Family Nights
We've been using part of our Family Nights (every Monday) to teach our children using the book "Teaching Your Children Values" by Richard and Linda Eyre. We focus on one value a month.
Last month the value was Honesty. We talked about the definition of honesty with our younger children ("I ate the cookie and then I said I didn't do it. Is that honest?) and went through scenarios with our older children (You cheated on a test, but it did get you an A. What are the consequences? - You won't study well for the next test and you won't learn anything.) There was even a certificate for Honesty Under Pressure which circulated among the kids during the month. We also learned the Primary song "I Believe In Being Honest" . You can find the song at:
http://www.lds.org/cm/catalogsearchalpha/1,17929,4958-1-2,00.html
This month the value is Courage. I think the Eyre's had the perfect explanation for this. Talmage is the Eyre's son:
Eight Year old Talmage: "Yeah - it takes real courage to be a chicken."
Dad: "What do you mean by that?"
Talmage: Well, I mean if the kids are trying to get you to do something that you don't think is right - or it's really, really dangerous, and they're saying you're chicken, then it takes real courage to be a chicken and say "yeah, I'm a chicken."
I have been surprised at how well my children have participated in this. When I am focusing on the younger two, the older two help out with input and cheering during the games. When I focus on the older two the younger cheer them on with a "Good Job!" and "You're awesome!" The kids even love learning the song I pick to go with the theme. The song is performed for their dad at the last Family night of the month. The song I picked for this month is Dare To Do Right:
http://www.lds.org/cm/catalogsearchalpha/1,17929,4958-1-2,00.html#nullLink
It has been wonderful to listen to my kids as they sing. I firmly believe that singing helps to anchor a lesson and have heard DS#3 singing on his own as he plays or cleans his room.
Here is to raising healthy, happy, responsible kids. I need all the help I can get.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Feeling a little Irish?
A conversation today with my 6 yr old DS#3 while riding in the car:
DS: "Mom, I think I'm feeling a little Irish."
Me: "What? Why do you think that?"
DS: "I feeling a little Irish because I am turning into a Lepercan."
Me: "Lepercan? Do you mean a Leprechaun?"
DS: " Yeah I think I am turning into a Lepercan. I kinda feel like the whole universe is turning into Lepercans."
Me: "The whole entire universe?"
DS: "You know, like Leperdogs, Lepercats, Leperducks........Lepercans."
Me: "You're going to have to explain this to me. You lost me."
DS: "I was watching this show on TV and the boy was turning into a Lepercan and his Mom was already a Lepercan but his Dad wasn't a Lepercan because he isn't Irish. When the boy turned into a Lepercan he felt funny. That's because he's Irish..........."
The next time you're feeling a little Irish check your ears for pointy tops and your clothes for a green tinge. Oh, and look out for Leperducks.
A conversation today with my 6 yr old DS#3 while riding in the car:
DS: "Mom, I think I'm feeling a little Irish."
Me: "What? Why do you think that?"
DS: "I feeling a little Irish because I am turning into a Lepercan."
Me: "Lepercan? Do you mean a Leprechaun?"
DS: " Yeah I think I am turning into a Lepercan. I kinda feel like the whole universe is turning into Lepercans."
Me: "The whole entire universe?"
DS: "You know, like Leperdogs, Lepercats, Leperducks........Lepercans."
Me: "You're going to have to explain this to me. You lost me."
DS: "I was watching this show on TV and the boy was turning into a Lepercan and his Mom was already a Lepercan but his Dad wasn't a Lepercan because he isn't Irish. When the boy turned into a Lepercan he felt funny. That's because he's Irish..........."
The next time you're feeling a little Irish check your ears for pointy tops and your clothes for a green tinge. Oh, and look out for Leperducks.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Seeing Red
The Stager has come and gone. She remarked that I had a good eye for arranging furniture. Really? Wow, who knew? However, when it comes to accessorizing, I am incompetent. Rather, I should say, I am nonexistent. I do not buy accessories other than a few pieces of artwork to hang on the wall. There is good reason for that.....
As per the Stager's instructions, I went shopping. Four stores and seven years later (it just seemed like seven years because I do not like to shop) I was the proud owner of 4 red throw pillows, 3 bunches of daisies with red vases, 2 topiaries, (and a partriiidge in a pear treeeeeee). I set things up and the living room does look nicer. At least it did until the boys came home.
Popular belief states that bulls are drawn to the color red. Well, my boys are drawn to red, too. As soon as they came home they noted the changes to our living room. They were drawn to the red pillows............and could not resist the urge to have an impromptu pillow fight. I barely saved the topiaries from being knocked over.
I tried to calmly explain to the boys why we had new accessories and how they were supposed to make our home inviting to prospective buyers. I finally had to end with threatening that anything red was outlawed from their persons and they would be severely punished if caught with any red paraphernalia.
Lucky for me our neighbors just bought a basketball stand. Hopefully the novelty of my new accessories will pale in comparison to a daily ball game.
The Stager has come and gone. She remarked that I had a good eye for arranging furniture. Really? Wow, who knew? However, when it comes to accessorizing, I am incompetent. Rather, I should say, I am nonexistent. I do not buy accessories other than a few pieces of artwork to hang on the wall. There is good reason for that.....
As per the Stager's instructions, I went shopping. Four stores and seven years later (it just seemed like seven years because I do not like to shop) I was the proud owner of 4 red throw pillows, 3 bunches of daisies with red vases, 2 topiaries, (and a partriiidge in a pear treeeeeee). I set things up and the living room does look nicer. At least it did until the boys came home.
Popular belief states that bulls are drawn to the color red. Well, my boys are drawn to red, too. As soon as they came home they noted the changes to our living room. They were drawn to the red pillows............and could not resist the urge to have an impromptu pillow fight. I barely saved the topiaries from being knocked over.
I tried to calmly explain to the boys why we had new accessories and how they were supposed to make our home inviting to prospective buyers. I finally had to end with threatening that anything red was outlawed from their persons and they would be severely punished if caught with any red paraphernalia.
Lucky for me our neighbors just bought a basketball stand. Hopefully the novelty of my new accessories will pale in comparison to a daily ball game.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Oh, The Drama!
I had just settled the kids in bed and reclined on the couch to veg with Star Trek Enterprise when DS#3 called down the stairs to report that someone was locked in the kids bathroom. Oh, great. Dear Husband is out of town. I went upstairs fulling believing that Dear Daughter had somehow gotten out of bed and locked herself in the bathroom. (DD has had her doorknob taken off on the inside of her door to keep her from wandering around the house in the middle of the night). DD was not locked in the bathroom. The victim was Dear Son #2.
DS#2 is 10 and fully capable of getting himself out of the bathroom. For some reason the knob was turning but the bolt was not releasing. We called DH on the phone and he suggested to take off the door knob. We pulled out the tools and I passed my smallest flathead screwdriver under the door for DS#2 to use. He had a little difficulty getting the screws out of the handle but soon had the door knob off. It became apparent that this route wasn't working. I was feeling stupid and DS#2 was beginning to wonder if he was going to spend the night in the bathroom. It really wasn't too bad of an option. He had a source of water and a toilet. He could sleep in the bathtub. But the idea of us passing food under the door didn't appeal to him. So we called our home teacher.
Our home teacher is a young married, no kids. He came over quickly with his wife in tow and tools in hand. It turns out that I wasn't stupid, because he couldn't figure it out either. He worked with his tools for a while and then his wife pulled out a credit card. While he bragged on her breaking-and-entering-with-a-credit-card talents, she taught DS#2 the finer points of wielding a credit card for nefarious purposes. It didn't work but DS#2 gave it a good try. There was no option but to have our home teacher kick down the door. DS#3 was so excited to watch him do it, and wearing flip-flops, too! To DS#3 this was better than his favorite ninja animes. Luckily for us there was no damage to the frame or trim and very little damage to the door. The rest of the hardware fell apart and it was obvious that the door knob was broken. DD (whose bedroom door is right next to the bathroom) slept through it all.
DS#2 was grateful to get out at last and relieved that he wouldn't have to eat breakfast in the bathroom. We thanked our wonderful home teacher and his wife for coming at that late hour and walked them to the door. Tomorrow I will make a loaf of banana bread to take over as a thank you.
Oh, the drama of possible eternal incarceration, hardware puzzles, karate kicks, and having the hero save the day in the end. I think that DS#3 has not been so half well-entertained in a long time. He told me it was better than a movie.
I had just settled the kids in bed and reclined on the couch to veg with Star Trek Enterprise when DS#3 called down the stairs to report that someone was locked in the kids bathroom. Oh, great. Dear Husband is out of town. I went upstairs fulling believing that Dear Daughter had somehow gotten out of bed and locked herself in the bathroom. (DD has had her doorknob taken off on the inside of her door to keep her from wandering around the house in the middle of the night). DD was not locked in the bathroom. The victim was Dear Son #2.
DS#2 is 10 and fully capable of getting himself out of the bathroom. For some reason the knob was turning but the bolt was not releasing. We called DH on the phone and he suggested to take off the door knob. We pulled out the tools and I passed my smallest flathead screwdriver under the door for DS#2 to use. He had a little difficulty getting the screws out of the handle but soon had the door knob off. It became apparent that this route wasn't working. I was feeling stupid and DS#2 was beginning to wonder if he was going to spend the night in the bathroom. It really wasn't too bad of an option. He had a source of water and a toilet. He could sleep in the bathtub. But the idea of us passing food under the door didn't appeal to him. So we called our home teacher.
Our home teacher is a young married, no kids. He came over quickly with his wife in tow and tools in hand. It turns out that I wasn't stupid, because he couldn't figure it out either. He worked with his tools for a while and then his wife pulled out a credit card. While he bragged on her breaking-and-entering-with-a-credit-card talents, she taught DS#2 the finer points of wielding a credit card for nefarious purposes. It didn't work but DS#2 gave it a good try. There was no option but to have our home teacher kick down the door. DS#3 was so excited to watch him do it, and wearing flip-flops, too! To DS#3 this was better than his favorite ninja animes. Luckily for us there was no damage to the frame or trim and very little damage to the door. The rest of the hardware fell apart and it was obvious that the door knob was broken. DD (whose bedroom door is right next to the bathroom) slept through it all.
DS#2 was grateful to get out at last and relieved that he wouldn't have to eat breakfast in the bathroom. We thanked our wonderful home teacher and his wife for coming at that late hour and walked them to the door. Tomorrow I will make a loaf of banana bread to take over as a thank you.
Oh, the drama of possible eternal incarceration, hardware puzzles, karate kicks, and having the hero save the day in the end. I think that DS#3 has not been so half well-entertained in a long time. He told me it was better than a movie.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Decisions, decisions......
We have narrowed down the house hunt to two choices. Do we pick the house we really like in the nice-but-not-favorite neighborhood with the big and fully fenced back yard? Or do we pick the house that is okay in the neighborhood we really like because we can finish the basement and sell it to build the house we really want later - that is if the real estate market cooperates which right now it doesn't look like it will. If the market cooperates we could stand to gain ALOT of equity in this house.
I don't think that the decision is important to our salvation. But it would be nice to have some heavenly direction. We will be fasting and praying about the decision in early April. We would be grateful for all prayers, vibes, and good thoughts sent in our behalf.
It looks like we will try to put up our house on the market in early April. I am decluttering and getting ready to paint over all of DD's Picasso moments (which happened the first month we moved in). I am tempted to limit the kids to one school outfit each (and pack the rest), one toy each (and pack the rest), and make them live in the back yard just so I can keep the house clean for potential buyers.
Now for the last decision: it has been recommended by DD's preschool teachers and therapist that we get a dog. Apparently a dog will keep DD from wandering away from home and can be trained to keep her safe. Makes me think of the dog Nana from Peter Pan. The dog will have to wait until we move. The kids are very excited about the whole idea as they have been begging for a dog for years.
I doubt the kids will let me name the dog Nana, dress her in a little white mob cap, and teach her how to serve hot chocolate.
We have narrowed down the house hunt to two choices. Do we pick the house we really like in the nice-but-not-favorite neighborhood with the big and fully fenced back yard? Or do we pick the house that is okay in the neighborhood we really like because we can finish the basement and sell it to build the house we really want later - that is if the real estate market cooperates which right now it doesn't look like it will. If the market cooperates we could stand to gain ALOT of equity in this house.
I don't think that the decision is important to our salvation. But it would be nice to have some heavenly direction. We will be fasting and praying about the decision in early April. We would be grateful for all prayers, vibes, and good thoughts sent in our behalf.
It looks like we will try to put up our house on the market in early April. I am decluttering and getting ready to paint over all of DD's Picasso moments (which happened the first month we moved in). I am tempted to limit the kids to one school outfit each (and pack the rest), one toy each (and pack the rest), and make them live in the back yard just so I can keep the house clean for potential buyers.
Now for the last decision: it has been recommended by DD's preschool teachers and therapist that we get a dog. Apparently a dog will keep DD from wandering away from home and can be trained to keep her safe. Makes me think of the dog Nana from Peter Pan. The dog will have to wait until we move. The kids are very excited about the whole idea as they have been begging for a dog for years.
I doubt the kids will let me name the dog Nana, dress her in a little white mob cap, and teach her how to serve hot chocolate.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
What Can Your Child Get Away With?
Yesterday my 4 year old Dear Daughter and I were standing in line for a frozen yogurt at the mall food court. DD held tightly to my hand while her other hand held a $5 bill (she insisted on paying). DD leaned forward, peered around my knees and spied something just a few feet away.
"Mom, look at that!"
"Look at what, honey?"
"THAT!" DD pointed with her $5 hand.
I looked in that direction and beheld a teen boy. He had jet black-dyed straight hair hanging in his eyes and down the back of his neck. Black t-shirt. Black jeans slung so low that everyone could see what pattern was printed on his boxer shorts. Black boots. Studs on boots. Studs and chains on pants. Studs on belt. Studs on wrist bands. Studs on dog collar. Studs through lips, nose and eyebrows. This guy would never get through security at the airport with all of that metal. Then it hit me: DD had more to say.........
"Oh, thaaat's SILLY!" DD start laughing. A gut-busting Tinkerbell belly laugh. Everyone around us heard her comment, including Mr. Stud Boy and his entourage. And the mall echoes. It sounded like a thousand gut-busting Tinkerbell belly laughs.
I tried not to giggle. Honestly, I did try to keep myself in check. But when DD laughs, its hard not to join her. Within a few seconds the people around us started laughing. The frozen yogurt workers started laughing. The Entourage started laughing. Finally, Mr. Stud Boy started laughing. What else could he do?
Leave it to DD to tell it like it is. And get away with it.
Yesterday my 4 year old Dear Daughter and I were standing in line for a frozen yogurt at the mall food court. DD held tightly to my hand while her other hand held a $5 bill (she insisted on paying). DD leaned forward, peered around my knees and spied something just a few feet away.
"Mom, look at that!"
"Look at what, honey?"
"THAT!" DD pointed with her $5 hand.
I looked in that direction and beheld a teen boy. He had jet black-dyed straight hair hanging in his eyes and down the back of his neck. Black t-shirt. Black jeans slung so low that everyone could see what pattern was printed on his boxer shorts. Black boots. Studs on boots. Studs and chains on pants. Studs on belt. Studs on wrist bands. Studs on dog collar. Studs through lips, nose and eyebrows. This guy would never get through security at the airport with all of that metal. Then it hit me: DD had more to say.........
"Oh, thaaat's SILLY!" DD start laughing. A gut-busting Tinkerbell belly laugh. Everyone around us heard her comment, including Mr. Stud Boy and his entourage. And the mall echoes. It sounded like a thousand gut-busting Tinkerbell belly laughs.
I tried not to giggle. Honestly, I did try to keep myself in check. But when DD laughs, its hard not to join her. Within a few seconds the people around us started laughing. The frozen yogurt workers started laughing. The Entourage started laughing. Finally, Mr. Stud Boy started laughing. What else could he do?
Leave it to DD to tell it like it is. And get away with it.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Trials and Blessings......
When people find out that I have a child who has Down syndrome I often get the question "Is your life really hard?" I am always taken aback and I do a quick mental run through of my attitude to see if I act like my trials are overwhelming. I have always been able to think no, my attitude is not reflection of that question. So why am I asked that question?
The question is usually asked in the presence of DD. She is usually smiling, social, and moving. She has a natural curiosity about everything. She does not act like she is making my life hard. So, again, why am I asked that question?
Is it the stigma of the word "Disability"? Years ago, when I didn't know anyone personally who had a disability, did I feel the same way? I can't remember how I felt about that word. There was a young man at the grocery store who had Down syndrome. My kids loved getting into the line where he was bagging groceries. Porter knew every thing you ever could know about Star Wars. Every week my kids would try to stump him with a new question. Porter won every time. When he was done bagging my groceries he would give me a hug goodbye. That hug lasted until the manager came over to help extricate me from Porter's grasp. I didn't mind. His hugs were a guarantee for a good day.
When I think of trials, I think of Parker who has Ds, can't gain weight, has a slew of medical problems, and his parents don't qualify for Medicare yet just one of Parker's meds alone cost over $1000 a month. Check out his link on my blog page.
When I think of trials I think of Pam who has a son with Ds and a daughter with Rett's syndrome. The work she goes through to help her two kids with special needs as well as her two kids without special needs would seems overwhelming. But she is always positive. She is one of my heroes.
When I think of trials I think of a mom I visited a year ago. Her baby boy was born with Ds. Her husband refused to believe that this baby had Ds and adamantly refused the heart surgery that he so desperately needed (He also refused to let her tell anyone in their families that the baby had Ds). This family was living in a small 3 bedroom apartment with 7 kids. The mom had no emotional support. I went there to give her information and help her know what to do next. Her baby boy, named Michael, was beautiful. As I held him (and was tangled up in oxygen tubing) I started to cry with the mom. I shared my thoughts with her on how babies with disabilities are given to us because we need them. As I listened to her story , I became more grateful than ever for an incredible husband and wonderful sons,and a loving extended family.
My life isn't hard. I do have trials. I will admit to becoming a basket case for the day DD has her cardiology visit and they remind me how bad her heart defect is. Give me 24 hours to grieve and I get over it. She will have surgery someday. In the meantime, she loves school and does well. She loves to sing and wants to learn to play the piano. We plan on teaching her ASL as a second language. My sons are kinder because of her. They are the ones who single out other kids with disabilities in their classrooms and become their friends and helpers. As much as I would love to cure DD, I wouldn't change for the world how much she has affected our family.
My favorite quote is from Scott Hamil the skater: "The only disability is a bad attitude." To that I have to say a resounding AMEN!
When people find out that I have a child who has Down syndrome I often get the question "Is your life really hard?" I am always taken aback and I do a quick mental run through of my attitude to see if I act like my trials are overwhelming. I have always been able to think no, my attitude is not reflection of that question. So why am I asked that question?
The question is usually asked in the presence of DD. She is usually smiling, social, and moving. She has a natural curiosity about everything. She does not act like she is making my life hard. So, again, why am I asked that question?
Is it the stigma of the word "Disability"? Years ago, when I didn't know anyone personally who had a disability, did I feel the same way? I can't remember how I felt about that word. There was a young man at the grocery store who had Down syndrome. My kids loved getting into the line where he was bagging groceries. Porter knew every thing you ever could know about Star Wars. Every week my kids would try to stump him with a new question. Porter won every time. When he was done bagging my groceries he would give me a hug goodbye. That hug lasted until the manager came over to help extricate me from Porter's grasp. I didn't mind. His hugs were a guarantee for a good day.
When I think of trials, I think of Parker who has Ds, can't gain weight, has a slew of medical problems, and his parents don't qualify for Medicare yet just one of Parker's meds alone cost over $1000 a month. Check out his link on my blog page.
When I think of trials I think of Pam who has a son with Ds and a daughter with Rett's syndrome. The work she goes through to help her two kids with special needs as well as her two kids without special needs would seems overwhelming. But she is always positive. She is one of my heroes.
When I think of trials I think of a mom I visited a year ago. Her baby boy was born with Ds. Her husband refused to believe that this baby had Ds and adamantly refused the heart surgery that he so desperately needed (He also refused to let her tell anyone in their families that the baby had Ds). This family was living in a small 3 bedroom apartment with 7 kids. The mom had no emotional support. I went there to give her information and help her know what to do next. Her baby boy, named Michael, was beautiful. As I held him (and was tangled up in oxygen tubing) I started to cry with the mom. I shared my thoughts with her on how babies with disabilities are given to us because we need them. As I listened to her story , I became more grateful than ever for an incredible husband and wonderful sons,and a loving extended family.
My life isn't hard. I do have trials. I will admit to becoming a basket case for the day DD has her cardiology visit and they remind me how bad her heart defect is. Give me 24 hours to grieve and I get over it. She will have surgery someday. In the meantime, she loves school and does well. She loves to sing and wants to learn to play the piano. We plan on teaching her ASL as a second language. My sons are kinder because of her. They are the ones who single out other kids with disabilities in their classrooms and become their friends and helpers. As much as I would love to cure DD, I wouldn't change for the world how much she has affected our family.
My favorite quote is from Scott Hamil the skater: "The only disability is a bad attitude." To that I have to say a resounding AMEN!
Friday, February 09, 2007
Singing Is Ripping Your Heart Out And Handing It To Your Audience
Call me the craziest person on the planet, but I hate American Idol. I believe that you can give a dose of reality without being cruel. I can't stomach cruelty - there is NEVER a good reason for it. A.I., especially during the auditions, is saturated in it. I can't watch it.
A lot of my loathing boils down to a bad experience I had in college. A bad 3 1/2 year experience.
I was a musical dance theater major in college. I had a vocal scholarship and a healthy dose of self confidence going in. One of my professors (who was actually a visiting professor from another university) could have been Simon's Evil Twin Sister (SETS). Given the fact that she didn't have a british accent...I guess I could call her Simon's Evil Twin Sister Adopted At Birth By An American Family. This professor made it her mission to give us all a "healthy dose of reality".
We were all required to get up and sing every week. This meant a lot of prep work and memorization. Critiquing was involved, but all singers know that critiquing is how we improve. But SETS didn't seem to agree with the notion. Every week, one girl was told by SETS in front of our class that she was a flake and that SETS was determined to cure her of it. This had nothing to do with her vocal technique. That girl lasted one year. A guy was told weekly that he would never be a lead because he would never be good looking. He lasted two years. Our class kept dwindling and the MDT department struggled to undestand why they couldn't keep students.
Every week, I was told that I did not "do it right". I felt lucky to have ducked under the radar of SETS, as she had proven she could be so much more cruel. She made up for all of that and more at juries. Juries were held at the end of each semester. Each student had to sing, dance, and do a monologue in front of judges. My last semester I was singing in front of 6 judges , including SETS. It was always a stressful, nerve-wracking time. But after my song, SETS spoke up: "That was terrible. You can't sing and you really shouldn't be in this program." I was exhausted. I had mono and didn't know it. I hadn't slept for nearly 24 hours. With this comment I felt like I had wasted all my years of college. Two professors, including my vocal coach started arguing with SETS while the drama professors came over to me. I was in tears and still had to perform my monologue. The drama profs tried to help me turn my emotion and anger into my advantage for my monologue. They sat down as I started. Not three sentences in, SETS started to speak again. All the judges shushed her. I stopped and looked at her, picked up my music, and walked out as the judges started arguing with SETS about my vocal scholarship.
I did not sing again for two years. I did not even sing hymns in church. It wasn't until my DS#1 was born that I started to sing again. Lullabies, Primary songs, and hymns - they were good medicine for my damaged spirit.
Those years in college were the most awful time of my life. I wouldn't wish that cruelty on anyone. I never went back.
One thing good did come from that experience. I learned compassion and I learned how not to teach. When I teach voice lessons I do offer critiques. That is how vocalists learn. But before any student leaves my house, I ask them to list three things they did good in that session. The first few times are the hardest. No one likes to compliment themselves. I usually have to help them along with suggestions. Once they learn that they can't leave until they do, they play along and find three good things. Then it is my turn to list three more good things. The lesson ends on a positive note (oh, pun definitely intended) and the students leave my house standing a little taller.
We're taught that adversity makes you a stronger, better person. I just wish that adversity didn't have to be so darn painful. I probably should thank SETS. It was a horrible lesson but at least I get to finish the ending.
Call me the craziest person on the planet, but I hate American Idol. I believe that you can give a dose of reality without being cruel. I can't stomach cruelty - there is NEVER a good reason for it. A.I., especially during the auditions, is saturated in it. I can't watch it.
A lot of my loathing boils down to a bad experience I had in college. A bad 3 1/2 year experience.
I was a musical dance theater major in college. I had a vocal scholarship and a healthy dose of self confidence going in. One of my professors (who was actually a visiting professor from another university) could have been Simon's Evil Twin Sister (SETS). Given the fact that she didn't have a british accent...I guess I could call her Simon's Evil Twin Sister Adopted At Birth By An American Family. This professor made it her mission to give us all a "healthy dose of reality".
We were all required to get up and sing every week. This meant a lot of prep work and memorization. Critiquing was involved, but all singers know that critiquing is how we improve. But SETS didn't seem to agree with the notion. Every week, one girl was told by SETS in front of our class that she was a flake and that SETS was determined to cure her of it. This had nothing to do with her vocal technique. That girl lasted one year. A guy was told weekly that he would never be a lead because he would never be good looking. He lasted two years. Our class kept dwindling and the MDT department struggled to undestand why they couldn't keep students.
Every week, I was told that I did not "do it right". I felt lucky to have ducked under the radar of SETS, as she had proven she could be so much more cruel. She made up for all of that and more at juries. Juries were held at the end of each semester. Each student had to sing, dance, and do a monologue in front of judges. My last semester I was singing in front of 6 judges , including SETS. It was always a stressful, nerve-wracking time. But after my song, SETS spoke up: "That was terrible. You can't sing and you really shouldn't be in this program." I was exhausted. I had mono and didn't know it. I hadn't slept for nearly 24 hours. With this comment I felt like I had wasted all my years of college. Two professors, including my vocal coach started arguing with SETS while the drama professors came over to me. I was in tears and still had to perform my monologue. The drama profs tried to help me turn my emotion and anger into my advantage for my monologue. They sat down as I started. Not three sentences in, SETS started to speak again. All the judges shushed her. I stopped and looked at her, picked up my music, and walked out as the judges started arguing with SETS about my vocal scholarship.
I did not sing again for two years. I did not even sing hymns in church. It wasn't until my DS#1 was born that I started to sing again. Lullabies, Primary songs, and hymns - they were good medicine for my damaged spirit.
Those years in college were the most awful time of my life. I wouldn't wish that cruelty on anyone. I never went back.
One thing good did come from that experience. I learned compassion and I learned how not to teach. When I teach voice lessons I do offer critiques. That is how vocalists learn. But before any student leaves my house, I ask them to list three things they did good in that session. The first few times are the hardest. No one likes to compliment themselves. I usually have to help them along with suggestions. Once they learn that they can't leave until they do, they play along and find three good things. Then it is my turn to list three more good things. The lesson ends on a positive note (oh, pun definitely intended) and the students leave my house standing a little taller.
We're taught that adversity makes you a stronger, better person. I just wish that adversity didn't have to be so darn painful. I probably should thank SETS. It was a horrible lesson but at least I get to finish the ending.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Good To Know:
"Mom", DS#3 informed me today, "I think it would be good not to ever race rhinocerouses."
(long pause)
"Are you going to tell me why you think so?", I asked.
"Well, if they tossed you over their head, you would get stuck on their horn and that wouldn't feel good", he replied matter-of-factly.
Hmmmm. That's good to know, love.
"Mom", DS#3 informed me today, "I think it would be good not to ever race rhinocerouses."
(long pause)
"Are you going to tell me why you think so?", I asked.
"Well, if they tossed you over their head, you would get stuck on their horn and that wouldn't feel good", he replied matter-of-factly.
Hmmmm. That's good to know, love.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Days 5,6,7
I trekked to the Afton's Sweet Shoppe for the traditional 5 kinds of fudge. This year I chose Mint Chocolate, Raspberry Cream, Cheesecake Caramel, Butterfinger, and Praline. I took DD with me who charmed the shop owner and loved seeing all of the floor-to-ceiling displays of candy. We learned that Afton's will ship fudge to us every year so I can continue this tradition (if I really want to pay the shipping fees). The box was wrapped with a cute red bow. DD insisted on holding the box all the way home. I found out her intentions when I parked the car in the garage; she had tried to take the ribbon off the box , fully intending to open it and sample the fudge.
The box was on DH's dinner plate when he sat down. The kids did not care about dinner, they wanted dessert right then! We save the fudge for our Family Night Treat.
This morning DH woke up to 6 freshly made cinnamon rolls. (This meant that DH actually had to eat breafast, which he rarely does.) The kids enjoyed as much as they could eat at the kitchen table. Tomorrow DH will be given a letter stating that there are seven more days until he can enjoy his Vanlentine's dinner: Crab Cakes, Garlic Lover's Shrimp Pasta, Roasted Asparagus with Balsamic Brown Butter, and a Caramel Apple Tarte Tatin for dessert.
The best day so fat was Day #4. I couldn't find frames that I liked so I taped each child's black & white 8x10 on his bathroom mirror and wrote in red lipstick "On the 4th Day of Valentines - 4 kids who love you!" On the bottom left corner of the mirror I taped my 8x10 portrait and wrote "and 1 cute wife who loves you, too." DH came into the bathroom to get ready for church and started laughing. He laughed the entire time it took him to comb his hair and shave. The pictures are still up along with the lipstick'd note. The kids keep walking into the bathroom to look at it.
I wonder how long it will stay up?
I trekked to the Afton's Sweet Shoppe for the traditional 5 kinds of fudge. This year I chose Mint Chocolate, Raspberry Cream, Cheesecake Caramel, Butterfinger, and Praline. I took DD with me who charmed the shop owner and loved seeing all of the floor-to-ceiling displays of candy. We learned that Afton's will ship fudge to us every year so I can continue this tradition (if I really want to pay the shipping fees). The box was wrapped with a cute red bow. DD insisted on holding the box all the way home. I found out her intentions when I parked the car in the garage; she had tried to take the ribbon off the box , fully intending to open it and sample the fudge.
The box was on DH's dinner plate when he sat down. The kids did not care about dinner, they wanted dessert right then! We save the fudge for our Family Night Treat.
This morning DH woke up to 6 freshly made cinnamon rolls. (This meant that DH actually had to eat breafast, which he rarely does.) The kids enjoyed as much as they could eat at the kitchen table. Tomorrow DH will be given a letter stating that there are seven more days until he can enjoy his Vanlentine's dinner: Crab Cakes, Garlic Lover's Shrimp Pasta, Roasted Asparagus with Balsamic Brown Butter, and a Caramel Apple Tarte Tatin for dessert.
The best day so fat was Day #4. I couldn't find frames that I liked so I taped each child's black & white 8x10 on his bathroom mirror and wrote in red lipstick "On the 4th Day of Valentines - 4 kids who love you!" On the bottom left corner of the mirror I taped my 8x10 portrait and wrote "and 1 cute wife who loves you, too." DH came into the bathroom to get ready for church and started laughing. He laughed the entire time it took him to comb his hair and shave. The pictures are still up along with the lipstick'd note. The kids keep walking into the bathroom to look at it.
I wonder how long it will stay up?
Thursday, February 01, 2007
The Fourteen Days of Valentines
It's that time of year again. It is the 14 Days of Valentines. Here is your chance to strengthen you marriage, show your kids how to be romantic, and smother your man with sentimental sweet love.
Today my Darling Husband opened his truck to find a cute Valentines Day gift bag with......a Sarah Boynton book. For those of you not in the know, Sarah Boynton is the favorite author of...my darling daughter. It is a little kid's book. But before you think I lost a few more brain cells: DH reads to DD every night. Every night she picks a favorite Sarah Boynton book: Oh My-O-My-O Dinosaurs, Dogs, Barnyard Dance.... she has the whole collection. Tonight, and many nights after that, she will ask DH to read to her this new book called About Love. Every night DH reads the book, he will think about me.
Oh, yes, I am very sneaky.
Tomorrow will be a sweet valentine card with the my side of the story about how he kissed me on our second date. (This is a story he will not let me live down, a story that will remain legend in our family.) I was so shocked that I did not kiss him back. He didn't kiss me again for SIX MONTHS and then asked permission before he planted one on me. (I did kiss back that time.) That kiss was tres romantique.
Day three happens to be DS#1's fourteenth birthday. DH will discreetly recieve a gift cert for two movie tickets and a box of his favorite movie candy. Datenight will have to wait for another time as we focus on our first born.
Day four will be 4 8x10 b&w photos in black frames, a head shot of each of our kids. I have to buy AA batteries today so I can take the pics this afternoon and get them to Costco for developing. These will go into his office with a second copy for me to hang at home. I hope the kids cooperate.
You'll have to wait for the next week's ideas when I post again. Pick some simple ideas and try it yourself. It's great marriage therapy (and don't we all need marriage therapy?)
It's that time of year again. It is the 14 Days of Valentines. Here is your chance to strengthen you marriage, show your kids how to be romantic, and smother your man with sentimental sweet love.
Today my Darling Husband opened his truck to find a cute Valentines Day gift bag with......a Sarah Boynton book. For those of you not in the know, Sarah Boynton is the favorite author of...my darling daughter. It is a little kid's book. But before you think I lost a few more brain cells: DH reads to DD every night. Every night she picks a favorite Sarah Boynton book: Oh My-O-My-O Dinosaurs, Dogs, Barnyard Dance.... she has the whole collection. Tonight, and many nights after that, she will ask DH to read to her this new book called About Love. Every night DH reads the book, he will think about me.
Oh, yes, I am very sneaky.
Tomorrow will be a sweet valentine card with the my side of the story about how he kissed me on our second date. (This is a story he will not let me live down, a story that will remain legend in our family.) I was so shocked that I did not kiss him back. He didn't kiss me again for SIX MONTHS and then asked permission before he planted one on me. (I did kiss back that time.) That kiss was tres romantique.
Day three happens to be DS#1's fourteenth birthday. DH will discreetly recieve a gift cert for two movie tickets and a box of his favorite movie candy. Datenight will have to wait for another time as we focus on our first born.
Day four will be 4 8x10 b&w photos in black frames, a head shot of each of our kids. I have to buy AA batteries today so I can take the pics this afternoon and get them to Costco for developing. These will go into his office with a second copy for me to hang at home. I hope the kids cooperate.
You'll have to wait for the next week's ideas when I post again. Pick some simple ideas and try it yourself. It's great marriage therapy (and don't we all need marriage therapy?)
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
We're (almost) Off On Another Great Adventure!
Just before Christmas we were given a surprise: DH was offered a management position within the company. It is a fabulous opportunity for him. But, it would require a move............. to Another City In Another State.
When DH first told me of the offer I was adamantly against it. I made my reasons known. Then, when the feeling of "Bad Unsupportive Wife" guilt arose, I told him that I would try to keep an open mind. He thought that was fair as he wanted to check things out before making a decision. For two weeks I was in a funk. Finally one night I poured my heart out in prayer and listed to Heavenly Father all of my reasons why I did not want to move:
1. We just moved here. We wouldn't be in the house for one year before moving again.
2. Moving would be hard on the kids. There would be no cousins close by and they would have to make friends all over again.
3. I don't want to leave our family and friends.
4. I was just starting to reapply to the university to go back to school. What about me?
(More feelings of "Bad Unsupportive Wife" surfaced so I ended my prayer and went to bed feeling very depressed).
I woke up the next morning with the thought: "Hey this is a great opportunity for DH. Let's do it!" My mental rah-rah cheerleaders were shaking pompoms and turning backflips. I don't know what happened in my sleep. I don't remember any visions. I'm not sure if I was given subconcious counsel. (if I was I would say that it is very unfair that I can't remember.) I called DH at work and told him my thoughts, he was rather surprised at my 180 degree turn.
DH announced the idea to our families. Instead of negative feedback (which we expected), everyone was supportive. They were actually excited for us and said they would come visit.
DH's company flew us to The Other City In Another State at their expense. We met a pair of realtors that we feel very comfortable with. My dear sis has a dentist recommendation for us. My uncle and aunt who live there will be our family support and have made us feel loved and welcomed. No need to hunt for a new bank as Dear Uncle works for one. No worries about finding a pediatric cardiologist as Dear Auntie works for one. It shouldn't be too hard to find a pediatrician and other things we will need. We found two neighborhoods we liked. The local university has the programs I want so it looks like I will be going back to school. (DH actually asked me to check into that before we left as he is as excited as I am about that idea.) This whole moving adventure is looking better and better.
During Family Night we held a council with the kids and told them they could say anything they wanted about the idea of moving. DH explained the opportunity to them. I showed them the neighborhoods, houses, and cool-things-to-do-in-The-Other-City on the internet. When they each took their turn there was not one negative thing said. The three boys were for the move. DD, being to young, just enjoyed the treats after the council.
The last hurdle was talking to DH's boss about the criteria. DH made a list of things that would have to happen and spoke to Boss last Monday. It turns out that Boss had the same criteria. He is now in the middle of writing things up to make it official.
Looks like this summer we are off for another Great Adventure.
Just before Christmas we were given a surprise: DH was offered a management position within the company. It is a fabulous opportunity for him. But, it would require a move............. to Another City In Another State.
When DH first told me of the offer I was adamantly against it. I made my reasons known. Then, when the feeling of "Bad Unsupportive Wife" guilt arose, I told him that I would try to keep an open mind. He thought that was fair as he wanted to check things out before making a decision. For two weeks I was in a funk. Finally one night I poured my heart out in prayer and listed to Heavenly Father all of my reasons why I did not want to move:
1. We just moved here. We wouldn't be in the house for one year before moving again.
2. Moving would be hard on the kids. There would be no cousins close by and they would have to make friends all over again.
3. I don't want to leave our family and friends.
4. I was just starting to reapply to the university to go back to school. What about me?
(More feelings of "Bad Unsupportive Wife" surfaced so I ended my prayer and went to bed feeling very depressed).
I woke up the next morning with the thought: "Hey this is a great opportunity for DH. Let's do it!" My mental rah-rah cheerleaders were shaking pompoms and turning backflips. I don't know what happened in my sleep. I don't remember any visions. I'm not sure if I was given subconcious counsel. (if I was I would say that it is very unfair that I can't remember.) I called DH at work and told him my thoughts, he was rather surprised at my 180 degree turn.
DH announced the idea to our families. Instead of negative feedback (which we expected), everyone was supportive. They were actually excited for us and said they would come visit.
DH's company flew us to The Other City In Another State at their expense. We met a pair of realtors that we feel very comfortable with. My dear sis has a dentist recommendation for us. My uncle and aunt who live there will be our family support and have made us feel loved and welcomed. No need to hunt for a new bank as Dear Uncle works for one. No worries about finding a pediatric cardiologist as Dear Auntie works for one. It shouldn't be too hard to find a pediatrician and other things we will need. We found two neighborhoods we liked. The local university has the programs I want so it looks like I will be going back to school. (DH actually asked me to check into that before we left as he is as excited as I am about that idea.) This whole moving adventure is looking better and better.
During Family Night we held a council with the kids and told them they could say anything they wanted about the idea of moving. DH explained the opportunity to them. I showed them the neighborhoods, houses, and cool-things-to-do-in-The-Other-City on the internet. When they each took their turn there was not one negative thing said. The three boys were for the move. DD, being to young, just enjoyed the treats after the council.
The last hurdle was talking to DH's boss about the criteria. DH made a list of things that would have to happen and spoke to Boss last Monday. It turns out that Boss had the same criteria. He is now in the middle of writing things up to make it official.
Looks like this summer we are off for another Great Adventure.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
It's The Little Things....
I just wanted to share the no-money gifts we've received this month:
1. Having 15 deer appear in our backyard during lunch yesterday. Two of our young cousins are staying the weekend and loved the idea of woodland animals near our house. With the deer, the snow, and the season it looked very much like a picture postcard.
2. We took DD to Shriner's Hospital for her annual neck x-ray. The Atlanto Axial Instability is gone! I asked the dr. to repeat it again to make sure I heard him right. Oh, how I love miracles. Now her x-rays on neck and hips will be once every two years.
3. DS#1 has informed us that he has been voted "Best Hair Of The Eight Grade" and had his picture take for the yearbook. The best part of all this is actually a small victory. He wanted his hair long and it was a constant battle between us. The day we moved here my Daddy took him to get his hair cut. He told DS#1 that since Grandpa was paying, Grandpa would be dictating the haircut. Long, shaggy hair was chopped into a short 'do with a spiky top. He has worn it that way every since. I will be framing that yearbook picture.
4. DS#2 Now has so many friends that he could not invite them all to his birthday party. There is an endless stream of kids knocking on our front door asking to play with him. My Social King has polished his crown and wears it with a rakish tilt.
5. DS#3 is learning to read and spell. It was been fun to watch this awakening. Currently his favorite song to sing is to the tune of Aretha Franklin's "R-E-S-P-E-C-T". "B-L-A-C-K! Black is what I'm wearing today!" This is sung over and over like a broken record because his favorite jeans are black and due to the fact that he can't remember the rest of the song.
6. After months of working, DH finished the rennovations of our old house and it closed at the beginning of this month. We finally have him home on weeknights and weekends. We've had two Saturdays where there was nothing he had to do. We took advantage and played as a family.
There are too many gifts to list here but I keep them recorded in my heart. I do know how and where to send my thanks and it won't be with a handwritten note.
I just wanted to share the no-money gifts we've received this month:
1. Having 15 deer appear in our backyard during lunch yesterday. Two of our young cousins are staying the weekend and loved the idea of woodland animals near our house. With the deer, the snow, and the season it looked very much like a picture postcard.
2. We took DD to Shriner's Hospital for her annual neck x-ray. The Atlanto Axial Instability is gone! I asked the dr. to repeat it again to make sure I heard him right. Oh, how I love miracles. Now her x-rays on neck and hips will be once every two years.
3. DS#1 has informed us that he has been voted "Best Hair Of The Eight Grade" and had his picture take for the yearbook. The best part of all this is actually a small victory. He wanted his hair long and it was a constant battle between us. The day we moved here my Daddy took him to get his hair cut. He told DS#1 that since Grandpa was paying, Grandpa would be dictating the haircut. Long, shaggy hair was chopped into a short 'do with a spiky top. He has worn it that way every since. I will be framing that yearbook picture.
4. DS#2 Now has so many friends that he could not invite them all to his birthday party. There is an endless stream of kids knocking on our front door asking to play with him. My Social King has polished his crown and wears it with a rakish tilt.
5. DS#3 is learning to read and spell. It was been fun to watch this awakening. Currently his favorite song to sing is to the tune of Aretha Franklin's "R-E-S-P-E-C-T". "B-L-A-C-K! Black is what I'm wearing today!" This is sung over and over like a broken record because his favorite jeans are black and due to the fact that he can't remember the rest of the song.
6. After months of working, DH finished the rennovations of our old house and it closed at the beginning of this month. We finally have him home on weeknights and weekends. We've had two Saturdays where there was nothing he had to do. We took advantage and played as a family.
There are too many gifts to list here but I keep them recorded in my heart. I do know how and where to send my thanks and it won't be with a handwritten note.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Happy St. Lucia Day!
St. Lucia Day is December 13, but my family traditionally celebrates the Saturday after. Instead of breakfast in bed we all gather around the table in our pjs. Instead of St. Lucia Buns and coffee, I make Orange Rolls and Stephen's Gourmet Cocoa.
Here is to celebrating traditions. My gift to you is my orange roll recipe. Tell me your holiday traditions (traditional recipes are always welcome, too!)
St. Lucia Orange Rolls
1 Tablespoon Yeast
1/3 Cup warm water
1 Tablespoon honey
1/2 Cup butter
1/4 Cup sugar
1 Cup scalded milk
1 egg, lightly beaten
3 Cups flour
6 Tablespoons butter
1/2 Cups white sugar
2 Tablespoons grated orange zest
1 Cup powdered sugar
1 1/2 Tablespoons fresh orange juice
In a small bowl dissolve yeat, warm water and honey. Let proof 5 minutes.
Meawhile, scald milk, turn off heat and add 1/ Cup butter and salt. Let stand until lukewarm and butter is melted.
Mix the proofed yeast with the milk mixture, eggs and flour to form a sticky dough. Lightly oil a large bowl, place dough in bowl and turn to coat with oil. Cover and let rise in the fridge overnight.
Remove dough from fridge 2 hours before baking. Roll into a 1/4 thick rectangle. Mix softened butter with orange peel and 1/2 Cup white sugar. Spread orange zest mixture over dough and roll up. Cut rolls into 1" slices with dental floss. Place in greased muffin cups. Let rise until double in bulk.
Bake at 400 degrees for 10-15 minutes.
Let cool slightly. Mix together powdered sugar and orange juice and drizzle over orange rolls.
Makes 12-18 rolls.
St. Lucia Day is December 13, but my family traditionally celebrates the Saturday after. Instead of breakfast in bed we all gather around the table in our pjs. Instead of St. Lucia Buns and coffee, I make Orange Rolls and Stephen's Gourmet Cocoa.
Here is to celebrating traditions. My gift to you is my orange roll recipe. Tell me your holiday traditions (traditional recipes are always welcome, too!)
St. Lucia Orange Rolls
1 Tablespoon Yeast
1/3 Cup warm water
1 Tablespoon honey
1/2 Cup butter
1/4 Cup sugar
1 Cup scalded milk
1 egg, lightly beaten
3 Cups flour
6 Tablespoons butter
1/2 Cups white sugar
2 Tablespoons grated orange zest
1 Cup powdered sugar
1 1/2 Tablespoons fresh orange juice
In a small bowl dissolve yeat, warm water and honey. Let proof 5 minutes.
Meawhile, scald milk, turn off heat and add 1/ Cup butter and salt. Let stand until lukewarm and butter is melted.
Mix the proofed yeast with the milk mixture, eggs and flour to form a sticky dough. Lightly oil a large bowl, place dough in bowl and turn to coat with oil. Cover and let rise in the fridge overnight.
Remove dough from fridge 2 hours before baking. Roll into a 1/4 thick rectangle. Mix softened butter with orange peel and 1/2 Cup white sugar. Spread orange zest mixture over dough and roll up. Cut rolls into 1" slices with dental floss. Place in greased muffin cups. Let rise until double in bulk.
Bake at 400 degrees for 10-15 minutes.
Let cool slightly. Mix together powdered sugar and orange juice and drizzle over orange rolls.
Makes 12-18 rolls.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
God Bless The Little Children.....
Last week we were getting ready for bed when DS#2 told me he needed two handmade puppets required for his book report the next day. The same time I remembered that DS#3 needed a VIP poster made for his birthday. Yes, I was up past midnight. Being the uncrafty person that I am, they were not spectacular but they were presentable.
The next morning I was exhausted as I put the VIP poster away for safekeeping until it was time for DS#3 to go to school. Not long before the buses came I found the VIP poster on the floor. The pictures were torn off. There was my Darling Daughter with half of a family picture in her hand.
I yelled at my daughter. (Condemn me all you want, I condemn myself even more.) DD smiled at me and said "I sorry Mom!" "No you're NOT!" I snarled back (oh, yes, I do condemn myself more than you do). DD left the room. I sat on the kitchen floor with a bottle of Elmers and a chopstick trying to piece the poster back together in the little time I had left. DD peeked around the corner of the stairs. "I sorry Mom?", she asked me. I didn't look up as I answered "No, you're not!" DD left again. I was rather enjoying my pity party on the floor when DD came up behind me. She put her arms around me from behind. I stopped my frantic gluing and turned to look at her. DD's bottom lip was poking out and a single tear coursed down her cheek. "Mom", she said softly, "I too sorry."
Leave it to my 4 year old to teach me about forgiveness. Who am I to say who gets to ask for forgiveness? Why did I hang onto my anger over what a 4 year old did? Christ taught us to forgive all men and my own daughter had to remind me of that. I put my arms around her and told her that I was sorry. She sat in my lap and showed me in her way that all was forgiven.
Before I became pregnant with my last child I would pray to our Heavenly Father to bless me with wisdom. His answer was to send me this special little girl. I hope He forgives me for all of the parenting mistakes I make.
Last week we were getting ready for bed when DS#2 told me he needed two handmade puppets required for his book report the next day. The same time I remembered that DS#3 needed a VIP poster made for his birthday. Yes, I was up past midnight. Being the uncrafty person that I am, they were not spectacular but they were presentable.
The next morning I was exhausted as I put the VIP poster away for safekeeping until it was time for DS#3 to go to school. Not long before the buses came I found the VIP poster on the floor. The pictures were torn off. There was my Darling Daughter with half of a family picture in her hand.
I yelled at my daughter. (Condemn me all you want, I condemn myself even more.) DD smiled at me and said "I sorry Mom!" "No you're NOT!" I snarled back (oh, yes, I do condemn myself more than you do). DD left the room. I sat on the kitchen floor with a bottle of Elmers and a chopstick trying to piece the poster back together in the little time I had left. DD peeked around the corner of the stairs. "I sorry Mom?", she asked me. I didn't look up as I answered "No, you're not!" DD left again. I was rather enjoying my pity party on the floor when DD came up behind me. She put her arms around me from behind. I stopped my frantic gluing and turned to look at her. DD's bottom lip was poking out and a single tear coursed down her cheek. "Mom", she said softly, "I too sorry."
Leave it to my 4 year old to teach me about forgiveness. Who am I to say who gets to ask for forgiveness? Why did I hang onto my anger over what a 4 year old did? Christ taught us to forgive all men and my own daughter had to remind me of that. I put my arms around her and told her that I was sorry. She sat in my lap and showed me in her way that all was forgiven.
Before I became pregnant with my last child I would pray to our Heavenly Father to bless me with wisdom. His answer was to send me this special little girl. I hope He forgives me for all of the parenting mistakes I make.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The Wisdom of a Kindergartener
DS#3 came home full of enthusiam for the kindergarten Thanksgiving celebration. "Mom, did you know that they ate popcorn but they didn't have jello?" He showed me the Indian costume he made, complete with headdress, paper grocery bag vest and shaker instrument. "And, Mom, they danced like this". (What followed was a cross between disco and howling-at-the-moon.)
"We ate turkey and pineapple, but they didn't have pineapple, Mom, because that grows in Hawaii. We also had rolls and cake!" (Travolta-cross-point-and-awoooo!)
I finally got him settled down enough to hear my question. "Do you know who was at the first Thanksgiving?" "Sure, Mom" he replied. "Everybody knows that." (roll-the -hands-and-do-the-hustle)
"Sweetheart, why don't you remind me who was at the first Thanksgiving." (Big sigh from DS#3 as he stops his spinning to talk patiently and slowly:)
"The Indians and the Mormons!"
Happy Thanksgiving!
DS#3 came home full of enthusiam for the kindergarten Thanksgiving celebration. "Mom, did you know that they ate popcorn but they didn't have jello?" He showed me the Indian costume he made, complete with headdress, paper grocery bag vest and shaker instrument. "And, Mom, they danced like this". (What followed was a cross between disco and howling-at-the-moon.)
"We ate turkey and pineapple, but they didn't have pineapple, Mom, because that grows in Hawaii. We also had rolls and cake!" (Travolta-cross-point-and-awoooo!)
I finally got him settled down enough to hear my question. "Do you know who was at the first Thanksgiving?" "Sure, Mom" he replied. "Everybody knows that." (roll-the -hands-and-do-the-hustle)
"Sweetheart, why don't you remind me who was at the first Thanksgiving." (Big sigh from DS#3 as he stops his spinning to talk patiently and slowly:)
"The Indians and the Mormons!"
Happy Thanksgiving!
Saturday, November 11, 2006
ARE YOU FEELING RICH?
Today one of my younger sons asked "Mom, when are we going to be rich?" There followed a conversation about most likely never being rich but having sufficient for our needs. As the day has gone on, I have been thinking about just how rich we are. Mind you, this is not the world's definition of rich. I've had a list growing in my head all afternoon:
1. We have been praying throughout October that our old house might sell before Novemember and "at a fair price". Our realtor called us on Halloween night with the news that an offer had been made and that he thought it was a fair price. We laughed at the wording and knew our prayers had been answered. The house closing will be the day after Thanksgiving. Not having two mortgage payements makes me feel rich, indeed. Having my testimony strengthened yet again about the power of prayer: Priceless.
2. My Dear Husband works hard so I can stay home with the kids. He has never once said anything disrespectful to me, nor said anything derrogatory about me to someone else. He compliments every meal (which the kids now do, following his example). DH is constantly making me feel loved and beautiful. He brings me flowers for no reason. He takes me on a date every week. He honors his priesthood and he is a good father. Having married Mr. Wonderful makes me feel rich, indeed. Being married to someone I love with all of my heart: Priceless.
3. This morning it was too quiet at my house (which you all know means that one or more kids are getting into trouble). After hunting around I found my 3 younger children. They were cuddled together in a quilt on one of the boy's beds while Dear Son #2 read to Dear Son #3 and Dear Daughter. Having peace in the house is rare and makes me feel rich, indeed. Seeing that my kids really do love each other: Priceless.
4. Today is Veteran's Day. I've always been interested in reading about the personal stories of Veterans in our country. I am constantly amazed at the sacrifices that are so willingly given. Right now in Iraq are stories about soldiers building schools in their free time, civilians thanking the soldiers for coming to help them get their country back, political leaders in that country risking their lives because they believe strongly in building a democracy. Most of these stories are not reported by mainstream media. It makes me think of what our Founding Fathers went through to build our government. Was it appreciated then? How many of them risked their lives? Living in America makes me feel rich, indeed. Being free to worship how I want, say what I want, and live where I want: Priceless.
What makes you feel rich?
Today one of my younger sons asked "Mom, when are we going to be rich?" There followed a conversation about most likely never being rich but having sufficient for our needs. As the day has gone on, I have been thinking about just how rich we are. Mind you, this is not the world's definition of rich. I've had a list growing in my head all afternoon:
1. We have been praying throughout October that our old house might sell before Novemember and "at a fair price". Our realtor called us on Halloween night with the news that an offer had been made and that he thought it was a fair price. We laughed at the wording and knew our prayers had been answered. The house closing will be the day after Thanksgiving. Not having two mortgage payements makes me feel rich, indeed. Having my testimony strengthened yet again about the power of prayer: Priceless.
2. My Dear Husband works hard so I can stay home with the kids. He has never once said anything disrespectful to me, nor said anything derrogatory about me to someone else. He compliments every meal (which the kids now do, following his example). DH is constantly making me feel loved and beautiful. He brings me flowers for no reason. He takes me on a date every week. He honors his priesthood and he is a good father. Having married Mr. Wonderful makes me feel rich, indeed. Being married to someone I love with all of my heart: Priceless.
3. This morning it was too quiet at my house (which you all know means that one or more kids are getting into trouble). After hunting around I found my 3 younger children. They were cuddled together in a quilt on one of the boy's beds while Dear Son #2 read to Dear Son #3 and Dear Daughter. Having peace in the house is rare and makes me feel rich, indeed. Seeing that my kids really do love each other: Priceless.
4. Today is Veteran's Day. I've always been interested in reading about the personal stories of Veterans in our country. I am constantly amazed at the sacrifices that are so willingly given. Right now in Iraq are stories about soldiers building schools in their free time, civilians thanking the soldiers for coming to help them get their country back, political leaders in that country risking their lives because they believe strongly in building a democracy. Most of these stories are not reported by mainstream media. It makes me think of what our Founding Fathers went through to build our government. Was it appreciated then? How many of them risked their lives? Living in America makes me feel rich, indeed. Being free to worship how I want, say what I want, and live where I want: Priceless.
What makes you feel rich?
Monday, October 30, 2006
God Bless The Primary Teachers for their Good Service
This morning while I was upstairs on the computer checking email, I noticed the sound of running water downstairs. I called down and asked DS#3 if everything was okay. He said "Everything is fine, just don't come down!" Oh, dear. You know when your 5 yr old doesn't want your presence it usually means he setting the house on fire. Or in this case, it sounded like he was flooding the house before he set it on fire. I did what all parents would do....I went downstairs.
DS3# is my very smart child who often gets in trouble. (Remember the Great Adventure?) I followed the sound to the kitchen where DS#3 was on a chair in front of the kitchen sink. Besides him on the counter were a lot of dishes. Clean dishes. It took me a minute to register that those dishes were not clean before. What on earth is going on.....?
"Surprise, Mom! I washed the dishes for you! We learned in Primary that we are supposed to give Good Service so I am giving Good Service to you. Did I do a good job?" His eyes sparkled and he looked anxious as if he wasn't sure of my reaction. I guess I looked dumbfounded at the moment. Before I could reply he went on. "Mom, Jesus gave Good Service everywhere He went and we are supposed to be like him. That is what I learned in Primary. Did I give Good Service?" I wrapped him up in my arms, thanked him, and kissed the top of his head. Then DS#3 helped me put the clean dishes away.
As I wiped up the water that had sloshed onto the floor during the "Good Service", I thought about the change in my son this morning. It was obvious that "Good Service" was a benefit to "Good Self-Esteem". My son was happy with himself. He talked about wanting to give more "Good Service". He talked about whom he wanted to give it to. For the first time in his life I saw him think outside of himself. He wasn't the center of his universe anymore.
I'm including my children's Primary teachers in my prayers tonight. I think I'd better send them a thank you note as well. I don't think they know my child has been listening in class It is obvious to me that they have made a big impression in the life of my 5 yr old. And due to the combined efforts of Primary teachers, school teachers, family and, yes, even his parents, I hope my son will want to continue to give "Good Service".
This morning while I was upstairs on the computer checking email, I noticed the sound of running water downstairs. I called down and asked DS#3 if everything was okay. He said "Everything is fine, just don't come down!" Oh, dear. You know when your 5 yr old doesn't want your presence it usually means he setting the house on fire. Or in this case, it sounded like he was flooding the house before he set it on fire. I did what all parents would do....I went downstairs.
DS3# is my very smart child who often gets in trouble. (Remember the Great Adventure?) I followed the sound to the kitchen where DS#3 was on a chair in front of the kitchen sink. Besides him on the counter were a lot of dishes. Clean dishes. It took me a minute to register that those dishes were not clean before. What on earth is going on.....?
"Surprise, Mom! I washed the dishes for you! We learned in Primary that we are supposed to give Good Service so I am giving Good Service to you. Did I do a good job?" His eyes sparkled and he looked anxious as if he wasn't sure of my reaction. I guess I looked dumbfounded at the moment. Before I could reply he went on. "Mom, Jesus gave Good Service everywhere He went and we are supposed to be like him. That is what I learned in Primary. Did I give Good Service?" I wrapped him up in my arms, thanked him, and kissed the top of his head. Then DS#3 helped me put the clean dishes away.
As I wiped up the water that had sloshed onto the floor during the "Good Service", I thought about the change in my son this morning. It was obvious that "Good Service" was a benefit to "Good Self-Esteem". My son was happy with himself. He talked about wanting to give more "Good Service". He talked about whom he wanted to give it to. For the first time in his life I saw him think outside of himself. He wasn't the center of his universe anymore.
I'm including my children's Primary teachers in my prayers tonight. I think I'd better send them a thank you note as well. I don't think they know my child has been listening in class It is obvious to me that they have made a big impression in the life of my 5 yr old. And due to the combined efforts of Primary teachers, school teachers, family and, yes, even his parents, I hope my son will want to continue to give "Good Service".
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The Middle Child Syndrome
Sometimes I worry that my middle son feels like he is lost in the shuffle of my family. Usually I am proven wrong time and again. But this last parent teacher conference was different. I know it is tough to move to a new area and go to a new school. But what his teacher said really set off alarm buttons:
"Your son is at the top of the class in math and reading. He is so polite and behaves well in class. I just wish that he weren't so quiet."
What? My son? The one who, every year at teacher conference, is told that he is a great kid but he needs to learn not to talk so much? My child, the social king of the classroom?
"He knows the answers but often will just whisper the answer rather than raising his hand. I would like to see him contribute more in discussions and help out his class mates".
What? My son? The one who, ever year at teacher conference, is told not to help out his classmates so much, that they need to do their own work even if he knows more than they do?
I also found out that he did not play with anyone his age at recess. How could I not know these things? When I looked at him I realized he was embarrassed. This whole time he had been putting on a brave face when he really was struggling. I though he handled this move better than my other two sons. Why hadn't my mom-dar gone off about this?
So I pushed my own mom-guilt aside and tried to come up with a plan to help DS#2. That plan came to me in the middle of another sleepless night. It was a plan that seemed too simple to work.
The next day I gave DS#2 the neighborhood map and phone list and told him to call at least 3 boys and they had to be his age (our phone list has the ages of the kids in every household on it). We were going to host a late-over. For those of you not in the know, a late-over is like a sleep over. It has all the fun of a sleepover without the hassel of trying to get the kids to actually go to sleep. I bought the fixings for popcorn, rootbeer floats and brownies. We had plenty of movies to choose from. DS called 3 boys his age who were thrilled to show up. I put the younger kids to bed, served the food, and then got out of the way (I did check on the party surreptitiously every 30 minutes). For 3 1/2 hours our house was incredibly noisy and full of 4th-grade humor. There was popcorn on the floor, debates on where to have your mom buy the best pizza, seconds on rootbeer floats , silly jokes, and wrestling. I don't think they every watched the entire movie. At 10:00 we took them home (DS#2 was surprised to see how close everyone lived to us.)
I have since been crowned "Coolest Mom Ever", which I will be lucky to retain for 24 hours. In the meantime, I have the best reward of all. DS#2 has been smiling more often. We have more visitors to our house asking for him. He is noticeably kinder to his siblings.
I wish the solution to all of life's problems were this easy to solve.
Sometimes I worry that my middle son feels like he is lost in the shuffle of my family. Usually I am proven wrong time and again. But this last parent teacher conference was different. I know it is tough to move to a new area and go to a new school. But what his teacher said really set off alarm buttons:
"Your son is at the top of the class in math and reading. He is so polite and behaves well in class. I just wish that he weren't so quiet."
What? My son? The one who, every year at teacher conference, is told that he is a great kid but he needs to learn not to talk so much? My child, the social king of the classroom?
"He knows the answers but often will just whisper the answer rather than raising his hand. I would like to see him contribute more in discussions and help out his class mates".
What? My son? The one who, ever year at teacher conference, is told not to help out his classmates so much, that they need to do their own work even if he knows more than they do?
I also found out that he did not play with anyone his age at recess. How could I not know these things? When I looked at him I realized he was embarrassed. This whole time he had been putting on a brave face when he really was struggling. I though he handled this move better than my other two sons. Why hadn't my mom-dar gone off about this?
So I pushed my own mom-guilt aside and tried to come up with a plan to help DS#2. That plan came to me in the middle of another sleepless night. It was a plan that seemed too simple to work.
The next day I gave DS#2 the neighborhood map and phone list and told him to call at least 3 boys and they had to be his age (our phone list has the ages of the kids in every household on it). We were going to host a late-over. For those of you not in the know, a late-over is like a sleep over. It has all the fun of a sleepover without the hassel of trying to get the kids to actually go to sleep. I bought the fixings for popcorn, rootbeer floats and brownies. We had plenty of movies to choose from. DS called 3 boys his age who were thrilled to show up. I put the younger kids to bed, served the food, and then got out of the way (I did check on the party surreptitiously every 30 minutes). For 3 1/2 hours our house was incredibly noisy and full of 4th-grade humor. There was popcorn on the floor, debates on where to have your mom buy the best pizza, seconds on rootbeer floats , silly jokes, and wrestling. I don't think they every watched the entire movie. At 10:00 we took them home (DS#2 was surprised to see how close everyone lived to us.)
I have since been crowned "Coolest Mom Ever", which I will be lucky to retain for 24 hours. In the meantime, I have the best reward of all. DS#2 has been smiling more often. We have more visitors to our house asking for him. He is noticeably kinder to his siblings.
I wish the solution to all of life's problems were this easy to solve.
Monday, September 18, 2006
I Believe In Miracles
On Friday night we turned on our new gas fireplace for the first time. Thirty minutes later my dear daughter put her little hand on on the fireplace and was burned badly.
We weren't sure how to get to the hospital in this new town, but we did know the general area so we took off. On the way we called my brother to ask if he could assist in giving DD a blessing. We agreed that we would head to his house after the hospital.
At the hospital, after a very long wait, we finally saw the doctor. DD was burned on her pointer, middle and ring fingers with the deepest part of the burn on her upper hand between the fingers and the middle crease of her hand. The ER doctor immediately started talking about 3rd degree burns and skin grafts and made calls to the hand surgeon and also to the University burn clinic to see if they wanted DD that night. We then called my dear brother to tell him we might not make it to his house, thinking that we would be transferred immediately to the university hospital. Dear Brother said he would meet us at the emergency room instead.
The ER doctor then told us that the doctor at the university burn clinic said to dress the hand and come first thing in the morning to the clinic. DD was given Tylenol with Codeine and a rootbeer chaser. Dear Brother showed up and assisted Dear Husband in giving our daughter a priesthood blessing. In that blessing she was promised that the pain would be minimal, healing time would be quick, and that she would regain full function of her hand.
DH and I spent a sleepless night. I fully expected to get up in the middle of the night to give DD another dose of Tylenol and codeine. The medication was supposed to last 4-6 hours. DD slept 9 hours pain free. When she woke up she told us that her hand hurt but was fairly calm until the medication was in her system and working again.
That morning we dropped off the boys at my parents and headed to the Univerisity Burn Clinic. When DD's bandages were taken off even our untrained eyes could tell that the burn looked different. Two doctors came in and started talking about 2nd degree burns and no skin grafts. DH and I looked at each other with hope. Then the head doctor of the burn clinic came in. He told us of the call he received from the ER doctor last night. But when he looked at DD's hand he said "Hmmm, that is not what I was told. That is not a 3rd degree burn." He then talked to us about how 2nd degree burns hurt the worst but that is a good thing as we do not want her to lose sensation in her hand. He discussed healing time (it would be about 2 weeks) and that she should be fine. The physical therapist taught us how to do therapy at home (no outside therapy required), and the nurse showed us how to bandage the hand and sent us home with a sack full of supplies to do it. DD princessed waved with her good hand to the entire staff as we left (and they waved back). We have an appointment for the end of this week.
DD has not complained of pain. We have kept her medicated for the weekend. She has not made bandaging her hand difficult.
I belive in miracles. I believe in the power of prayer and priesthood blessings. I believe that our loving Heavenly Father knows each of us. This weekend I have witnessed His love for my daughter.
On Friday night we turned on our new gas fireplace for the first time. Thirty minutes later my dear daughter put her little hand on on the fireplace and was burned badly.
We weren't sure how to get to the hospital in this new town, but we did know the general area so we took off. On the way we called my brother to ask if he could assist in giving DD a blessing. We agreed that we would head to his house after the hospital.
At the hospital, after a very long wait, we finally saw the doctor. DD was burned on her pointer, middle and ring fingers with the deepest part of the burn on her upper hand between the fingers and the middle crease of her hand. The ER doctor immediately started talking about 3rd degree burns and skin grafts and made calls to the hand surgeon and also to the University burn clinic to see if they wanted DD that night. We then called my dear brother to tell him we might not make it to his house, thinking that we would be transferred immediately to the university hospital. Dear Brother said he would meet us at the emergency room instead.
The ER doctor then told us that the doctor at the university burn clinic said to dress the hand and come first thing in the morning to the clinic. DD was given Tylenol with Codeine and a rootbeer chaser. Dear Brother showed up and assisted Dear Husband in giving our daughter a priesthood blessing. In that blessing she was promised that the pain would be minimal, healing time would be quick, and that she would regain full function of her hand.
DH and I spent a sleepless night. I fully expected to get up in the middle of the night to give DD another dose of Tylenol and codeine. The medication was supposed to last 4-6 hours. DD slept 9 hours pain free. When she woke up she told us that her hand hurt but was fairly calm until the medication was in her system and working again.
That morning we dropped off the boys at my parents and headed to the Univerisity Burn Clinic. When DD's bandages were taken off even our untrained eyes could tell that the burn looked different. Two doctors came in and started talking about 2nd degree burns and no skin grafts. DH and I looked at each other with hope. Then the head doctor of the burn clinic came in. He told us of the call he received from the ER doctor last night. But when he looked at DD's hand he said "Hmmm, that is not what I was told. That is not a 3rd degree burn." He then talked to us about how 2nd degree burns hurt the worst but that is a good thing as we do not want her to lose sensation in her hand. He discussed healing time (it would be about 2 weeks) and that she should be fine. The physical therapist taught us how to do therapy at home (no outside therapy required), and the nurse showed us how to bandage the hand and sent us home with a sack full of supplies to do it. DD princessed waved with her good hand to the entire staff as we left (and they waved back). We have an appointment for the end of this week.
DD has not complained of pain. We have kept her medicated for the weekend. She has not made bandaging her hand difficult.
I belive in miracles. I believe in the power of prayer and priesthood blessings. I believe that our loving Heavenly Father knows each of us. This weekend I have witnessed His love for my daughter.
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