A Contradiction

What do Starburst have to do with dentistry?

Not much.

Except I simultaneously decided I disliked them both on the same day.

I was a little kid and at the dentist I had a fluoride treatment which very nearly quashed my desire to carry on with this mortal existence (maybe an exaggeration?). And the taste of it reminded me of Starburst. I haven't eaten a Starburst since.

But I like this commercial.



Each child has a dentist appointment today and the two older ones each have an orthodontist appointment. (That's five appointments if you're like me and not good at math in your head...five appointments.)

Would I rather eat a package of Starburst or proceed with this day?

It's hard to say.

Growing Up

When I was pregnant with Braeden, I was a school teacher.  The other teachers...most of them my own mother's age...were thrilled by my pregnancy.  They sprinkled me with motherly advice and often, often told me things like, "Well, you're about to get busy." and "Your life is going to change."

I sort of believed them that I'd get busy but I didn't really know how.  I mean, I wouldn't be teaching school anymore.  How busy would I be?

Busy enough that I thought I may curl up and die.

Then I added Emma to the mix and thought, "How was THIS ever hard?  One little newborn is a breeze!"  And on and on.

I continue to look back with fondness at how busy my life wasn't.

When Braeden was 3 and Emma was 1, I know that I thought I was busy.  For the life of me I can't remember what I was busy doing.  When I think back on that time of my life, it feels cozy and warm.  If I think hard enough I remember lonely and overwhelmed but I can't remember why I was busy.

We had a pretty good routine.  At 9:00 each morning, Braeden would watch Little Bear and Blue's Clues on Nick Jr.  After lunch both little cherubs would nap.  Adam got off work at 5:00 and he had a 10-15 minute drive home from his job on Yale's campus.  Sometimes I'd go to pick him up (if I'd needed the car that day...we only had one).  Once a week I went to playgroup.  We went to the library too.

Does that sound busy?  Or like a vacation?

I've always adored Little Bear.  It reminds me of Braeden and Emma and snug days in an apartment in Hamden, Connecticut.  I was thrilled when Mark read it for school.  Braeden was thrilled too.  He said, "Little Bear!" and sat down to listen to the story.

Last night after dinner, and with a dish of ice cream balanced on each of our knees, our whole family watched a half hour of Little Bear on DVD.  Mark had never seen it and that had to be remedied.

I wanted to cry from the nostalgia I felt for those simple days of routines and sippy cups and graham crackers.  I looked over at my son draped on the couch with his big feet and long limbs.

He was my little bear (sniff).

And if I could talk to Thelma-10-years-ago I would scoff and say, "You are NOT busy, silly."
Will there be a time that I look back on NOW and think, "How could I have possibly thought I was busy?"

Sheesh.  It's a scary thought.  Surely not.  There won't be days ahead that are busier than homeschooling three children and carting them off to various pools to swim.  It won't get busier than this trying to squeeze in dentist and doctor and orthodontist appointments and laundry and keeping the house clean-ish and Target and Costco and Albertson's and what's for lunch and what's for dinner and visiting teaching and will you drive me over to my friend's house and the library and the van making a weird noise and on and on and on.

There's no way.

So I felt somewhat relieved.

This is as busy as it gets.

Then I remembered that in a few years, we will begin our 10 year stint of early (6:00 a.m.) morning seminary.

I'm going to go take a preemptive nap.

In all my spare time.

A Post Without Teeth

Except I have to apologize for slandering sweet Desi.

And I have to thank all of you for your kind words and encouragement towards me going to the dentist.

I put on my list for today "dentist".  That means try to find one.  It won't necessarily happen just because it's on the list.  But as my children will tell you, it has a prayer of happening if it's on the list.  They get a measure of comfort when the things they want from me are on the list.

Here's what I want to write about today though:

THE IRONY:

The principal at the local school asked my homeschooled niece to come to school next week for three days.  The school knows that they need her test scores to improve their own...to ensure further funding. 

Clarissa, you're a poster child for homeschooling.

But not every homeschooled child looks as charming in a headband as you do.

I'm just saying.

THE CRUEL FATE:

Last night, minutes before my friends came to my house for book club, Emma dropped--and broke--a bottle of (bright red) nail polish on the (generic light beige) carpet in our bedroom. 

If this ever happens to you, let me know and I'll give you a head start in cleaning it up.

I now know what doesn't work.

THE CONSOLATION:

Adam said, "Well, you did want new carpet."

THE REALITY:

But not anytime soon!

THE TRUE CONSOLATION:
  
There are still a lot of treats left in my kitchen from last night.  Sometimes chocolate is the only rational route to take in the face of ruined carpet.

AND SINCE IT'S WEDNESDAY:

Why I love it:

Here's what's happening all up and down the streets of my neighborhood.

And if you think it looks great, you should walk through it all on a warm afternoon and get unsteady from the intoxication of the scent.

 

  

  

  

 

Spring has sprung.

Boing.

Priorities

Yesterday was a scrambling, frazzled sort of day.  I scribbled more and more items on my to do list as the day passed and with each item, had the sinking feeling I wasn't going to get everything done.

Finally, to clear the clouds in my head, I sat down with a colored pen (I love my colored-correcting-school-work pens...I use them for correcting errant to do lists too.)  and rewrote my list on a separate piece of paper (writing = thinking) to prioritize.

For example, make bread was on the list.

I had been fully intending to get bread made.  My children have been complaining that I haven't made it for awhile.  And bread is easy to make.  I've been making it since I was 12.  It takes time though.

There's the rub.

By the time I was finished with my concentrated and all encompassing school morning, there was driving my children to their play practice and then picking them up, then there was driving boys to basketball practice, then there was a RS presidency meeting.

I crossed bread off the list.  I wasn't going to be available for a long enough time span to make it happen.

I think I was muttering to myself while I was coming to grips with the reality of the list.  Braeden, who always Knows, asked, "What's wrong, Mom?"

Without looking up I said, "I have more to do than I can do.  Too much to do."  Then more muttering.

Full of empathy he walked toward me, put his hand on my shoulder.  "Mom," he said kindly, "You don't have to do all that (indicating the list).  Just don't do it all."

"OK," I said, sitting up straight to look in his concerned eyes.  "I won't take you to basketball practice then."

"Oh.  No, I mean, don't do the unimportant things."

Exactly.

Not for the first time, I feel like I owe my mother an apology.  I am pretty sure I had similar conversations with her.  Something like, "Well just don't BE so busy."

When she was busy because of me all along.

Our Saturday

1- We went to 1 1/2 basketball games.  (We left at halftime of our nephew Jackson's game because our yard work was weighing heavily on our souls.)

Braeden had passed the ball to his cousin Kain and Kain had made the shot... but they still lost.  By a lot.  (I stole this picture from my SIL Whitney's blog.)

2- Adam and I took Braeden to lunch.  He said, "This is the first time since I was TWO that it's just been me with the two of you." Not the case but it was nice.

3- We visited the cemetery where Grandpa Linn is buried.  Braeden and Emma simultaneously and without prompting sunk to their knees and started brushing stray bits of grass off the headstone.

We felt sad.

4- Adam mowed the lawn and dug out blackberry bushes.  The rest of us pulled weeds.   In early February.   Love mild weather.

5- THIS happened.

And it wasn't Mark's fault for once.  (We have a 13 year old in residence whose heel is the exact shape and size of that hole in the wall.)

I grew up in a log house.

When someone hit the wall, THEY got hurt rather than the house.

I think that was a good system.

6-  I told Braeden I'm putting it on his tab.  There will be a day when I hand my children a bill for all of the damage they've caused our belongings.

7- We read dramatic poetry aloud after dinner:  O Captain, My Captain, Hamlet's soliloquy, The Highwayman,  The Raven (Emma's been adding, "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore,'" to everything she says).  It was entertaining.

Unless you ask Mark.

And Then It was Monday

I had a dream last night that I had a big gap between my two front teeth.

Not a happy dream for someone who's had braces.  Twice.

Mark just spilled something in the kitchen and I heard him say, "Awwwwwwww.  Mom is going to kill me."

I don't want to know.

I could not get sleeping beauty to wake up this morning (Emma's changed back from her early morning forays).  She finally rolled out of bed and insisted that it was time I had a parent teacher conference and she gets a day off from school.

Instead of emptying the dishwasher and taking the laundry to the laundry room like my boys are supposed to do, they've been playing the Wii.

I forgot to reinstate the parental controls after Saturday night when they had free reign of the Wii while we were gone.

And speaking of laundry, I swear my neighbors bring in their laundry over the weekend.

We can't have produced THAT much laundry.

Monday.

No Time To Say Hello, Good-Bye!

John Tenniel's Illustration of the "White Rabbit"

Yesterday I had a typically busy school morning.  Then right in the middle of explaining Braeden's math to him, my visiting teachers came. 

I dashed downstairs to visit with them.

After that I quickly made lunch.

Then we went to Lynnwood elementary school for a play that niece and nephew Talia and Jackson were in.

I may have gotten a speeding ticket when one of the "revenue cameras" in Lynnwood flashed a shot of me speeding in a school zone (insert sad face).  We were late and I wasn't thinking about things like school zones.

Turns out the play started later than we even were.  So that meant more lovely time keeping Mark occupied on a hard chair.

After the play our next stop was the orthodontist for the second time this week because Braeden had another loose wire.  

Then McDonald's drive-thru for a snack (everyone can get ONE thing from the dollar menu) because our children were stARVing.  (I don't want to talk about it.)

Next was Game Stop because Braeden's birthday money from his grandma is burning a hole in his pocket (and that kid can't stand any more holes in his jeans, believe me).  Braeden has been influenced by his bargain loving mother and he decided to go with Amazon.com after all for his video game needs.

After that we hustled home.  (I should add that all of these trips to and from the car were accomplished in torrential northwest winter rain.)

At home kids wrapped up school work, I changed some sheets on the beds, finished some laundry.  And dishes.  Whipped out a menu and shopping list for the week and watered my poor plants.

Then did some yoga, spent less time reading the scriptures than I should have but was OUT OF TIME.  

Swim practice was next.  We rushed to the pool.  I sharpened colored pencils for Mark, watched my children toil away.

I had them hop out of the pool early so we could make it to our dinner reservations at the Arby's drive-thru (I don't want to talk about it) before Braeden had to be at scouts.  He sprinted through the rain and I started to leave the church parking lot.  Then I noticed his papers that he needed for scouts...one with a little dab of cheese from his Arby's beef and cheddar sandwich.  I parked and ran into the church, dodging puddles and sheets of rain falling from the sky to give Braeden his papers.

I made it home.  I helped Mark practice the piano, instructed Emma to practice next and went to wash Mark's hair.  I sat down to correct the school work from the day then put Emma and Mark to their various beds (where they didn't stay because Braeden wasn't home yet and they knew I was too tired to care.  

Adam and Braeden came home to find me already tucked in my red chair, under a warm blanket, reading my book.

I felt like a wet dish rag that had been enthusiastically rung out, tossed on the floor and then stepped on a few times.  With boots.

The other day I talked to my wonderful grandma on the phone.  She told me to enjoy these days with my children because they are the best I'll have.

I'm trying to believe her.  I'm trying. 

Happiness

Every couple of years I reread Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach.

I love it.

Sarah Ban Breathnach is on my top ten list of people I haven't met that I wish lived next door to me.  Maybe she's in the top 5.

The other day I was reading and I came across this:

How happy are you right now?  Do you even know?  Most women know what makes their parents, partners, or children happy.  But when it comes to an awareness about the little, specific things in life that bring a smile to our faces and contentment to our own hearts, we often come up short.

I've been thinking about it.

Right now I feel pretty happy because Adam returned from NYC today and although he's a sleeping heap of man on the bed right now I know that after his nap I'll have an evening to spend with him.

And I'm happy about that.

But what makes me happy besides evenings with Adam?

One thing that makes me happy that I hardly ever get is quiet, alone time.

So why do I home school my children if that's what I want?  A good question with a complicated answer.

I do know that I long for quiet and aloneness.  (and permission to make up words like aloneness)

My kids are old enough that they don't need constant supervision or attention but they're just constantly here.  They pepper me with requests and questions.  Can I have a snack?  What is there for a snack? They're convinced that someday I'll come up with a different answer than fruit or string cheese or a Fiber One bar.  Perhaps I'll tell them, "Oh here's a filet mignon to snack on.  Or would you rather have a hot fudge sundae?"

Also even when they're on their own, I'm aware of them.  Are they doing their assigned tasks?  Is that their actual piano song they're practicing or are they just goofing around? How long have they been playing the Wii?  Is it time for it to be put away?  And if Mark isn't gone in the neighborhood somewhere (and I'm wondering where), he wants to show me his latest Lego creation or he's lost in his own world, flying a space ship and making incessant. shooting. noises.

I used to relish nap time.  The house was quiet.  I knew where they were.  I knew what they were doing.  I knew that the house wasn't getting messier somewhere.

Any chance a 7 year old, almost 13 year and almost 11 year old would relent to naptime?

I could have my quiet time in the evening after they're asleep (all I ask is a solitary hour), but that's when Adam's home and my energy goes down with the sun usually anyway.

I could wake up an hour earlier than my children.

But that would cancel out the whole happiness thing.  (sleep and I are extremely fond of each other)

I'll have to find other sources of happiness I guess.  And enjoy these snack eating, request making, chore shirking, Wii playing children while I have them.

The Bad and The Ugly

My pretend friend Christie  (she's my pretend friend because I read her blog and even though I've never met her in person, I want to) wrote a post on her blog about our real selves vs. our blog selves.  She encouraged her readers to write a post revealing their less varnished, more real selves...down to the photo with no make up.

While I do occasionally record a bit of a pity party here, I usually post The Good.  I only pick pictures to post of myself that are passable; I only pick pictures to post of my house that are clean-ish.  Kind of like how I tidy up before my visiting teachers come over.  It's all about tricking people into thinking you're better than you are.

I'll take the challenge though.

Here's my picture:

So in addition to the jumbled school room clutter in the background, here I am.  No make-up and disheveled hair.  Sadly, that's not much different than when I do have make-up on and have done my hair (or tried to).  Neither make-up, hair or looking photogenic are in my realm of expertise.

And here are the confessions that I have to make...the real things.

The inside of my car is almost always a mess and I really don't care that much.

I love organizing things. I am lousy at keeping things organized.

I ate the chocolate covered cherries Janet gave me for Christmas one after the other and didn't tell my children or Adam that we even had them.

I can be cranky.  Really cranky.  And sarcastic.  Really sarcastic.

I never ever want to eat breakfast with my children and rarely do.  I don't want to talk to anyone first thing in the morning.

I haven't balanced my bank statement for years and years.  Numbers like that make me feel quaky.

I don't take criticism well.

If given the choice to read, write, home school, or work on some creative project,  I will always choose that over house work.  And you can tell.

While my house will always look fairly clean if I know you're coming over, I leave laundry in the dryer until there's another load ready to go in.  If my dishes won't fit in the dishwasher, they have to wait until the next load.  I'm not hand washing them.

(and I was raised better than that)

Not Pathetic Enough

15 years ago, this past December 28, my sister Marianne married Robert.  Though we loved Robert (and still do), we were not happy about the wedding.  How could she desert us like that?  Never mind that we all three were in Provo at BYU together.  Never mind that in less than 3 months, I'd be engaged to Adam.  How dare she?

Marianne was the golden child in high school.  Star basketball player, valedictorian, charmer.  Her wedding reception in our hometown was huge...standing room only in the church gymnasium.  After all of the clean up, we got home about 2:00 a.m.  (It didn't help endear us to the wedding.)  I slept on the couch because we had guests in all the beds.  I remember my mom waking me up at 7:00 a.m. because we had breakfast guests driving up our lane.  I remember very little about the rest of it.  I think I was too tired.  I know we went to Orderville, UT for another reception.  I know I stood upright in my bridesmaid dress and I know that Enoch drove way way way too fast to get Olivia home to a New Year's Eve party.  (My parents were driving separately.)  I was so tired it was all a blur.  Happily we had a week before school started up again at BYU.  Olivia and I had time to lick our I-can't-believe-she-abandoned-us wounds and to recover from our weariness.  I think our mom was equally tired and for once in her life didn't urge us towards productivity.

We were Tired and school was Hard and we were Sad so we played Skip Bo and ate peanut M&Ms.  Pretty much for a week.

We'd play Skip Bo on Olivia's bed, cards spread out over the bedspread.  We'd play Skip Bo at the kitchen table, only getting up for more peanut M&Ms.  Finally, we started to feel pathetic.  And slothful.  In a peanut M&M haze we would murmur to each other that we really NEEDED to go back to school.  After awhile, our inactivity was getting us down.

Not a moment too soon, it was time to go back to BYU.  We were ready to conquer again. (And ready to hang out in Marianne and Robert's new apartment...she was not lost after all.)

The lesson learned:  when you're tired, take a break.  Take such a break that you WANT, desperately, to get back to normal.

I'm lamenting this vacation that is all too soon drawing to its close.  I'm Tired and homeschooling/swim team practice/what's for dinner/vacant eyes and casual shrugs when I ask Mark where his jacket is/everything is Hard.  I'm not ready to go back.

We've had a good vacation.  We've had a lot of parties.  I've worked on some things I never can do during the school year because I've been too busy.  We've had fun.

But I wish we'd been a little more lazy and a little less busy.  I need to play Skip Bo for hours with Olivia (even though she cheats) and eat artificially colored candies of goodness until I'm ready for the real world again.

Though it's small consolation, my sisters feel the same way.  Marianne has hosted half the free world this vacation...many of them sleeping over.  Olivia has been working on her Spanish curriculum for her bilingual children.  (Luckily the only foreign language I know is pig latin and my kids about have that covered.)  They're busy and about to get busier too.

Sigh.

Is this what it means to be a grown-up?

Rats.

2009

Modified from a list I found on gwenbell.com's Best of 2009 Blog Challenge, here's my year in review:

Best Trip:  Disneyland

Best Restaurant Moment:  dinner celebrating my mom’s birthday at the Star in Elko, NV.  My cheeks hurt from laughing.

Best Article:  article about helping children deal with grief…from the BYU alumni magazine.  It helped.

Best Night Out:  Wicked with my family, sisters, their families, a lot of friends.

Best Book:  I read way too many to remember.  I did really like Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella.  Maybe because I read it on a lounge chair on the sunny shore of Lake Chelan.  Maybe a text book on quantum physics would have been equally delightful in that setting.

Lesson Learned:  Don’t cut Mark’s hair too short.  He hated it and it made me sad until it grew.

Best Conference:  Women’s Conference at BYU…it’s equal parts great to be with my sisters and mom and amazing to be taught for two days.  One thing that stuck with me from a talk by Carole Stephens:  We can’t have faith in our request but faith in the Lord.

Challenge:  Losing Adam’s dad.  We’re not over it yet.  None of us.

The best place: home

Best new food:  quinoa…not very earth shattering but I'd never tried it before and it’s good stuff.

Best car ride:  always the trip between here and Nevada.  I love what’s on both sides.  I love sitting next to Adam.  I love propping my bare feet on the windshield and having Adam tell me that if we crashed, my legs would break.  I tell him not to crash.

Biggest laugh of the year:  on the drive back from Canada on the 4^th of July, we listened to Real Men of Genius commercials (Adam’s brother said we’re the only people in the world that have commercials on our ipod).  We laughed until we couldn’t breathe.

Is the Hymn Mocking Me?

Today in church we sang the hymn Gently Raise the Sacred Strain.  It's a fine hymn and one I've always liked just fine.

When we got to the second verse, "Holy day, devoid of strife..."

I wondered if W.W. Phelps, who wrote the song, ever fought with his daughter about what dress to wear, prodded children into the shower...then out of the shower...then into their church clothes.  I wondered if scriptures, belts and shoes got lost and were scrambled for on Sunday morning.

I wondered if he realized one Sunday morning in late December that his SEVEN YEAR OLD doesn't know how to tie his shoes(!) because it's always just been easier to tie them.

Maybe someday we'll have a holy day, devoid of strife.

Not today, but maybe someday.

Additionally

This morning as I was laying in my steamy bath, staring at the diffused light coming through the blinds, I started thinking about Thanksgiving.

I love Thanksgiving.

I know how important it is for me to be grateful.

This morning I thought about all the usual things I'm grateful for:

Family
Friends
Health
Faith
Home
Transportation
Adam's job

But I then I started thinking about other things, things that make my life better and things for which I'm truly grateful.

fresh air
blankets
a piano
a dishwasher
a fireplace
handmade gifts from people I love
my computer/the internet/email
a bed
good activities for my children
indoor plumbing
antibiotics
books
my little front porch
comfortable places to sit
a refrigerator and freezer
hulu
memories of Thanksgiving at my grandma's
memories in general
homeschooling my kids
magazines
soap and shampoo
insulin for my diabetic brother
paper and pens
a camera and photographs
lotion
electricity

I could go on and on and on but you get the idea.

So many things for which to be grateful.

But now I have rolls to bake.

And two children to hug (I already hugged Mark, he still comes to find me in the morning).

Have a happy day!

All Because of a Garage Door

We hopped in the van to head to piano lessons.

Emma was shutting the garage. We've never gotten a garage door opener installed. We have three garage door openers/children that function pretty well for us.

Except for when they don't.

The door got stuck on something and Emma put her considerable strength into it and soon the whole door was askew. I was yelling at her to stop (from inside the van) which wasn't working but Braeden jumped out of the van, eager to chide his sister.

I got the door opened but I couldn't get it closed.

I had Braeden go call our piano teacher, Sarah, to tell her that we would be late.

I studied the door, trying to summon any mechanical skills I possessed. I came up kind of empty.

I tried to call Adam who I knew was at a swank lunch with a visiting client. (We had leftovers for lunch, which was maybe as swank.)

Adam didn't answer the phone.

I wouldn't have either if I was at a swank lunch.

Which I wasn't.

I tried to call my dad. Obviously. Because he's 800 miles away and doesn't even own a garage.

He wasn't home.

I called my sister who wasn't home and talked to my niece to find out where my dad was.

She didn't know.

So I called my other sister.

She told me my parents were in Salt Lake City, at the dentist.

So I called my mom's cell phone.

My dad was just finishing at the dentist so I laid out the problem for his analysis. He told me how to fix it.

I also called Sarah to tell her maybe the whole lesson thing wasn't going to happen. She put her husband Rex on the phone. Since he's our home teacher. I told Rex that I thought I could do what my dad instructed but I'd call him back if I needed him.

Then Sarah pulled up in her car.

She said she could do the kids' piano lessons here.

I tried to fix the door.

It wasn't working.

I called my dad again.

My mom answered the phone and did her motherly duty by telling me to be careful. She told me Nick, the dentist who's also kind of related and a family friend, said people knock their teeth out trying to fix their garage doors.

I assured her I'd be careful.

I talked to my dad.

He gave me something new to try.

I had Braeden as my left hand man (which is more useful than a right hand man when you're left handed like me).

And guess what?

It worked.

I fixed my garage door all by myself unless you count the piano teacher, home teacher, Dad, Mom, niece, sister, dentist, and son that were all involved.

I think I'll just call it fixing it all by myself though.

It seems more impressive that way.

A Post That Promises Not To Be Whiny

It's about time am I right?

Last night was adventurous at our house.

I had already said my good nights and was in my bedroom changing into my fuzzy striped pajama pants when I heard Emma scream for me.

I wasn't alarmed.

She has a flair for the dramatic.

I called back that I'd be right there.

Then I heard her mention "spider".

I'm the bug slayer around here. Adam is opposed to bugs. I wouldn't say he's afraid of them but he lets me kill them.

Here's the scene I arrived at. Emma, standing on her bed, in tears, talking fast and wailing about the spider.

Adam in the hall with Emma's big pink Disney Princess story book...ready to seek vengeance on the offending spider that was an affront to Emma's feminine sensibilities, but holding back ever so slightly, waiting for me.

Braeden was sort of close to the spider, curious and willing to be involved but not willing to get too close.

Mark standing on the futon, was highly excited and terrified also.

I took the book from Adam and he happily retreated to comfort Emma. I took a long skinny pointy Lego creation Braeden was wielding. With it I scared the spider from its corner. (and in all fairness to the faint-hearted arachnophobic family members, it was one big spider) I dropped the Disney Princess book on the spider with a satisfying thwack!

Mark started screaming and Braeden ran to comfort him.

I went to the bathroom for some toilet paper to shroud Mr. Spider in before sending him down the plumbing. As I went I was muttering under my breath. "How are these my children. Afraid of a spider?"

Then I remembered my unreasonable fear of mice and thought I should be more sympathetic.

I hugged and kissed Emma and she whimpered that she didn't think she'd be able to sleep. I left to calm Mark down. It was a scene all too violent for him I guess. He wondered why I hadn't just caught the spider in a cup and taken it outside.

I showed him the torrential rain outside. The river flowing down the street. The spider was a goner either way.

Mark sniffed, "Well you shouldn't have used my Legos."

Sometimes you can't win.

Especially if you're a big spider that was unlucky enough to emerge from Emma's heat vent.

Revisiting

When I was in 6th grade and life was awful, Marianne would climb into my bed with me and listen to my troubles and offer insights.

It's a formula that still works...except for now it's over the phone.

Yesterday I told her all about it.

She said, "It sounds like you need to go read your last blog post about being grateful."

Yeah, I know. To my never ending chagrin, it's a revisiting that I often need to make.

Towards gratitude.

I've been feeling unhappy, dissatisfied, insert downcast synonym here.

Besides Marianne, yesterday I talked to Janet, my mom and at length Adam all about it.

Have I always been this needy? (Well, yes.)

I think I figured something out.

The anxiety about what might happen is ruining all my fun.

It saps confidence and enjoyment. It clouds reality. It's not heaven sent.

I worry with my children that I haven't done enough. I worry I come up short when I stand next to some measuring stick somewhere. I worry that they won't realize the potential I see shining in their eyes.

And it will be my fault.

Because I've messed something up.

See what I mean about this ruining all my fun?

When I write it out and look at it, it really seems sort of ridiculous. How can I waste so much precious energy worrying?

(I need all the precious energy I can get.)

After talking to Adam, I knew what I needed to do.

Revisit and remember. Remember the assurances I've been given. Revisit gratitude. Remember things that work.

Dial down that worry.

Enjoy Mark saying, "Oh I get it!" during math.

Enjoy teaching again. Enjoy getting a front row seat for the education of my children.

Enjoy the ride.