On "Losing It" -- Re-run

I seem to be having writer's block, so I'm borrowing an idea from my sister, and posting a re-run of an older post.

On "Losing It"
Last Saturday, following weeks and weeks of James working 70-80 hours a week, thereby rendering me a virtual single parent, I felt like I was "totally losing it". Don't get me wrong. I love my children with all my heart, but I NEEDED a break.

James had a priesthood leadership meeting that evening, and afterward went to dinner with a friend from the Stake. When he got home, I turned the kids over to him and said good-bye. He asked where I was going. "Out." I replied.

Then, I left.

Being the total rebel that I am, I drove to the grocery store . . . to buy starch, because we were out and I had a lot of ironing to do. And because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I just needed to get out, . . . alone.

In the grocery store, I didn't wander about, browsing. Nope, I walked briskly, like a woman on a mission, straight to the starch. Once I had it in my hand, I decided I probably needed something more. So I grabbed microwave popcorn (because we were out, and it was on sale), and lime sherbet (because I wanted something sweet and low-fat).

After checking out, it occurred to me that I now had an item that would rapidly melt. I felt disappointment, and a slight sense of relief, when I realized that my "outing" would be short-lived. I had to get this sherbet into the freezer.

I called James. "Are the kids in bed?" "Yes." "O.K., I'll be home in a while."

Not feeling completely ready to return home, I blasted the stereo in my car and accelerated onto the freeway . . . only to find myself behind the slowest driver in our city. There was traffic in the next lane, and my exit was coming right up, so I drove at an unfulfilling 50mph to my exit.

As I neared my home, I still didn't feel quite ready to go in. I drove around the block three times, finally pulling into my driveway as Simon and Garfunkel crooned, "Hoomeward bouund. I wish I waaas hoomeward bouund. "

My Dad has often said that if he ever "totally loses it" we can find him in the freeway meridian shooting out the headlights of the cars driving with their "brights" on--a pet peeve of his. (Before you call the police, just let me say that I have never questioned my Dad's sanity, so I think we're safe.)

So my Dad would shoot out "brights", while I, pathetically, buy starch. Perhaps that's a sign that I didn't "TOTALLY" lose it. . . . Maybe it was just a partial loss? Not that I want to shoot anything, or anything like that. It's just . . . starch?

So, how about you? What do you do, or where do you go when you "lose it?"

Brianna has a lot to say!

Thanksgiving Riddle

Ben learned this darling song/riddle at school.

I am not a drumstick, no not yet.
I need to eat more, so fat I get.
Corn is what I like, and lots of grain.
Sometimes I gobble. Can you guess my name?

[Hint: You're supposed to answer "Turkey!"]

I see you've guessed my name on your first try.
I have a problem and you know why.
Could you be so kind? I have one wish.
Help me out, and EAT SOME FISH!!!!

(The tune is very similar to "I'm a little Tea Pot")

An Addendum

As an addendum to my last post:

my feelings of being "robbed" and "beaten" have nothing whatsoever to do with being released from being Primary president, or with being called into the Relief Society presidency. I loved serving in Primary. It had it's wonderful moments, and it's stressful moments, just as any calling does. I was privileged to serve with wonderful sisters. I am very much looking forward to serving with the sisters in the new RS presidency, and with being in RS after being away for so many years. I am wondering, however, if there is any way I could talk the new president into instituting a "wiggle song" about half-way through the lesson -- I'm not sure I can make it all the way through without it!

Anyway, I just thought I ought to clarify!

The Parable of the The Guy on the Side of the Road

As I said my prayers this morning, I was feeling down, and the words that I used to describe how I was feeling were “robbed” and “beaten”. (And they were, perhaps, a bit dramatic.) I didn’t mean them at all in a physical way, and it wasn’t until after I had said them that the connection to the parable of the Good Samaritan came into my mind. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the man on the side of the road had been robbed and beaten, physically. I realized that we usually just try to relate to the Good Samaritan in the story. Suddenly I felt that we should remember that we are all, at one time or another, the guy on the side of the road.

This life can be very hard. There are many ways that we can be, or at least feel “robbed”: robbed of time with loved ones; robbed of experiences we longed for; robbed of opportunities; and “beaten”: beaten by circumstances beyond our control; beaten by the cares and worries of life; etc.

With this in mind, we can each be the Good Samaritan as well. In the parable, the Good Samaritan could see the wounds, and the physical needs of the man were evident. The parable states that the Good Samaritan had compassion on this man and went to him and bound up his wounds, and gave him relief and placed him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

Our dear Sister Hinckley has said, “Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a battle." Remembering that, and realizing that the wounds of those around us are often invisible to the naked eye, our “binding up of wounds” and our “giving of relief” must truly be guided by the compassion of our hearts and by the Spirit. Compassion is an attribute of Christ. The more we practice this attribute, the more we will become like Christ. Perhaps that is why there is so much opportunity for practicing this in the world. Perhaps there are so many chances to be both the guy on the side of the road, and the Good Samaritan, because there are so many lessons to be learned from both sides of the street—so to speak.

P.S. I'm really o.k., the Lord, Himself, is very good at binding up wounds when we allow Him to see them. I'm feeling much better. Plus I felt like I got a nice insight.

I Says What I Means and I Means What I Says

I have a friend--a mother of four--who locks her husband out of her home from time to time after particularly trying days. She refuses to let him into the house until he promises not to make her repeat anything for the rest of the night. I understand how she feels.

I am now convinced that my computer has been spending too much time with my children. How do I know? Let me give you an example of recent interactions with my computer:

Close. Close. Clooose. CLOSE. Close.Close.Close.

Fine. I'll pull out the big guns. The All-Powerful Ctrl-Alt-Delete Windows Task Manager!

Status: This program is not responding. Oh really?! I hadn't noticed.

End Task. End Now. End Task. End Now. End Taask. End NooW. End Task. End Task. End Task. End Now. End Now. End Now.

It is at about this point that I begin growling and muttering under my breath, and that Ben suggests that we just throw the computer off of the deck.

If my computer thinks that I will keep it around indefinitely simply because it hears me repeat commands enlessly to my children day in and day out, and because it knows I would never throw my wonderful, though hard of hearing, children off of the deck, it is sorely mistaken. It does serve a purpose, and for the moment, I cannot afford to replace it. But, make no mistake Mr. Dell Desktop YOU ARE REPLACEABLE.

My children, on the other hand, are priceless and completely irreplaceable. The occasional irritation of the repetition which they require is far outweighed by the utter miracles of their very existence and by the blessing that it is to be their mother! So, while I may inevitably need to repeat such phrases as, "Brianna don't hit your brother with the battle-ax!" and, "Ben, your sister is NOT a toy!" On the other hand, Mr. Dell Desktop, your owner's manual states that all I should need to do is to click on the red 'X' and you should immediately close the program indicated. You, I can upgrade, and believe you me, I will. So, just think about that the next time you decide that you can't quite understand the simple command "close."

Call It Plan B

I had kind of a rough week last week. At the end of the week, I proposed an alternate plan for our future in the event that we should finish residency and find that post-residency life was just as demanding and stressful. I proposed that we run away together with our little family and live happily off of the land. (If you know me very well, you know how funny this actually is, but you had to know my frame of mind at the time.)

James replies, "We aren't going to be fugitives, we'd have to pay off our debts."

"We'd sell carrots!" I reply. Adding, "And we'd grow DANG good carrots! . . . Oh, and don't forget, I can still give massages! And you! You can still remove EARS!"

Can you believe it??! James didn't think this was a great plan?

So, today, in a much better mood, and thinking much more clearly, I've decided that we could just go into modeling. I've even put together a sample portfolio, . . . just in case. Just let me know what you think. I definitely think we have a future, but your feedback would be appreciated. Be honest. I can hack it.

Redefining "Done"

So, I sent Ben to clean up his room, knowing that it looked like this:

He quickly returned and happily announced that his room was "done!"

Highly skeptical, but not in the mood to go police his efforts, I did not go check his work immediately. However, several hours later, when I passed his door and his room looked like this:

I called out to him, "Ben, I'm surprised that you told me that your room was done when it's a mess." He replied, "Well, to my eyes it's done."

So, I would just like to report, that in the same way that Ben's room is done,

my visiting teaching is done;

my Christmas projects are done;

my ironing is done;

my check-book balancing is done;

the raking of the leaves in the back yard is done;

cleaning out the garage is done;

and my Christmas shopping is done!

So, what have you gotten "done"??!

A Mother's/Homemaker's Work Is Never Finished

These pictures are just a simple metaphor for the many tasks that we do every day that we must do, and re-do, and re-do, and re-do, and re-do, and re-do, . . . . Well, you get the idea. But, when they are done, they really are so very worth the effort, now aren't they??

Before:

After:

And, just as Brianna is so adorable, and simply loveable whether her hair is done or not, those who truly love us probably don't care if we have dishes in our sinks, or toys on our floors, or laundry on our couches, when they drop by, so long as we make them feel welcome and loved.

Simplification, Clarification, and Stuff

O.k., so, when James and I lived close to family, we would go to one of our parent's homes for Thanksgiving dinner, and we would bring . . . the ROLLS! Yup, that's it. Rolls. So, when you live far from home, and you decide it's important enough to you to continue the traditional dishes that made up your family's Thanksgiving meals, then all of a sudden, your menu looks fairly complex. Instead of 5-11 families contributing, it's just you. So, that's why there are so many things on our menu. Truly, it isn't as bad as it seems. The recipes are fairly easy, and the pay-off for me is worth it.

That being said, James and I discussed it last night and we decided to save the Green Jell-O Salad and the Wassail for our Christmas or New Year's Celebration, in order to simplify things a bit. We even discussed the option of buying Sam's Club rolls, but then we decided that our rolls "rock!" So, they stayed on the menu.

Also, this year, we decided to substitute Corn Pudding for our Green Bean Casserole. I found a recipe online, but I would be interested in anyone else's recipe for Corn Pudding.

O.k., that's enough about my Thanksgiving meal for now. Now onto some clarification. I believe that Ben's "O-R-A-N-G-E" song was learned at school. He may have changed the lyrics a bit, but for the most part, it came from school.

And the quote, "Let us not have tears. Partings are a natural part of life." is, indeed, from Anne of Green Gables, one of my all time favorite shows! (Eight hours is worth it just for the kiss at the end!!)