Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Random Reasons Why I Love Ben

Today, in the car, I was asking Brianna and Ben what sounds different animals make. Then, out of curiosity as to what answer they would give, I asked, "What does a mommy say?" Without missing a beat, Ben answered, "Grrrrr!" I had to laugh. It's true, when I get stressed and frustrated, I growl. It's hereditary. My mother growls and several of my siblings are, likewise, growlers. Unfortunately, he's heard a fair amount of growling lately. Ben is always good for a reality check. I believe I will try to growl less often from here on out.

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Ben recently created his own word by crossing 'puny' with 'teensy'. The result: punsy. Feel free to add this to your vocabulary, and be sure to use (as Ben does) the other forms as appropriate: punsier, punsiest.
I believe that he somehow got this word creating trait from his Uncle David who created the word 'abnauseus' to indicate 'abnoxious' to the point of 'nauseum'.

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Ben will do silly things just to make me laugh. Things like: squishing chocolate all in his teeth and smiling at me.



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Ben can create anything. He is very artistically inclined, and when he wants to draw something, he just sits down and draws it. He doesn't waste time doubting his abilities, he just does it. He is really quite talented. The sword and shield above are just a very small example of his abilities.

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In addition to the sword and shield above, I love the look on Ben's face. It is so very typically Ben. When he is playing, he takes his roles very seriously.

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Ben was eating breakfast when I told him of President Hinckley's passing. He got up from the table, and returned with President Hinckley's picture. He then made the above memorial to President Hinckley. I thought it was so sweet that I left if for the whole day.

Later, we were again in the kitchen together, when President Hinckley's picture caught my eye and I said aloud, "Oh, President Hinckley! You will be missed!" To which Ben added, "Yes. I loved hearing you at General Conference."

How could you not love a kid like that?

Thursday, January 24, 2008

My Sweet Little Girl

Brianna has been sick all week. Yesterday, I put her in a chair in front of Sesame Street while I took a shower. This is what I found when I got out of the shower:

I couldn't bear the thought of waking her up to go pick up Ben, so I called my wonderful friend who came to the rescue and picked Ben up from school!
If you look closely, you'll see the snot/slobber mixture dripping from her face. My poor sick baby!

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After a loooong three-ish years of potty-training Ben, I remember vowing in frustration that if Brianna (a baby at the time) wanted to get potty-trained, she would just have to do it herself. I was done. I figured that she would eventually figure it out.

It must have registered in her infant brain that it was up to her. For about two weeks now, she's been saying "pah-ee" and signing potty; then off we go to the potty where she sits ever so proudly. She has had three successful encounters with the potty, which is a pretty low potty-encounter to potty-success ratio, but it gives me hope that maybe she will potty train before she's five.
She already requires reading material while on the pot.

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I just realized that this post covers two areas of parenting that make me feel totally inadequate: when my kids are sick, and potty-training.
When my kids are sick, I feel so helpless. I know how to comfort them, keep fluids in them, and give them any medicine, but when they're still miserable, I feel helpless. I hate it when they're sick! I hate to see them suffer.
And, potty-training?? Obviously I didn't/don't know what I'm doing. I tried everything I could think of, every trick in the book with Ben, and all it did was serve to frustrate us both. It was the worst!
Any advice this go-round? Because, basically, my plan is to take her to the potty every time she says she needs to go (which is OFTEN) and then really praise her when she actually "goes". That's it. No tricks, no bribes, no pleading. Whaddyathink??

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

A Home In-Fertile Valleys: A Metaphor from My Experiences with Infertility

As newlyweds, my husband and I were excited to move into our first house. We set about immediately to make it our home. With our limited funds, we decorated with hand-me-down furniture, and much-appreciated wedding gifts. We purchased a chair from the Thrift store for three dollars. It became lovingly known as the "three dollar chair", or "the prayer chair" as that is where we often knelt to pray together. Our home was nothing fancy, but it suited our needs nicely.

According to the custom of our land, and in keeping with the commandment from our spiritual leaders "to buy and sell homes" we planned to be in our home for only a year or two. We cherished this time to be together and to improve our home with little projects: a new curtain here and a painted wall there.

However, this time passed quickly, and there began to be inquiries from family and friends as to when we would sell our home. We had not been in a big hurry, however, we also began to feel that it was time to sell our little home. So, we did what most people did, and we bought a "For Sale By Owner" sign and posted in our yard. And then we waited.

And then we waited some more.

Again, people would ask when were we going to sell our home. "We're wondering the same thing," we would answer in an effort to communicate that we were doing our part. Sure, we would have showings from time to time, but they always resulted in silence when it came to offers.

When a year had passed, we thought, "perhaps there is something wrong with our home, and we're just not seeing it." So, we called in a home inspector. He did a thorough job: checking pipes, testing electrical outlets, investigating the structure of our home, etc.. His testing and investigations revealed nothing to be wrong. "You're plumbing and electricity are perfectly sound. Your home has a great structure. I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before you receive your much longed for offer."

With a renewed sense of hope, we spruced up the sign in the front yard, and waited yet again.

When still more months passed, with no offers but a steady stream of showings, I began to get discouraged. I would find my hopes soaring with each showing, and then crashing as time would pass with no sign of an offer.

"What are we doing wrong?" I would lament. Then, to pass the time, and to improve our chances of selling with our next showing, I would clean out a closet, or a cupboard until it shined. When that didn't work, we would work in our yard -- cleaning up and landscaping. When that didn't work, we'd add a fresh coat of paint in the bathroom or a bedroom, etc.

We always had an ample supply of solicited and unsolicited advice: "You should use this product on your lawn -- then your home will sell for sure." "Have you tried laying new carpet?" "If you keep your sink clean and sparkling, your home will sell in a wink." "I knew a person who hung all of their window treatments upside down for a month, and they sold to the first people who walked through their home." Etc., etc., etc.

I would cry when the house across the street would sell in three days; or sob when the home, badly in need of repair, two blocks away received an offer -- EVEN WITHOUT A FOR SALE SIGN! It became difficult to even feel happy for good friends and family when they successfully sold their homes; and I began to completely avoid open houses all together. It was just too painful. It seemed so unfair. Our home was nice, well-cared for, welcoming, etc. Weren't we just trying to keep the commandment of our religious leaders and the custom of our land?

When still another year had passed, and I was sure that all of our family and friends were convinced that we had mice or rats or termites -- for why else would our home not sell?-- we toyed with the idea of hiring a realtor. You may wonder why we would wait so long to consider this option, but in our land, only the REALLY desperate needed to hire a realtor. Most people just did as we had done, put the sign in the yard, and then in a matter of months, their home would be sold. Apparently we were not "most people".

Hiring a realtor is a big, expensive step, and in a way, felt like we would be admitting defeat -- no not just defeat, but a humiliating acknowledgement that "we don't have what it takes." We were not quite ready for that step, and so we worked harder, and prayed harder, and tried to find things to distract us from what had become an obsession.

The distraction tactic worked pretty well for the most part. But still, the unexpected questions about the progress of our home-selling, or the unsolicited advice from a stranger who didn't know our story, would pierce my heart, and sometimes bring unwanted tears and days of wondering "why?? Why can't we sell?" I began to feel that God didn't think we were worthy to sell our home. I began to cry less and less often, hardening my heart to the next inevitable blow.

When yet another year had passed, we decided we could continue as we were, or we could try the realtor route. So we made the appointment, had our first consultation, and agreed on a plan for selling our home. Incredibly, our realtor was able to sell our home to the FIRST people to view it after he was hired!!!! Holy cow!!! Imagine our elation! Finally, our hopes and dreams were being fulfilled!!

We found a new house that we loved, and purchased it. Again, we set about to make it our own. We weren't plagued with worry about when the time would come to sell this house, because, well, we knew the trick for us -- simply hire a realtor, and voila!

So, when a few more years passed, and we felt it was again time to sell our home. We went straight to the realtor's office. Again we consulted, and came up with a plan. "This is great," I thought, "it's so nice to know what works."

But, you guessed it, even with the realtor, month after month would pass with a steady stream of showings, and no offers. My hopes were again dashed! All of the old fears returned. In an effort to cope, I worked endlessly on improving our home.

Finally, my husband announced that we would be hiring a professional to come and "stage" our home. I had heard of this, in fact, we had toyed with the idea in the past, but it seemed like a somewhat extreme step. However, I trusted my husband, and so we hired the professional stager.

She was wonderful. She was easy to work with. Yes, she changed how I had arranged things. She put away things I had kept out. She added things that I would never have thought to add. Some of the changes required me to think differently from the way I had thought in the past. She made our home beautiful and desirable. And, wonder of wonders, it sold in a matter of months! I will forever be grateful to her.

We now live in another beautiful house that we've made our home. We love it. It is very comfortable. Maybe we'll never move; maybe we will. I don't know at this point. Mostly, I feel that I am not in control of this aspect of my life. If we come to the point where we feel we should try to sell our home, then we will try. But whether it sells or not, is out of my hands. So, as long as I do my part to keep the commandment, then I can be at peace. These lessons did not come easily to me, and, should we feel the need to sell again, I'm sure there will be more lessons in store for me. But for now, I'm just going to enjoy this wonderful home of mine.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Rae of Hope!!


I am a (somewhat) mature woman. I am a mother of two beautiful children. I manage our home (not always to my expectations). I serve in a calling at my Church. I try to be a good friend and a responsible, unselfish adult. However, no matter how I tried to reason with myself, I could not shake the feeling. So, I made the call:


Me: "I WANT MY MOMMY!!!"


My mommy: "How bad is it?"


Me: "Pretty bad. But, I'm an adult, so if you tell me that I have to just 'suck it up' then I will."


My mommy is coming for a visit!!!! I realized that it will have been a year since I last saw her (and my daddy, but he thinks he needs to work or something;)). No wonder I miss them!


Thanks, Mommy! And, thanks, Daddy, for letting me borrow your sweetheart!

Friday, January 11, 2008

Princess Jekyll and Miss Hyde


My beautiful baby girl has a split personality. I'm afraid it's true. On the one hand, she is about as "girly" as they come. She loves to carry around a purse. She is so very motherly to her baby dolls (of which she has a plethora). She loves to wear necklaces and bracelets, etc. She loves shoes. She completely adores her daddy. She can be soooo sweet and gentle, with loving pats, big hugs, and darling kisses.


Then, there's the other side to her. The side that winds up and whacks you in the face for no reason at all. Often, repeatedly. She's not even upset, usually. I'm not sure what possesses her. She has had lots and lots of practice apologizing for this strange behavior. And when this darling little child says so sweetly, "Wahwee" it almost makes up for the whacks.


Now, if this were my only evidence, I would think that she was probably just a pretty normal little girl. However, we happen to have an arsenal of toy weapons (courtesy of her 5 year old brother), and when this sweet little angel gets the toy battle axe in her hands, she has a primal reaction and turns into Miss Hyde. With all of the might of her tiny little body, she violently swings that battle axe back and forth and chases us around the house with her little toddler legs going just as fast as they can. And, if you actually get caught, you will be shown no mercy. (I promise to add a movie clip of this in the very near future!)


There is a warrior inside of this little Princess package. I kind of like it. I definitely want her to remain feminine, but I'm comforted (and admittedly, a bit impressed) to know that she has what it takes to defend herself! All Princesses could probably use a bit of that, don't ya think?

Sunday, January 6, 2008

A Guy Who Keeps Things Real

There used to be a commercial on TV that I HATE. It was for some carpet spot cleaning product, and it featured various family members spilling a variety of stain-producing items on the beautiful light-colored carpet. Without fail, the perfectly composed, mother, with her lovely combed hair, says through her unforced, natural smile, with her white, shiny, straight teeth, in a sing-song voice, "Oh, that's O.K."
I'm not entirely sure why it caused such a total sense of loathing within me. Perhaps, it is because I was raised in a home that did not have a lot of money, and so it was drilled into us to take care of what we had. Perhaps, it is because my own nature is usually to kick into crisis-mode (which usually includes a bit of "OH NO!", "Oh GREAT.", or even at times, "OH CRAP!!) and take care of the mess, and then to follow up with reassurances that I really do love the perpetrator more than the carpet or whatever else was threatened or even ruined (sometimes after having to pause and remember this fact). So, maybe, to me, her reaction just seemed SOOOO staged; so unlikely in the real world; so irritatingly imperturbable.

In the same way, I used to not like Job. Yep, Job. The Old Testament prophet who is the ultimate example for enduring trials well. Ya. Not my proudest moment, but I really had a problem with a guy who could lose his whole family (with the exception of his wife) and pretty much all that he possessed, and say, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD." (Job 1:21) I guess to me, it seemed dismissive of the significance of what he had lost. It echoed, in my mind, the sing-song, "Oh, that's O.K."
Admittedly, however, that was before I ever took the time to actually READ the book of Job. All I had ever heard from the book of Job was the verse I just quoted above. Now, however, I loooove Job. I am reading the book of Job for the second time now. The first time I read it, I literally could hardly put it down. Admittedly, (as with a lot of the Old Testament) there is stuff in there that I don't get, but I definitely understand most of it, and the over-all feeling is unmistakeable. Job did not in any way, shape or form dismiss the significance of his loss. From the depths of his soul he grieved. His soul was peirced, and he longed for death rather than to endure the pain of his loss.


"Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul;
Which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more than for hid treasures;
Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad, when they can find the grave?"(Job 3:20 - 22)

On top of this, in the midst of his mourning, his so-called friends called on him; supposedly to offer their support and condolences, but in reality -- not understanding the depth of his loss, his grieving, or of the workings of the Lord -- they add to his pain through their unfounded accusations and judgements.


"BUT Job answered and said, Oh that my grief were throughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together!"(Job 6:1 - 2)



He was in physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, as well as social agony. Even his wife tempts him to "curse God, and die." (Job 2:9) The true beauty of Job, and the reason that he is the paramount mortal example of enduring trials is that he never lost his faith in the Lord. No, Job did not endure his immense trials without complaint. Personally, I love that he complained. Sometimes trials are hard, really hard, and pretending that everything is o.k. when it's not, does little to actually make things o.k.. Job actually did a LOT of complaining, or rather, speaking from the pain of his soul. There was no sing-song, "Oh, that's O.K." attitude. But there was a deep and abiding testimony that he and all he had (and had lost) was in the care of the Lord.

Yep. I love Job. He keeps things real.

Friday, January 4, 2008

The Wisdom of the Five Year Old


It is FREEZING cold outside. My mail is sitting in my mail box, waaaaay out by the street.

Ben often enjoys the adventure of going to get the mail all by himself. So, today I enthusiastically asked, "Hey, Ben, wanna go get the mail?"


He very matter-of-factly answered, "Mom, you are not given sons to do everything for you. You are given sons so that they can grow up to be adults and can get bodies. (pause) Daughters too. You were a daughter once, so you should know."


My mail is still sitting in my mail box. Waaaay out by the street. In the FREEZING cold.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Gone Too Soon

My heart aches tonight for our dear friends and neighbors from our last home. They lived right across the sidewalk from us in our townhome condominium complex. They are wonderful, genuine people. There is no pretense with them. They were welcome in our home -- no matter what state it was in -- and the feeling was mutual. We loved hanging out with them.
They moved away one year before we did, and we missed them terribly. They had one child, a beautiful daughter, when they moved. They have since added three boys and a baby girl, with another child on the way. They love and adore their children, and are amazing parents.
We received an e-mail from them today telling us that their eight-month old daughter passed away unexpectedly yesterday. I cannot even imagine. I am grateful that they have the gospel, and that they are sealed to their little one. I am sure that is comforting, but I'm sure there is still an awful ache, or perhaps, a fearful numbness.
They live far from us, and they were far from home, visiting family when it happened. I do not have a phone number or an address for where they are currently staying, so I cannot even send anything. I want to do something to help, but it seems all I can do is to pray for them. Not that I'm underestimating the power or importance of prayer, it's just that it doesn't seem like enough.
And so I ask you, please hold your loved ones a little closer and a little longer tonight, in memory of baby Esther.

There are pictures of their beautiful children at this site: www.hibbertfamilypics.blogspot.com

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

2008 Small and Simple Resolutions


When I was twelve years old, I made a commitment to read the scriptures everyday-- even if it was only one verse. I did very well with this, though many times, for many years, it was just a verse a day. Fortunately, this had the effect of forming a habit of daily scripture reading, and I even reached the point of not being able to sleep at night until I had read the scriptures. More importantly, it created within me a love for the scriptures, and I have truly rarely missed a day of contact with the scriptures since I was twelve.


This year, as I pondered setting New Year's Resolutions (and remembering all of my failed resolutions) I remembered this experience, and hoped that this sort of approach might carry over into other areas of my life. So, here are my resolutions:



This year I will exercise five minutes a day! (Who doesn't have 5 minutes a day to exercise -- just like who can't read one verse per day? Hopefully it will grow into a love for exercise)




This year I will eat, and feed my family, one vegetable and one fruit per day! (Hopefully this will grow into the five a day, but you've gotta start somewhere right?)




This year I will make my bed each day!




This year I will keep my kitchen sink clean each day!



I am well aware that these are integral parts of many women's lives and personalities, but I have much room to improve. So, here's to the hope that out of small and simple things, great things will come to pass!!

Monday, December 24, 2007

Merry Christmas, from Our Home To Yours!!

We wish you a Merry Christmas -- in our NEW Christmas jammies!!