Blessings

It's Christmas time, right on the heels of Thanksgiving, and for whatever reason, it's been a particularly pensive, reflective season. Life is never easy or "perfect" (whatever THAT is), but I'm feeling especially thankful for some of the things that I often take for granted.

• Life. It's a fragile thing, and not everyone gets a full, long one. I'm blessed to be alive to mother my children, torment my friends, harass my siblings, and enjoy the daily trials and wonders this world offers.
• Health. Few of us have the fully perfect health we'd like, all of the time, but I certainly don't have room to complain. I can move and see and hear and sing and play, and I couldn't ask for anything more than that.
• Family. Definitely one of my most extraordinary blessings. In fact, let's break this one up:
• Parents. I have great parents. They each bless my life in a million little ways, on a pretty much daily basis. And I consider myself doubly blessed to also have a very kind stepdad and a generous, caring stepmom.
• Siblings. All bajillion of them. My mom always told me that my brothers and sisters would be my best friends. I didn't believe her. I tell my kids the same thing. They look at me like I'm smoking dope (or would, if they knew what dope was. Which they don't). Apparently moms are right about this. I have amazing brothers and sisters. I'm proud of them, love them to pieces, wish for good things in their lives, pray for them & sometimes worry for them, and owe them more than I could ever repay for the endless love they give me.
• Children. Often the source of most of my annoyances and petty frustrations, they are also the source of 90% of my gut-busting laughter and 99.9% of my daily hugs. Quick to forgive my numerous flaws, they are each delightful, bright, interesting people who I enjoy having in my life. So glad we have eternity!
• Friends-who-become-family. This list could probably go on for miles and miles, as I am surrounded by incredible friends, soaked & saturated in good friendship from loving people. Girlfriends to giggle and party with, old friends & new friends, guy friends to hang with, work friends to make the days more interesting, church friends to serve and worship with, neighbors to chat with...I count my friends as some of the best evidence of how much God must love me.
• Home. It's been a mixed blessing, being a homeowner again (can we say, endless and ongoing repair work?), but I adore my house. It's a good one. It's pretty much perfect for us right now.
• Work. Everyone needs a way to pay the bills and indulge in some of life's little luxuries. I am richly blessed in having employment that is intellectually stimulating, emotionally satisfying, socially rewarding, and worth getting up in the morning.
• Books. One of life's chief pleasures since I was five years old. I can't imagine my life without books. Thanks to Alicia, I had two stay-up-until-4am nights this past week, but it was worth it. I polished off my second-to-last Jane Austen and am now working my way through David's contribution to my literary development, before tackling the most recent bequests from Holly. Life is good.
• Art. I don't make nearly enough time in my life to indulge this gift. However, I did recently take the kids to an exhibit at a nearby museum, and while I can't speak for their experience, I was reminded once again how powerful beautiful art can be.
• Music. If anything, this has been part of my life even longer than books--just ask my parents. I used to get in trouble because I wouldn't ever stop singing. 30+ years later I still haven't stopped. I finally have a piano again, after going the longest stretch of my life EVER without one (two whole years!!!), and Santa brought me a guitar (with some help from Luc, who restrung and tuned it the night before, only to have the kids do their own "restringing" and "tuning" the next day....sigh). Beethoven, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Johnny Cash, Mozart, Andrea Bocelli, Frank Sinatra, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Natalie Cole--oh, oh, oh, that's another thing to celebrate--thanks (also) to Luc, I have new Natalie Cole!!!
• Hot showers. I don't think that one needs any explanation.
• Good food. It's a blessing to live during a time when we have the ability to preserve and store food in a range of ways, when an overwhelming variety of food is available at the grocery store, when all kinds of time and labor-saving devices allow us to enjoy good food without any real investment of time. I'm claiming even more specific blessings than that--I'm grateful for neighbors who bring boxes of fresh apples over, for lunch dates at Guru's (the-very-best-food-EVER) and La Jolla Groves (my new favorite thing), for affordable family dinners from Little Caesar's Pizza, for the fun of teaching my kids how to cook (hey, jello and cheese sandwiches still count as food!), and for Krispy Kreme just down the street.
• Warm socks. I must be getting old, because this never would have made the grateful-list in my younger days.
• Church. This could refer to many different things, and I'm grateful for each meaning of the word, but I'm feeling especially thankful for church as a community of believers, for the opportunity of communal worship, for the fellowship of the saints. It's a very good thing.
• Pretty clothes. I may not have the greatest fashion sense, but I do like pretty clothes. And shoes. Proof that I am indeed a girl, there's just nothing quite like feeling fabulous.
• IKEA. Enough said.
• Testimony. Somewhat related to church, but focused much more on my personal relationship with God, I am blessed to have that relationship, to claim that personal and intimate knowledge that He is real, that I'm His child, that He has a plan for me and for every other person. There are many things I don't know, and many more that I don't really understand, but I do know God loves us. Know it deep down to my toes and woven tightly into my soul. This is the core that binds everything else together. My testimony carries me through the rough spots and makes the good parts even brighter and happier.

Happy Christmas!

Something Like That...

The kids got squeaky chickens packed with candy eggs from their Aunt Carole for Christmas. They spent an hour or so figuring out how to work the fowl gifts.

Eric finally nailed his.

"Look! I got it! Now it can puke it's babies out it's butt!"

Um, yeah.

Wonder Woman

When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled,

And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see.

Jesus wept.

Then said the Jews, Behold how he loved him!

John 11:33- 36

If you've ever meandered around my blog and clicked on any of the links to blogs I read, you probably stumbled across my friend Krista, a.k.a Wonder Woman. My name for her; she'd never claim it for herself. But I don't know a better way to describe Krista: Krista with a generous heart, infectious enthusiasm for life, passion for her family, rock-solid faith, and a brilliant, shining testimony shared freely with everyone remotely within her orbit.

Years of infertility and heartbreaking losses didn't dim Krista. A diagnosis of terminal brain cancer five years ago didn't dim Krista. She took hits that would knock most of us out of the game and came back grinning, raring to play again. I think I started to believe that she was invincible, that her huge smile really was as magical as it seemed in cultivating immortality.

Which made it all the harder to see this note from her husband Jared yesterday morning:

Krista was rushed to the ER late last night with breathing difficulties. Tests revealed she had blood clots in both lungs and her body couldn't get the oxygen it needed. Despite the doctors' best efforts Krista passed away early this morning. I will dearly miss her until we are together again. Please keep us in your prayers.

I started crying yesterday morning and haven't stopped. If anyone is worth the tears, she is. I'm not crying so much for Krista--as much as she hoped and prayed and wanted to stay here and raise her children, as much as she wanted to keep them from the pain of losing a mother--knowing Krista and her bright, amazing faith, she's lighting up heaven with that smile and loving her babies in a more perfect, more "real" way than any of us know. I'm crying for her husband and crying for her kiddos, for the hundreds and thousands of people who she touched, and I'm selfishly crying for myself because I'd rather have her here than up in heaven.

Last night I played the organ at the temple. This morning I met some friends to do a session together at the temple. The temple is a good place to bring sadness.

During this poignant time of year as we celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ and say goodbye to our precious friend, I am grateful for the comforting knowledge that, as Elder Wirthlin expressed, "Sunday will come." Grateful to know that temporary partings are just that--temporary. Grateful for sacred ordinances that allow families to be together forever. Grateful that Christ didn't shrink from the bitter cup, but worked out the full, complete Atonement so that our suffering could be swallowed up in His love. I'm grateful for the blessing and privilege of friends like Wonder Woman, who bring me closer to Him.

I'm also grateful that, in spite of His perfect knowledge of all eternity and His perfect power over death, when I'm crying tears of loss for my friend, He understands. He cries, too.

Call It Like You See It

Mercie: Eric is trying to get more jello, mom.

Grace: I think Mercie has a problem with worrying more about other people and not worrying about her own self.

Mom: Ahem. I don't think Mercie is the only one with that problem.

Grace: What? I don't have a problem worrying about other people's business. I just tattle. That's all.

Nice to have that clarified.

The Thanks List

Mom: Before prayers I want each one of you to say something that you are thankful for.

Mia: I'm thankful for God and Jesus and holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Grace: I'm thankful for Christmas and holidays and everybody.... except bad guys.

Mia: She was going to say everyone except Mercie, but she didn't want to get in trouble.

Grace: I WAS NOT!!!! Mia's tattling on me for something I didn't even do!

Mom: OKAY, Eric's turn.

Eric: I'm thankful for all movies, except bad ones, like Toy Story 1, and Toy Story 2, and Toy Story 3, and Monster House.

Mercie: I'm thankful for everything. Except olives and Satan.

Of Fashion and Finance

Defying all reason and logic, my children have an obsession with looking as much like Dickensonian waifs and third world beggar children as they possibly can. This generally means sneaking out of the house wearing clothes with more holes than actual fabric, refusing to comb their hair, and maintaining a 1/2 inch thick layer of grubbiness behind their ears.

From what I hear, most children, when given the choice, choose the sparkling, brand-spanking new clothes Mommy just bought them, but my children thrive on marching to the beat of their own insane drummer, and they bypass the new, attractive clothing in favor of things that would be a better fit for the rag heap than a child's dresser.

Case 1: At the beginning of the school year I spent one of the most frustrating afternoons of my life buying new shoes for every single child. In Mercie's case, she ended up with three brand new pairs of shoes and a couple of hand-me-downs from her older sisters that were still in good condition. School started and day after day Mercie insisted on heading out the door in dingy white sandals that were too small, too broken, and too cold for wear. Since I believe in choosing my battles, and I also believe in natural consequences (really, how warm or comfortable could those sandals be???), yes, I was a bad mother and I let her do it.

When stopping by Mercie's class to drop something off, her teacher took me to a private corner and informed me that the school had a special fund available to help families buy shoes for their children, and if providing Mercie with shoes was a problem it would really be so very easy for them to help me out.

Yes, I was totally and completely chagrined. She was nice as could be about it, which is more than I can say for myself when we got home that night and I had a little chat with Mercie about the importance of wearing the new shoes Mommy bought for her.

Case 2: fast forward a few days. In spite of the fact that it is November, all four of my kids insist on leaving their jackets home when they go to school. Apparently keeping track of a backpack is the absolute maximum effort their brains are capable of and a coat would short circuit neurons from which they'd never recover. Grace and Mia annnounced that they weren't bringing coats. Not to be outdone, Mercie followed suit. When we got to school Grace changed her mind. Her coat was home in her room, so she asked Mercie if she could borrow Mercie's coat that was lovingly tossed on the floor of the minivan. Mercie agreed.

In the afternoon I got an email from Mercie's teacher. She told me that she was worried about Mercie being too cold at recess, and when she asked Mercie where her coat was Mercie responded that she couldn't wear it today because "today is Grace's turn to wear the coat."

Yes. She really said that.

Mercie's very nice teacher immediately went on to tell me that the school has a special fund available to help families get warm coats for their children and it really would be so easy to get Mercie a coat of her very own so she doesn't have to share.

AUGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Recently I went shopping for pants, socks, tights, and some other winter clothing items the kids needed. $300+ later I was bemoaning the money I'd never get back and predicting how many days we'd go before each child had completely ruined his or her new clothes.

"That's the worst part," I whined to a friend. "It's like throwing my money in the garbage, or setting it on fire. We'll be lucky to get one good day out of $300 worth of new clothes. It drives me crazy to part with hard-earned cash for this!"

"Well, you don't HAVE to do it, " he responded. "You know, the school has a special fund to help people like you..."

Now Why Didn't I Think of That?

Last night I decided to point up the darlings' excessive waste & neglect of personal items in a way that would hit home.

I listed off all the hits my wallet had taken recently--repairing a dryer door because Eric sat on it, buying Mia new shoes because she took scissors to the old ones, new pants for Mercie when she proudly showed me how big of a hole she could make in them with her fingers, a new lunch bag to replace a lost one, an excessive amount of school lunches for Grace because she keeps "forgetting" her home-packed lunch...

Then I told the kiddos that it looked like we probably wouldn't have enough money for Christmas presents this year.

Stunned silence.

However, my efforts to turn this into a discussion about how we could better practice frugality were derailed when Grace took the floor.

"You should have said yes to that man, Mom."

???

"What man?"

"The man when you went to get your contacts. You should have told him yes."

" Not sure what you mean, Gracie."

"Well, he asked you if you wanted cash back. You should have said yes. Then we'd be rich."

(No) Thinking Aloud/Allowed

Mia: "What does selfish jerk mean?"

Mom: "Hmm...like, a mean person who only thinks about himself and doesn't care about other people."

Grace: "Is it a bad word?"

Mom: "Yeah, it's not really a nice thing to call someone a selfish jerk."

Mia: "What if it's true?"

Mom: "Well, you can think it in your head but you probably shouldn't say it out loud."

Grace: "Yeah, Mia, it's okay to think ANYTHING you want in your head. Even bad words like 'idiot' or 'stupid.'"

Mia: "Well, my head is thinking that I don't like Eric."

Mom: "You can think it in your head, Mia, but you can't say it with your mouth."

Eric: "Well, my head is thinking that Mia is a something that means a mean person who only cares about herself and doesn't care about other people."

Mia: "MOM!!!!!!!!!!!"

The Things I Don't Blog

Today has been one of those days; you know--one of THOSE days. In homage to what is thankfully not a frequent occurrence, I'm going to have a momentary breakdown and blog The Things I Don't Blog.

I could say it started when we went out to the car this morning, rushing because I really, REALLY needed to get to my morning class on time, only to discover that, once again, the kids left a car door partially open and drained the battery overnight.

Getting to class at all, let alone on time, didn't happen, which sucked because I completely bombed the previous night's homework (and I mean, BOMBED), when I followed the idiotic train of thought that taking a timed quiz with small children in the home could actually work. HAH!

I could say that the icing on the cake was settling down to work late tonight, in a vain attempt to catch up from life in general and from being out sick yesterday, only to get a phone call that child number 2 was at the emergency room with children nos 1, 3, 4, prepping for stitches from a playground accident and none of them had eaten dinner yet.

But then I'd have to back up and explain that I'd caught some kind of bug and haven't eaten anything besides fruit juice and chicken broth since Saturday, and spent Sunday & Monday feeling a shade off from death itself, hence the need to work late and catch up.

And the reason I (probably) got sick is because I never, ever get enough sleep. Ever. Partly my own insanity of trying to go to school while working fulltime; partly my insanity of having four kids. Partly the kids' insanity because they have this wild belief that waking up all night is a normal and fun thing to do, and if it's so much fun, bringing Mommy into the action is even better.

I actually wouldn't mind if child no. X woke me up, if that meant we'd finally get past this bedtime potty training thing. As it is, she wears pullups, and even with those, her bed still reeks of pee. The entire room reeks of pee. I think you can smell it the minute you turn down the hall in that general direction, and I'm not sure, but I think sometimes you can even smell it from the front door. Since daily morning baths are not an option (see above about children getting up all freaking night long), she often just gets rinsed off and wiped down and sent off to school where other children tell her that she smells like pee. I'm pretty sure that I am A.) sealing my win for Worst Mother of the Year, and B.) ensuring that she'll spend hours in therapy as an adult. And now I just blogged this to the universe. The poor girl doesn't stand a chance.

However, the smell wafting down the hall from her bedroom has to compete with the many, many unpleasant odors filling my house. Kids' bathroom? Check. Overflowing garbage can with too many days worth of anonymous child's bedtime diapers. Downstairs bathroom? Check. Apparently if Mom never goes into that bathroom flushing is not only optional, it's undesirable. Laundry room? Check. You'd think a room dedicated to cleaning clothes would be safe from stink, but a 7-year old who thought it was funny to throw her wet swimsuit behind the dryer three months ago ensured that even that shrine of cleanliness smells like a locker room. The kitchen? Don't even go there. Really. Don't. I haven't cleared away dinner from two nights ago, the drain on one side of the sink isn't working, and the kids stuck something down the disposal that I can't get to and the smell coming from the sink is somewhere between retch and death.

In spite of numerous discussions and punishments, a massive chalkboard in the kitchen, and an obscene quantity of scratch paper & pens, the children persist in using the walls as canvas for their deepest thoughts. I'm not sure I'd mind if I saw Holy Writ scribbled next to the light switches, or loving sentiments inscribed next to the towel bar, but for some strange reason, seeing "I hat Mia," or "Mercieisbad," permanent-markered into the new paint job just sets me off.

So, we've established that the past couple of days have been a bit challenging.

All the more reason I had to shake my head in disbelief when a (deranged) student caught me today and said, "Hey! I know you! You're that smiley-lady who always makes people laugh over in the LA building! You're so cheerful!" Honey, lunatics are ALWAYS cheerful. It's a natural side effect of disconnecting from reality.

But it reminded me of a message that an old friend, recently reconnected with on facebook, sent a week or so ago, asking how I stay so upbeat and happy as a single mom. It wasn't the first, and I'm sure it won't be the last, time I've heard that question. For the record, here's my answer:

1.) I don't. You see the status updates on fb; you don't see me bawling on the closet floor after the kids go to bed. I don't post those on facebook.

2.) Life is hard. That's true for everyone, not just for single moms. I'd rather laugh about it. Laughing is waaaaaaay better than crying. Unless it's that therapeutic cry on the closet floor every few months.

3.) Sure, a divorced life isn't a cake walk, but if the choice is miserably married or happily divorced....well, I think it's pretty obvious which one I chose.

4.) So one little thing (or many, depending on the day) in my life didn't go as planned--it doesn't negate all the freaking awesome things in my life! If you line them up side by side, the good faaaaaaaaaaaar outweighs the bad. Even on crappy days.

Still, those conversations make me pause and wonder if I'm sometimes being a little bit too Pollyanna-ish and maybe giving the world a skewed perception of My Life With Ducks.

Nah.

I just don't like negativity. Life's too short. My kids drive me crazy, but that melts away and all their cuteness and smartness and incredibleness is still there. Life is rough sometimes but I'll take it any day over the alternative. It might set your teeth on edge, but I truly, genuinely, deep-down-in-my-boots believe that happiness is a choice, and I choose it.

So, enjoy this one and only look at the dark side, because it's already fading, due largely to the unfailing kindness of Brain-Pain & the Divine Ms. B, who certainly count as one of the best evidences that God hasn't given up on me yet by sending friends like them. Throw in kids who sang me to sleep because my throat hurt too much to sing for them, and neighbors who sent over food for the kids, and Erynn, who stayed Sunday night when I.thought.I.was.going.to.die, and a few billion friends and family who called, texted, emailed, or sent up smoke signals to make sure that all was (relatively) well, and you can see just how high the good stacks up against the temporarily-bad.

Life might be crazy in the trenches, but it's the good kinda crazy.

3am

Last night I gave in and let a couple of kiddos sleep in my bed. As expected, it wasn't the greatest sleep. At one point I ended up on the floor for a couple of hours; the rest of the time I spent being kicked, shoved, and thrashed on the edge of the bed.

Around 3am the daughter who was wedged tightly against me woke up to use the restroom. When she came back to bed she didn't go to sleep right away, but just lay awake, snuggled up to me, staring at the ceiling, eyes closing periodically, then opening again.

I lay next to her and just looked at her. It was one of those perfect 3am moments when you are just filled with love for this perfect little person, reveling in all the joy that she has brought into your life. Those of you who are parents know exactly what I'm talking about.

I held her close and looked at her and smiled at her and loved her. She'd open her big brown eyes and look back at me, and then her glance would slide away. I don't think it was just fatigue or the wee hours. I've noticed that as children get older, their eyes tend to slide away from the unabashed force of parental love.

When they were babies my kids ate it up. Watch a mother and a baby interact. Notice all the eye-to-eye contact, the huge smiles, the wonder on both faces. Parent and child are both totally, completely in love. They look into each others' eyes and faces and drink it all in.

Somehow that gets lost as they get older.

Those thoughts were going through my head last night at 3am. I was thinking how, even if she looks away, I'll still be looking at my baby girl with all that love. I was thinking how much I loved her when she was a brand new tiny baby on my lap, and how much I love her now that she's a big second grader, and how much I'll love her a year from now and a few decades from now, and that, just like I tell her all the time, even when she's a big grown up lady with babies of her own, she'll always be my baby. And I'll always look at her with love pouring out my eyes.

Then I thought of Someone Else who always looks at us that way, even when we slide our eyes away, or turn our head, or run away as fast as we can. I thought of Someone who understands a lot more about parenting than I do, and a lot more about the constancy of love and power of forgiveness and joy of mercy. I thought of Someone whose entire being and purpose is wrapped up in His children--our welfare and happiness His "work and glory."

I hugged my girl and loved my girl and let the 'light of my countenance shine upon her,' and I understood a little better just how much God loves me.

The Lord bless thee, and keep thee:
The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee:
The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.