32 napkins

Thirty-two napkins, freshly washed, pressed, and folded.

Ready and waiting for last night's etiquette dinner for the church youth group.

(My assignment was the food. I hear that "doing the food" for such events--figuring out the menu, understanding the costs, knowing where to buy the food and how much, organizing the preparation and the logistics of serving, and so on--gets easier with experience. I suppose I am one experience closer to easier now!)

The event was a success. Now there are just a few more teenagers out there who know how to properly butter a roll and what exactly to do with those freshly washed, pressed, and folded napkins.

Jealous

Our piano was delivered yesterday afternoon.

More about the piano later. This week is much busier than usual. I don't have time to play the piano, let alone blog about it.

Mary has been playing the piano nearly every waking moment since it arrived. I am jealous.

Scary face

Before church today, Mary decided she wanted to make her face scary.

She said it was to scare away the bad people in the neighborhood. All I know is that she sure scared ME. (At least until the washable marker was wiped away. Phew.)

Difference of opinion

David and Mary have a difference of opinion regarding the role of a baby in the family.

David believes every family should have a baby. He has pointed out that our family is missing a baby, and our family is clearly incomplete without one.

Mary, on the other hand, believes every family should have one boy and one girl. So our family is, in her words, "perfect." If we had a baby, then "the boys and girls wouldn't be the same anymore."

This is not an announcement.

And I do not know whose opinion will prevail.

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.

The big hill

Yesterday after school Greg took David skiing...down the big hill. David has spent three lessons working up to this day: Going up the chair lift and coming down a real run. And he did it!

They had a wonderful afternoon skiing, father and son. David was brave about the chair lift, and throughout the afternoon he definitely improved his turns. At one point, a young college age woman, who was learning to ski, told David he was awesome and way better than she was. He was so proud when he realized that he really was better than her! He had a great time.

Hooray for David!

(Seriously, this totally makes up for basketball.)

Day off at the Dells

David had a couple of days off of school last week. He had a few fun play dates, but I was feeling antsy, like we should go somewhere and do something. Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you have a break from school, something special?

Greg kindly readjusted his study schedule, and we decided to drive north for an afternoon of fun at the Dells. From the moment we knew we were moving to Wisconsin, we've heard nonstop about "the Dells." To which I would meekly ask, "Um, what are the Dells?" The answer was invariably something about "a really fun place with lots of fun things." Kind of vague. Eventually I was able to gather that the Wisconsin Dells is the water park capital of the world and all because some rock is showing on the edge of a river. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around, so Friday afternoon seemed a good chance to check it out.

We went to the indoor theme park at the Kalahari Resort. We refused to spend the million dollars it would cost for all-access wristbands. So we told the kids we were going to golf, and then they could each pick two other things to do.

First we tackled the 18-hole miniature golf course.

David recently finished a golf unit in his P.E. class, and he was excited to brush up on skills.

Mary employed a rather unusual technique.

She also liked to ride around on her club like a horsey. Meanwhile, David remained remarkably focused.

Again, that classic Mary technique. She was stubborn about it. Heaven help you if you try to show her a different way.

Though, she finally let her daddy help on the final hole.

After golfing, Mary wanted to do a dancing video game. David joined in (though he was careful to specify that it didn't count as one of his two things).

They had a good time.

Then Mary chose to ride on the carousel. Although the picture shows otherwise, I promise that Mary was happy and Greg was not hating life. (Or maybe he was...)

Then David and I rode on the ferris wheel. This is what it looks like at the top of a giant indoor ferris wheel.

David and I were trapped at the top for a long time. As you all know, when trapped on a ferris wheel, pass the time by kissing your sweetheart.

Love this kid.

David's final choice was the go-carts.

Mary and I came along too. (This was the first time I'd ever driven a go-cart! I'm embarrassed by how nervous I was. I kept having to remind myself that ten-year-old kids do this just fine.)

I had the cutest passenger ever. She raised her arms over her head and squealed with delight. It was fun, fun, fun for everyone!

Thank you, Kalahari Indoor Theme Park. We had a great time! Seriously. But we also weren't sad to leave. The thing about indoor theme parks? They are so LOUD! It was nice to hear my husband's voice again and not just see his lips moving.

Before stopping for dinner, I convinced Greg to drive around town some. I was still not understanding the Wisconsin Dells. Driving around didn't help much. It was theme park after theme park, water park after water park, some indoor, some outdoor. There were also dozens of fake museums, themed hotels, resort wear shops, candy stores, arcades, boat tours, mini-golf courses, and, of course, an upside-down White House.

As we drove through town, Greg observed that it was like Ocean City, Maryland but without the ocean. Good observation. But Ocean City, Maryland exists BECAUSE of the ocean. Um, without the ocean what would be the point of Ocean City? I guess that's where the water parks come in. This is the Midwest, after all. You're thousands of miles from an ocean, so if you want a resort town, you gotta build the ocean. Hence, the water park capital of the world.

But why here? I wondered. Why would the water park capital of the world spring forth in this spot?

Well, it's all because of some rock.

There are sandstone bluffs along the Wisconsin River. You can see them on a boat tour. In classic Midwestern fashion, there's a piece of rock showing, and everyone goes bazerk. I mean, do you really think this and this and this and and so on is a proportional response to this? Sheesh. Only in the Midwest. (To be fair, in the West, if there's a cluster of broad leaf trees, everyone goes crazy.)

Anyway, once I finally realized that the Wisconsin Dells are really just a place to spend money in the name of family fun (not really unlike Disneyland), I was oddly at peace and ready to eat dinner.

So in the name of family fun, we went to Buffalo Phil's, where your food is delivered via train.

Choo! Choo! Here are our beverages, including some refreshing homemade root bear.

The trains were a big hit with the kids! It made waiting for the food so much less painful.

And, finally, their meals arrived, delivered by the Rio Grande.

It was a happy, train-filled meal.

Soon we drove home, never to return again.

Just kidding.

It was a really fun afternoon. And when I look outside and see that snow, or worse, when I feel that biting bitter wind, I think, "You know, Wisconsin isn't a bad place for a giant indoor water park." I have a feeling we won't be able to resist.

Fragmented mind

I have a scientist friend who currently does some heavy-duty technical writing from home ten hours a week. She also has two elementary school age children. We were chatting the other day, and she was telling me how surprisingly hard it is to find ten hours a week to concentrate. In theory it should be easy, just two hours a day. But finding two consecutive and uninterrupted quiet hours for concentration at home every day is quite the challenge. And that's with both of her kids in school. Mind you, she wasn't complaining. She was just stating what she has found to be true in her life.

I was nodding my head in agreement. Vigorously.

Now, I do not have any employment requiring me concentrate at home. But I have often wondered why, since having kids, my mind seems so frazzled and frayed. Right now (for first the first time in five and a half years) I can't blame it on sleep-deprivation. (Hooray! It's true--I'm not sleep-deprived!) But my brain still seems a bit (a lot!) on the mushy side. Why?....I just can't bring myself to believe that motherhood has actually made me stupider....

I think that motherhood has not changed my mind, but it has changed my time. My time is much, much more fragmented now. This fragmentation means that I don't often have long stretching periods of time to really concentrate on a task. I am a slow, methodical person. So not having time (as in several consecutive hours to work on a project, or meditate on and study out a problem, or write something coherent and thoughtful) takes its toll on my life (and my feelings of accomplishment). It also takes its toll on my mind because I get so out of practice concentrating that finally given the opportunity it takes extra long to get the old brain cranking away. (Sometimes when I go to the temple, and have two hours of quiet meditation, I almost start panicking because I can't remember how to be alone with my own mind for two hours straight! It's kind of like meeting an old friend you haven't seen in a while.)

The problem isn't that I don't have time. At this stage of life, we are not frantically busy. I can't pretend that I'm one of those people who is super busy and has to be twelve places at once. I'm not. I have plenty of free time. The problem is that it's fragmented. It's divvied up into little chunks here or there. For me, I'd like to use that "free time" for a million different home organization projects (which are desperately needed), more thoughtful blog posts, or....well, if I ever had more than five minutes to think about it, I'm sure I could come up with something else I'd like to do with huge chucks of unscheduled time. So even though I have a fair amount of free time, it is inefficient time, time frittered away in 20 minutes chunks.

Like the friend I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I'm not complaining. Promise! I'm just stating what seems to be true in my life. I have the fragmented mind of a mother. And I'm not sure I see the situation changing anytime soon.

***

Hmmm. I am suddenly feeling inspired to record my schedule for a typical week. Maybe I'll do that. But not right now. I have 13 important minutes to fritter away uselessly before I have to be somewhere.

If they could see him now

On Sunday, David was identified as THE MOST REVERENT CHILD in Primary. Greg was there and could corroborate that David was indeed the most reverent child, sitting attentively in his chair with hands to himself and feet on the ground.

David was very proud of himself. When we had company over that evening, he made sure that we explained his accomplishment to them.

[I just wanted all of David's sweet, long-suffering, patient, (and exasperated) former Primary teachers and leaders to know. David spent his first year of Primary running away and his second year rolling around on the floor. But no body gave up on him, and no body stopped loving him.]

Potty training alert

Here is a tip for all of my friends sending their oldest sons to kindergarten next year.

You still need to put the finishing touches on potty training. I know, I hear the groaning. But it's true!

Trust me, I thought I had finished potty training David years ago. But there was still one more step: He needed to learn how to pee without his bum hanging out. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until, oh, YESTERDAY.

As we were leaving for church, David announced he needed to go potty. Then he announced that he was going to go potty "not the bare bottom way." He explained, nonchalantly, that Mr. M, their P.E. teacher, had told the kindergarten boys that they shouldn't pee "the bare bottom way." They also shouldn't pee "the bare belly way." (I wonder if Mr. M ever expected that he was one day going to be teaching five-year-old boys not to pee with their behinds flapping in the wind.)

My immediate reaction was to turn red with shame. Who cares if David could write his name, count to 40, follow directions, and read simple sentences. I had sent him to kindergarten without knowing the socially acceptable way to PEE. I was consoled, though, by the fact that it seemed that there were multiple bare bottom offenders in the kindergarten class.

My next reaction was to scold Greg for failing to teach his son to pee the right way. Wouldn't you agree that teaching your sons to pee without their bums hanging out is a father's responsibility? Really, I think it's in the Proclamation on the Family.

He shrugged and said, "I was just doing what my dad did."

"What did your dad do?"

"Nothing."

"So how did you learn to stop peeing with your pants pulled all the way down?"

"One day in first grade, I was peeing the bathroom, and I looked around and realized I was the only one with his behind hanging out."

Well, call me a helicopter parent if you will, but I prefer to take a more proactive approach. Greg is now under strict instructions to break David's bare bottom habit.

So to all of you other helicopter parents about to send your kid on his first forays into the restrooms of a public school: This summer, in between flash cards and splash pads, don't forget to teach your son that when he's peein' in the pot he should be hidin' his hiney.