The...Nativity Story...or something like that

As the Christmas season approaches, I've been taking advantage of quiet evenings to tell my kids the original Christmas story. They've known bits and pieces of it all along, but I realized this year that they probably weren't too familiar with the actual chronological chain of events.

After several nights of telling and retelling I assumed they were familiar with the gist of the story...

Last night the kids were oohing and aahing at Christmas lights as we drove through town. Mia saw a particularly notable creche scene. She shrieked, "Oh WOW! Oh awesome! Mommy, look! It's some shepherds and some angels having a baby together!"

Yeah, something like that.

A Tale of Two Mommies

Today we got a phone call that turned our household up end in a very exciting way. Could we take a little baby through foster care for a couple of weeks? Since Grace has been bugging me lately about having another baby, I said yes, thinking the reality of a baby will cure her of those quasi-maternal urges. I knew it would cure me :).

We ran through the house and did a checklist of which baby things were stored in the garage, what needed to be replaced (bottles, diapers, formula), and what small changes would need to be made in our household to accomodate one more (surprisingly little).

Then we had great fun heading to Babies-R-Us and jointly choosing new baby bottles, binkies, and a couple safety things that our *big* kids don't need anymore.

The girls' enthusiasm was contagious, and even though I knew this was a very temporary foster care placement--and I was glad it was!--I found myself getting excited about having a baby around the house again. Lately Mercie has taken to pointing at herself and then at me, nodding her head and saying wisely, "Mercie, Momma, grownups." She and Eric are still so much my babies that I sometimes have to force myself to step back and realize they are, in fact, quite grownup. We were an enthusiastic group preparing to welcome this little one to his temporary home.

As we loaded bags and kids into the car, I listened to Grace singing, "a wonderful, wonderful thing--we're going to have a baby today!" And suddenly the other side of the story hit me smack in the figurative face.

While we were waiting anxiously, excitedly for the call telling us that a baby was on his way to our house, another mom was saying a heartbreaking goodbye to him. While we danced and sang for sheer joy of sharing him for a little while, another mom was surrendering custody in the company of law enforcement officers and social workers. As we cleared our calendar and adjusted our schedule to accomodate a busy baby, another mom faced a lonely night, waking up to a lonely day, and an uncertain road back to her baby.

Should it happen? It's a no-brainer. We're not the most experienced foster parents on the planet, but we have an incredible child protection system here, and I've learned to respect and trust the workers, court officers, and support people. They don't remove kids on a whim, and their top goal is to bring families back together. If they saw reasons to remove this child, or any child, I'd put money on those reasons being valid.

Is it fair? Of course not. Is it the right thing? I'm betting so. Does that make it any easier, for the baby who cried himself to sleep tonight in my lap, or the momma who is probably doing the same in her too-quiet home? Nope.

All I can do is my tiny part in all of this--love this little baby for the time he's mine. And love his momma, from a distance, even if it's nothing more than my prayers that she'll do what it takes to bring momma and baby both back where they belong.

The Most Exciting Job

Yesterday we ended up having an impromptou party on the lawn. Friends down the street brought cookies and joined us for lemonade, much to the delight of my kids.

As we sat under a tree together, three-year old Adalyn announced that her daddy had a very boring job. Wondering what a three-year old classifies as boring, I asked what her daddy does at work. "He makes movies," she said with a sigh. Holy cow, sounds pretty exciting to me!

That made me wonder what on earth she thought classified as an exciting job, if making movies was "very boring." So I asked. Her eyes lit up as she replied without hesitation, "Being a mommy is a VERY exciting job!"

I spent the rest of the day looking quite differently at my "VERY exciting job."

Mia Brain vs. Mommy Brain

A few nights ago the kids were in their typical bedtime madness of running around the living room like screaming banshees. As Grace danced madly through the room she semi-accidentally kicked Mercie in the face.

Mercie wasn't hurt, but since I'd been warning Grace to settle down, I told her she needed to have a timeout on the couch so she could calm down. Mia wasn't very happy about losing her partner in chaos, so she tried to sit down on the couch with Grace. I firmly picked her up and moved her off the sofa, telling her that timeout means sitting ALONE.

Mia glared at me. Then she stood there and thought for a minute. Making sure that I was watching, she walked over to Mercie and kicked her in the face. Luckily Mia is a lousy shot, and the kick glanced off. Mercie looked very confused, but not hurt.

Mia, however, was even more confused as her bright little plan unravelled when Mommy put her in the garage for her timeout. Poor Mia. It's good to be smart--it's better to be good.

Why Children Need a Muzzle in Church

Today during the Sacrament Grace was doing some deep thinking. For those unfamiliar with the LDS faith, the Sacrament is typically the most quiet time of the worship service, as no one is speaking and young men are silently passing bread and water among the congregation.

Grace was studying pictures in her scriptures with great intent. Finally she looked up with a furrowed brow and said, "Mommy, is Jesus a boy?"

Motioning her to whisper, I mouthed back, "Yes."

In a delighted tone that most definitely was not a whisper, Grace applied her newfound knowledge of physiology. "That means Jesus has a penis!"

The people in front of and behind us were immediately seized with some kind of choking, red-faced problem that neccessitated putting their heads down on their knees.

Ahh...the joys of preschool theology.

To My Little Genius

Three years ago today we brought home a teeny little 6 pound 3 ounce baby girl from the hospital. Her hair was bigger than she was. For a tiny one she had a huge appetite, and she didn't stay tiny for long. Her older sister was all of ten months old, and so never really had much of an adjustment or sibling rivalry, because her world was still so young and new that change was a matter of course.

We named her Miriam Valency--lots of syllables for such a little thing--but Gracie couldn't pronounce Miriam. She christened her Miam, which stuck. A few months later Grace shortened it to Mia, which stuck for good. This was my secret delight, as I'd proposed the name Mia earlier only to have it vetoed by Jim. Thanks to Grace, I got my Mia after all.

Now Mia is three years old, and she's amazing. I love this little girl. She was born with a mother's heart. She tenderly takes care of anything smaller or younger or more vulnerable than she is--which is quite a lot, since she's extremely tall and almost freakishly strong. She also mothers her mommy, telling me to "lay your head on my lap, Mom, so I can hold you and snuggle you." She'll pat my head and stroke my hair, and press preschooler kisses on my forehead while she sings me lullabies. Her poor younger siblings are mothered whether they like it or not.

From the time she could talk Mia's claim to fame has been an unbelievable vocabulary for someone so small. Her diction and pronounciation are far beyond any other three-year old I know--in fact, most of the time her speech is more clear and her vocabulary more expansive than that of her older sister. She doesn't just tell me I'm "beautiful;" she tells me that I'm "stunningly beautiful." (See why I love this kid?). She doesn't announce that she's "mad;" she's "exasperated", or "incredibly frustrated."

Today she and her sister poked around in Mommy's room and unearthed some old binkies that had fallen under the bed. Delighted with their finds, Mia proclaimed, "Gracie, you are a total genius!"

That's my little girl. Always quick to give the credit and praise to others, even when her own ability is shining right through. If you ask her what she wants to be when she grows up she responds with complete confidence, "Cinderella." If you ask her what job she wants to have she'll say that she plans to build houses like Bob the Builder.

I have no doubt that she'll succeed admirably in balancing her tiara and her toolbelt.

It's my privilege and gift to be along for the ride. Happy Birthday Princess Mia!

The Gender Gap

Grace: “Mommy, today I saw a boy kitty outside.”

Me: “Really? How did you know it was a boy kitty?”

Grace: “Because it had a really dirty face.”

O is Me

This afternoon the girls were playing amazingly well in the front room while I sat on the couch and read a book (I know, moments like these are extremely rare for mommies of babies, toddlers, and preschoolers. For those of you who aren't mommies of babies, toddlers, or preschoolers, think Hailey's-Comet-rare, or parting-the-Red-Sea rare).

Grace was busy "writing" on a magnetic doodle pad. Noticing that she was very intent, I asked her what she was writing. Without looking up she responded in a bored tone, "my name." Looking more closely, I saw a row of neat O's across the board.

"Grace, those look like O's," said the most-observant-mother-of-the-year.

"Yep, they are," replied my three-year old master of the obvious.

"Um, I don't think the name 'Grace' has any O's in it," I tried to tactfully interject.

Grace looked at me like I was a complete idiot. "Yes, my name DOES have an 'O' in it."

"Sweetie, I really don't think it does. Sound out the letters, G-R-A-C-E. I don't hear an 'O' sound."

In that special tone of voice reserved for the most dense adults, my pint-sized princess sighed.

"Yes, my name does have an 'O' in it. You say it all the time-- 'Oh Gracie!'"

I stand corrected.

Marriage, Mountains, and Misperceptions

Part of the doctrine of our religious beliefs is that marriages should be conducted in a holy temple, by someone with priesthood authority to seal, or bind, the marriage together eternally. Because admission to temples requires living a certain standard of worthiness, we teach our children from the time they are young to keep themselves pure and worthy to be married in the temple.

Well....at the moment I have two little girls who are completely obsessed with getting married. Thanks to the Rodgers and Hammerstein version of Cinderella, starring Brandy in the lead role ("Mom! That Cinderella looks like ME!"), my girls are convinced that a handsome, Asian-looking Prince is going to sweep them off their feet into a life of beautiful ballgowns, endless dancing, and romantic *married* kisses. (The kissing has been demonstrated on me so that I know exactly how the Prince will kiss my dimpled darlings on that magical day). No detail of planning their weddings has escaped my almost-three and almost-four year old princess wannabes.

Luckily for me, they also love the temple. They love to visit the temple, they love to talk about the temple, they love to walk around the grounds at the temple, and they especially love the idea that when that magical day arrives that they marry their own Prince Charmings, they can do it at the temple.

Several days ago we were curled up on my bed talking and I saw the opportunity for a brainwashing--er, I mean, teaching--moment.

"Mia, what if you meet a wonderful, handsome Prince and he says, 'Mia, oh Mia, I love you so much! I want to marry you. Will you please marry me--but not in the temple. I'd rather get married in our backyard.' What would you say, Mia?"

Mia looked confused, so I prompted her a little bit.

"Do you love the temple, Mia?" A vigorous headshake up and down. "Do you want to be married in the temple when you are a grown up lady?" Mia grinned and nodded. "Well then, if your handsome prince wants to get married somewhere else, you just shake your finger like this and say, 'No, no, no mister! I'm only getting married in the temple, mister, because I'm a REAL princess, and real princesses get married in the temple.' "

Both girls were instantly enthralled with this new role-playing exercise Mommy came up with. What's not to like about scolding an imaginary Prince and yanking your husband-to-be back onto the path of truth and right? Apparently even preschool age princesses enjoy bossing their someday-Princes around.

We played out every scenario that my tired Mommy brain could invent. What if the Prince wants to get married at church? What if he wants to get married on a boat? Or on an airplane? Each one made them giggle harder and shout louder, "No, no, no mister! I'm only getting married in the temple, mister!"

The last scenario I had was for Grace. "What if your Prince says, 'Grace, you are the most beautiful princess in the entire world. I love you and want to marry you. I want to be your husband and you will be my wife, and we will have a family. But I only want to get married on a mountain, not in the temple. Please, will you marry me on a mountain?' "

Grace's jaw dropped open. The giggling stopped. Her eyes were huge. She looked completely horrified.

"Oh NO! I cannot get married on a mountain! I would fall off and get hurt very badly!"

Time will tell if this teaching moment has lasting impact. I'm guessing by the time the girls are old enough to receive marriage proposals they'll probably find more tactful responses than, "No, no mister!" But heaven help the poor man who asks Grace to marry him on a mountain.

Heaven on Earth

For some reason I can't remember, recently the topic of heaven came up at our house. "Heaven" is a somewhat fuzzy, abstract concept for most of us adults, who, let's face it, haven't personally been there in this lifetime. So explaining it to small children was a bit daunting.

Gamely I started in, trying to paint a picture of heaven as something that would seem overwhelmingly positive, figuring that the girls have the rest of their lives to fear the process of death that will get them there.

"It's a very beautiful, happy place, where we get to be with people we love, like Mom & Dad, and sisters, and Grandpa, and cousins," I began. "We'll see Jesus again and He'll be so happy to see us. He will hug us and tell us He loves us. And we'll feel peaceful and happy in our hearts when we are in heaven. We will want to stay there forever and ever, because it's such a happy place."

No response. The girls just looked at me quizzically. Mia climbed off my lap and asked if it was snack time yet. Mercie started pulling at my leg and grunting. Grace had a confused look on her face, like she was trying to process this new idea, but wasn't quite sure how it fit.

Sighing, I figured at least I got brownie points for trying, and now that the concept of heaven wasn't new to them, maybe as they got older we could revisit the topic and it would make more sense to them.

Then I saw the lightbulb go off in Grace's face. Eyes sparkling, she said, "OH! It's just like our home!"

I am surely the most blessed mommy ever.