast.

I think I feel the same way about taking him food.  There's something about children growing that makes you realize, this won't last.  I'll savor it while I can.

I will try not to die laughing in the next two weeks.  But I'll enjoy every minute.

Me, tired is a unifying theme

 Friday night I was dead tired.  School had been a wild ride.  At one point my students started chanting, "CANDY CANDY CANDY."

It was 9:00 a.m.

One boy brought Hostess cupcakes because his birthday is during Christmas vacation.  One girl brought marshmallow filled Santas, "everyone gets two."  The room mother sent zingers.  It was more treats than anyone needed.  I said, "You can put some of it in your backpack to eat later," and "You may get a tummy ache if you eat it all right now."  

One boy said, mouth full, "I like tummy aches."

Another boy asked, "Is that all the treats we get?"

Saturday morning we went to the Hale Theater for The Christmas Carol.  After the show, two elementary school children had climbed a tree outside.  I told my kids, "They probably are still riding high from their Christmas party at school yesterday."

Some of my students gifted me with sweet gifts.  One little girl said she didn't have a gift but she wanted to give me a hug.  I told her that was a fabulous gifts.  So she gave me about five hugs.

I gave each of my students a book.  It was tricky to figure out books that would interest each of them but would also be on their reading level.  Some of them were instant successes.  There were squeals of joy and some students immediately began reading.  They weren't all a hit though.  One boy said he didn't like his. 

I said, "Well, you don't have to keep it."

He shrugged and said OK and handed it back.  It was nothing personal though.  He wanted a big hug at the end of the day and said, "I'll miss you!"

After school Mark came to help me take down my Christmas decorations.  I was finishing up and he got a soccer ball out of the playground equipment bin and my wheeled desk chair and started zipping around the room on the chair, kicking the ball in front of him.  He does it every time he's in my classroom.  I keep telling him to stop and he smiles at me and keeps doing it.

It's a lot of fun.

Another teacher was walking by my room and I asked her if she wanted an 18 year old boy.  She didn't.

Later when Mark had carried all my stuff to my car, I thanked him for his help and told him I was sorry I tried to give him away.  I said, "Emily is very nice though."

He said, "No one would be as nice as my mama."

If he thinks that means he can continue to zip around my classroom kicking a soccer ball, he's probably right.

As mentioned we went to the theater Saturday morning.  It was just me and the kids because Adam was nose to the grindstone preparing for church.  I didn't ugly cry like I usually do but I did cry a little.  I love the way the Hale Theater version reminds me that Scrooge was able to change and we are all able to change because of Jesus Christ.

Adam met us and we all went to lunch in Provo then the college kids went to their homes and we went record shopping for a record for Mark.  It was part of his birthday present.  Partway through, I went to the Provo library where they were having a used book sale.

Mark didn't find anything but I got ten books for $5 so I was happy.  Mark went to work for the rest of the day and evening and Adam and I came home.  It was nice not to have to cram all the chores and errands into Saturday.

A package arrived for Adam.  It was filled with fancy goodies with upscale packaging.  

I also took a picture of the 8 ounce Martinelli's that all the teachers got for a Christmas present.  Because, you know, it was pretty fancy too....

Adam and I went to the store and bought 21 pineapple to deliver to our neighbors.  We also bought a gift for our children that I can't write about yet in case one of them gets a wild hair and reads this.  Its purchase made me love Adam more.

We came home and I built the Christmas Carol Lego set we got a few weeks ago.  I told Adam I wanted to build it so we had to do it when no one else was around.  Adam stepped in at key points when I did things wrong.  I am bad at following directions.  For example, I wanted a herringbone pattern and the Lego instructions said no.

Also, I got very sleepy while we were building and ran out of steam.  Emma was on her way home, to stay through the break.  I was too tired to wait up for her.

Before I went to sleep, I told Adam, "Tell Emma I'm sorry to be a lame mother."

He said, "Do you mean tonight, or all the years?"

I said, "I meant tonight, but go ahead and apologize for all the years too."

Grateful Friday

School the week before Christmas is not for the faint of heart.  The children are keyed up.  I have not helped the situation because I love Christmas and have been adding to the mayhem.  We could do some quiet bland worksheets and calm everyone down.  But no, let's read another Christmas story, I say.

Yesterday was Ugly Sweater Day a.k.a. the day none of us run errands after school. I love my third grade team! 

I'm grateful at the close of the 2020 year for the place where I work.  That place is all heart.  The teachers were recently sent an email to stop donating coats because they were running out of room to store them.  A kindergarten teacher is also a Young Women leader and for "Girls Camp" in pandemic times, they had a food drive and donated all the food to the school.  When the school hears about a family in trouble, food is loaded up and delivered.  There was a giving tree where we bought gifts for needy students.  

We can't do much to lift the burdens on these narrow shoulders but I'm so grateful to be at a place where everyone does what they can.  The errand of angels is given to women.  They inspire me to be better.

When I was in high school, I had two teachers tell me, when they found out what my career plans were, that I was "too smart" to be a teacher and I should choose something else.

Even at the time I recognized it was an awful thing to say to someone.  (Also, they were teachers....)

Here's the thing.

I'm not too smart to be a teacher.  If anything I'm not smart enough.

It takes all my brain power to manage all the personalities, to differentiate learning, to pantomime to non English speakers, to keep them engaged, to keep their masks on, to switch gears when a lesson isn't working, to motivate the daydreamers and recalcitrant defeated ones who don't want to try, to address learning disabilities and how to work around them, to plan lessons and keep track of all the things.  

Keeping track of all the things could be a job unto itself.

Then I have to be able to use technology.  I'm tech support for my students and they push random buttons that do random things to their Chromebooks.

(I've been known to text Adam for advice.)

I have to be flexible to all the crazy things that happen (the bloody noses and broken shoes and spilled contents of desks and/or water bottles.)  I need to wade through the tattling after recess and decide which things need to be ignored and which need to be dealt with.  I have to notice the students who don't have warm enough coats and who are hungry.  I have to not cry when they show up in clothes so dirty you can only imagine the chaos they live in, when one of them is heartbroken over a death in their family or they tell me that their family doesn't have enough money for Christmas this year.  (I have to not cry in front of them; I cry plenty when they aren't around.)

I'm not too smart for this.  Not by a long shot.

I'm grateful no one has noticed and I get to keep trying.

The secret is out

I have been fielding lots of questions about Santa.  I have students on both sides of the question and some who are on the fence and want answers.  

I am firmly on Team Santa.  I will die on that hill.

I was having my literacy student create sentences about Christmas themed words.  There were elf and Santa and sled and snow and tree and a lot of other words.  They could create their own sentences using the words or a variation on the words.  Capitals at the beginning of sentences and periods at the end of sentences were non-negotiable.

And a comma at the end of the sentence was not OK.  (They asked.)

They were working along and one of them asked, "Are you Santa?"

I approached the sentence warily, thinking of all the other third grade conversations I'd had on the subject.

"You are Santa, and we're your elves!" he declared.  "That's why we have to do all the work."

Then a realization dawned on him.  "Wait," he said. "Are you a teacher so you don't have to do any work, so your students have to do all the work?"

Yes.  Because that's how the world works.  There are these sentences that need writing.  If I weren't a teacher and didn't have students to write the sentences for me, I'd have to do it all myself.

Here's the takeaway:  if you're tired of doing all the work, become a teacher.  You can make your students do all the work and your life will be easy town and you'll be the mayor.

These kids delight me.  Daily.  That's why I became a teacher.  (Them doing all the work is just a nice side benefit.)

My biggest boy

Last night Mark was gone and we were having one of our weird empty nester dinners.  We were just pulling random stuff out of the fridge.  

Braeden came over to use the garage for some car maintenance.  

I pushed the last of Mark's chocolate cake on him.  He happily complied, ate it right off the cake plate.  I poured him a glass of milk.

I offered him a toasted cranberry English muffin with cream cheese.  He took two.

I offered him pea pods.  He said no thanks.

Adam offered him fish sticks that he was just pulling out of the air fryer.  Braeden had half of one.  He explained, "I've already had dinner."

I'll never get tired of feeding my kids.  They can come over any time.  

I told Braeden about the conversation I'd had at school.  Yesterday, my literacy students were asking me about my children.  They said, "You have an 18 year old?!?" (I told them that my 18 year old hated The Amazing Christmas Extravaganza which I was reading to them.)  I told them I had older kids too.

"Do they all live in your home?"

I said only the 18 year old.  "The other two are in college."

One boy said, wide eyed, "I'm not going to college.  I don't need people yelling at me all day."

I told them that was not what college was like.  I told them I liked college.  I told them no one yelled at me in college.

I said, "That's how I got to be a teacher, by going to college."

They all just looked at me in sort of wonder.  It occurred to me that they maybe didn't know anyone who had gone to college.  Anyone besides me.  This felt like the first conversation about college they'd had.

I don't know.

But I hugged my college boy extra tight.  He told me about his grad school applications.  He showed us a clip from Jimmy Kimmel.  He talked to his dad about obscure political things.  They don't talk about the things you get from the headlines.  They delve deeper.

For the millionth time in my life I felt grateful for opportunities that were handed to me so I can in turn hand them to my children.  I'm grateful for plenty of food.  Even if we eat it in weird combinations sometimes, we have enough. 

The contest

I used to love playing Monopoly with my sisters.  We had our own elaborate rules and it sort of ruined me for regular Monopoly.  I used to keep a deck of cards in my purse to keep Mark occupied at restaurants when he was little.  He was a world class fidgeter and we would play War which helped him not to climb the walls.  Besides that, I'm not really into games.  I like Boggle OK, but mostly because I always win at Boggle.

Games mostly bore me.  I'm not competitive.  It's one reason (and also I'm not very coordinated) that I'm not into sports.  I have no competitive drive to put my body into peril.  I never have.

So that's why it was a pretty terrible idea that I'm the "team lead" for the competition at school.  My team consists of the third and fourth grade teachers.  I was assigned team lead.  It's some sort of virtual competition.  After school, the fifth and sixth grade teachers were walking around the school with their laptops open, finding clues and talking to each other over google meet.  I was making copies.  I felt an obligatory pull to stop making copies and go rally my troops and solve some clues.  

I had the copy machine singing though and I was making progress on those copies.

The principal walked through and I said, "What's the deal with all these clues?  Are they something?"  They seemed like they could be red herrings.

He laughed like they probably were red herrings.

At the first faculty meeting he was in charge of though, he told us whoever had a sticky note under their chair would get a free day off.  We all looked under our chairs and there was no sticky note.  I told him that day that he was going to give us trust issues.

He said, "You'll get an email tomorrow with instructions about the contest."

So maybe ignore those "clues."  But I have trust issues with that guy.

But I also wanted to make copies.

If my team stages a coup and gets a new leader, I will understand.

More birthday celebrating

We celebrated Mark's birthday again on Sunday with "the kids" as Mark calls them.

I knew full well that chocolate cake would be on the menu.  I asked Mark what he wanted for dinner.

He said, "I don't know..."

I started listing things I know he likes.

He said, "Well...what I want...well, I don't know...maybe...I don't know..."

"What?" I asked, thinking he was going to make some impossible request.

He said, "Well, I want spinach egg casserole.  Do you think you could bake bread to go with it?  Is that too much?  Is it too hard?"

Sweet sweet Mark.  He misses me making bread but he is the first to put his arms around me and tell me that I'm doing important work and "those kids need you!"when I lament that I'm not the homemaker I used to be.

I said, "I'll make bread."  After all, Mark is a little bit of the king every day, not just on his birthday.

Baking bread isn't hard at all, it just takes a block of time.  I told Mark that it actually felt empowering to bake bread because maybe I am not as sad sack tired all the time as I thought.  (It is getting better.)

I baked bread.  And I did take a nap.  Still.

Sunday I pulled out the special birthday plate and when it was time to blow out the candles, I told everyone to stand by Mark so I could take a picture.  Emma said, "Let's all stare awkwardly at Mark."  I'm not sure why she thought that would make a good picture, but I kind of liked the result.

It looks a little like they're all staring adoringly at him.  Awkward and adoring.  That's my kids.

Grateful Friday

Yesterday was the first time I had ever felt actually sad about one of my children's birthdays.  Mark growing up just hit me.  I'm grateful for understanding friends who...you know...understood.  Jamie, who has kids about the same age as mine, prescribed Oreos and watching a sad movie and just crying it all out.

We went to Red Robin instead because that was the birthday boy's wish and he was king for the day.  I feel less sad today and he is no longer king.  It was a one time deal for both of us.

In general, having grown children is kind of delightful.

I love that our kids are able to pursue their dreams and follow their passions and have opportunities.  I know what a blessing and luxury that is!  

This week, Braeden gave a lecture at BYU.  Adam and Mark watched the broadcast but I was teaching math at the time.

Adam took a few pictures for me.  I love this one because I can tell he is about to say something witty.  It's the same expression he'd get when he was three and he was telling me knock knock jokes.

He inserted a few jokes into his presentation that he knew Adam (and only Adam) would get.  

Braeden for president!  He'd have my vote.

 

18 things I love about Mark

He is always willing to help  and he is competent at whatever you need him to do (minus decorating the tree).

He handles having diabetes like a champ.

He loves creature comforts.

He has so many playlists created that he assigns them Greek letters.

He doggedly pursues his passions.

He can argue with the best of them (we are a family of arguers and debaters--I blame Adam and graduate school).

He can fix things--things I think are beyond fixing.

Give him an IKEA package and an Allen wrench and he will give you furniture.

He loves his siblings with a pure and loyal love.

He is a good friend.

He works hard at his job.

He is good at talking to adults.

He is understanding when life shifts.

He is loving to his parents and will give me a hug if he senses I need one or text his siblings to warn them of maternal storms brewing.

He is wickedly funny.

Having diabetes has made him more empathetic and I love seeing that.

He is great company on a road trip.

He is 18 today.

Mark eve

 For about a month Mark has been telling me how many days until he's 18.  He does it because I don't like it and like teenagers everywhere, he derives pleasure in teasing his mother.

I don't like thinking about him being 18, an adult, grown and flown.  

It was bad enough when Braeden turned 18 and then Emma did. 

But Mark's my baby.  For years he was my sidekick (or I was his, I don't know which.)  Being Mark's mother has not always been particularly easy, but loving him has always been very easy.

Talking about his future plans makes me quake a little inside but ships weren't made for safe harbors and neither was he.

(Right about now I wanted to post some pictures of Mark but blogger does what blogger wants and this morning post pictures is not on her approved list of activities apparently.)

Pikkujoulu 2020

This has nothing to do with the post but aren't they cute?

I don't speak Finnish but I do know this one word. Pikkujoulu means little Christmas. We started having Pikkujoulu to incorporate traditions from my family's Christmas Eve into our celebrations.

We kept doing it because we like it.

I was there when we were 19 and Adam opened his mission call for Finland.  If I had known then that someday we would be married and that his mission call would eventually indirectly result in me not only  knowing how to pronounce but also how to spell Pikkujoulu, let's just say I would have been surprised.

Life can be wonderfully unexpected.

There is tension between keeping traditions and changing them.

Life changes and families shrink and expand and shrink and expand.  Traditions ground us and root us and it's also OK to change them.  It's OK to have traditions you used to do.

Sometimes life hands us things we didn't ask for and you write the carb count on recipes.

Sometimes we choose the changes and we channel more energy into planning lessons than baking cookies.

I did make Berry Shortbread Dreams, which is what the recipe is called.  Our kids call them jammy dodgers.  They are everyone's favorite and have 8 carbs per cookie.

I used to make several kind of cookies as well as fudge.  I told Emma, "I am not making all the cookies this year for Pikkujoulu."

She said, "I know.  I was there when you were tossing things in your cart at Trader Joe's."

I'm OK with it.  I'm OK with keeping what matters most (a holiday that's hard to pronounce) and getting rid of things that no longer matter as much.  (Although fudge matters.  It does.)

Setting a festive table matters to me.

Does it bug anyone else that that spoon is askew?

What matters the most is the people.

Braeden and Anna and Emma put the finishing touches on the tree by adding the ornaments Braeden and Emma grew up with.  (Braeden said he'll take his in August when they move.  I said take them sooner because I don't want to go digging for them in August.)

Anna valiantly aimed to put the ornaments high because I said I left all the high space for Braeden.

Here I am supervising from the couch. It was an exhausting weekend and brought back all the fatigue.  Also I didn't wear a mask because I've already had Covid and I was too tired to bother.  I do appreciate how diligent our kids are in wearing masks though.

Emma paused long enough to pose for a dramatic picture.  I can't imagine how much makeup ends up on the inside of her masks, but a girl has to be who she's meant to be.

If you're wondering where Mark is in all this, he hates decorating Christmas trees and he slipped away to the basement.

Later, he read Mr. Willowby's Christmas Tree to the group and also, for the first time, did the scripture reading that Adam usually does.  It's kind of like when the dad lets the son carve the meat for the first time.  Ceremonial.

Emma sang beautifully like she does, Adam and Braeden and Anna all shared a Christmas memory.  Anna's made me cry.  She has more goodness than it seems a person can contain.

I'm glad she's ours.  I'm glad they all are.

Weekend

It was one of the secretary's birthday on Friday so she had piñatas for the teachers after school.  They were legit piñatas with Mexican candy inside.  Also her teenage children came to help and it made me happy to celebrate with them.  (Additionally the homemade tamales she brought and left in the teachers' lounge at lunchtime made me happy. Rachel's family used to own El Azteca in Provo which was a Mexican restaurant by my apartment.  And it was good.)

I ended up at a piñata with some of the kindergarten and first grade teachers.  A few of them talked about how anxious piñatas made them as children.  We all started talking about anxiety inducing birthday party games and I told them I had been terrified of the game where you run across the room and sit on a balloon and whoever pops their balloon first wins.

Barbaric.

I thought it was funny that a group of people who decided to spend their lives with children were timid and maybe a little neurotic as children.

It's like we're determined to keep the world less stressful for the next generation.

Saturday I wrapped the last of the Christmas presents.  Done!

There were five shows at the theater on Saturday.  Mark volunteered to work because he is crazy.  I think he viewed it as a feat of strength. Other ushers rotated in and out but Mark and his boss, Sam, were there the entire 13 hours. At the end of his shift, Mark sent this:

 

A fellow usher said that every time he complained, Mark needed to give every other usher a dollar.  Challenge accepted and Mark didn't complain once.

If I had known that would work, I would have tried it years ago.

Adam and I dropped off lunch (for him and Emma) and dinner (for Mark).  If teaching doesn't work out, I may consider a Doordash career.

Emma finished work at 6:30 so we went to dinner with her.  I rode in her car and I told her all the things.

I love having a daughter.

Amid errands and feeding children, Adam and I decorated the tree (until I got too tired).  It was the first time since Braeden was a toddler that we didn't have children helping us decorate.  It takes a lot longer.  I love decorating the tree though.  I love our decorations.  They feel kind of like a scrapbook.

I sent this picture of two hideous ornaments I made in elementary school that always make it onto our tree.

I told them that whoever I loved most at the time of my death would inherit these gems.

Mark texted back that whoever inherits them won't feel the same after receiving them.

I told Mark he is definitely out of the running.  

Braeden and Anna flew home from Virginia on Saturday.  Braeden sent us updates of their progress.

On the way to the airport, I got a text from Amy. She texted this picture:

How I love those two!  It is a blessing to see our son so happily married and it is a blessing to have Anna in our family.  I also love that Braeden has Anna's family too, because they're wonderful.  It all feels about perfect.

Sunday night we celebrated Pikkujoulu, but I will tell more about that later.

Grateful Friday

There is comfort in switching on the fireplace in the chilly morning.

There is magic in the morning star over the mountain before the sun comes up.

There is beauty in the glowing Christmas tree.

There is energy emanating from the walls of my school.  I feel it when I walk down the halls.  I felt it the first time I went there.

There is joy anticipating a weekend of traditional Christmas activities (also laundry).

There is tranquility in cleared-off surfaces.

There is warmth in the smiling eyes of my friends at school (I never see their mouths, but the eyes say a lot).

There is love in coming home to Adam making dinner and Mark greeting me at the door to take my overstuffed bag.

There is hope in thinking of my Savior and the way He blesses our lives.  There is peace in knowing He knows how to succor us.

The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Not that he needed one....

...but Mark finally got a haircut.

Before:

 After:

It's good to have him back.

Trying to be like Jesus

There was a problem at work the other night with a family refusing to wear masks.  The ushers elected Mark to be the bold one to confront them one last time and ask them to leave it they refused to comply.  The other ushers working that night were small timid young women.  His massive pile of red curls invites a certain amount of respect(?) if nothing else (I'm still waiting for his promised haircut to materialize).  

There was indeed a confrontation resulting in expletives hurled at Mark.  He came home feeling bad about the whole situation.

The next morning I was ready to saddle up my ride or die posse.  Adam, on the other hand, prayed for the family when he said our morning prayer.

You can see which of us is being more successful in emulating Christlike attributes.

In the trenches

I was going for magical and I didn't really achieve magical, but it is festive.  I had Mark help me hang snowflakes from the ceiling.  I set up a tree with ornaments of each students' name made out of Scrabble tiles.  I have another small tree with miniature school themed ornaments: tiny chalkboards and apples and rulers.  It even has a pencil "star" that Emma made when she was a little girl.  (That little tree used to be in our school room.)

I have Mary Engelbreit Christmas scenes on the wall. 

I set up a display of Christmas books.

The song of the week is from The Nutcracker.

I read them a beautifully illustrated Jan Brett Christmas book during read aloud time.

For the first day of our class advent calendar they all got Christmas pencils.

Yesterday I found out more sad news about one of my student's families.  Every day there is sad news.  This year the sad news is more often.

My feeble efforts at Christmas cheer don't seem enough.

Maybe learning the times tables will help to take their minds off things.  The only thing I can provide is stability and predictability and love.  Maybe every time I respond with equanimity when they spill their water bottles everywhere (seriously children...) it will make them feel safe.  Maybe knowing that Mrs. Davis will give them a mask when they forget, a bandaid when they spring a leak and lotion when their hands are dry will be something.

I hope so because it's all I have.