too fast

Lil' girl on her play phone: "Hi, Ma-Gah (Grandma, with the syllables backwards. They say dyslexia is genetic. . . .) How your day?. . . Good. . . . Okay. . . Bye!"

To me: "I call Ma-Gah."

To phone: "Hi Mommy. . . How your day?. . . Good. . . . Okay. . . Bye!"

To me: "I call Mommy."

To phone: "Hi Boy. . . .How your day? . . . Good. . . . Okay. . . Bye!"

To me: nothing

Me: "Umm, Lil, who did you just call?"

"A boy." She says over her shoulder as she walks out of the room.

* * * * *

A few days later,

"Mommy! Guess what? I sixteen!"

heaven help us all

Teaching me humility

Me: "Let's go downstairs and switch the wash."

Her: "No. Lauuuundry." (Emphasis on the LAUN - as if I don't know the word.)

My daughter is correcting my word choice and she isn't even two yet.

Thank you very much.

Our week in pictures

Face paint. . . .

Sleeping and trying to crawl. . .

Cut and dyed my hair. . . Cuddled the ear-infected child. . .

AND, he is allergic to. . . .something

The rest of his body looked even worse, if possible. Today his eyes are swollen and he still has hives on his legs and torso, but it seems to be going away.

NOTE: I have no idea what happened, only that it must have been something he ingested because his whole body was COVERED in hives. The only unusual thing he did was go to a friend's birthday party. But he went to the friend's house where I never have to worry about what they eat because everything is gluten free and organic and perfect (When I grow up I want to be like Olya). Maybe he is developing an allergy? Is that possible?

try, try again

I admit it. I was really worried when my oldest started kindergarten last fall. I panicked. How could I prepare him for being at school ALL DAY? (note - I love all day kindergarten!) He is only five! What if he was bullied? What if he was the bully? What if the work is too hard for him and he quits trying? What if the work is too easy for him and he quits trying? How could I know what he needed in the short hours he was at home? Even though he was beyond ready for school and I felt at peace with our decision, it was still scary.

The thing that eased my mind was family prayer. Every morning we would gather at the door and kneel together. I felt such a calming in my mind and my heart. I knew we were doing the right thing. I knew that even though I couldn't be with him all day, God could. And God would know what to help him with and what to prepare him for. I can not even begin to describe the peace and sweetness of those moments, when we all bowed before our Maker and felt His blessing.

And it worked so well for the first several weeks.

Then it started to get colder, and we had to add getting mittens, hats and boots to our morning routine. Plus, I was getting more and more pregnant; short tempered, tired and sick. I tried to keep the devotional feel of our mornings, but it slipped. Do you have any idea how hard it is to feel the Holy Spirit right after yelling: "What are you doing!? Get your shoes on! Stop touching your sister! Why are your SHOES NOT ON?! NOW KNEEL DOWN We are going to PRAY! STOP TOUCHING YOUR SISTER! Dear Heavenly Father. . . "

The feeling I got in my mind on those mornings was more like Heavenly Father saying: "Yeah, right. Apologize to them before you even try to talk to Me."

So I would. I would tell my kids sorry and then pray and ask God to forgive me for using my angry voice and ask his help in being patient. Some mornings it felt like such a joke.

But we keep trying. And I feel that trying is the most important thing. Sure we fail, but it is worth failing sometimes because when it works it is amazing. Sometimes I fail at being a good Mom, but I'm not about to quit that either. So I guess I'm just saying, to myself and to you my faithful reader (Hi, Mom): KEEP ON KEEP'N ON

Making up new terms

This post originally started out as an email to my father-in-law, but after talking to him a couple of weeks ago, I decided to make it public.

The other day my son asked why I called Grandpa Stevens "Dad." He knows that I didn't grow up in their house, so I tried to explain what being a father-in-law means, being a family "in the eyes of the law." And it occurred to me how cumbersome and inaccurate a distinction that is. At least in our case.

I think it would be more appropriate to call them my "in-practices." My mother and father-in-law treat me like I am their daughter. He isn't just my "father-in-law" he is my "father-in-practice." And I count my mother-in-law as one of my best friends - the relationship isn't described well enough as "mother-in-law" maybe "mother-in-spirit." That doesn't seem right either. . . . I need a new term to describe them.

So here are my in-facts. They are awesome.

Long before I got married I made a list of qualities I wanted in a husband; things I couldn't live without. It was almost a map of what I wanted my life to be like. I wasn't too specific, just things that were fundamentally important to me. After I met John, and before we started getting serious, I had to revise my list.

I loved the way I felt when I was with him, and I loved the way he treated me. I hadn't dated (too many) jerks, but he treated me better than anyone ever had. He acted like he was the luckiest guy in the world just being next to me. He never had to say it out loud, everything he did made me feel important. And this was before we were serious about each other. It got better.

I know that he got that from his father. John and his mom and his sister all told me on separate occasions about how his dad has always made sure that everyone around knows how much he loves his wife. I have noticed it myself. And I see my husband repeating it with me. I love my husband too much to even begin to describe how this makes me feel - words just don't cut it. Watching my husband and his father made me want to have boys, lots of boys just like him. I hope more than anything that they will learn to love this way, with obvious abandon.

So I would like to say thank you to my father-in-law.

Dear Dad,

Thank you for giving me the most amazing gift anyone has ever received - your son. He is the source of the greatest joy in my life. I didn't realize how wonderful life could be until I married John. No one ever told me that marriage could be so much fun. And he treats me so well. I don't know anyone except your wife whose husband is as thoughtful. He is perfect for me, and I can never repay you for raising him to be the man that he is.

Also, this is why his occasional faux pas are so funny to me. He could never in a million years deliberately insult me, and he has helped me to know this so deeply that I could never take offense. It is just not possible for him to mean to hurt me in any way. So much so that a few years back he was giving me a blessing, and he felt inspired to tell me something he didn't think I would like to hear. So we sat in silence for several minutes while he mentally argued with God about what he should say in the blessing. The man would argue with Deity to spare my feelings. I love him so much.

Thank you for sharing him with me. I hope that one day we can do the same for our sons' wives.

Love,

Lindsay

(your daughter-in-fact)

keep your wine and bubble bath - I've got girl scout cookies

This year I bought a case of girl scout cookies, and I'm not sharing them with anyone.

I've invented a whole list of rules about eating them so that it feels like the ultimate luxury.

• The cookies are stored above the cupboards, so that I have to push a chair over to reach them (also, it feels like I'm being sneaky).
• No-one can touch me while I'm eating cookies.
• I wait until the children are all in bed and the baby has been fed for the last time.
• A glass of milk is mandatory.
• I won't do anything productive while eating my cookies. This covers most of my evening activities like replying to emails, folding clothes and paying bills. I don't even want to have to click the mouse.
• I only watch TV shows or movies that have nothing to do with children or my life, (eg: sci-fi or teen drama) unless you count having a snarky heroine (Hello, Veronica Mars).

I know, you probably think I'm lame. But I like finding joy in simple things.

Plus, I got a cute thank you note from my neighbor-girl-scout. It says,

"Thank you for buying cookies. I can go to horsie camp now. I'm so excited! Love, Ella."

So on top of feeling sneaky and lazy, I get to feel that I'm doing it for a good cause.

He's a keeper

My shoulder was killing me the other day, so I rubbed some BENGAY into it while sitting on the couch by my husband and reading a book. He later confessed to me that he hadn't been reading his book like I thought he was. He was watching me. Why?

"You looked hot."

Ummm. . . what?

"You looked hot. Leaning over with your shirt pulled off your shoulder. . . rubbing oil into it. . . reading a book. . . "

"With my hair in a ponytail?"

"Yup."

"And my nerd glasses?"

"Yup."

"So what you're saying is that you like nerdy librarians who've hurt themselves and smell like old people?"

"Exactly."

"Well, you've come to the right place, my friend."

Oh. Boy.

Boy 1 - "Eww! My shoe stinks! Want to smell?"

Boy 2 - "Yeah." Shoe passes hands "Eww." Passes shoe back

Boy 1 - "Hey! It smells even worse if you put it really close to your nose. Try it."

Boy 2 - "OK" Passes shoe. "Gross!" (as if this were some sort of compliment)

Boy 1 - "Hey! Smell my sock. . . . "

* * *

Boy 1 - "Look at that mark on my finger. I hurt it."

Boy 2 - "Does it hurt?"

Boy 1 - "Only if I rub it hard like this."

Boy 2 - "Can I try?"

Boy 1 - "Sure." (Brother rubs his finger) "Ouch."

* * *

I'm not quite sure how to comment on this except to say something I'm sure I'll be saying a lot in the coming years - I don't get it.