Girls' Bedroom Switcheroo

Last week, my girls and I worked really hard to get their bedroom cleaned, organized, rearranged, and de-cluttered.  It was a really, really big job.

April Recap

This is by no means an exhaustive recap of the month of April.  Just a look at some of the fun we've had.  And, um, that doesn't mean the things that weren't photographed weren't fun, right?  Right.

My sister came to visit for Easter weekend.  Looking for someplace fun to take her that wasn't too far away, we took a chance and went to an Earth Day festival downtown.  A good time was had by all.  Probably because just about every booth at the festival was handing out freebies.  What's more green then FREE?

Bionic Man and Justone were fascinated by the hybrid vehicles.  Unfortunately, those weren't free.

Face painting, on the other hand, was free.

Random Thursday

Kids can be very, very funny.  Here are some things I've heard my kids and their friends say lately that I don't want to forget.

Justone:  (Said to me 1.5 hours before the school bus arrives.)  Um, Mom, all I need for school this morning is something I can wear that will make me look like a turn-of-the-century Russian immigrant who is a doctor and who is Jewish and works in America at Ellis Island.

The Train to Crazy

As if the tale of the Christmas tree that lasted 'til Easter wasn't proof enough.....here is more evidence that, here in Holland, we're just a little insane.

Luckily, we have a very patient dog.

Lego my Lego

On New Year's Eve, the Bionic Man and I usually go out to celebrate at the home of some friends who know how to throw really great [non-alcoholic] parties.  This year, we were all set to go out, but at the last moment both the Bionic Man and I realized that neither of us felt very well and we were both too tired to party in public.  We cancelled the babysitter, put on our jammies, and let our kids decide how they wanted to spend the night.

The children, of course, were thrilled.  It was determined that we would spend the night playing games and watching movies and lighting fireworks.  We did just what they wanted, even though the fireworks were lit in the pouring rain.

The Seventh Day of Christmas

I'm in the process of giving you twelve days of laughs at my expense.  Generous, aren't I?  Well, I can afford to be this generous, thanks to all the ridiculous situations I've got myself into over the last 34 years.  Carry on!

Today, I'm going to repeat part of a previous post, because the following embarrassing moments are just too good not to share again.   You can read the full post here, if you'd like.

Two Embarrassing Moments: Doctor's Office Edition

#1.  Lily was our most prenatally photographed baby.  Every time we went to see the perinatologist, they took lots and lots of pictures.  When I was pregnant with the other babies, we'd always made a big deal about letting the siblings come along to an appointment, especially if it was an ultrasound.  We were more cautious about that with Lily, considering the circumstances.  


Then one week, I decided to take all three siblings along with me; the baby had been moving a lot, I wasn't scheduled to have extra tests at that appointment, and it seemed like a good day to let them tag along.  (Ignorance can be soooo bliss.)  Unfortunately, we ended up waiting in the waiting room for over an hour--first time I'd ever had to wait more than 10 minutes at this particular office.  I hadn't brought toys or snacks, since it was supposed to be a "quick" appointment.  We were finally escorted to the exam room, where we waited an additional 30 minutes.  


If you have children, you can imagine how things were at this point.  The children were all over the place....over the table, under the sink, inside the bathroom, outside the bathroom, around the expensive 3-D ultrasound machine.  The classic, never-to-be-forgotten moment of that appointment was when I realized Justone was staring, completely transfixed, at the back of the bathroom door.  


"Mom, what is this?" he asked in a tone of hushed wonder.  


"This" was the very helpful poster demonstrating how to do a monthly self breast exam.   I somehow found the fortitude to explain what a monthly breast exam was to my six year old son and his equally curious sisters.  


Thus, I became the only woman on the planet whose six year old son reminds her to do her monthly breast exam.


#2.  Superkid was just over a year old when she and Justone and I went to see her gastroenterologist.  We had a long wait, which never bodes well for the rest of the appointment.  When the doctor came in, I had several concerns that I needed him to address about Sariah's g-tube feedings, comfort, etc.  I even had a video for him to watch so that he could see a behavior we were concerned about.  It was going to be a long appointment.


Superkid was cranky and tired.   Justone was cranky and bored.  The doctor and his assistant were very patient.  They tried to address my concerns over the ever-increasing din of attention-seeking children.  


Justone proceeded to become cranky and bored and hungry.  He was showing me that he was ready to leave in every way that a four-year-old can.  I wasn't done talking to the doctor.  So Justone grabbed my shirttail, and tugged it as he walked towards the door, whining, "Mom, let's GO!"  


The shirt I was wearing was one of those vintage-western types, with mother-of-pearl snaps up the front.....which quickly and easily popped undone at the first tug.  All of them.  Every stinkin' one of them.  And, since Justone was walking away--the hem of my shirtail in his hand--my shirt walked away with him.  


AAAAAA!  I'm still blushing!  The two doctors blushed, too, stammered unintelligibly, and quickly excused themselves from the room.  


Was it a coincidence that we soon moved across the country?  I think not!

The Newsletter

I was quite proud of this year's Christmas card.  Updated picture, nice scenery in the background, fun design, no Disney characters--a great improvement over last year.  Since it is one of the few times in any given year that I get to put my English degree to good use, I have a big thing about our newsletter.  I spend more time on the dang newsletter than I spend shopping for all of our Christmas gifts combined.  It is a sickness.

Naturally, I feel compelled to share this year's literary accomplishment on my blog.  Partly because I just found a stack of Christmas cards and newsletters that inexplicably did not make it out to the mail.  Here's hoping you got yours....and if you didn't.....well, here's the electronic version.

Best and Worst of 2010

Holland's Family Edition

Best Family Vacation Moments: night fishing off the houseboat with cousins, climbing Mt. Timpanogas, hiking in Logan Canyon with cousins, learning how much our dog loves to travel, discovering St. Louis's City Museum, laughing our heads off at Pickleville Playhouse, building sandcastles at Bear Lake.

Worst Family Vacation Moments: realizing the houseboat was built by Hobbits, discovering the climb to Mt. Timpanogas was a bit more treacherous than Dad remembered, losing Endeavor's shoes at Snowbird, watching tornadoes touch down as our minivan was pelted with hailstones, searching for the cap gun Justone wanted all over the western U.S. then finding it at our local Cracker Barrel.

Best Purchase: Bionic Man picked up a battery operated lawn mower to tide us over when our 36” lawnmower needed repairs. Turns out, the new mower is light enough that Justone and Endeavor can use it, and they became our summertime lawn care specialists. (Funny, Bionic Man hasn't felt much pressure to get the old mower up and running again.)

Worst Purchase: the harmonica Justone bought when he was supposed to be Christmas shopping for his sisters. Enough said.

Best Adjustment: Endeavor, Justone, and Superkid all went to different schools this year. Endeavor is a 6^th grader in middle school (yes, you read that right), Justone goes to an accelerated learning program at another school, and Superkid is in first grade at our new local elementary school. Despite all the changes, they have enjoyed their new surroundings, made new friends, and are doing well in school.

Worst Adjustment: Ruth's not quite ready to have the children at school all day, every day. She never knew grocery shopping could be so quick....or so boring.

Best Surprise: Superkid's cardiologist said her “ticker” was working so well, she didn't need to see him again for a whole year!
Worst Surprise: Ruth told the hairstylist she wanted to go “back to her root color” and came home with startlingly dark hair. Much, much darker than she ever remembered having.....after the initial shock wore off, the rest of the family decided they would love her anyway.
Best Days of the Year: Sundays when Dad didn't have meetings.

Worst Day of the Year: Fall Daylight Savings. Ruth changed the clocks before going to bed. Bionic Man got up in the morning, and thought the clocks were still an hour ahead. He was an hour late to his first meeting!

Best Performance(s): Endeavor ran cross-country for her middle school team this year, improving her personal record by more than 6 minutes! Bionic Man set a new personal record at the Indianapolis Half Marathon. Superkid won a huge prize package for perfected attendance in the month of May (the only month she didn't miss any school, ironically). Justone used things he found around the house to make an animated diorama for a school report, all by himself.

Worst Performance: after a summer spent safely hiking in “real “ mountains, Ruth slipped and sprained her elbow while walking with the children along a stream bed....in our neighborhood.

Best New Skills: Superkid learned to read, Endeavor is learning to play the violin, Bionic Man is taking guitar lessons, Justone knows how to fix the van door when it gets stuck (a skill Mom really appreciates), Ruth taught herself how to make slipcovers, and Hunter the Dog can roll over on command!

Worst New Skill: see “Worst Purchase”.

Best: having family members and friends all over the country who mean so much to us! We are blessed to have many wonderful people who show us love and set good examples for us in the way they live.

Worst: wishing that time and distance wouldn't prevent us from spending more time with those we love.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of You!

Love from Ruth, The Bionic Man, Endeavor (11), Justone (10 very soon), and Superkid (7)

I Have no Formula for Winning the Race

Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after another.  ~Walter Elliott

Last week, Superkid and I spent a day visiting with doctors.  Superkid had three specialists that we needed to have follow-up visits with, and somehow I was able to fit all three appointments into the same day.  It was a long day for both of us, shuttling between two downtown clinics at two different hospitals, with a couple of loooong waits in various waiting rooms.  No tests--which was nice--but a long day, nevertheless.  

Our follow-ups were with immunology, neurology, and genetics/metabolism.  Immunology was completely unproductive in that the battery of tests they had done provided no answers to why Superkid gets pneumonia so frequently, but productive in that the tests did show that Superkid has a healthy immune system, so we can cross immunology off the list of specialties that follow her.  The neurologist had some additional tricks up her sleeve to help combat Superkid's migraines, and I feel like we're seeing some improvement with those.  And genetics/metabolism was, like always, a full semester of advanced bio-chemistry fit into a single hour: extremely intense and very educational.

Can I just tell you that I am deeply grateful for Dr. Hainline, our metabolic specialist?  The man is my hero.  He never fails to have answers for problems with Superkid that have troubled me for years.  Dr. Hainline's answers don't always make the problems easier to deal with, but they give me something to hang on to, something to use, and sometimes even something to blame.  I am absolutely certain that one of the greater purposes of our Lily's brief life was to introduce us to Dr. Hainline.  

Case in point:  the immunologist we met with earlier that day was not exactly sensitive or sympathetic.  Also, I'm pretty certain he wasn't big on reading patient charts before walking into exam rooms, either.  His use of the phrases, "We've just wasted $2500 of lab work to prove to you your child is normal" and, "Go home and be thankful your child is healthy," were proof of that.  

After a very different meeting with Dr. Hainline, in which he had answers to all of my concerns, I drove away in my mini-van and cried.  I knew, without a doubt, that had it not been for Lily, who introduced us to Dr. Hainline, that I would be taking Superkid to specialist after specialist, looking for answers, and getting both sympathetic and unsympathetic responses that amounted to, "We don't know."

It overwhelms me.  Not just the recognition of how Lily's time with our family continues to have meaning and impact.  But also the recognition of how much love and sacrifice must have gone into Lily's decision to come to earth in such an imperfect body.

I need to take a deep breath and go get some tissues.  I'll be right back.

Okay.  So, I'm gradually learning more about the implications of metabolic disorders, particularly mitochondrial disease, which is what they suspect Superkid has in a mild form. I'm finding it much more difficult to educate myself about mitochondrial disease than it was to educate myself about congenital heart disease--for one thing, mitochondrial disease is so new and the various ways it presents itself are so different; there is no road map.  I'm also finding it much harder to discuss Superkid's mitochondrial disease with people.  As difficult as it is to discuss the possibility of future heart surgeries with others, at least we know what that future is and what it entails: we've done heart surgery,  so have a lot of other families;  it's very serious, but it is understandable.  I don't know what to say about mitochondrial disease, on the other hand; not only do I barely understand what it is, but I have absolutely no idea what a future with mitochondrial disease holds.  It's taking me much longer to adjust to this diagnosis and learn how to deal with it than it took when we learned about CHD's.  

I guess that is why I started this post with some thoughts on running races.  This is no short sprint I am running, as a mother.  I'm pretty sure it is a marathon and I've already lost a couple of toenails.  Then again, perhaps I'm not the one running this, but the one being pushed, Team Hoyt style.  For I have to admit, I'm not naturally inclined to accomplish the things that I have, thanks to the strength and well-timed nudges of my children.  And when I look at it that way, how can I not be grateful that they are willing to let me accompany them?

       

Bento Lunch, Yet?

My children usually eat lunches that we pack at home.  While I'm fairly confident that our school lunch program tries to provide food that is healthier for the students than what they could get for the same price from McDonald's, it's still heavily processed food.  Not to mention, at an average price of $2.50/day per student, it would cost me about $150 each month to let my kids have school lunch every day.

I don't think so.

This year I have three children with widely varying tastes and appetites.  Superkid would eat PB&J for every meal, if I let her.  Justone would fill up on pudding and granola bars, if I let him.  And Endeavor is at the point where she has to learn to fill up her always empty stomach with things other than empty carbs.  I made a goal at the beginning of this school year to come up with lunches that would give them variety, healthy choices, be filling, and that they would be able to enjoy despite the tempting highly processed foods everyone around them eats at lunch time.

Easier said than done.  Until Kami of no biggie introduced me to the bento lunch.  I had never heard of bento.  I'm pretty sure no one else in my neighborhood has, either.  But the bento concept was an answer to my lunchtime prep prayers.  (Not to be dramatic, or anything.)  For those of you who--like me--are saying, "ben-whaaa?" right now, here's Wikipedia's description:

Bento (弁当, bentō) is a single-portion takeout or home-packed meal common in Japanese cuisine. A traditional bento consists of rice, fish or meat, and one or more pickled or cooked vegetables, usually in a box-shaped container. Containers range from disposable mass produced to hand crafted lacquerware. Although bento are readily available in many places throughout Japan, including convenience stores, bento shops (弁当屋, bentō-ya^?), train stations, and department stores, it is still common for Japanese homemakers to spend time and energy for their spouse, child, or themselves producing a carefully prepared lunch box.

 littleeverydaythings.wordpress.com

family.go.com

After visiting a few of the sites Kami recommended, I was hooked.  Bento lunches are just plain pretty.  I really felt like I could get both Superkid and Justone to eat more than 2 of 5 items placed in their lunches if they could see all their choices before them.  I was also pretty convinced that they would try more lunch options if those options were presented in a visually appealing way. 

Here are pictures from my first day of bentos:

 All the bentos, lined up in their snap-lock containers.

 Endeavor's bento:  baked whole-wheat crackers, thin-sliced roast beef, strawberries, tiny celery sticks, chocolate chips.

 Justone's bento: sliced strawberris, cubed colby-jack cheese, baked whole wheat crackers, chocolate chips, tiny celery sticks.

 Superkid's bento:  sliced strawberries, cubed colby-jack cheese, chocolate chips, 1/2 hotdog bun, tiny celery sticks.

After the first day, I was really pleased to hear the kids talk about how much they enjoyed lunch AND open their lunch boxes and find empty containers.  Success!  The kids did report that things "spilled" somewhat, so I tried to remedy that the next time around.  Here are some bentos from this week:

 Justone's bento: mini-mini carrots, tomato slices, pepperoni slices, baked whole-wheat crackers, shredded cheddar, marinara sauce.

Superkid's bento: mini-mini carrots, banana, pumkin-shaped swiss cheese on whole wheat sandwiches (2), popcorn

One really interesting benefit of the bento lunch at our house has been that the kids are getting really into the whole concept.  They are making suggestions of things that would fit into the bentos.  I don't have a picture of this one, but one day Endeavor was willing to try cold pizza for the first time at lunch, just because she could see that the mini slices I'd made would fit into her bento.  

It was relatively easy to assemble the non-food supplies for our bentos.

When I first read about bentos, I kind of anticipated buying a bunch of supplies to make this work.  But, when I looked around my house, I was able to find quite a few things I already had that would work.  

Snap-lock containers: I happened to find these at my local Aldi, in a nesting set of 10,

a week or so before I started bento-ing.  I bought a couple of sets for $7.99/each.

Plastic pics:  wooden toothpicks will work just fine, but I decided to get some plastic ones,

since I can wash and reuse them.  I found these in the picnic section of my grocery store

for about $2/box.

Cookie-cutters:  the hallmark of bentos seems to be shaped foods.  I could have spent 

money on fancy sandwich cutters, but I just used cutters I already had as a guide to cut

around the food I made with a knife.

Silicone baking cups: the one thing I decided I was willing to splurge on,

these are invaluable for their flexibility and reusability.  I got mine at JoAnn's,

in the cake decorating section, using my 50% off coupon.  A set of 12 is about $10. 

Are you wondering how much time this is taking me?  Surprisingly, not much more time than it was taking me to pack our former lunches of sandwich-veggies-chips-applesauce-pudding.  You might notice that each bento is slightly different, since I have a child that hates cheese, a child who hates crackers, and a child who will try just about anything once.  The extra time (about 5-10 minutes) required is mitigated by the fact that we're now buying and eating fewer processed foods, and that a lot of the prep I can do the night before.  Plus, I'm using up some leftovers!  And yes, I'm making sure that these bentos are packed with plenty of ice. 

Let me tell you, the extra time was worth it when Endeavor hopped in the car the other day after school and reported, "The girls at my lunch table couldn't stop talking about my lunch!  They said it was the prettiest food they'd ever seen.  One of the girls said it was like edible art.  They couldn't believe that my mom would make my lunch that way."  If packing her lunch like that helps my middle schooler feel special, that totally justifies the extra time and thought.

Here are some of the good bento resources I've been using for ideas.  And, thanks again to Kami for the original inspiration.

anotherlunch.com

lunchinabox.net 

wendolonia.com

Let me know if you have any great lunch-packing ideas or resources, bento-style, or not!  By the way, Melissa at Another Lunch as the BEST recipe for homemade granola bars, here.  They were a hit with my entire family.

A Time and a Season

Not long ago, I was at the dentist or some other place where the person I was talking to didn't know me very well.  We'd already discussed that I had three children at three different schools.  Somehow, I said something about sewing, which led the conversations to things I liked to make, and eventually, the person I was talking to said something like, "Wow!  You are amazing!  How do you do it all?"

Like I said, it was someone who doesn't know me very well.  Or else they would know that there is toilet paper all over the floor of my children's bathroom, there is mascara spilled in my bathroom sink, a load and a half of dishes waiting to be done, a mysterious smell coming from my son's bedroom, a kitchen floor that hasn't been mopped for.....a while....., and a freakish spider invasion in the basement rec room.  I don't do it all.  I pretty much do what I have to do and what I want to do, and often ignore the rest. 

Here's the thing.  Along with the blogs that I check on regularly to get ideas for my house, I have another group of blogs that I check on regularly to get or give support to other families finding their way around Holland.  Each day, I find myself viewing the inside of two very different worlds: the shiny, pretty world where children pose in bright, handmade clothes on slipcovered couches and painted chairs, with burlap banners proclaiming the joy of the season behind them, as their mothers pull another batch of their signature cookies from the oven......and the less comfortable world where the children pose with their latest feeding tube or portable heart monitor next to a stack of laundry that needs folding while their mothers try to sound brave about the surgery that is around the corner and the fact that they haven't had a decent night's sleep since they came back from their last hospital stay.  I take notes on things I can replicate in my own home from the shiny world, and I make lists of people to pray for and symptoms to watch for from the other world.  It is a strange dichotomy.

During those times when I struggle with the contrast of those two worlds, I have to remember that there is a time and a season for all things.  I have to trust in a loving Father in Heaven, and have faith that He has a plan for all of His children.  We are each here to learn and to grow and--especially--to experience joy.  How we discover that joy in our lives, despite our individual trials, is up to us.  We don't all experience the same trials nor do we share similar opportunities for personal learning and growth, thank goodness!  Our experiences are going to to be as unique as we are.  The timing of our tests and our blessings and even our miracles are going to be different, too.

A time and a season.   Things can change so quickly.  I found these pictures taken on a family vacation, just before Superkid was diagnosed with her congenital heart defect.

And these, taken a few weeks after Superkid's diagnosis, when we were at Boston Children's Hospital, awaiting an experimental treatment that would hopefully delay open heart surgery. 

I could not have guessed, on the day the first set of pictures was taken, what twists and turns my own personal journey was going to take.  I could not have imagined, then, what it would be like to learn to insert a feeding tube into my baby's nose or what it would be like to select a place to bury my baby.  In the second set of pictures, I was learning to imagine those things, but I couldn't yet envision how my life could ever be "normal" again. 

Is my life normal, yet?  Not really.  Not in the way I thought it would be, when the sun was shining as I dipped my baby's feet in the water.  But it is also different, and better, and more manageable than I imagined it would be when I cried that day in the garden at Boston Children's Hospital. 



Those times and seasons are ever changing, and none of us can ever predict what new experiences will be ours with the next breeze.  For some of us, the tragedy of our day is running out of glue sticks before finishing the wreath we wanted to make, and for others the measure of a successful day is one in which our child didn't have to be admitted to the hospital.  Let's be kind to one another, recognize that we are all doing our best with what we've been given, and support one another as we go through these times and seasons at our own pace.  If an empty glue gun is currently your only concern, then pray for the mother who is wondering how much longer she'll have a baby to hold.  And, if you are just hoping to come home from the hospital today, then know that this, too, shall pass; there will be time to make other memories and maybe even a wreath or two.

May I invite you to rise to the great potential within you. But don’t reach beyond your capacity. Don’t set goals beyond your capacity to achieve. Don’t feel guilty or dwell on thoughts of failure. Don’t compare yourself with others. Do the best you can, and the Lord will provide the rest. Have faith and confidence in Him, and you will see miracles happen in your life and the lives of your loved ones. The virtue of your own life will be a light to those who sit in darkness....Wherever you have been planted on this beautiful but often troubled earth of ours, you can be the one to “succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees."

-Dieter F. Uchtdorf

The Invitations are Out

....now it is time to get crackin' on the rest of the party!

Superkid's seventh birthday is later in October.  We're having a party for her friends early in the month, so that Superkid's birthday won't be overshadowed by her daddy's extensive Halloween decor (among other scheduling issues, too).

During the summer, I saw the posts Lindsey from The Pleated Poppy did on her daughter's Teeny Tiny birthday party, and I immediately knew this would be the perfect theme for Sariah's party.  I did a Google search on "tiny party" and found additional inspiration here and here and here.  So, our party theme obviously isn't original, but I've had fun personalizing it for Sariah's enjoyment and adding a few touches of fall.

I've been using these colorful papers to make some of the decorations and party items.

I'll be making party hats using this template I found and shrunk down to the tiny scale I wanted.

I've been cutting out lots of little triangles, to make teeny-tiny pennant banners to use instead of streamers.

Pretty paper is also being used to cover little water bottles.

The invitations were a cinch to make, and I thought it was a fun touch to put the 2x2 inch invitation card inside progressively larger envelopes.  Just giving the hint of shrinking down to tiny size while the little girls open their invitations.

The real story on these invitations is that I didn't come up with the pennant banner front idea until today....when I was recreating an invite just for this blog post...I feel silly saying it.  What the guests received actually looked more like this before they went into the envelopes. 

 Simple, easy....but the pennant card really is cuter, don't you think?  Oh, well.  Too late, now!

 I was able to fit all the party info inside that tiny card by printing it onto paper, which I folded, accordion style, and glued inside the card.

I had some fun coming up with the wording for the invitation.  (We must use our English degree somehow, mustn't we?)

The invitation reads:

Once there was an itty-bitty baby,

Who grew into a pretty little lady.

We know she can't stay small forever,

She just keeps growing!  However...

....We thought it might be fun to celebrate

Superkid sprouting from small to great

At a little bitty,

                 teensy weensy,

                         skinny-mini,

                                       smally-wally,

                                                                    teeny tiny

                                party! 

(Time, address, RSVP, etc.)

We'll enjoy tiny snacks, tiny treats,

and have a tiny bit of fun

as we celebrate all things tiny

and 

Superkid's 7th Birthday.

Now that the invitations are out, I'm finishing the decorations, and gathering the supplies we'll need for games and fun.  Besides the tiny pennant banners, we'll make things festive with tiny balloons.

At the party, we're going to have a little fun with mini pumpkins and we'll even have a mini marshmallow roast!  I'm going to work on making some really darling party favors this weekend, so I'll post more pics and ideas, soon!

In the meantime, if anyone has seen some great ideas for cute cupcakes (possibly with a fall vibe?), please, please post a comment with a link.  It can't be too complicated, but I'd love to have something fun for the party since I'm not planning on having a big cake at this one.  Thanks!

I'm linking up with:

 

 

According to Superkid

 Superkid's favorite current phrase:  "Let's just say...." As in:

"Let's just say that today at school, I was so excited that they had chicken sandwiches for lunch."

"I know you want me to clean my room, Mom, but let's just say that cleaning my room is the last think I want to do right now."

"When I was out at recess, the craziest thing happened.  Let's just say that Jett asked me if I would be his girlfriend.  I know, it was so embarrassing.  I looked at him and, well, let's just say I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "Jett, I don't like you that way.  Let's just say we'll be friends."

(To understand this next one, you have to realize that at our house, we refer to passing gas as "tooting.")

As we walked into church the other day, Superkid coughed.  I responded automatically, "Cover your cough, please."

She looked up at me and asked, "Okay, but do you want me to cover my toots, too?  Because one of those just slipped out while I was coughing."

Superkid's favorite new word: "Literally."  As in:

"I literally do not understand why I have to do homework right now."

"Before I got on the bus, I literally had to go to the bathroom really, really badly."

"There are literally no socks in my sock drawer.  Literally."

We were shopping at Target.  As I wheeled the car past the women's clothing section, a rack of sweater vests caught my eye.  They looked oh-so-very-hip for fall.  I was smitten, drawn towards them by an unseen force.  Justone and Superkid were with me, and were extremely concerned as they saw my hand reaching out towards the sweaters.  "Don't get that, Mom," Justone warned me.  "I don't like it."

"Yeah," Superkid chimed in, "Me too.  I don't like it."

Since neither of them likes tomatoes, either, I ignored them and put the sweater on to see how it looked in a nearby mirror.  Justone shielded his eyes.  Superkid groaned.  I looked in the mirror and groaned a little myself.  "Nevermind," I said aloud, removing the sweater.  "I guess I don't want it."

Superkid rolled her eyes.  "Mom, if you had just listened to us, you would have known you shouldn't get that sweater.  Let's just say it's just not your style."

"It's definitely not your style," Justone agreed.  "It's ugly."

"Just how do you two know what my style is?" I asked, slightly put out.  

"Oh, we know, Mom, we definitely know," Superkid said seriously, folding her arms across her chest.  "And I think we know better than you do."

By now, two women nearby had discreetly moved more closely towards us.  They were obviously all ears to our conversation.  I was beginning to be more than a little offended by my six-year-old's claims.  "Oh, really?"  I queried archly.  "And just how do you suppose you have a better idea of my style than I do, hmmmm?"

"Because I remember what it says on your style card," Superkid replied matter-of-factly.  "Which I'm pretty sure you've forgotten."

"My style card?  What style card?" I demanded.

Superkid sighed, and patiently began to explain.  "Let's just say, that before we are born on Earth as babies, while we are living in Heaven, we get our style cards.  We go to one of the stores there, in Heaven, and we pick out the style card we want.  It tells us everything we need to know about our style.  They are all different.  Then, we get born, and we start to forget things.  Most adults," she looked pointedly at me, "have completely forgotten what their style cards say.  But kids usually still remember because we haven't been away from Heaven so long.  And that is why sometimes we really, really want to wear things that you say don't match.  They are on our style cards.  And I remember that that sweater--" she pointed accusingly "--is not on your style card."

I couldn't argue with that.  But I did ask, "Superkid, how in the world did you learn all that?"

Superkid replied solemnly, "I prayed about it.  More than once.  And that was my answer."

So let it be written, so let it be done. 

Written in Stone

I will be the first to admit that Sunday is often a hard day for me.  Don't get me wrong--that doesn't equate with Sunday being a bad day.  Despite everything, I usually enjoy the lessons and testimonies I hear at church, I love singing all the hymns, and I almost always walk out the door of the church feeling spiritually fortified.

It's just that I walk out that door and get into a van with three hungry, cranky children who are tired of wearing fancy clothes and need to get out all the loud laughter and uncouth behavior they suppressed during church, knowing that I have to go home and cook up a Sunday dinner and dreading the dishes that dinner will leave behind.

And don't even get me started on what getting to church is like.

Oh, my goodness.  All I need to say is "My husband is in the bishopric," and I'm sure any Mormon woman reading this will shake her head sympathetically and say a prayer for me.  Those of you who are not Mormons may need a more detailed explanation:  Mormon congregations are headed by a bishop, who plays a role comparable to that of a pastor in other churches.  The bishop has two assistants, called counselors.  The bishop and his counselors are referred to as a bishopric by the members of the congregation.  All leadership in our church is done on a lay basis--meaning no one gets paid--we all have other jobs to support our families, but do our church jobs on a purely voluntary basis.

So, when I say that my Bionic Man is in a bishopric, that means that he is away from home most of Sunday, participating in meetings, assisting the bishop, helping to maintain financial records, and giving service to the members of our congregation.  He also sits near the pulpit....while the children and I sit in the congregation.

Now, I know that the Bionic Man won't always be in the bishopric.  Mormons take turns filling all the various positions that keep our congregations running.  And I am grateful that he wasn't in the bishopric when our children were little.  I really shouldn't complain.  I'd just like someone to explain to me why it is so simple to get three children ready and out the door to the bus stop all by myself during the week, and sooooo difficult to get the same three children ready and out the door to church on Sunday.  But it is.

Last Sunday was really a doozy.  I'd been asked to substitute in one of the children's classes, so I was preparing a lesson.  No one could find their shoes.  The dog kept barking.  There were a few fights.  The Bionic Man made waffles for us before he left for the church, but he left quite a bit of batter and some dishes behind.  The house that had been clean on Saturday morning was trashed.  I was tired before I even got out of bed.  We were almost late for church.  Superkid wiggled up, down, and all over our bench for the first 20 minutes, then fell asleep.  Justone and Endeavor, normally well-mannered in public, could not stop pestering and bothering each other during the congregational meeting.  By the time I arrived home with the children, they weren't the only ones who were tired and grouchy and hungry.  So was I.

I proceeded to cook an impressive meal of broccoli, salad, sweet potato fries, and coconut almondine chicken with orange sauce.  The Bionic Man came home just a few minutes before dinner was ready and disappeared.  I asked the children nine times (eight nicely, the ninth in an "elevated" tone) to set the table.  It was set, but without key utensils.  The food was almost ready, so I called out through gritted teeth, "Dinner's ready!"

No response.  The children continued jumping from couch to couch as if I'd never spoken.

I tried again.  "Dinner is ready, now, come sit down at the table."

No response. 

I called for the Bionic Man.  Loudly.  I had no idea where he was.  One of the children though he'd gone upstairs.  I told Superkid to go find her daddy and tell him dinner was ready.  She wandered away toward the staircase.

I checked the steaming broccoli, which was done, and covered the chicken.  I waited.  Superkid skipped back through the kitchen.  "Is Daddy coming?" I asked.

Superkid looked surprised.  "I don't know," she responded.

"Did you tell him it was time to eat?" I questioned her.

"Ummmm...." Superkid thought about this, deeply, before she replied.  "I think I forgot."

"Go sit down at the table," I commanded the children, who were by now chasing the dog around the couches.  Then I called LOUDLY up the stairs to my husband, telling him dinner was ready RIGHT NOW.

I returned to the kitchen.  The children were still chasing the dog.  The coconut almondine chicken was getting colder every minute.  There seemed to be two choices:  I could get really mad....or I could eat dinner.

I ate dinner.

I filled my plate, prayed over it, and took a bite of chicken.  The children were oblivious.  My husband was nowhere to be found.  The broccoli was nice and tender, not overdone and mushy.  The only member of the family that paid any attention to the solitary diner was Hunter the Dog, who had taken his place under the table.  I shared some of my sweet potato fries with him.

Despite chewing very deliberately, I soon finished my Sunday dinner.  I cleared the table and began boxing up the leftovers.  There were a lot of leftovers.  Without the dog to chase, the children were hiding behind the couches and throwing sock balls at each other.  No sign yet of the Bionic Man.

I was just putting the broccoli into the fridge when the Bionic Man walked into the kitchen, hair tousled and sheet wrinkles pressed into his face.   "Hi, Daddy!" Superkid greeted him, while simultaneously Justone announced, "I'm hungry.  When's dinner?"

The Bionic Man rubbed his eyes.  "Did I just dream that you called me down for dinner, or did that really happen?" he wondered.

"Dinner," I replied acridly, "was served to those who wanted it thirty minutes ago.  It is now over."  And on that note, I put Hunter the Dog on his leash and we went for a long walk. 

We walked and walked.  I steamed and stewed for the first half hour.  For the second half hour, I thought about how I might have handled the situation differently.  Finally, I turned towards home and started giggling about it.  Having everyone ignore dinner was a somewhat funny first. 

I walked in the door and found a very different household than the one I'd left.  All the pillows and blankets and stuffed animals had been removed from the floor.  Superkid was busy shining windows.  Justone was sweeping the floor.  Endeavor was putting away the last of the dishes, and the Bionic Man was scouring the sink.

There was a hand-picked vase of garden flowers on the table, alongside a simple apology written on a chalkboard rock.

I could tell they meant it.  I gave them all hugs and told them how beautiful the kitchen looked.  I said I was glad I was their mom and wife.  They could tell I meant it.

The rest of the evening was peaceful.  I'm glad I took a time out instead of completely losing it.  I'm also glad the chalkboard rocks are being put to good use.

So, share some wisdom.  What do you do to make Sundays or other family times full of more goodness and less stress?  What is your strategy for the traditional home-cooked Sunday dinner?  What do you do to keep your cool when it seems like no one is listening to you?

And, in exchange for your wisdom, I'll share a little blogging tip:
I didn't write this post today, even though it posted today.  I wrote it earlier in the week, and used Blogger's post options to schedule a time for it to be published later.  This is a great feature, especially if you tend to blog in spurts.  Blogger will actually let you create posts and schedule a time for them to be automatically published.  Before you hit the Publish Post button, click just above that where it says Post Options.  A menu bar will appear.  Drag your curser to the right and check the box marked Scheduled At.  This, in turn, will drop a menu box down, giving you the option to name the date and time you wish your post to be published.  Once you've set up a time, just hit the orange publish button and forget about it.  It will take care of itself.  Enjoy!