“There are many of the sisters whose labors are not known beyond their own dwellings and perhaps not appreciated there, but what difference does that make? If your labors are acceptable to God, however simple the duties, if faithfully performed, you should never be discouraged.” -Eliza R. Snow
Here’s the person of the day. He’s smart, creative, athletic, handsome, and carries tools.
I call him Dan Man…even though I don’t really want him to be a man just yet.
Daniel is missing in a lot of our photos because he’s usually blazing the trail for the rest of us. It’s nice to have a boy who is independent but will still give me a hug at night before bed.
He’s twelve and he’s a good boy. I feel so blessed to have him in our family.
The public schools are out today for teacher prep. I’m sorely tempted to take a teacher prep day, but that would mean the boys would have all day to fight instead of just the afternoon, so you know what that means: SCHOOL TIME!
I love those boys. They need action and excitement and outdoor play. Last week we found ourselves at the park…in the afternoon…and we didn’t get heat stroke! Hooray! There is hope for an autumn!
Today we said goodbye to many of Paige’s childhood toys and dress up clothes. Tears were shed. She has kept them around for all the neighbor girls to play with when they come over, but this summer it became clear that we are out of space. Most toys were carefully wrapped and donated to special people and to our church thrift store. Other things were packed away in deep storage for me to pull out and play with when Paige moves out and I’m the only girl in the house.
This photo was taken in 2002.
Goodbye pink Kelly castle with the little dragon.
Goodbye dollies. You are loved.
Goodbye ponies.
Goodbye twirly pink dress up clothes.
I’m crying my eyes out.
Goodbye tea parties with princesses.
Goodbye little things and glittery treasures.
Goodbye baby girl.
Zoomer-Smasher-Dune buggy when I ride my bike?
-Mark, age 4
This is the week that Mark learned to ride a two wheeled bike and picked up a book and read it. Blast. Next thing I know he will be telling me that he is engaged.
Richard bought Mark a bike without pedals because it’s the latest thing in balance theory. (I just made that up.) We’re believers in the balance theory, though. Without training wheels, Mark learned to balance on two wheels in about a day. We live on a hill and he walks himself up and then he glides down the hill. His wrecks are spectacular. I can hardly watch.
Sigh. My little Mark is now “Zoomer-Smasher-Dune buggy.”
And if that was not enough, on the same day he decided to read.
I committed a social faux pas last week when I told two friends who are avid preschool mothers that I haven’t been “pushing” reading for Mark. It seems like everyone wants their preschool children to read. I have known for a while that Mark was ready to read but I hadn’t prepared the little books and incentive program that my other children needed/loved when they were learning. I was waiting for a little prep time before we really got started.
Paige’s incentives were stickers and pizza; Daniel and Timothy ate candy and earned pieces of a pirate ship as they learned their phonics lessons. I was hoping Mark’s incentives would involve sharing chocolates and lots of hugs and kisses.
Somehow without the incentives and the structure he learned anyway. Perhaps his was the most powerful incentive of all: he wants to be a reader like everyone else in the house. I’m not saying he’s reading everything, but yesterday his little readers arrived in the mail and he picked one up and read several pages aloud, commenting that the word “and” was sure used a lot.
So there he goes… our baby(whimper)… off into the big world of high speed and higher education.
Each spring before we attend the General Young Women meeting, Paige and I have our picture taken.
I love this girl. She towered over me yesterday at church in her heels. She is so talented. She is so smart. She is absolutely lovely.
This boy is not wearing shoes so the dirt can settle in the little creases of his toes and under his toenails. He may not have combed his hair since Sunday. His pants are clean, though, and he is so proud to sport the armor created by his big brother.
My thoughts are on my sister Susan who gave birth to her first son last week. I’ve been taking a good look at my sons, reflecting on my time with them. I’ve thought about their little baby bodies that have grown up; I’ve thought about their current activities, the scouting and the school and music lessons and sports; I’ve thought about their future, going on missions and someday being responsible for families of their own.
My life is so entertaining with sons in the house. Ours is a house of boys, of collections, machines, and castles. Books about battles and building magazines cover the family room ottoman; countertops are spattered with dirty water spots from hasty washings of hands.
Paige’s room and my bathroom drawer full of cosmetics and sweet smelling lotions are no match for the piles of tennis shoes, baseball mitts, rackets, and many, many socks. Oh, the socks! I’ve never met a mother who could talk objectively about her sons’ socks… the number, level of soil, and sorting solutions seem to make the most capable woman’s lower lip begin to quiver.
So we’ll just stop talking about that.
And let’s move on to a few of the reasons I love raising sons. It’s terribly rewarding. Girls are expected to be good, but when your sons show good behavior, people will compose an aria about your son’s helpfulness and perform it for you in the church hallway. Boys are good at carrying firewood for Cub Scout activities. They kill the bugs that get into the house and dispose of them, no charge. They decide that once they have their Sunday suits on and there are ten minutes left before we leave for church that it’s a good time to shoot the bb gun in the backyard. Instead of saying no, I decided to love that original thought. I love, love, love, homemade presents from boys such as a twig with my initial carved into it; a love note, carefully hidden inside a book at my bedside; a bracelet with every color of bead so it will match everything.
I watched a mother run around the playground with her son today. This little mother had force fields; she ran, she fell when wounded, she deflected lasers. She had obviously studied her son and had the lingo D-O-W-N. I have never been that kind of mother. I do a lot more observing than playing. Somehow it’s not in my personality to have fun. But this makes me a good observer, and I watch those boys carefully, looking for attitudes and behaviors that are good or not so good. And then I compose sneaky plans for how to improve those behaviors and attitudes.
In all my thinking and observing and (sneaky) planning, I’m hoping to prepare my sons to be the men who will stay after the church activity to clean up chairs and sweep the floor; to be the ones who notice when someone needs help and know how to help them; to be the ones with the spiritual skills to teach the gospel; to be the ones who are trustworthy and can take a task and complete it without supervision or hassling; to be the ones who take a righteous stand; to be the ones who love the Lord and love their families enough to leave them to complete their home teaching and church assignments and come home ready to wrestle with their own sons.
It’s a big list, I know, but I’m serious about trying to raise good sons.
Hooray for Susan and her Richard, whom my mother calls, “Richard II,” and the girls. I’m so excited for you to have a son and a little brother!
This week I found:
A dead lizard on a patio table… a highly prized gift (presented in its dead state) from a neighbor, worthy of its prominent placement for repose. On detection, there were many accompanying promises that the children will bury said lizard.
A homemade bird feeder down on the ground.
Evidence of a sick dog on the carpet, the dog having gorged himself on the birdseed from the above mentioned feeder.
An entire box of Kleenex emptied, used as paper towels, and left on the floor of the guest bathroom because “Mom forgot to hang up a fresh towel.”
Many love notes from Mark, decorated with hearts and trees. The attending lollipops, soon desired by the giver, magically evolved from being Mom’s gift from Mark to Mom’s gift to Mark. Genius!
I have determined that:
Richard has been going through pictures this week and he asked that I cull oh, about most of them. This one survived the cut because it shows Timothy really enjoying his time on the bumper cars with Daniel and his cousin Ray.
Timothy will jam his tongue into his cheek to suppress a smile if he thinks he is the only one smiling. He’s a soft-spoken sweetheart of a boy. He is very funny when he feels comfortable. I am glad that he has so many cousins whom he calls friends.
Look out, Timothy. I’m coming to hug and kiss you for no reason.
