David's awesome last day of school

Friday, June 7 was David's last day of school.  Because his birthday is on the 9th, he got to bring treats to celebrate his birthday on the last day.  Greg and I came to share in the joy, and we brought Sara--which is also exciting for David.  He is always immensely proud to show off his baby sister.  It was a special day!

(David is so cute.  He insisted on bringing something healthy, so we settled on fruit kebabs.  They were a big hit!  The school nurse even came and thanked me for bringing in fruit instead of cupcakes--but I had to give all of the credit to David!)

That morning Grammy and Grandpa arrived, and they were there to pick him up from school.

Congratulations, David, on a great three years at Glacier Edge!

David's last day of school at GE!  Very very nearly age 8.

David's first day of school at GE!  Age 5.  

Bare minimum

I guess I will be posting only the bare minimum this summer.  You know, birthdays and the like.  I didn't intend for this to happen.  (I still have a big stack of books on my bedside table worth mentioning.)  But sometimes life just is as it is.

P.S.  And, no, not even Father's Day makes the cut for a dedicated post.  Sorry, Greg.  He is such a good dad.  And a good mom.  Which is good because sometimes he has to be both.

Greg is a good example

Greg

1. does the dishes everyday
2. mows the lawn
3. goes home teaching every month
4. takes care of throw-up (like Mary's last night)
5. backs up my hard drive regularly
6. irons his own clothes
7. washes the cars regularly
8. laughs at our kids with me
9. vacuums the downstairs
10. shepherds some Boy Scouts
11. puts the toys away as needed
12. pays the kids their allowance
13. reads to us from the Book of Mormon
14. packs David's lunch
15. feeds the kids their breakfast
16. might save you from a nuclear power plant disaster one day
17. helps dress the kids on Sunday morning
18. mails packages
19. takes out the garbage
20. changes the vacuum cleaner bag
21. coaches David's soccer team
22. records our favorite tv shows
23. likes to travel
24. eats my cooking 
25. attends parent-teacher conferences
26. takes the kids on bike rides
27. built a sandbox for Mary
28. respects my need to be bossy

I could go on.  For a long time.  Pretty much forever.  But I think you get the point.

He works hard, takes care of us, and serves the Lord.

I am glad I married Greg.  It is very nice to be married to him.  Those are massive understatements.

I hope that Mary will marry someone like her dad.  I hope that David will be like his dad.

Made bed

This is a picture of Mary's bed.

It's made.

Which was a mystery.

Who had made her bed?  It certainly wasn't me.  I asked Greg if he'd made her bed.  Nope, it wasn't him either.  So that left Mary herself.

Had Mary made her bed?  I wondered how she had even known about the possibility of a made bed--because her bed is NEVER MADE.  Honestly, I believe I have never made her bed.  Ever. Yes, that is how lame I am.  I'm not proud of it--but it's the truth.  Making my kids' beds is that low on my priorities list.  It's a miracle if I get MY bed made.  Sure, I change Mary's sheets regularly.  But even then I don't really make her bed...

So how did Mary know her bed could be made?  Don't children learn primarily from example?

Then I remembered.

Brenda.

So here's the deal.  I broke down and hired a cleaning lady to help me out on Friday.  After having workers in and out of our house for almost a month, the house was a disaster.  And we had fifty people coming over Friday night...fifty people who probably did not want to hang out in dust and filth and clutter.  By Friday morning it was time for reinforcements.  Brenda was great, and, in addition to cranking through my cleaning to-do list with me, she tidied up the kids' bedrooms, including making their beds.

Which brings me to the mystery of Mary's made bed.

Mary made her bed.  She has, in fact, every day since the cleaning lady came.  Brenda opened Mary's eyes to the beauty of a tidy bed.  And it turns out that Mary really likes having a made bed.

Who knew.

Poor girl.  How else am I failing her?  Don't answer:  I'm not sure I'm ready for the answer.  Maybe after I make my bed.

(Or maybe Mary will do it for me.)

Craft!

I did a craft!  And, unlike this time, I actually did it myself!  (Well, my friend Shannon helped me out.  Can I just say I love "visiting" while all the kids are far far away in the basement entertaining themselves?)

Also, in the middle of my craft project last night I signed over the title and gave away the keys of my beloved car.  I know it's going to a good home.  But I was definitely a little misty-eyed.  Life just can't stand still, can it.

Chaotic reflections, or reflections on chaos

When we reached the middle of January, I didn't think my life could get more disorganized.  I had bottomed out, and I'd been there, as a bottom dweller, for quite some time.  Little did I know...

I don't mean to be one of those people who's all like, "I'm so busy, I'm so busy."  But I certainly feel that way.  Probably because it doesn't take much to send me off the edge of balance, spinning out of control.  Really, I'm not a person who can have too much on her metaphorical plate. What can I say?  I have a small plate.

The last few weeks my problem has been priorities.  I mean, when it's Christmas, you know you drop everything and do Christmas.  Or when you have a blood drive in three days, you drop everything and do the blood drive.  But right now we're flailing around with a number of pretty important but not super important things.  Like

• What to do about our kids.  Our kids can't stay in their chairs at dinner.  What should we do about it?  We have been busy every Monday night for the last forever.  Should we worry that we haven't had a formal FHE in forever?  Are pull-ups or wet sheets preferable?  What do you do when your kids really aren't friends with each other?  How much Phineas and Ferb can one child watch?  Will my son set the record for tons of snot produced by a single human being?  The usual...

• Buying a new car.  I was resistant.  But it was clearly time.  Greg ran some fancy Nate Silver-esque statistical models and predicted that we could expect to put enough money into our beloved Forester in the next few years that it would make more sense to buy a new car.  You can't fight Nate Silver-esque predictions.  (Does anybody else think he's taken the fun out of elections?  No more surprises! Ever!)  After seriously considering quite a few cars (including a number of Toyotas, of course--because Greg's brother is a big shot at Lexus and can get us a sweeeeet deal), we settled on another Forester.  (But I have to put a plug in for the new Subaru Impreza!!  I was so impressed with this car!  Very well-designed.  Feels roomy for its size.  Great price.  Great gas mileage--with the fabulous Subaru AWD.  Worth checking out if you're looking for a new, safe, reliable commuter car.)  It is a new car.  Like, brand new.  This is our first brand new car.  I don't like it.  I'm too nervous about it.  I'm not driving it until Greg puts a dent or scratch in it.

• Selling an old car.  We're selling our Forester.  I'm so sad.  But I know it's time.  We found just the right buyer.  It was meant to be.  But I'm still sad.  (By the way, David loves the Forester.  He knows we know he loves the Forester.  And we're selling it anyway.  Now he's worried we're going to sell his teddy bear.) 

• Room mom.  I'm a room mom!  Did you remember that?  I didn't.  (Oops.)

• New semester.  It always takes a little while to settle into a new semester...even if it's your husband's new semester and not your own.

• Reorganizing the basement.  Need I say more?

• The Science Fair.  Why did I think this would be easy?

• Being a friend.  I love friends. I love being a friend.  I love having friends  And being with friends.  And helping friends  And being helped by friends.  And thanking friends. And loving friends.  But sometimes I kind of stink at it.  I'm sorry...

• Having painters in my house for two weeks.  It didn't help that I kept changing my mind.  (Fortunately, I have an opinionated friend with good taste who is good about answering my SOS texts.  In a moment of desperation she came over and spent three hours with me carefully choosing a paint color.  You all need a Hillary.)  Also, just so you know, having your walls re-textured makes a huge mess.

• Greg's promotion.  Okay, so not very time-consuming. But I did have to get myself and the kids there.  With our hair combed.  Plus, we're having a party next week.  I can't imagine being ready.

• Repainting and reorganizing bedrooms.  I'm 85% finished with the rooms.  Will I ever finish the last 15%?

• Deciding where Mary is going to school next year.  Discussions and meetings and conversations and more discussions. We made our decision Friday.  Exhale.  (For those of you who don't know, February is the month when you decide where your kid is going to school next year.  That means all your research needs to be finished by February.  And your kid might have needed to be on a waiting list for months already.  So, dear readers who are first-time parents with a babe in arms, tuck that little nugget of knowledge away for future reference.)  

Also, weighing on my mind are some heavier matters that I may or may not blog about.  Busy-ness and weighty matters aren't always the best combination.  (But sometimes the busy-ness can be a nice distraction, I suppose.)

Anyway, to temporarily solve our chaos problem, we're fleeing the chaos.  We're escaping together as a family tomorrow--the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago awaits us.  Sometimes when life sends you a killer bunny, there's nothing to do but "Run away!!"

Fairy week

Where was I last week?  Waiting for the appearance of some fairy godmothers.  Some appeared; some did not.



The Laundry Fairy


I was really hoping the laundry fairy would show up last week.  I waited and waited.  But, finally--after David started crying because the laundry was piled six feet high on the sofa so he had no place to sit and read his dinosaur book and after I was forced to wear worn yoga pants and an old T-shirt of Greg's to a lovely Thai lunch with Katie (who always looks hot) because nothing else was remotely clean--I got to work on the laundry myself. And then I did it again.  And again.  And again.  Has anyone else noticed that laundry never ends?  Stupid Laundry Fairy: even if you bothered to show up once, it wouldn't do me much good.






The Deep Cleaning Fairy


I'm still waiting for her.  It's amazing (disgusting) what happens to your house when it's been pretty much neglected for months.  And months.  And months.

If you come over, don't look in the corners.  Like I said, I'm still waiting.



The Paint Fairy


This fairy has been hard at work!  The Paint Fairy's real name is Greg.

I woke up one day and decided we needed to paint Mary's pink room . . . pink.  When we moved in, it was a frightening bubble gum pink that all little girls adore.  And now it is a perfectly pretty pink that even I can like.  (It's Benjamin Moore Powder Blush. It's beautiful, and stays safely away from all that usually goes wrong with pinks. I confidently recommend it--and this is coming from someone who is generally not a fan of pink.  Credit goes to this blogger for pointing me in the right direction.)

Then I woke up and decided David's room needed to be painted as well.  It was a perfectly fine greenish taupe.  But a little too serious for such a fun boy.  I wanted four bright white walls.  David wanted black.  The Paint Fairy found a compromise.  Three white walls and one dark gray.  It looks good.

Then I woke up and decided it would be awesome if the grungy white walls in our house could be painted before Greg's big promotion party in February.  The Paint Fairy and I agreed that this particular project, with its vaulted ceilings and deep gouges, might require some stronger magic--especially since the Paint Fairy is back in class again.  Hooray for professionals. It's not done yet--but the color is picked (fingers crossed it looks good) and the work is scheduled.  (Also, hooray for professionals who can magically make the hole your husband had to cut into the ceiling to reach a water leak disappear.  Sheetrock and tape and mud and texture and paint and a few nifty machines in the hands of a pro is a miraculous thing!)

While the Paint Fairy does his magic, I have been occupied with rearranging furniture and wall decorations.  (I even attempted a craft project for the kids' rooms and did NOT staple cork board to my kitchen table this this time!)



The Winter Fairy


A couple of weeks ago when I picked up Mary at school, she and her friends were running around the playground coatless throwing imaginary snowballs and building imaginary snowmen.  What the heck?  Is this Florida?!!  I live in Wisconsin, yet my children are forced to play with invisible, imaginary snow in January?!

I know some people were liking the mild weather, but it was FREAKING ME OUT.  If it's going to be winter, I want it to be winter!  If I'm going to wear a coat, I want to need to wear the coat, you know.  Also, I was all ready to send my kids to ice-fishing camp, but the lake wasn't frozen. Bummer.  (Yes, my obsession with ice-fishing continues. Not like I've ever been.  Or ever will.  But I almost dragged Greg to a musical about ice-fishing.  Lucky for him, it was in town during finals week, so I couldn't in good conscience force him to take me.)

Well, the Winter Fairy finally did make her appearance.  And this year I was prepared.  Oh yeah.  Bring it on, Winter Fairy.  (But not too much.  So, once it finally snowed and the kids looked outside with glee, the temperature dropped to 3 degrees.  Too cold for recess, sledding, and snowman building.  Bummer.)




The Put-My-Life-Back-Together Fairy


Still waiting.



The Blogging Fairy


Actually, this I prefer to do myself.  No fairy necessary.  I'm back!

Grouchy

Yesterday I went to the DMV.  I thought I would be responsible and get a Wisconsin driver's license, since I've lived here almost a year and a half and everything.  Plus, my old Ohio one is expired (remember that?).

When I looked at the DMV website to find out what I needed to get a driver's license, I learned that I needed only proof of residency and an out-of-state license that was no more than 8 years expired.  So, actually, I still had 7 years and 293 days to procrastinate until I was really in trouble.  But I was feeling all responsible, so I skipped the gym and headed straight to the DMV.

I've lived in enough states to know that when you go to a new DMV, it's like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you're going to get.  Except that you do know you're not going to get chocolate, which is a bummer.  At this DMV the cherry cordial in my chocolate was that I needed my passport or birth certificate.  Never mind the fact it wasn't mentioned on the website (that I could see).  I drove the 20 minutes home to retrieve my passport (I was not going to give up on being responsible!) and the 20 minutes back to the DMV, all the while trying not to think about how concerned everyone was about where I was born and what my citizenship status was and how little anyone cared if I could actually operate a car safely.

(Now is where I point out that I have never taken a driving test.  I got my first driver's license in Arizona, which required driver's ed OR a driving test.  Not both.  So I took driver's ed, obviously.  I sometimes wonder what the good folks in California, Delaware, Ohio, and now Wisconsin might think about my qualifications for their fine states' issuing me a driver's license based solely on the couple of hours I spent in a teal Pontiac one summer with Deanna and poor Mr. Edwards, whom we tortured relentlessly with our silly giddy fifteen-year-old-ness.)

 When I returned, passport in hand, to the Madison DMV, no body bothered to look at my passport.  Sure, they noticed I had it with me.  But no one bothered to look and see that it was actually mine.  I could have brought Baby David's expired one.

Anyway, my whole point is that the DMV made me grouchy.

And I never let the DMV make me grouchy!  What was wrong with me?!  The employees were perfectly warm and polite, and, except for the passport thing, everything went quite smoothly.  Why did the DMV make me grouchy?  Because I sure spent the rest of the day feeling grumpier and grumpier, until I finally burst into tears after dinner.

I was concerned.

I simply do not let bureaucracy make me grouchy.  I am a military wife.  I have lived in Turkey (the Ottoman Empire pretty much invented red tape).  I have lived in Turkey as a military wife on a Turkish military base.  (That is a triple whammy.)  I have transferred credits from one university to another. (Cringe.)   I have a son who has been on the no-fly list since he was a baby.  I have traveled between countries that don't recognize each other with stacks of papers to get my family in and out.  In the Dominican Republic I negotiated through the twists and turns of a barely-functioning bureaucracy in order to help legally marry people who did not legally exist, all in a language I barely understood.  Also, Tricare is an integral part of my life.  (Shiver.)

A little DMV can't scare me.

I do not let bureaucracy control my emotions.  I may roll my eyes, laugh, or sigh with frustration.  But it does not get inside me, it does not upset me.  (I choose to freak out about other things, like Excel spreadsheets and my kids rolling around on the floors of eating establishments.)  So, naturally, my post-DMV grouchiness made me think maybe I'd lost my edge.  That I was getting soft.

Then last night I collapsed.

I was sick!  The cold I'd been fighting off all week, successfully I had thought, was back with a vengeance.  No wonder I was so grouchy.  I felt like garbage. I was grumpy because I was ill. It was a relief, in a way.  The DMV had not conquered me!

But the common cold has . . . Yuck.



P.S.  I cannot talk today.  I have no voice.  This definitely makes me grouchy.  But my kids love it.

P.P.S.  My parents are in Switzerland.  This does not make me grouchy.  But it does make me a little envious.

P.P.P.S.  I didn't shed a tear giving up my Ohio license, unlike what I predicted.  Because I didn't have to give it up. They just punched a hole in it and handed it back to me.  Easy peasy.  Is that too much to ask, you meanie states who insist on emotionally scarring those of us who NEED to hang on to our old licenses???  (That's right, I'm talking to you, California, Delaware, and Ohio.  Tisk, tisk.)

Freaking out Fridays

I am not by nature a party person.

This Friday (tomorrow) is Mary's birthday party.  Next Friday is David's Harvest class party.  (Yes, I volunteered to be room mom.)  And the following Friday is our church congregation's Fall Festival.  (Which my friend Julie and I are in charge of.)

I went to the dollar store the other day, and I couldn't remember for which party I was there.  I am a totally disorganized person.  I may not seem like it, but my mother and my husband can attest to this fact.  But I am responsible--so I can usually with brute force push myself through my disorganization and rise to the occasion.  I'm not sure if I have enough brute force this time.  So Mary might have ham and funeral potatoes at her birthday party, and the church gym might be decorated with purple balloons.

I used to like Fridays.

Now I just want this month over with.

A rainy day

This was last week.

Fortunately, this week is bright and crisp...and even warm!  We're gulping it up--we can sense the snow pants in the closet taunting us.

The Big Dig

Whoops.  I kinda forgot I have a blog.  (I knew there was something missing!) We're adjusting to fall schedules.  But mostly I am trying to dig us out of the disaster that became our home this summer.  

When I see this. . . 

. . . I just have to remind myself that we had a good summer.

(I have lots of reminders of our good summer--on every surface and in every corner of my home.)

Actually, I've spent most of the last few weeks avoiding digging ourselves out.  Because shoving everything into closets and piles in the basement doesn't really count, does it?

Summer schedule

I've been obsessed with schedules this summer.  No lazy, unplanned days in this family!!  Mostly because lazy, unplanned days turn into warfare between my kids while I hide in my closet taking deep cleansing breaths that only seem to make me more irritable.  So my goal this summer has been to have an answer every time someone asks, "What are we doing today?"  And I have been, for the most part, successful.

I think this kind of freaked out my kids at first.  In the past, they would ask, "What are we doing today?" and I would bark, "How should I know?! Go play with your toys before I take them all away!!"  Now they ask, "What are we doing today?" and I shoot off a list with more items than they have fingers, leaving them wide-eyed, bewildered...and happy.  (Heaven forbid they have to think of something to do on their own.)

Here is a peek at our schedule the last couple of weeks.  Almost everything was planned in advance.  This is not the summer of spontaneity.  I think we all have found comfort in having a plan every day, especially Greg, who is swamped with schoolwork and knows that the kids and I are more likely to leave him in peace if we know what the heck to do with ourselves hour to hour.  I know I'm weird about recording daily schedules.  It's just sort of fascinating to me, to look back and say, "Oh. So that's what we did all day last summer/when David was a baby/after Mary was born/once David was school age etc."  It's so easy to forget what day to day life was like during a certain period of time.

Here it is:

My schedule, my friend.

Monday
Laundry
Clean house
School work
11:05 Swimming lessons
Sonic slushes
Lunch
Quiet time
Afternoon schoolwork
Watch TV and leave Mom alone
Dinner
Family Home Evening

Tuesday
Schoolwork
9:30 Gym
11:05 Swimming lessons
12:30 David to Jack's house for play date and lemonade stand
12:30 Mary to Lea's house
4:30 David to gymnastics
Dinner


Wednesday
Schoolwork
9:30 Gym
11:05 Swimming lessons
Sonic slushes
Lunch
2:00 Sariah over to play with Mary
2:15 Bailey over to play with David
4:15 Mary to gymnastics
Dinner
Bike ride with Dad
7:00 Mom to Young Women activity

Thursday
Schoolwork
9:30 Gym
11:05 Swimming lessons
Sonic slushes
Lunch
Quiet time
Afternoon schoolwork
Play in the backyard 
Watch TV and leave Mom alone
Dinner
6:30 David to swimming lessons

Friday
Schoolwork
9:15 Gym
Early to swimming to play in sandbox
11:05 Swimming lessons
Sonic slushes
Lunch
Quiet time
Afternoon school work
Library
3:00 Presidency meeting at the twins' house
Watch TV and leave mom alone
5:30 Missionaries over for dinner

Saturday
Cornwall

Sunday
11:00 Church
3:00 Home teachers
5:30 Dinner at Baby Emmeline's house

Monday
Laundry
Clean bedrooms
11:05 Swimming lessons
Costco
Quiet time
2:00 David to Bailey's house
2:15 Mary visiting teaching with Mom to Baby Jacob's house
Mary plays at Bailey's house too!
Watch TV and leave Mom alone
Dinner
Family Home Evening

Tuesday
Schoolwork
9:30 Gym
11:05 Swimming lessons
Lunch
12:30 Big playdate (Lea, Ellis, Jack, and Owen) here
4:30 David to gymnastics
Dinner

Wednesday
Schoolwork
9:30 Gym
11:05 Swimming lessons
Sonic slushes
Lunch
Quiet time
2:00 David to Bailey's house
Mary with mom on errands
4:15 Mary to gymnastics
Dad picks up a pizza
7:00 Mom to Young Women activity

Thursday
Schoolwork
Gym 9:30
11:05 Swimming lessons
Lunch
1:00 David to Michael's house
Quiet time
3:00 Mary visiting teaching with Mom to Molly's house
5:15 Pick up Dad for dinner at Culver's
6:30 David to swimming lessons

Friday
Schoolwork
Gym 9:15
Early to swimming lessons to play in the sandbox
11:05 Swimming lessons
Sonic slushes
Lunch
Quiet time
1:30 Bailey comes over to play
5:00 Bailey goes home
Watch TV and leave Mom alone
Dinner

Saturday (today)
No plan!  Yikes!  (It's too hot for the county fair--our original plan--so I offered to take David and Mary to a movie.  They CRIED at the mere suggestion!  What is wrong with my children???)  As it turned out, I spent the morning playing Wii with the kids while Greg studied, and then Greg took the kids swimming for the afternoon while I cleaned the kitchen.

Here is what I have written on our calendar for the next few days:

Sunday
11:00 Church
3:30 Dad goes home teaching

Monday
Clean bedrooms
Schoolwork
Gym
Lunch
Quiet time
Afternoon schoolwork
Haircuts
Library
Watch TV and leave Mom alone
Dinner
Family Home Evening

Tuesday
Schoolwork
9:30 Gym
11:15 Mary to gymnastics
12:30 David to play date
Quiet time for Mom and Mary
Packing and organizing
4:30 David to gymnastics
Dinner
Mom to Target

Wednesday
Laundry and packing
Schoolwork
10:00 Playgroup at the splash pad
Lunch
Quiet time
2:00 Bailey to our house
4:15 Mary to gymnastics
Dinner
7:00 Mom to Young Women activity

Thursday
Drive halfway to Texas
Go swimming


Hmm...looking over our schedule, I notice that it fails to illustrate how much time I spend in the car shuttling people around.  It also fails to show how wiped out the kids are by the end of the day.  The fact that David and Mary fall asleep instantly at bedtime is, I think, a sign of a fun summer.  The only problem is that I want to fall asleep when they do--these fun summer days leave me pooped!--but after waiting hours and hours for some peace and quiet, there's no way I'm going to bed when they do.  The silence is much too blissful, even though morning comes all too quick.  The life of a mom...

Anyway, as you might have noticed, I'm driving to Texas on Thursday (with David and Mary, of course).  We'll all be back in Wisconsin on August 11.  My posting might be erratic for a while--or more regular than it's been all summer.  Who knows.

What I do know is that I hope you're having a wonderful summer (or winter, depending on where in the world you are).

Chopsticks

Friday night Greg took the kids to Noodles and Co.  Sometimes I don't have time to make dinner.  Sometimes I don't have time to eat dinner.  I stayed home, frantically moving down my to-do list.  (I had an actual  list.  I gave up daily to-do lists not long after college. So nowadays if I actually write a pen and paper list, you all know the situation is dire.)  Meanwhile, Greg, at the kids' request, introduced David and Mary to chopsticks.

Greg reported that David ate nearly his whole bowl of Wisconsin mac and cheese with chopsticks!

Love this picture. (Love this kid!)

If at first you don't succeed...

use your fingers...

Love this kid too!

Not pictured:  The awesome dad who rescues his wife from their kids, even when he has exams coming up.

Ordinary summer

I am not very good at taking pictures of ordinary life.  I almost always remember my camera for anything even remotely "special."  But as the years pass, I think the images I cherish most are the ordinary ones--the little glimpses of what my kids do in our home.  Stuff so ordinary I don't often think to take a picture of it.  Like what they play with and how they play with it.  This summer I'm going to to try to take a few pictures now and then of nothing special.  (Because somehow the ordinary becomes extraordinary.)  Here is the first one.

Due acknowledgment

Today was supposed to be a hectic day.

It was one of those days when there was no white space on the calendar, and there were going to be a few times where I would have to be more than one place at once, and I couldn't figure out how on earth or where or when on the space-time continuum my family would eat dinner.  It was not going to be a bad day.  But a busy one.

So I prayed this morning, almost absentmindedly, "God, help me through this day."

This evening I realized that today was fine.  It was a normal, pleasant day.  Everyone was where they needed to be when they needed to be.  Much of the day even felt relaxed.  And I not only made dinner, but I had time to make dessert just for the heck of it.  (Strawberry-rhubarb crisp, thank you Vermont Valley Farm.)  How did that happen?

I think I owe God some gratitude.

Today turned out so okay that I almost didn't realize it.  I suspect there have been a million other days when I woke up and said, "God, help me through this day," so He did...and I didn't even notice.

So I am acknowledging the little miracle of today.  And all the days.

In the basement

The kids and I were exhausted by the end of the day.  I put them to bed at 7:30, and they were happy to oblige. Within minutes, they were both fast asleep.

I sat down to blog about losing my sweet five-year-old.  Tomorrow David turns six.  (How I have loved five-year-old David!)  He is nervous about first grade, and, to be honest, so am I.  I would spend a few minutes reflecting on my beautiful boy.  And then I would sink into bed.  Did I mention the exhaustion?

But before I sat down at my computer, I noticed the sky outside.  This is not the first time I have lived in the Midwest. I know what a sky like that means.  And the shuddering of the house.  And flickering of the lights.

I hated to wake my sleeping angels, but I knew we needed to move to the basement.  So I scooped up my babies and carried them downstairs.  Soon enough, I heard the tell-tale sirens.

Mary was dazed.  David was hysterical.

I prepared a safe, protective spot for them.  I would tell them if they needed to crawl into their special spot.  Meanwhile, we cuddled on the couch.  And, at David's request, we prayed.  And, with my heart full of gratitude that we hadn't lost power like much of our town, we watched the storm unfolding on the television.  David was comforted upon recognizing his friend's dad, who is a local newscaster.  (Somehow, I found the familiar face comforting too.) We watched the storm pass on the fancy doppler radar, and we heard it easing away above us.

Finally, I declared it safe to go to bed.

I couldn't bring myself to put us in three different beds in three different rooms.  And the basement feels safer tonight, at least for a few more hours until all the pockets of the storm have passed on.  So I put David and Mary into the guest bed, and I'll sleep on the couch nearby.

Good night.

P.S.  Of course, the night that we get funnel clouds and tornado warnings is the night when Greg is out of town.  Ladies, isn't that how it always is?

Heaven help me

And this is only half of it.

And as far as laundry days go, this is a light one.

Sigh...

Fragmented schedule

I take it back. It's not an illusion caused by a fragmented schedule. I really am stupider.

I was playing Memory with Mary last night, and I am decidedly worse as a 33-year-old than as a child. I have--HAD--a good memory, and I always killed at that game. But last night, no matter how hard I concentrated, I could not remember where the banana was. Or the ball. Or the frog. Or the flower. And just when I was sure I had the umbrella match, I would turn over the card and there was the pizza slice. Arrgg! It was utterly frightening. I really am losing my mind. Already! I guess when my 19-year-old self looked at people in their thirties and thought they were ancient, she was right.

Despite the fact that the deterioration of my mind is real, I still feel like recording a weekly schedule. I did this last year for Greg. I wish I had done it a few times back in these days. And I really wish I had recorded typical days when David was a baby. Don't you wonder what people do every day? Don't you wonder what YOU did every day a few years ago? It's so easy to forget. Or at least it's easy for ME to forget. (My mind ain't what it used to be, remember?)

By the way, last year MY schedule was OUR FAMILY'S schedule. This year Greg is here. And I mean HERE. He has class on campus most days, and he studies a ton, but his schedule is flexible enough to where he can help shuttle kids around or watch them for a few minutes here and there. (It's fabulous!) But I think I'm going to record MY schedule rather than our family's master schedule (which would include lots of Greg).

This isn't a record of everything I do. You'll notice lots of unaccounted for time. I'm only including the things more or less set in stone. Here is the skeleton of my week...

Monday

• Laundry day
• Send out Young Women emails
• Practice reading with David
• Take David to school at 9:15 (Monday is late start day)
• Dynamic Strength class 9:30-10:30
• Pick up Mary at 11:45
• Snack, show, nap for Mary
• No more dance class. (Too bad. But good too--Mary loves her nap.)
• Pick up David at 2:35
• Snack time
• Brick Buddies Lego Club 3:30-4:30 (every other week)
• Make dinner
• Dinner at 5:30
• Family Home Evening
• Bedtime routine 7:30

Tuesday

• Book check-out in David's class 8:40-9:20
• Zumba 9:30-10:30
• Pick up Mary at 11:45
• Snack, show, nap for Mary
• PTO Birthday books at 2:oo OR visiting teachers (depending on the week)
• Pick David up at 2:35
• Snack time
• Practice reading with David
• Make dinner
• Dinner at 5:30
• Bedtime routine 7:30

Wednesday

• Mary to school 8:15
• Gym for an hour
• Clean house
• Pick up Mary at 11:45
• Snack, show, nap for Mary
• School Lego Club 2:35-4:00 (Somehow I ended up in charge of this.)
• Pick up dinner on the way home
• No more 5:30 basketball games!
• Young Women's activity 7:00-8:30

Thursday

• Mary to school 8:15
• Cardio class 8:30-9:30
• Laundry day again
• Pick up Mary at 11:45
• Snack, show, nap for Mary
• A good afternoon for visiting teaching
• Pick up David at 2:35
• Snack time
• Practice reading with David
• Make dinner
• Dinner at 5:30
• Bedtime routine 7:30

Friday

• Mary to school at 8:15
• Cardio and dynamic strength class 8:30-10:00
• Pick up Mary 11:30
• Help in bilingual kindergarten class 12-1
• Grocery store
• Pick up David at 2:35
• Snack time
• David's Friday folder and homework
• Dinner at Culver's or Noodles & Co. or Panera
• Bedtime routine 7:30

Saturday

• ???

Sunday

• Catch up on any Young Women stuff
• Write a letter to my brother Daniel on his mission
• Get everyone's clothes ready for church
• Church 11-2
• Dinner 5:00 or so
• Family meeting (review responsibilities, allowance, calendar) at 6:00 or so
• Bedtime routine 7:30

COMMENTARY

Yes, I do work out almost every day. (Or I intend to. Most weeks it ends up being 3-4 times instead 5 for various reasons, usually sick kids.) I know I don't look like I work out, but I'm battling a bad set of genes and stay-at-home-mom-hood, so, trust me, the situation would be a lot worse if not for my trusty gym membership.

We also fill up our time (and home) with plenty of play dates and friends for dinner. I also have Young Women presidency meetings a couple of times a month (I'm the secretary)--whenever we can manage to get together. And there's the usual errand-running, like Costco, Target, etc. Once a month I have a Relief Society meeting in the evening. I just like being with Greg too much to commit to anything else in the evenings, like a book club or something. Even though we've been reunited for well over six months, I still feel like our time together is immensely precious. (And we do such important things with it--like watching Modern Family and Parks and Rec!)

Afternoon snack time is almost sacred. I cut up some fruit for the kids, give them peanuts or raisins, milk, and a few packaged cookies. (I used to make cookies for them, only to discover they prefer nasty Chips Ahoy.) We all sit at the counter for ten or fifteen minutes and talk. Mary has established a strict system whereby they each take turns saying one thing about school that day. I may pretty much (unintentionally) ignore my kids for the rest of the afternoon while I'm folding laundry, blogging, making dinner, or whatever, but I am totally present for those fifteen minutes. (Yeah, I know my kids deserve more than fifteen minutes, but we have to start somewhere.) I'm good about practicing reading with David. I need to be better about spending one on one time with Mary too.

Evenings I usually spend with Greg, unless he needs several more hours to study. He usually needs at least a half hour or so to finish a homework assignment or something. So I catch up on email or read blogs until he's finished with schoolwork for the day. Then we talk and watch an hour or two of T.V. I also read for a while. Right now I'm reading the New Testament and a biography about T.E. Lawrence. I usually turn off my light by 11pm.

I'm not super crazy busy. Because of our stage of life, I think I have a pretty good balance. We're busy enough that I appreciate with a sigh of relief those mornings or evenings when we don't have to be anywhere. I very rarely wake up with that panicky feeling of "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO TODAY?!" (like back in the old days). But I also have lots of patches of spare time, and the kids have plenty of down time too. Like I said, it's a pretty good balance.

But even with the good balance, I feel like my time is fragmented. Just when I am focused on and immersed in a task, it's time to pick someone up from school or start dinner or switch a load of laundry. I'm not overwhelmed with the constant crises, sleep deprivation, neediness, and messes of babyhood and toddlerhood. I will admit that I feel freer than when I had a baby on my hip and a toddler on my leg. But I still find that the structure of my life doesn't easily lend itself to long periods of concentrated effort, be it effort on tackling a disorganized basement or writing a thoughtful letter to my baby brother.

It's hard to accomplish anything meaningful.

Correction: It's hard to accomplish anything that FEELS meaningful.

I suppose that's the point. Finding meaning in the rhythm of daily life.

P.S. I realized as I wrote this post that this is one of the very reasons that I like blogging. I can sit down and post something within the time allotted me at that moment, be it five minutes or an hour. I always wish I had more time to be thoughtful. And, I suppose like everyone who blogs, there are a thousand posts in my head that never make it out. But some stuff does make it from my head to the Internet. And it stays there, in its same form. (Unlike the clean laundry and the lasagna and the disinfected toilets.) A single post usually doesn't feel very significant. But after a while they accumulate into something I really like: A record of our family. I guess that counts for something.