may I have this dance...

I haven't really felt the urge to post lately. Not sure why. There are details of my life that I desperately want to remember though, so I need to write more often. Details like this sweet 11 year old boy of mine.

He came home from school the other day, concerned. He does the ballroom dance after school program. I love him for it. I love that he wants to wear his "dance" t-shirt to school because it's cool. I love that he doesn't really care what others think. They had a sub on this particular day. The sub ran things a little differently. He had the boys asking the girls to dance. A new girl every song. Instead of pairing them up himself. Alex told me he asked every girl there, and only one said yes...his darling friend Kessley. The rest told him no. They told him he was too short. Some even giggled a little. He was bothered and confused. Not crying, just confused. He couldn't understand why his height mattered that much. He's also wondering when he is going to grow. He IS growing, just for the record. His pants are becoming high-waters, lots of sleeves are too short. It just isn't at the same rate as a lot of his friends.

2 things that come to mind. First of all...who wouldn't want to dance with this handsome kid? He is funny, and nice, and happy. He's cuter than snot, if you ask me. He is growing into a total dreamboat. Mark my words...the girls will be taking numbers. :)

Second of all...why can't parents work harder to teach their children to be kind? That comments about height, weight, skin color, acne, dirty hair...they are all hurtful. They aren't kind. They don't make people feel good. It feels GOOD to make people feel good. Let's teach our kids THAT.

in training...

When will this sweet child learn

that I'm faster than her...

I'm stronger than her...

and that it's easier

just to sit and say "cheese"?

answers...

Emily taught our Family Home Evening lesson on Monday. She read a great story out of the Friend magazine. It was about a family struggling during the depression, not sure how they were going to make ends meet. The mother finally decided they would sell her homemade donuts, until they ran out of yeast. She couldn't afford more. The only thing she knew she could do was pray for help. It came. In a sample yeast envelope which arrived in the mail later that day. Her children were trying to understand how that prayer worked. How it was already in the mail before she petitioned the Lord for help. Emily had me read this scripture:

"And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer..."

Isaiah 65: 24

That is such a beautiful thought. He knows what we are in need of, even before the need arises. He sends help and relief before we even ask. I KNOW that this is true. I have seen it in my life many, many times. I told my kids of a time when we owed money for a doctor's visit for baby Alex. We didn't have it. We just didn't have it. We needed $200. I prayed, wondering what to do. I got a phone call from my dad later that night, telling me something was in the mail. My sister Sally had made too much money that month. When you are handicapped and receiving government assistance to pay your monstrous bills, you are only allowed to take in so much money. Lots of rules and stipulations. Anyhow, she had $200 extra. An even $200 that she had to get rid of. An even $200 that she signed a check for and sent to me. I realize experiences like this are not typical. Actually, I think they are. Maybe not as huge or obvious, but to those that pay their tithing, they are. I have had multiple experiences just this week. I won't tell you about all of them, but just know this...before you call, He will answer.

leaving room...

My life can get pretty hectic. I bet yours can too. Being a mother is hard work. Things never really seem to quiet down or stay tidy. Sometimes, it wears on me. I can feel it coming. My anxiety. My temper. Sometimes my mind feels so full of noise and chaos that I can't focus. I just drift from thing to thing, without really thinking.

A few days ago, I was driving Molly to preschool. I took out one of our noisy (wonderful, but noisy) cd's in the van and put in a mix from my sister. Music from The Boy In The Striped Pajamas and The Mission. Beautiful, moving music. I was teary as I watched my 2 sweet baby girls in the rearview mirror. I'm not even sure why, other than that I was FEELING. The music and peace that it brought were allowing me to feel. I was feeling intense love for my children. I was reminded that THEY are what my life is all about. Pure and simple. It brought to mind a thought that I read in a book by C.S. Lewis. It comes from St. Augustine:

God wants to give us something,

but cannot, because our hands are full

- there is nowhere for Him to put it.

I think about this quote quite often. I don't want my hands to be too full. They don't have to be. I need more moments like this one, where there are no distractions. Nothing to take away my focus. I can create these moments for myself. We all can.

motherhood...

I was very stressed yesterday. About a few things. The kind of stressed where you leave the house as soon as your husband gets home and you tell him it may be awhile. The kind where you just need to be alone for a bit, so you drive around aimlessly till the anxiety has settled and you're ready to jump back in. Don't worry about me...I'm fine. This was just my day yesterday. When I got home, Emily met me at the door, trying so hard to keep herself from crying. You know I am a sucker for a quivering lip. I will do anything to fix what is making it quiver. Emily was scheduled to have book club the next day and had forgotten to bring her book home. She was so very worried. She was teary. She was anxious. So...I got in the car, went to the library, and picked up a copy for her. As I drove, a lot of things went through my mind. I wondered how many people, how many parenting books, how many psychiatrists would tell me I was doing the wrong thing. They'd tell me I need to let my children fail. I need to let them experience consequences. Here's the thing...she already HAD failed. She forgot the book. She was worried sick. THAT was her consequence. She felt it. Then I had the opportunity to fix it. I knew how happy she would be when I came in from the garage with that book. I also knew she wouldn't forget it again. She is a great kid. If I can "fix" her sadness or worry, shouldn't I? Don't answer that. I already know MY answer.

I had a few more thoughts to share, an experience I had today. You know what? This is enough for now. I'll be back tomorrow for more.

amy's back...

I've been an athlete my whole life. Actually, let me rephrase that. I was an athlete for my whole childhood. Maybe even into early adulthood. It started with Reid Townsend. My BFF. He lived just around the corner on Rodney Rd. I would walk to his house every day asking if he could play. We did alot of Star Wars figure stuff, but mostly we played ball. There were other people involved now and again, but always Reid and I. We played baseball, football, soccer. I could hang with the boys too. I could hang with them when we raced on field days at Fairview Elementary. I played YMCA soccer for years. Attended baseball camp as an 8 year old...one of only 2 girls.

In junior high, I started lacrosse and field hockey. Oh, field hockey...my long lost love. I loved it more than I can say. I was good. I was part of a team. I was in great shape. SO much of my identity came from my abilities as an athlete. Especially in high school. I ran track for a year. 400m hurdles and the 4x100 (until some teammates stole my purse, then returned it with some sort of urine in it...I quit after that). Field hockey really did it for me. It made me confident. Surely people would like me if I could run fast and dribble a ball around people. I never sat the bench. When I tried something sporty, I could do it. I could do it well. When the hockey season was over, I struggled. I needed that high, that rush. I got a bit of it from church basketball. Church basketball...can you believe that? We were intense. I loved it. All of it.

In college, things changed a bit. BYU had no field hockey. I hadn't played soccer for a long time (my HS didn't have it for girls back then...WAY back then), so knew playing for the BYU team was not even a remote possibility. I resorted to flag football and rock climbing. I stayed in shape. I stayed thin. And I stayed confident in my abilities.

I'm not going to say that motherhood did me in. It didn't. My laziness did. I got out of my rhythm. Over the last decade, I have gotten heavier and farther away from the me I used to know. I didn't lose myself. I have remained confident. I am happy with the me that is me, I just wasn't an athlete anymore. I figured I could go to the rec. center and do the elliptical machine and try to maintain my weight, but I wasn't an athlete. I'm 37 years old. I just assumed my glory days were gone. It made me sad. A little. But it was just a fact.

Those days are not gone. I AM an athlete...even at 37 years old. :) I have lost 40 pounds as of today! I realized on my run this morning that I am strong. Maybe stronger than I have ever been. I have endurance. I have speed. I am still an athlete. I can be for the rest of my life, too. I want to RUN. I want to push myself and get stronger. I want to stay in close contact with Amy from 1990. I love her. I've missed her. I can't tell you how much joy it brings me to see a little of her again. :)

4th, 4th, 6th...

A new school year has started. I, for one, am happy about it. So are these 3 sweet kids. Summer was great. Delaware was great. Wow, was I ever ready for them to go back though. To have some routine in our lives again. I struggle with these thoughts though, when I read other mom's talk about their sorrow...how sad they are that their kids will be gone for the day...how they are trying to savor every last minute of summer. Are they for real? There I go comparing again. Sorry.

Anyhow, my kids thoroughly enjoy school. Choir. After school programs. Walking to and from every day. Coming home to a happy Molly who hasn't had to fight for attention. I am proud of them. They are exceeding any expectations I ever had for my children. Some of my hopes for their school year:

*Let them learn...and enjoy learning. Each learns at their own rate. I just hope they all enjoy it and trust themselves.

*Let them be confident. In their abilities, in their relationships with peers, in their value to Dave and I.

*Let their teachers love them. Let them be aware of what each child needs. What they respond to, and what they don't. Let my children respect their teachers enough that Mr. and Mrs. WANT to give them what they need.

*Let them fit in. I don't care what group of kids it's with. The jocks. The musical/artsy's. The nerds. I'd love it if my kids could be friends with all of them, not giving any thought to what kind of clothes others wear, how smart they are, how popular.

*Lastly...let them be kind. Especially to those who really need kindness in their lives. When I attend SEP's, that is the first thing I ask the teachers. Is my child kind? If they are, I think everything else will follow.

Love you Emily, Lizzy, and Alex!