What We Believe

In our church we have a monthly type of ecclesiastical open-mic session, where anyone who wishes can stand up and share a testimony with the congregation.

For the past couple of years we periodically practice this at home, with the idea of both ensuring that the kids are clear on what Mommy believes, spiritually speaking, and giving them the opportunity to practice for a future time when they might want to try a more public forum.

Monday for Family Home Evening we held another family testimony share.

Grace's went something like this:

"I want to bear my testimony. I know Jesus lives. I know God lives. What else do I say? Oh yeah--I love my mom. I love my family. The end. Um, wait, I mean...what do I say? Oh wait, I know--um, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

Mia polished hers up.

"I want to bear my testimony. I know that Heavenly Father answers my prayers and everyone's prayers in the whole world. I know that Jesus loves me. And everyone else in the whole world. I have a testimony that Jesus is the Savior. The Redeemer. What are other names we call Him? I don't remember. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

Mercie played the diplomat.

"I want to bear my testimony. I know that things are true. And other things are true, too. And things that other people believe are true, too. And the things that we all believe are true. And that's all."

Eric went straight from the heart.

"I wanna bear my testimony. Um, what's a testimony again? (It's things you know are true). Oh yeah. Um, I know Heavenly Father is true. I know Jesus is real. I know Santa is real. And Bob the Builder. And the reindeer. And Lady Gaga. The end."

I think Eric is overdue for a Mother-Son chat.

Who Needs An Ego Anyway?

Mia: "What are you looking at? Who are all those pictures?"

Mommy: "This lady. The dentist said I look just like her" (this is why I love my dentist and plan to stick with him until he retires in fifty years). "What do you think, Mia?"

Mia looks at the 50+ images spread across my computer.

Mia: "You only look like this one."

Mommy: "You just got cut from the will, kid."

Mia: "It's okay--I'm pretty sure she's a nice witch, just like you."

Random Bits

Mom: "After you are baptized, something special happens. You are....???"

Grace: "Wet!"

Mom: "Um, something besides that. It's when you receive the gift of...."

Grace: "A blessing! A priesthood blessing!"

Mom: "Well, it IS a blessing, but it's a special one that we call a c--"

Grace: "Conference!"

Mom: "Noooo.... it's called 'con--'"

Grace: "Conscience? Consider? Consonant?"

Mom: "No."

Grace: "Confused?"

Mom: "Apparently."

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Mom: "Would you rather eat a bowl full of boogers or a pile of poop?"

Eric: "A bowl full of boogers, a bowl full of boogers!!"

Mom: "Eeeewwww! Are you sure about that?"

Eric: "Yeah. 'Cuz I already eat boogers all the time. Like this."
(I'll spare you the description of what followed).

*****************************

Grace: "What if my new teacher at my new school doesn't speak English?"

Mom: "She speaks English."

Grace: "But what if she doesn't??? And what if I can't understand her, because she only speaks Spanish?"

Mom: "If she speaks Spanish, she'll be able to speak English, too, so you'll get to learn Spanish AND speak English." (this is sooooo a moot point, as her new teacher is a perky little blond born & bred in Happy Valley, but whatever...)

Grace: "But what if she speaks CALIFORNIA Spanish???"

Mom: "Eh...What the heck is California Spanish?"

Grace: "Mexican."

Favorite Things

According to author Gary Chapman, there are 5 primary love languages we human beings use: physical touch, acts of service, gifts, quality time, and words of affirmation.

Each one is important for any healthy relationship, but most of us have a couple primary methods that are particularly meaningful to us.

It shouldn't surprise anyone that words are especially important to me.

One reason I'm so fond of words is that they continue on. When I'm having a rough day, kind words expressed in the past lift me out of the temporary mud. I can save cheery notes and reread them 80 or so times. I can scroll through uplifting texts on my phone and feel just as buoyed as I did when they first beeped through.

One of my new favorite things about motherhood is that my kids are old enough now to write me love notes.

Grace passed me the one above a few weeks ago as she scooted past me after Sacrament Meeting. It made me smile.

Grace--and the other kids--are with their dad this weekend, and I kinda miss them. Today in church I pulled out my music book and her note fell out. It made me smile. Again.

I tucked it back in so I can see how many days--and how many smiles--I'll get from that torn scrap of paper filled with first-grader handwriting.

Ten bucks says if it's still around twenty years from now it will still make me smile & feel the love from my baby girl.

Doing Something Right

From the first nights with my first little baby Gracie, my favorite part of the day is rocking & singing my babies. When they grew too big--and too many of them--for rocking, I reluctantly switched to snuggling in their beds with them for lullaby time.

I keep holding my breath, waiting for the night that they announce they are too old for nighttime singing.

Lately I've wondered if Grace and Mia were reaching that point. They seemed to prefer sister-giggle time to Mommy-singing time, which frustrated all of us. Lullabies are somewhat moot when the object of the singing is carrying on a private laughfest under the covers.

One night I became especially exasperated, after repeated reminders of the "be still and quiet if you want Mommy singing" rule. Playing the cheap trick of 'maybe-they-don't-value-it-because-they've-always-had-it' I said, "Girls, when I was a little girl, I never had lullabies at night. My mom didn't sing to us. Ever. So, if you've decided that you are too old for singing, just tell me and we'll stop doing this." I rather intentionally neglected to mention that, though my mom wasn't one for the lullaby thing, either she or my dad read to us every night, working our way through every volume of Little House on the Prarie, the Great Brain, and several retellings of Cheaper By the Dozen, so I truly don't feel deprived.

My kids saw it a bit differently, however. There was a moment of stunned silence. Grace asked, "You mean, your mom NEVER sang to you, not once, not even EVER???" Mia chimed in, "Didn't she even LOVE you?" I assured them that yes, Grandma definitely loved us, and did other nice things for us. She just wasn't a lullaby mom. Some are; some aren't.

Grace looked like she was about to cry. "But how did you do that, Mommy? How were you not SOOOOO scared at night?" Mia said, "Yeah, Mommy, you must have been SO brave, like, even braver than a kid is. You didn't even have singing at night." I told them that I had lots of sisters to sleep with at night, just like they do, so I wasn't scared. They weren't convinced.

"Poor, poor Mommy," Mia sighed. "You should have told us," Grace said. "We would sing to you." Mia whispered to herself, "I didn't even know there were kids whose mommies didn't sing to them every night."

I know this moment is fleeting. I know they are growing up faster than I can hold them here. I know that lullabies at night don't cover all of my parenting mistakes, or keep the world from intruding in all the ways that it does, and all the ways it will as time marches on. I know nighttime lullabies aren't the cure-all for every ill--societal, familial, or otherwise. I know that there are hundreds of ways to love your kids, and my favorite way won't work for everyone.

I'm just glad for one small moment each day of doing something right.

The Mother's Day Recap

This might be my favorite age for Mother's Day, as the kids are old enough to write their own sentiments, and not old enough to censor them for coolness.

Grace's first grade teacher helped the kids write coupons for their moms. The theme seemed to be jobs you could do for your mom. Grace chose the two things that she is only allowed to do under supervision--unloading the dishwasher and washing dishes--and for good measure she generously offered to "bake some cookies" for me.

Mia filled out a pre-written sheet about her mom. Bold is Mia.

My mommy is so CUTE. Her name is WINDY and she is only 44 years old (yeah, in another decade or so...). I am pretty sure she weighs 10 pounds and is 9 feet tall. They grow up so fast! Her eyes are GREN and her hair is BROWN. Some people say she looks like me (if they're drunk or blind, maybe). There are a few things you need to know about my mom. Her favorite thing to do is GET CANDEE FOR ME (Hah!). She is really good at RIDNG BOOKS (aww, nice to know that somebody has that much faith in me). Her favorite color is GREN. Her favorite song to sing is MARE HAD A LITTL LAM ("Mia, when have you ever heard me sing that song?" "Never. I was just kidding.") Her favorite TV show is MAMAMIA (ahem). If I could get my mom something special just from me it would be DIAMONDS. I love her so much because SHE IS SO NIS. She loves me so much because SHE GITS ME PIZZA. Happy Mother's Day, Love, MIA. I LOVE YOU MOMMY.

Mercie drew a beautiful picture for me.

Eric's teacher was on the same page as Mia's. He brought home the following:
My special person. My special person's name is MOM. Her favorite color is GREEN. She likes to wear SKIRTS. She likes to go TO BY STUFF. I like it when she BE'S NICE. I would like to buy her LIPSTICK (since Mommy never, ever wears lipstick, what Eric really means is that he would buy me more Lightning McQueen cherry-flavored lip gloss, because I would share it with him, just like I do the other Disney chapsticks in my makeup bag that are "mommy's" because that's the only way to keep them from being smeared into the carpet).

All in all, a perfect Mother's Day.

Birthday Time, En Masse

In case you can't tell, everyone got new scooters for their birthdays this year. Kinda like Christmas morning, but warmer.

Reasons We Love Our New House: #5

Musical doorbells!

Thoughts on Good Friday

"Oh how I love my Savior, oh how I love my Savior, oh how I love my Savior, because He first loves me. We'll shout & give Him glory, we'll shout & give Him glory, we'll shout & give Him glory, for glory is His own" (early American folk hymn).

I spent Good Friday evening worshipping through music in the temple. Sometimes music expresses thoughts & feelings that can't be shared any other way.

There's so much I want to say about how much I love this Man I call Savior, Redeemer, and Lord, so much to praise Him for every good thing in my life that He makes possible, so much to honor His Life, His Atonement, and His Perfect Love.

My words aren't big enough or anything close to beautiful enough to do Him justice.

So, turning to music again, here is one my favorite songs--the one my kids call "Mommy's Song"--to say what I can't phrase (another early American hymn, attributed to Robert Wadsworth Lowry.

My life goes on,
In endless song
Above earth's lamentation.

I hear a real,
tho' far-off hymn,
That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult
And the strife
I hear the music ringing--

It sounds an echo
In my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

What if my joys
And comforts die?
The Lord, my Savior liveth.

What tho' the darkness
Gathers round,
Songs in the night He giveth.

No storm can shake
My inmost calm,
While to that refuge clinging--

If Christ is Lord
Of Heav'n & earth,
How can I keep from singing?

I lift my eyes,
The clouds grow dim;
I see the blue above it.

And day by day
This pathway smoothes,
Since first I learned to love it.

The peace of Christ
Makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing

All things are mine
Since I am His--
How can I keep from singing?

All things are mine, since I am His--how can I keep from singing?

Reasons We Love Our New House: #6

Wonderful Neighbors Who Bring Us Treats!

This is SUCH a friendly street! Like Pavlov's dog, my kids are now conditioned. Each time the doorbell rings--"Quick! Mia, get the door! It's probably someone bringing us cookies again!" And more often than not, they've been right.

Not only are the neighbors nice, they are also fun. A sense of humor is very important in coping with our family, mostly because I have four insane children, and also because I have insane friends. Like Michelle. One of the first cookie-bringers was my delightful neighbor-across-the-street Heidi. Michelle came running to the door, gushing, "Oh, are you the new neighbor? I'm Wendy's life-partner, and these are our children. We used a surrogate, in case you were wondering. Is this neighborhood very open to alternative lifestyles?" Heidi didn't even bat an eyelash. This bodes well for her endurance as my neighbor.

The house itself is delightful, but I gotta say, having great neighbors is a dealbreaker. I may never move...