Category: Motherhood

In and Out of Shadow

The relief map of our life right now shows new valleys, a consistent plateau, and several mountains. I move into different landscapes as I am needed and retreat to the backcountry when I must be silent and wait. In my solitude, I assume the role of observer and record keeper.

From a familiar point, I watch our daughter, taking steps on her own path, which is marked by shadow and speckled with obstacles. Frustrated by the turns and boulders, I wonder if she knows that she is still ascending.

A son careens forward on a path without looking one way or the other. Does he actually want to climb that trail? I am not sure he has paused enough to know.

Another son has a blind curve ahead, but has a lift in his steps. I predict the path beyond this curve will be good for him because of his optimism.

And the remaining son, well, I am still close enough to remind him to look at the vistas, and not worry about the details so much.

I am no sage on the hill, but I do know about blind corners, and have skinned my knees when racing too fast. I know the mire of worry from overthinking, and how to escape. I remember what it is like to move beyond easy marks of success, deferring talents and ideas. In such vulnerable times, growth feels a lot like defeat.

I squirm in the solitude in this life season and wonder if a record is worth keeping. I felt inspired to read A Midwife’s Tale this week and it validated my writing of everyday things more than I can say. Our walk continues, and my writing provides a relief map of where we have been.

Headlines of Consequence

Pioneer Trek photo by Susan Vaughn
Last summer, as an intern for the illuatrator of this book, Paige watched him paint this cover and helped with some background illustration. It is coming out next week.
Strawberry Pinnacles campout (There were other boys there!)

Connection and progress happen in the undercurrents of the to do lists and during transit between appointments. The on stage, public displays are a pinnacle, not the mountain we have climbed. They don’t call attention to themselves, but tiny, daily actions are life. Today I elevate some of these menial and plain things and dress them up as headlines:

Late night conversation keeps parenting goals on track.

Work at home issues forth connection and order.

Meal preparation: a rock in the fortress of home, every day

She waited weeks for a convenient time to ask family to move furniture.

A child is struggling? Pray with him.

Camping gear is well traveled.

Mother makes another trip to the store for gear and marshmallows.

Reconciliation evident in non-verbal ways

He often works from home at night to balance high demands of employer and others.

To avoid criticizing someone, mother pulls weeds outside.

Foregoing personal hobbies and family time, Scoutmaster pushes on.

Despite past failures, additional attempts are planned for family spirituality.

Dead, maggot-filled animal buried early this morning in the backyard

Stranded motorist helped by a kind stranger

She kept paper for taking notes.

Entire family commits to watching together a movie only one person will enjoy.

They sat down together at the table.

They took the time they needed to make a plan.

He changed the station again and again without hearing frustration from the driver.

Strength to do dishes and laundry is a blessing.

After years of being too busy, mother helps organize son’s collections.

He remembered to text his mom to let her know where he was.

She smiled instead of criticized.

He practiced each day.

He let his brother stick an earbud in his ear to hear a funny song.

They kept praying together.

Our Teens

photo by Heather Smith

Here is how our teens look this week. One is a little sick, and another thanked me for not grounding him for the rest of his life. I thought he had been killed in a car accident for about 20 minutes. It turned out that there was no car accident, just a vague message and misunderstanding. I was so frantic to find him that I drove around town looking for emergency vehicles, expecting the worst. One son is taking care of pigeons for a couple of days for our neighbor and friend. One is off to Pioneer Trek this morning.

I asked Daniel this week, “What have you learned about obedience?” He wrote, “The last 1% in our obedience brings the majority of the blessings. We’ve seen the difference between good days and not so good days.”

I asked Timothy what he learned this week. “Don’t park illegally, ever.”

Mark taught us what he learned from studying in John. “Jesus prayed that our temptations wouldn’t be too much for us and that Heavenly Father would send help.”

I have a firm belief in the power of parents to bring down blessings on their children. These are good boys, and I see the enemy stalks them relentlessly. It feels like we are at war with outside influence. We pray, we teach, remind, use a timer, let them go, and we are here when they come back. This warrior mom has earned a purple heart this week. Two things have helped: reading the Book of Mormon in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, and watching a Hallmark Christmas DVD.

I love my sons. They are amazing. It’s a heavy time, nevertheless.

Thirteen

I asked the family if anyone remembered their 13th birthday. Mark said right away, “I do,” since it was the day before. Paige told me that she remembered her thirteenth birthday because she got braces and her hair cut that week. I remember being angry about being teased. Tim remembers going to a Star Wars premier at midnight.

I like to read old posts of how things used to be, so here’s one for the time capsule.

At age 13, Mark is interested in reading, Legos, Scouting, the Anthem PS4 game, and a Netflix show about mind games. Salted caramel anything? Yes, please. Dark chocolate is pulling out in front of milk chocolate. His birthday cake of choice is Violet Sanchez’s glazed lemon cake. Milky Way candy bars, chili cheese Fritos, and store brand cherry toaster pastries traveled down the conveyor belt at the grocery store this week in his honor. He likes to peruse the spice aisle and try new flavors. Favorite dinners usually include beef: meatballs, meatloaf, pot roast, hamburgers, and steak. He also loves smoked chicken and is a barbecue sauce connoisseur. He reads my cooking magazines and likes to make Aebleskivers.

He is fastidious in his hygiene, disciplined in his obedience, and keeps a cluttered space for his building projects. He collects movie ticket stubs, smashed pennies, baseball keychains, Archie comic books, and mementos from times with his cousins. He can read a book in an afternoon and we make a lot of library trips. He listens to the radio in his room, and he likes the music of AJR, preferring the radio edited versions of their songs. George Ezra? Yes. Collin Raye?(in Mom’s car) Nooooooo!

Language Arts and Math are his least favorite subjects this year. I think it has more to do with the teachers than the subjects. He loves science, history, band, and Raisels sour raisins for which he makes trades during lunch time at school.

He’s accomplished and smart, but I am most proud of the person he is becoming. His self discipline in piano practice and scripture study are uncommon in someone his age. He asks me how my day is going and still pats me on the back reassuringly and randomly. He is making changes in screen time habits for the better. His Primary president, Barbara Bartee wished him a happy birthday and delivered a handmade gift, even though he has been out of Primary for a year. He spent his birthday morning cleaning the kitchen at the family cabin, deep in conversation with his cousin, Kaitlyn. He ordered a caramel shake, a scone, a barbecue burger, and onion rings for lunch at the Hi Mountain Drugstore in Kamas for his birthday lunch. He picked out an orange Technic car from the Lego store to build, and we watched the Lego Movie 2 in the evening. Daniel made a video call to wish him a happy birthday from Chile. They spent most of the conversation talking about Lego engineering.

This is long, but I know from experience what little details will mean in the future.

Mark, you are loved and needed. You are smart and kind. You make great food and I like how you ask me questions about what I think. I like how you style the front of your hair standing straight up and keep the rest short. I like your laugh. It has a deeper pitch than last year, but keeps its essential rhythm, a long series of chuckles followed by a sharp intake of breath. Your features are more angular than last year, and you are inches taller than I am. You don’t read the blog, but someday perhaps you will see this and smile. I love you.

Prom, Primary, Diamond Fork, Big Bad Mama, Anniversary

I made some new friends this week, three women I did not know before, but felt inspired to choose to serve with me at church. I spent time with each of them, one by one, talking about important things like families, dreams, and testimony and felt my heart warm. I’m not surprised that I love them. I’m surprised how quickly it happened.

I worried and prayed for a sister-in-law.

I enjoyed a date night with Richard for our anniversary, which included two restaurants and lots of roses. Then, lucky us, we had another evening together later in the week, each of us dressed in Scout uniforms, matchy-matchy. I thought I was through with my uniform, but I am delighted at some good memories that came when I put it back on.

I watched Timothy play in an ultimate Frisbee tournament and helped him with Prom preparations. I had a lot of time with Tim this week, and I am so grateful for that.

I disabled the family computer last week, which was mainly being used to watch YouTube videos. When the kids were little, there were times I would chant, “I’m a big bad mama and I’m not afraid of you,” (I know, I am ridiculous) aloud or in my mind when I had to do the hard things that young parents have to do: enforce bedtime, deny requests for sugar, insist on car seats, clean up messes, and react in a positive way to tantrums. Not even that mental chant helped boost my morale over the computer drama. The reality is, a teen tantrum is much more painful to endure than one from a three-year-old.

Richard came home with the best pictures of a Scout campout in Diamond Fork. He brought his smokeless fire pit and Chip brought his guitar, and the boys and leaders sang around the campfire and roasted marshmallows and biscuits as it got dark. Mark came home from the camp, hugged me, and asked what he could eat. Balance is restored.

Just little happy experiences

There are just little happy experiences that writing about doesn’t do justice. Pictures or videos don’t capture it. Memory isn’t exact enough. But there’s an eternity of those ahead… -Elder Daniel Ross

This is something Daniel expressed to me via text this week and I have thought about it again and again. Tiny interactions and connections, the evidence of humanity and goodness, can cut through differences and keep us afloat.

I walked several steps behind a little Muslim family into a store this week. The five or six-year-old son stayed behind to hold the door open for me. They weren’t speaking English, so I just smiled and gave a small wave to the boy, who had thrown his might into keeping the door open as a kindness to me. My thoughts about this family’s differences as I walked behind them in the parking lot just seconds before this interaction felt so shallow.

A different day, during school and work hours, a young father, with a daughter and a son, no older than ten years old looked at a wall of religious art. The daughter had taken an expensive framed print off the display wall and was cradling it until her arms. This was the one she loved. Later, at the cash register, I stood behind the family, the father now holding a few inexpensive prints similar to the expensive framed edition. He offered to buy a piece of candy for each child, but the children seemed content with the slips-of-paper-Jesus hugging someone. When it was my turn to step up to the register, I couldn’t speak or see clearly for a few seconds for what I had just witnessed.

The middle school kids swarmed the entrance to the public library as Mark and I drove into the parking lot after school. I offered to stay in the car as Mark found some books, since our path was through a sea of peers. He said no way. If somebody had a problem with his mom, he’d beat them up. He figured he was taller than most of them, so he had the advantage. In other words, he knew that walking with me would take courage, and he was up for it. You will be relieved to know that no violence ensued during the walk, and there were just a few loud hellos. The strong empathy in my personality made me feel insecure along with the preteens, but Mark and I made the walk together. I loved him for it.

Yesterday Tim went out to take photos of the sunset. He said he was trying to take more pictures like Daniel did. Then he mentioned that he wished he could look at Daniel’s photos of our vacations last summer, thinking there was no way he could see them. In covert sentences and expressions, Tim lets me know he misses Daniel. I pulled up Daniel’s albums on my computer and Tim was delighted, and in his understated, earnest way he enjoyed every one.

With a Smile

I think when I look back on this time in my life, I will be thankful that I was present when Tim came home from Frisbee practice, muddy and smiling. I will not regret being home and available to video chat with Daniel for the first time since Christmas. I will smile when I think of the jokes I made with Mark about the DWISBA as I drove him home from school. I will remember the texture of each boy’s hair in my fingers as I gave haircuts and the smell of starch while ironing shirts. I will smile at the memory of the beautiful home I worked to create. I will remember the souls I loved and the ones who loved me. I will remember that this was a sweet time. Sometimes I feel weary, unwanted, and stagnant, too, but that will not be the melody when I look back at this time with the perspective of age. I can see myself looking back with a smile. These little moments make me smile today.

Hello, Elder Ross!

We had a nice text exchange with our missionary for the first time today.

With a home centered focus at church, it makes sense that home and missionary work should mingle more often. Home and family are central to God’s plan. They can add strength. If they don’t, we can trust the missionaries and mission presidents and families to figure things out.

A few weeks ago, Daniel wrote to me, expressing that he wished he had talked to me more. What a blessing it is that we can now. Who else is excited in our house about this? His two brothers. This will bless their lives. Amen.

Dinner fails

On Monday I warmed up leftovers for dinner: two bowls of Chinese food, smoked chicken, vegetables, fried potatoes, and more. It was a varied and impressive sight, but we ended up running to McDonalds for some cheeseburgers when the boys were still hungry.

The next day, I cooked for hours: my best soup, a favorite sausage dish, colorful spinach salad with fresh strawberries, and homemade chocolate chip bar cookies. Tim walked in and asked, “What’s wrong?” (Has someone died?) The boys had a dentist appointment and came home with instructions not to drink hot liquids. So, this was another dinner fail for the boys and they didn’t eat my masterpiece.

Wednesday I threw a homemade quiche in the oven as I raced out the door to a parent meeting for Frisbee and a family history class. I was gone for four hours and by the look of the leftovers, I don’t think this meal was a hit, either.

Tonight I went for the tried and true spaghetti. Mark and I didn’t finish because by the time we were all home together to eat, we had to go to piano lessons.

They were lovely meals for those who could eat them.

I just looked through my last few posts and I want you to know I am not sad. I have arrived at some understanding and wrote it out. When I am not writing serious posts, I am dancing in the kitchen, chuckling at James Herriott stories, eating lemon bars, and drinking in the sunlight.