My Boys... Elastomen?

We have boys at our house. I guess that means we have cuts, colds, stitches, and bumps. It seems like we've had more than our share this month.

First, John cut himself while in the great-out-doors performing his patented pyro-show at a scouting event. Then, he got staph, and then Max & I both got staph. It turns out, if we weren't using the right medicine, so we got to be on medication for a month or more.

Jackson has not been ill, but he's had amazing changes. The biggest change was to be come an actual, uniform-wearing, complete-with-hat Cub Scout. Within the first week he was in scouting, he had earned his Bobcat and the Heart of Scouting. He is so excited to be going to scout day camp on Friday he could about BURST. His love of scouting makes his dad so proud, and his mom so baffled. Did I ever love anything this much when I was the same age? I assume John did.

Asa, however has managed to run into various things this month. He got in-between Xandri and Jack during a fight over a hammer, a for-real hammer, and got a bang from the back of the hammer. So, for a while we called him "Hammer Head" or "Shark Boy" (remember Lava Girl?)

This week, Asa jumped head-first into our brick hearth in our basement. He didn't get stitches, but he did get to wear steri-strips for a week. This is his picture from tonight (on r). I guess he's healed. Even on the night he did it, he didn't seem to mind much!

Of course, Max couldn't be left out. He's crawling, which means he's constantly banging himself on everything. He also falls down things, like stairs, which he learned all about while being at Grandma Viv's, the land of ups and down. When he goes up 2 or 3 stairs, he turns around and looks around. Suddenly, he's rolling to the bottom, and no one, even the person right next to him, is close enough to catch him.

He's had "road rash" from carpet burns (he doesn't put his hands out to catch himself--I thought that was instinctual) and he crawls, often, head down. UGH.

I think we've got them all healed. Now... Family pictures anyone?

My Grandmother's Chairs

All of my life, my parents have owned aone special chair that was petit-pointed by my grandmother. Grandma told me this summer that she chose to do the background of the chairs in maroon because she was doing them for her mother, and her mother had rose colored carpet in her dining room at the time. My grandmother's chairs have a carved wild rose at the top. The wild rose is the provincial flower of Alberta, so that always caught my eye. Grandma told me there were originally 6 of them, and then she had a rocker done in poppies in her bedroom.

These chairs were never around my grandmother's dining table. When I was young, she had a big dining table with high-caned-back chairs with white velvet seats and "shower cap" seat covers in a washable grey velveteen to protect them from us. No, the petit-pointed chairs weren't in the kitchen, either. They were scattered around the house, and we had one at our house. It was special; it was "untouchable."

Before I made the trip to Canada this summer, I saw "my grandmother's chairs!" somewhere. When I got to there, I couldn't remember where or when I saw "those" chairs. I knew they didn't have the petit-pointed seats. While I was describing how different the ones I'd seen were, Vivian was telling me about how she'd chosen the color, Barbara getting the rocker out of a junk box in an old garage.

When we got home last week, my neighbor invited me to her home to help her with a computer issue. She offered me at a seat at her computer, and there were the chairs!! I gasped and said I couldn't possible SIT on one of them, and she laughed and said she was getting rid of them as soon as possible. I was flabberghasted! Getting rid of these chairs?

So on my birthday, my neighbor Brenda brought them over to me. She had 4 of them, and they are now sitting in MY living room, just waiting to be petit-pointed (for those of you who have no idea how to pronounce it, it's "pet-ee-point").

They have a different top design. It's got a raised flower detail, not a carved wild rose. They haven't been refinished... so they have their original finish on them. We haven't decided if that's a positive or not. Certainly, we don't want them to look brand new.

I've chosen a couple of patterns for the seat... and I've done a whole lot of research. I have 4 chairs. I have 4 kids. Someday, their children will have their grandmother's chairs.

My Birthday in Review

So, my birthday was great. I got many wonderful gifts from my children: none of which they picked out, paid for, or wrapped. They were just as happy to give them to me as if they HAD done any of the above.

I collect Willow Tree figurines. Actually, John and I give them to each other. For ME, their facelessness reminds me that I am one of many women doing, feeling, and being the mother of the future. I am united, with every other woman, doing what I can to create a world that's great for the people I love most.

My husband really "gets" me. I know it's because I talk his EAR off about my hopes, goals, dreams, phone calls, experiences, students, etc. I talk A LOT. I know he would tell you the same (although he's a man of few words. You should note, he's never written or commented on "our" blog ever.)

We recently finished reading a book called Queste by Angie Sage. When I saw that it was the title for this piece, I immediately thought it was because of the book. I'm not quite sure what it says to JOHN, but immediately upon seeing it, it reminded me of 2 things. Firstly, "we" did his first degree in business together. I worked myself stupid to keep him in school, and he got marvelous marks and still worked full time. The second thing it reminded me is that we read the same books and have wonderful, inspiring, "book group" discussions about how clever books are. He's the best reading group I've ever had, and he reads to my son every night. He inspires in my children the love of reading. My children know I *teach* reading, that I buy all the books, but my husband brings them to life. His role in my life and the lives of my children is so very beautiful. He takes it so seriously, and he does such a fine job as a husband and father. Anyone could look at our life and see that we are his first priority.

He also bought me a figurine called "Guardian"---and I know I see myself in this way. I think it's lovely that HE knows I consider myself the guardian of children everywhere. I'm not Angelina Jolie. I'll never be an ambassador to the UN, or join UNICEF, or do anything spectacular, but I do view my roll as a protector of the innocent as a real, important "calling" like the Sons of Mosiah (My favorite chapter of all scripture is Mosiah 17. These are verses 13 & 14: 13 And it came to pass when they had arrived in the borders of the land of the Lamanites, that they aseparated themselves and departed one from another, trusting in the Lord that they should meet again at the close of their harvest; for they supposed that great was the work which they had undertaken. 14 And assuredly it was great,

I see myself doing great work simply by touching the lives of my students, friends, and children. I know that what I do is important.

I also see myself as the most important advocate my own children have with the world. The gorgeousness of this figurine for me is that I love my children so very much. They are what I wanted most in life, and I would have given anything, anything to have them.

The third gift he gave me was a figurine called "Child's Touch." Asa said, "That's ME and Mama!" When he saw it. Xandri said, "That's Mama and Max." Jack said, "It's mama and me" and of course, it is all of those. How beautiful that my children still love to be hugged, kissed, have snuggles, and have moments with their mama. There will come a time when Jack doesn't look forward to being able to take my English class. There will come a time when it will make Xandri crazy I know where she is and what she's doing. There will come a time when I'll be angry at Asa for disassembling some important appliance. There will come a time, soon, all too soon, when I won't rock my Max to sleep anymore. He's my last baby, but he's not the last time I will touch the life of a child, nor will it be the last time I have a child touch my life.

My John, my smart, funny, talented, gourmond, architect, scouter, dreaming husband "gets" me; and you know why? It's because we're about the same things. He has the same dreams and goals about building better boys through the scouting program, and I have the same delusions of grandure about teaching. We keep the figurines around to remind us of why we're here, and why we do, every day, what we do.

Life is truly beautiful when you know you're in the right place doing the right thing. Life isn't always about the easy, or the beautiful, "but it's a beautiful ride."

A List from Starr-Brite

My sister-in-law has a lovely list of hopes, dreams, etc. I haven't seen it elsewhere, so I'm creating mine here:

I think: That every moment matters
I know: That my Redeemer lives, and what comfort that gives me daily
I want: My children to have their dreams come true
I have: Too many things to do to squeeze into any 24 hour period
I wish: I could do everything I wanted to the level I know I am possible
I hate: Doing dishes, cleaning the house, and sorting things for good-will.
I miss: My grandparents on a daily basis
I fear: That my mother will never, ever care about life the way she did before my brother died.
I feel: Like every day is important and that I should be anxiously engaged in good causes
I hear: The air rustle from every ceiling fan in my eco-friendly house.
I smell: That certain "home" smell---the one that identifies ONLY my house.
I crave: More positive parent time with my children, where I *want* to be with them, DOING childish things.
I search: For news, knowledge, and ways to connect my children to their past
I wonder: If I will see my daughter's wedding, hold my grandchildren, or if I will die young and miss those magical moments.
I regret: Not going to Europe before we had children.
I love: Writing, reading, knowing, and teaching
I care: About my friends, family, and students.
I always: Pray, over the little things, the big things, and the things that scare me.
I am not: Going to give up.
I believe: Children are the future; teach them well FOR they will lead the way
I dance: To be funny when teaching a lesson. I do a terrible Moon Walk.
I sing: Made up words to common songs that make my children laugh
I don't always: Do my best. Sometimes my goals are too high. Sometimes, I try to do too much. Sometimes, I just can't do what I thought I could.
I fight: For the rights of children in Utah to have good, quality teachers, and to provide the best education possible for their future.
I write: Down my hopes and my dreams, just in case I'm not here to share them with my posterity. I want them to know, I was a dreamer, a do-er, and that my life revolved around teaching, loving, and being all that I could be.
I lose: Track of when my bills are due.
I win: When my children learn new things, understand in profound ways the lessons of universal truth, and come to create opinions of their own and can express them.
I never: Want to harm a child in any way.
I listen: Intently to what people around me say
I can usually be found: At a computer, a desk, or reading a book
I am scared: That I will lose a child, and that it will undo all of my hopes, dreams, and plans
I need: To spend more time being Princess Diana, and less time being "Mommy Dearest."
I am happy about: School starting in 5 weeks.
I tag: Friends---once you get a message from me, I expect to be tagged back!

Happy Birthday to Me...

I've been "online" for 14 years. Before that, I was part of the digital fax age (that's how John & I dated). Before that, I wrote copiously long letters. However, I've never had a digital BIRTHDAY before. Now that I have a Facebook profile, I got digital Happy Birthdays. My online groups at Yahoo reached out and Happy Birthday'd me. I heard from people I haven't seen in years. I had lunch with an old friend, whom I've known since I started teaching, and then got good fortune from a friend whom I have known since middle school. I have friends running out my ears.

Which is the point of my posting. My friends don't come first, but once you are my friend, it's forever. My friends become my family, and I can't think of any friends who are truly friends I haven't corresponded with at least this year. In fact, last year, I decided that all my real friends didn't need Christmas cards because they heard and saw and read about me and mine so often.

Luckily, not only do I have many friends, they are good friends. My next door neighbor (for the past 14 years) brought me bubble bath & lotion. She & I have the same small tub, but she knows I LOVE bubble baths. My sister bought me a vinyled tile about how important teaching is. My German Stacy! bought me an Oprah magazine subscription, a business book about how being right brained makes me rule the world. My sister in law took me to dinner. AND, all of them know it's *exactly* the right gift. Man, I love that.

My husband is making pancakes for dinner. They will be made-from-scratch and be fluffy. I will wear my TorsoPants (t-shirt) that says Pancakes. Then, there will be gifts (which I don't need, but are expected by the children), and then, my kids will ask for the 27th time, "What are we doing for your birthday" and universally agree that birthdays are confusing when you are a grown-up. Xandri has asked if all you get to do on your birthday is eat the food you like. She wants to know where the cake is, and asked why moms don't get Costco cake and invite all their friends over. Asa informed me that he is having a Diego and Cars with 'Mater birthday (take note---as it is next month).

And that's all there is to say about birthdays when you get to be 36. Tomorrow I will just have to be 36, but on my birthday, I GET to be 36. On your birthday, you always have to see that there's still something left in the glass---whether you're got half a glass or even less. It's all about the moments, and you never know when it's your last.