write it down!

I had a bit of a panic attack last night. Does that suprise you? I was chatting with my friend Jessica, while getting my hair done, and she was telling me all about the birth of her most recent baby Joey (#5). She remembered all sorts of details. I realized that many of my memories of Margaret's entry into our family are fading. I didn't write anything down. I tell everyone else to write as much as they can within days of giving birth...and I didn't do it. I can't remember everything, yet I so desperately don't want memories to fade. I get overwhelmed by the immensity of writing every day. What is important? What do I leave out (so I am not writing for 3 hours)? I guess the very most important details are my feelings about the members of my family, and seeing the hand of the Lord in our lives. Henry B. Eyring gave a beautiful talk years ago about the importance of documenting things, writing things down. He said, "“Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?” As I kept at it, something began to happen. As I would cast my mind over the day, I would see evidence of what God had done for one of us that I had not recognized in the busy moments of the day. As that happened, and it happened often, I realized that trying to remember had allowed God to show me what He had done."

I have a cute friend who puts "things to remember" at the end of each of her blog posts. Just short sentences. Things she never wants to forget. I can do that. I am going to do that.

For starters, my Molly graduated from kindergarten yesterday. She was beautiful and radiant and proud. My goodness, I love her an awful lot. Marilyn Thibault has been her teacher. I love the woman. She also taught Lizzy and Emily years ago. She is retiring now, after 36 years of teaching. It was an emotional day.

Grandma Minerva has been helping Mrs. Thibault with her morning kindergarten class for years and years. She is a soft, gentle, sweet woman...and lucky for us she lives right around the corner.

 Molly, getting her "diploma" from Mr. Cox, the principal.

For a "graduation day" treat, we got tamales. This dear woman is out on 8oo n. nearly every weekday, selling homemade tamales from a cooler. They are $1.25, and we crave them every day. Molly ate 3 yesterday! They are amazingly wonderful. You should go visit her. :) She sets up around 8:30 in the morning. One of these days, Dave wants to buy her out in the morning and see how happy it makes her. We always have her keep the change when we pay. She lights up, and it feels really good.

There we go...DAY 1 in my new attempt to remember the little things. :)

motherhood...

I entered an essay contest a few weeks ago. I didn't win. I don't really care though. This is what I think about being a mom:

Motherhood is feeling. It is what I was born for. It is why I am here. It is sacrifice. It is pain. It is joy. It is a chance to learn. Ultimately though, I think it is about what we feel. How we feel. What we do with those feelings. I have never loved anything as intensely as I love my children. I loved them from the moment they arrived. I love them even more as time goes by. The Lord in all His wisdom made it possible for me to feel enough love for each of my 5 children. I never had to take love from one to give to another. There has always been enough for all of them.

To me, motherhood is allowing ourselves to feel what our children are feeling. We are sad when they are sad. We feel so much joy when they are happy. We remember what it was like to be young and unsure of ourselves. We remember what it was like to wonder where we fit. We remember what it was like to be nervous, embarrassed, anxious. We remember so that we can feel with them. When we feel what they are feeling…THAT is when we can teach. When they understand that we remember, that we are feeling their sorrows and heartaches, they listen to us. They trust us. I have never felt more pain than when one of my children is hurting. I ache for them. But when they are happy, when they are proud…I nearly burst. Our hearts become so in tune with theirs that it is difficult to separate the two. I have never understood how a mother could speak to her children or act in such a way that the child would pull away in fear. Does she not SEE that fear in the child’s face? Does she not feel that sadness or pain?

The most important feelings for me though, are the ones I get from my Father in heaven. Call them promptings, intuition, gut feelings. They come from the Lord to help me guide my children. They help me protect them. Instruct them. They help me to know when one of my sweet ones needs a little extra. I am so, so grateful for those feelings. When I take the time to pay attention to them, and respond as I know I should…that is when I experience true joy. That is when I know I am doing what I was designed to do, who I was designed to do it with. When my little boy turns to me, eyes wide with disbelief, and says, “Mom, how do you always know just how to make me feel better?”…I have arrived. 


I am thankful for a sweet mother who taught me to feel. She taught me to love others immensely and to be sensitive to those soft feelings that come from the spirit. I love her.

Good Story

a little snippet from alex...:)

I hope you all want to read this story when I finish it.  I think it sounds pretty good:

“Thank you,” I said trying to sound as polite as possible.  I didn’t like the looks of this guy, “I’m Abe Christopher.”  I thrust out my hand.

            “Abe?”  The man asked idiotically.

            “Yes Abe.  Short for Abel.  My name is Abel Christopher,” I said, staring at the man’s food coated mustache.

            “Yes of course,” the man said leaning forward to scribble something on his clipboard, “so you’re here to be interviewed for the job of what?”

            “Designer,” I said scooting back in my chair.

            “Designer for what?”  The man asked inquired.

            “You work for the company, you tell me.”

            “What’re you saying?  Do you expect me to know why you’re here?”

            “No, sir,” I said sounding annoyed, “I already told you why I’m here.  I think we both know that.  I only made a simple point.  That you should know the jobs available in the designing field.”

            The man shook with anger, his pink face melting to purple.  Then he took a deep breath, and spoke again.  “Graphic designer, billboard designer, application designer— what more do you want?”

            “A job,” I snapped.

            “Perfect, Graphic designer,” the man scribbled on his clipboard again.  “What skills do you have?”

            I thought for a moment.  What skills did I have?  Getting in danger.  I thought.  No, that wouldn’t help either of us.  “I can work hard,” I replied...

           Make a comment if you want to hear more!

cuteness to the max...

Mah-y (Mommy with a slur), I marry Flynn Rider. I braid my hair and marry him. Flynn Rider love me.

Mom: Oh Margaret, I love you so much.
Margie: I love you too.
Mom: I love you more.
Margie: Oh.

my boy...

He's a teenager. An actual teenager. 13 years old. He said he didn't really feel much difference today though. He still feels 12. I took him on a date yesterday after school. We went out to lunch first. Anywhere he wanted in this whole valley and he chose The Pizza Factory for their breadsticks. Alex and I have great conversations together. I really enjoy being around him. Just him. I was excited all morning waiting for our time together. I'm not sure that he was as excited as me, but I'd like to think so.

After lunch, we went to his first (aside from HP) pg-13 movie. Sherlock Holmes. I knew he would love it...and he did. He has already downloaded the theme song. I love that about Alex. He gets REALLY passionate and obsessive about things. I think it is so great that he loves instrumental/soundtrack stuff. He likes to listen while he writes his stories. I think they help his imagination feel more free. We walked around Walmart for a little while after the movie. He had received money from my parents and a friend at school and wanted to see if there was anything he felt like buying. He was bummed that there wasn't. He was almost willing to spend it on anything...just to spend it. We ran into a (girl) friend from school while we were there. Kessley. Cute, little Kessley. He was too embarrassed to talk to her, so I did. Then I told him that even if he was embarrassed, he still needed to say hi. I wanted him to understand that it could be seen as rude or potentially hurt her feelings. Then we talked about saving your money until you find something you REALLY want. Alex is reasonable. He and I can discuss things like this and he understands. He really does. He wants to be nicer. He wants to be more responsible. He wants to be good.

I think the happiest thing of the day for me was seeing him light up when he got home to his sisters. We all watched Tin-Tin together and had homemade cazookies. :) We never got around to pictures. I felt sad about it for a few minutes, then let it go. He has balloons, and next week, when the weather is nicer, we'll go out together without them, and have our own little teenage photoshoot. What a handsome, great kid. I am so blessed.  

sad margs...

Margaret had a melt down in the car today. A total come-apart. She's a 2 year old of very little tantrums. The thing with Margaret is that I can trick her out of a fit. She can be sidetracked and the fit never really ends up happening. Today in the car, it was less of a fit, and more of a seriously sad little girl. She had just eaten a Hershey's Kiss, we were finishing up a few things around town...and it started. I thought she was sick to her stomach, so Molly handed her a Target bag. She kept crying that she wanted to go home and that she wanted her Daddy. It was one of those times where I just couldn't figure out the problem and the more upset she got, the more sad I got. We decided to call Daddy on the speaker phone. Once she calmed herself down enough to speak, she told him, through the tears..."Daddy, I have chocolate on my neengers!" Poor, poor girl. I will no longer drive around without wipies in my car.

shadow...