The Power of the Written Word

I was so proud when I learned to read. I distinctly remember sitting on my Uncle Perry's lap at my Grandma Barratt's kitchen table reading "Up." (And no, I wasn't 27. More like 4.) It woke a passion in me that I still have- I remember how excited I was when my mom gave me my first chapter book- Little Women. I still have it- a beautiful hardback version- and I reread it every few years. I remember the first time I read Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey. I remember how mad I was when my favorite guy died in Lonesome Dove (of course, that was just on Monday, so the pain is a little fresh still). A few things have happened in the last few days that have reinforced to me why written words have stayed powerful and meaningful to me.

If you've read my blog very much this year, you know how much I have worried about Kate navigating the social world of kindergarten. She is a shy kid, but so loving and sweet. She has slowly made her way to some friendships this year and has really extended herself in ways that took some real courage for her. Imagine my joy, then, when I pulled this note out of her backpack the other day:

Dir Kate

You are niss.

You are my friend.

I like you!

Anna!

You bet your ass I cried.

Second, I have recently re-read what could quite possibly be my favorite book of all time: Hannah Coulter, by Wendell Berry. As far as I'm concerned, Hannah Coulter should be bound in blue vinyl, printed on tissue thin paper, and given a gold guilded edge because it's just about scripture for me. It's a story of young love, mature love, friendships, and community, and it resonated with me more than ever on this last read through it because I have felt completely cushioned lately by my friends, family, and husband, and I have felt such gratitude for the love that others show me. A couple of passages that I love:

What is the thread that holds it all together? Grief, I thought for a while. And grief is there sure enough, just about all the way through. From the time I was a girl I have never been far from it. But grief is not a force and has no power to hold. You only bear it. Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery.

The room of love is another world. You go there wearing no watch, watching no clock. It is the world without end, so small that two people can hold it in their arms, and yet it is bigger than worlds on worlds, for it contains the longing of all things to be together, and to be at rest together. You come together to the day's end, weary and sore, troubled and afraid. You take it all into your arms, it goes away, and there you are where giving and taking are the same, and you live a little while entirely in a gift. The words have all been said, all permissions given, and you are free in the place that is the two of you together. What could be more heavenly than to have desire and satisfaction in the same room?

Seriously, why are you not on Amazon already?

Third, there is this: I generally practice "Separation of Church and State(ments made on my blog.)" Perhaps sometimes it seems that I don't value my religious beliefs since I so infrequently discuss them here, but actually quite the opposite is true. I recognize that so much of what I write here is a little trite, or profane, or of little consequence- I just don't want to dirty up something that I value a great deal. That said, a few weeks ago, I was really struggling. I didn't feel my priorities were in order, I felt dissatisfied with my life, I was frustrated and demotivated in my church calling. I felt alone and needed I help. I went (or perhaps "fled" is a better word) to the temple, and as I was waiting I opened the Bible- it fell to the following passage in Psalms (143):

"Hear my prayer, O Lord, give ear to my supplications: in thy faithfulness answer me, and in thy righteousness...Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate...I stretch forth my hands unto thee; my soul thirsteth after thee...Hear me speedily, O Lord: my spirit faileth...Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust; cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee...Teach me to do thy will; for thou art my God, thy spirit is good; lead me into the land of uprightness...Quicken me, O Lord, for thy name's sake; for the righteousness' sake bring my soul out if trouble..."

I used to think, "What a load of baloney..." when someone would say the scriptures just fell open to the exact passage that they needed, but I'm done making fun of those people, because as I read those words, I knew that my fears and frustrations were known to my Heavenly Father. I knew He cared for me and wanted to comfort me.

Last- I've also made mention of how tiring the girls' constant bickering is. After a spectacularly difficult day, I found the following note from Kate on my desk:

I am sorry Mom.

I love you.

From Kate

All She Wants To Do Is Dance! Dance!

Between her dance festival and her dance recitals, Kate had a very "dance-y" week last week.

She takes dance at The Dance Conservatory in Cedar Hills, and I am so happy with the program. My favorite thing every recital is the costumes.

This year Kate was a frog and a princess.

Isn't she cute?

(this entry was appended by Bruce) The entire video of one of Kate's dances. Perfect Synchronicity!

The thing about a frog costume, though, is that it sure makes it hard to pick your own child out in a crowd...

I think that Kate's favorite parts of dance recitals are (in order):

1. The applause

2. The flowers

3. The lipstick

Grandpa Jack helped me surprise Kate with flowers.

"How come I didn't see you sneak my flowers out of the house?" she asked.

"Because I didn't."

"How did you get them, then?"

"I'm not telling you because then I won't have secret ways to surprise you."

"That's dumb."

Kate was not hip on sharing the spotlight with her sister.
When Grandpa asked Kiki to get in the picture, Kate casually sidled over to her.

"Sister? What sister? I have a sister?"

Kate and her favorite dance friend, Camryn.

My friend Steph came to support us.

Steph was also supportive of dinner at JCW's after the recital. She's pretty awesome like that.

Cleaning the Garage Is a Real Opportunity

Yeah...an opportunity to have conversations like the following:

Me: Are you sure we need SEVEN tents?

Long-Suffering Husband: Yep. We have room for them so I don't understand what the big deal is.

Me: What in the world do you think you might use them for?

LSH: The Scouts.

Me: Oh, the scouts. Would that be scouting with the sons you don't have?

LSH: Well, you never know.

Me: Yeah. Well, what I DO know is that the scouts are responsible for a good 80% of everything that's ever gone wrong on public lands.

*******

LSH: You don't need to talk to me like we are on an episode of Hoarders.

*******

Me: Bruce, get over here! I need help scooping up a dead mouse!

*******

LSH: THIS ACID IS BURNING MY HANDS!!!!!!!

Good times.

Dear Children: When you wonder why your bike is listing to the right, and your trike is a "2 Back Wheels Bike," I have something to show you.

RIP, Mrs. Stegner

I have frequently rhapsodized about one of my favorite authors, Wallace Stegner. He died in a car accident 16 years ago, and today in the paper I read that his wife had passed away a few days ago. Here is what he said about her:

"She has had no role in my life except to keep me sane, fed, housed, amused, and protected from unwanted telephone calls...also to restrain me from making a horse's ass of myself in public, to force me to attend to books and ideas from which she know I will learn something; also to mend my wound when I am misused by the world, to implant ideas in my head and stir the soil around them, to keep me from falling into a comfortable torpor, to agitate my sleeping hours with problems that I would not otherwise attend to; also to remind me constantly (not by precept but by example) how fortunate I have been to live for fifty-three years with a woman that bright, alert, charming, and supportive."

I'd wager that a glorious reunion was had a few days ago.

Snakes, Slip-n-Slide, and Year Seven

Sunday was my nephew Porter's seventh birthday. He is such a good boy- he deserved to be celebrated, and my sister-in-law Angie knows how to throw a birthday party in style.

Many important people were on the guest list, so Dan took care to dress in his birthday finery.

Dan with Doug and Trea. In Shirtless Dan's defense, the party was a luau. I'm sure he'd just recently misplaced his coconut shells.

My nephew Theo was there. I tried to convince him to smile, but he was in a VERY serious mood.

Bruce and Kate with the birthday boy.

The temperature was somewhere barely above 70, but after such a long winter and lingering spring, no convincing was necessary to get the kids to go on the slip and slide.

Theo. Now naked, but still serious.

Dan and Jack have been at work installing a lengthy zip line across the back pasture. Kate wanted no part of it, but Kiki was game. When I went to backyard to retrieve her, Kiki had a surprise for me.

She had caught a snake. ALL BY HERSELF.
What I wish I had a picture of was Grandma Kay and Grandma Ellie running like hell the very second they figured out she was not playing with a toy.

We sang for the birthday boy.
I like this picture because even Theo is joining in.

Happy Birthday, Porter!

Dear Mom: You Are Responsible For Everything That Has Gone Wrong In My Life

Aaah, Mother's Day. My post is overdue.

My friend Anne and I have frequently laughed about our level of brattiness towards our mothers when we were teenagers. She in fact, while I can't remember her exact words, was the one who told her mom that everything that had gone wrong for Anne was her mother's fault. That's the plight of motherhood, I suppose: You give a wholehearted effort yet get blamed for things that had nothing to do with you. I think every mother dreams of the day when their children finally realize what actually goes in to being a decent mom. I had not been a mother for very long when I realized that my mom was doing her best, and any shortfall perceived on my part had more to do with ME than HER. Mother's Day for me is generally a little conflicted because while I want to honor my own mother, I can't shake my selfish desires for a day off and a little pampering. I need to get over it for my own sake. (Seriously though- I ate cold cereal with Kiki while Bruce slept in. Could you all gently encourage him towards at least a nice breakfast next year?)

In a burst of spontaneity, we wound up celebrating the day with two of my favorite families in the neighborhood. My own mom was out of town with HER mom, so it was nice to have a celebration with two really awesome moms.

Jaime, me, and Janet

The Real Housewives of Utah County.
(I couldn't decide which picture I liked better, so they both made it.)

Our husbands grilled some meat while Janet and I made all the sides, breads, and desserts. "How is this different from any other day?" we wondered aloud. Especially when we were cleaning up. (See...I need to get over it.)

Our kids had a great time.

My buddy Ethan is the one in front. We have a conflicted relationship. He doesn't care for me at all on Sunday when I'm "The Primary President," and wants to move in on weekdays when I'm "The Lady with MarioKart." I honestly wonder if he realizes that I am BOTH of those people.

I asked for new pans for Mother's Day. Bruce was scared I was punking him. "So, is she just saying she wants pans because she wants me to say, 'No, no, no, I'm getting you a day at the spa instead.' Or maybe she just knows we need pans but if I buy the pans she's just going to act like a martyr about it. Even if she wants pans, admitting I bought pans for my wife for Mother's Day is going to make me look like a royal ass."

I bought the pans myself. I really REALLY wanted them. No mind games intended.

Look at them! They are beautiful and they are just drying by the sink.
And they are heaven to cook with. I'm so happy about the pans.

I've picked on Bruce a little about Mother's Day, so I have to say this: I'd venture to guess that the majority of my regular days are better than the Mother's Day of many others. I have a good life, good kids, and a great husband. I feel really lucky because my life is very close to the one that I hoped for myself, and that's the best gift.

Kate drew this picture of me for Mother's Day.
The back says:
My mom is 31 years old. She is 7 feet tall. She weighs 20 pounds. She is really good at cooking. I love her because she tucks me in at night.
From, Kate

She really is a good little artist.

I personally think it's an incredible likeness.

What To Do With a Girl

Dear Brooke,

"What do you to with a girl? Please help." How can I deny such a request, even though you are widely considered "The Best Mom I Know" in every circle? So, I will mine my vast expertise derived from being a girl and bearing two girls.

First, most of parenting a girl is the same as parenting a boy (for now, anyway). Hold her and love her and whisper secrets in her ear when you rock her at night. Also, don't let anyone pressure you into putting giant bows in her hair unless YOU want to. I feel pretty strongly about this.

Later, remember these things (I try to, because it's not like my job is done):
1. Teach her that she doesn't have to take anybody's crap. She doesn't need to be rude about it either, but you can stop a lot of trouble by being the person who is willing to say, "Can you help me out and explain what you just said one more time? Because what it sounded like to me was that you were calling me a poisonous bitch and I just KNOW that a person of your caliber would never use language like that."
2. Encourage her to get as much education as humanly possible. Start the conversation early. Tell her that she can do whatever she wants to do with her life. That said, if she chooses to stay home with her kids, she should know that that's the hardest and most worthy choice. THAT said, tell her about your college friends who ALL got their Bachelor's and who ALL stay home most of the time and who are awesome.
3. Teach her to wipe front to back or prepare for a lifetime of UTI's. (Sorry if I just made anyone uncomfortable but these are the facts.).
4. Do not ever disparage yourself in any way in front of her. She will absolutely internalize the message that you don't like your body, or your face, or your attitude, or your clothes. It will impact her in a negative way for a significant amount of time, so treat yourself in a loving way and recognize that by doing so you are communicating your love for her as well.
5. Let her dress how she wants. Seriously, who cares?
6. Let her wear her hair how she wants. Again, who cares?
7. Teach her that when she is dating a boy, he is on his best behavior around her. While we all can generally accept the best in someone, dating is about deciding that you can accept the WORST in someone. If she can't accept the very worst qualities in a guy, the relationship needs to be over. Like yesterday. She deserves the best (see #1).
8. Just like your boys (I imagine), trust your gut. You are an amazing mom. xoxo Bec


What advice do you have for my friend Brooke? She just had her first baby girl after FOUR boys! I'd like wisdom from my amazing friends for one of my amazing friends.

Kiki's Been Shorted on Cuddle Time

"Let me tell you something. I never get cuddled enough. I know cuddling up to my mom while she's cooking dinner or teaching piano probably isn't the best time, but sometimes I just can't help myself. So I LOVE it when my mom tells me to go get a book so we can read and cuddle. It NEVER lasts long enough for me. So I've found myself a secret cuddling weapon guaranteed to increase the duration of my cuddling time. It's called Lonesome Dove, and it's 945 pages long, and every time my mom says, 'Let's read and cuddle,' this baby is what I'm dragging out."