Author: Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.

Curing the Burnout Monster

An unfinished chess game is the perfect metaphor for how I view the school year tonight. It began with great plans and intentions but we’re rushing to a hollow ending, punctuated by the little ping you hear when you kick an empty can. WARNING: you have just been exposed to the effects of the burnout monster.

I have 5 days until I call the school year finished. Can I conquer this monster? Can I look at the year objectively and the see the truth in what we have accomplished?

I think objectivity is one of the first things to fail when I am weary.  To get my objectivity back, I need to fill in my spreadsheets with scores and figure out grades. Maybe I need a teacher fairy to tell me if I can go to the good teacher ball. (You know, the ball where I have new contact lenses, a haircut, and a few extra hours of reading time each day.) Can this little teacher have a guilt-free summer break, please?

And can I get a little assertiveness fairy, too? Are you clapping your hands? Do you believe? Truly, a little glittery fairy to give me courage to face a lurking task and the teacher fairy to look over the kids’ projects would be just the thing.

Preparation

This is my violin at rest. Richard and I are playing at a friend’s funeral tomorrow.

It’s a tender time, losing such a young father in our ward.

Significantly, our ward will participate in the sacred process of dedicating a temple on Sunday.

As I prepare for this funeral and dedication, I examine my heart and find that along with the ache of mourning, there is peace and an ultimate hope of eternal families, made possible because of temple covenants.

Mark, You are Loved

We had a wonderful day with you, Mark, beginning with a doorway decorated with balloons.

They were red, of course.

You walked into Mom’s closet and said, “Let’s look in the mirror and see how big I am now that I am 4.”

You opened gifts of Legos, playdough, and little critters while wearing your pajamas.

And then you were off to play.

Maria, our neighbor, decorated our door in your honor.

Maria visited over the fence during the pinata fun.

During scripture study, you asked, “Mom, now that I am 4, does this mean I can read?”

In the afternoon, we let you drive the little truck over to the grassy field. We played catch. You learned to throw a baseball (step, throw!) and fielded lots of grounders. Good job!

May all your wishes come true, little man.

Living in Arizona

Thinking of you, dear readers, out here in the Arizona desert. I am looking forward to many things this weekend.

Living in Arizona means lots of dust. I’m looking forward to cleaning the carpets this weekend.

Living in Arizona means Mexican food cravings as I scan through the MANY Spanish-speaking radio stations while driving. We’re going to see about fixing some of those cravings this weekend, too.

Living in Arizona means you get two seasons. We’re in the hot season now, so it’s the perfect time to read!

Living in Arizona means ripe garden tomatoes in May. Yum.

Happy weekend!

Frescoes, an electroscope and piano surgery

Our piano tuner came today. He tunes our piano twice a year. That’s more often than I get an hour to myself. That’s more often than we eat tuna. Actually, I never serve tuna.

(Back to the story) I barricaded myself in the school room to appear to be holding school, even though that’s impossible when a piano tuner is pounding on the piano keys and tweaking the long strings. It’s like living in Professor Higgins’s house hearing Eliza Doolittle’s vowels over and over.

(Back to the story) Midway through the tuning, he stopped. He went to his car for additional tools. The next thing I knew, the piano was in pieces all over the room: keys, hammers, you name it… everywhere. He’s only taken the piano apart one other time and this is always disconcerting. Somewhere in my head I am entertaining questions like, “What if he forgets how to put it back together?” or, “What if he forgets a piece?”

I decided we had to take drastic action. So as to not appear concerned, I decided to teach science in the kitchen, directly across from him so we could keep an eye on him and the poor dismembered piano. We built an electroscope and I tried to sound engaged and scientific. That’s my new word with Daniel, “Daniel,” I say, “You need to act engaged in what I’m asking you to do. No more slumping over.”

Here is the electroscope (which I keep trying to type, “spectroscope”):

It’s actually very cool. Trust me.

After the surgery on the piano (sigh… there were wood shavings on the floor!) he put the piano back together and I snuck a picture. It’s not every day that you see a grand piano taken apart. All is well. The keys are resting evenly in their piano bed.

And though we didn’t have a stellar school day, we did build an electroscope, read about frescoes and Pompeii, and finished our work later in the afternoon.

Overdue

I am late wishing you all a Happy Mother’s Day. We made these hand prints yesterday. Paige’s hand was too big for the mold. These turn my heart. That little fluttery feeling is about the best thing about being a mother, next to the kisses from babies, giggles, homemade cards, and fingerprints on my door frame from little ones looking for me in the dark.

It was so nice to talk to my mom, the temporary mother of 180 missionaries.

These library books are overdue. We try to max out our library cards so we don’t have to go as often. I think they are an impressive sight, stacked in the entryway and ready to go.

Workspace

I recently saw a project where someone took photographs of the insides of people’s refrigerators. Along with each photo the authors listed the person’s profession, marital status, and age. I thought it was fascinating. And it made me think of my refrigerator, heavily stocked with milk and ketchup, sure signs of young children in the house.

I’m not willing to show you my refrigerator but here’s a picture of my workspace. It tells a good story about what’s going on at our house this week. Not visible on this table are the beanbags from Timothy’s foray into the world of juggling, my iron cooling before I put it away and a stack of CDs full of photos for a DVD project I’ve decided to do.

I admit it. I am overwhelmed today and that doesn’t happen very often.