World's Greatest Mommy?--No Chance!

The Walk

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 03:52:00 +0000

It was 3:45pm in the afternoon and I was walking with children numbers 3, 4, and 5 to the local elementary school to pick up child number 2 and get back home before child number 1 was dropped off at home by one of the most wonderful sister-in-laws known to mankind.

This, however, wasn't my plan for the day.

I had planned to be waiting in the pick-up lane at the local elementary school for child number 2 with the previously mentioned 3 children safely strapped into safety seats in my van. I might have been blogging, texting, or catching up on my reading while I waited in line.

Except, today my beloved van decided that it didn't want to transport me anywhere without loud wailing and gnashing of its components. And in order to cater to the van's desire for rest and in order to avoid paying any more money than is absolutely necessary to our local Toyota dealership, I opted to arrange rides for the kids.

Except I forgot about Monday after-school choir, necessitating an extra trip to the school.

So I was now walking with pre-droplets of rain falling all around me...and I was not very happy about it.

But the kids were.

Everything they saw was wonderful, lovely, exciting, inspiring, and amazing.

Green pecans, large white dump trucks, gray misty clouds, cars with racing stripes, old friends, new friends, backpacks just like theirs.

And on the way home they decided that we were on an expedition through the jungle. Bal and Nod were "co-guides". Boose and the Baby were curious travelers. I was the photographer, unpaid, I later learned.

And as I stood back a little away from the weary travelers something happened to my eyes. And for a brief moment I saw things as they saw them. Instead of potentially costly repairs, a long walk, and a blown afternoon, I saw an adventure...time spent together...the excitement of the journey.

It was a brief glimpse, but one that I was determined to cherish. And then it was time for me to keep walking...

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Dear Cousin

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 03:32:00 +0000

Dear Robby,

When I was little you came to visit Granny for one of your rare visits on an Easter Sunday, and I was more than a little jealous of the attention everyone showed to you. I was the oldest cousin, and used to being the important one. And suddenly there was this inquisitive, rambunctious boy who was stealing all the limelight with his happy smile and quick wit.

It didn’t take long for me to be enchanted by you, too. You had a way about you…you could draw people so incredibly near in such a short amount of time.

But the limit of my patience was reached when you coveted the carrot on my new stuffed Easter bunny. I loved that bunny. Though my sisters had gotten plain pink bunnies, mine was green with an orange carrot sewn snuggly between its paws. It was unique and I was immensely proud of it.

But you wanted it, not so much it, but the prize between it’s fluffy paws. And since we rarely got to see you, my mother/your aunt, snatched it out of my hands and snipped off the carrot, handing it over to you while I stood silently in childish horror.

I was furious. I decided then and there that you were a spoiled brat and mourned the loss of my carrot for several days.

Time went by. We lost touch. You grew up and plowed through your own grown-up struggles. I tripped and stumbled through my own adventures.

We reconnected. A few brief messages on Facebook until I finally got up the nerve to ask if you remembered about the carrot.

“What carrot?”, you replied.

It made me laugh.

And then, so suddenly, you were gone…having left this world much too soon. Leaving behind holes, empty chairs, and messages unsaid.

And we’re all grieving, Robby. It hurts to not have you here. There are moments it hurts so badly.

And I keep going back to my memory.

I didn’t understand then about time being so short. If I had, maybe I’d have cut the carrot off the bunny myself, offering you something small that would bring a simple invaluable smile that I could hold tightly in my memory forever.

But time together in this life is done, for now. There will be a season to reminisce later. I'm looking forward to it. We’ll all be together in another place and time…and dearest cousin…I’m going to ask if you remember stealing my carrot.

I expect that your memory will have improved, by then.

Love,

Sarah

The Limelight

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 03:58:00 +0000

The flash of a camera speaks directly to my daughter's heart. No matter where she is when a camera is turned on, she instinctively knows where to turn, and wastes no time in honing in on her personal share of the limelight.

She knows that her fans are waiting to see her. She's sure that she's the star of any show.

What's this? Does this rather plain older brother think that his face is the one destined to be recorded for posterity? Could it be that the dog is the subject of the photo? Could the fates be that cruel?

Why are pictures being taken when the little starlet's face is not in them? What recourse does the disgruntled diva have left?

Her displeasure is duly noted.

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Her Masterpiece

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 17:02:00 +0000

The baby took a stack of computer paper and a bin filled with colored pencils and got to work writing her own masterpiece. I watched quietly for a few minutes and then drifted away to accomplish something...anything, while she was so peacefully occupied.

A few hours later I noticed her extensive treatise lying completed on the floor. Flipping through the pages, I found her visionary masterpiece laid out in perfect detail.

Page 1 describes the futility of man's search for monetary gain.

Page 2 devotes itself to the importance of leisure and rest in a well-balanced life.

Page 3 is a reawakening of individual purpose and destiny in a chaotic world.

Are we seeing a pattern?

Page 15 remarks on the necessity of strengthening the foundational relationships that guide our decisions and actions.

Page 27 wanders a little. But it ultimately arrives at the conclusion that the current state of our economic situation is a testament to our over-reaching desires and willingness to sacrifice ultimate goals for fleeting satisfactions.

Page 46 wraps up with an expression of hope for the future of our world by returning to a sense of minimalism.

Those wishing to interview the author may contact her through her agent/mother but must be willing to work around nap time.

And as a bonus, she's released this sneak peak at the updated and revised edition, due out early next year.

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To the Rescue

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Tue, 05 May 2009 02:44:00 +0000

There are a million things I should be doing right now. I've got sunglasses and shorts to buy for Jare's field day tomorrow. He's competing in the the broad/long jump and the hula hoop contest. I bought shorts. I thought they were a size 14. They are a size 18, not great for a boy who'll be jumping tomorrow and has sincere hopes of NOT jumping right out of his pants in front of a stadium crowd. Nod's shoes have developed a crater the size of Lake Michigan in the sole. He wore his church shoes to school today, along with a major frown at his mother's inability to force Target to open before school started. Tomorrow he may wear the same shoes and a frown at his mother's inability to make it to Target before they close. It's Teacher Appreciation Week, and as the De Facto President of the PTA, I have a bajillion things to do so that our teachers feel mildly appreciated. The remains of homemade pizza linger on all the surfaces in my kitchen, and the Mount Everest of dirty clothes has dwindled, but only to a Mount Kilimanjaro status.

But I have a story to tell about motherhood, so those things will just have to wait.

I was fifteen, and so utterly alone. My best friend for the last several years had abandoned me and the rest of my high school marching band for a much cooler crowd. I would have followed if I had possessed a lot more courage and been less driven about my goals for the future. But instead, I remained behind, friendless, in a sea of polyester band uniforms.

I could muddle through most days. After all, there wasn't much time for socializing during rehearsals. Our director was determined to turn us into a well-oiled machine in time for each Friday night performance...and looming in the back of every band member's mind was the upcoming contest season with it's Saturday trips.

Band bus trips are the sauerkraut on the sandwich of a lonely band member's life. (Or some other sentence that means that band bus trips really stink when you don't have any friends.)

So the first Saturday bus trip of the season found me sitting on a curb in the parking lot of my high school with my band uniform garment bag, hat box, clarinet, and a backpack full of items that I hoped would get me through a desperately long day.

My dad had dropped me off early on his way to a job, so I had the further honor of arriving before the directors, the bus drivers, and even the drum line.

Yay, me.

I wallowed in my self-pity as I watched more and more excited band members show up. People began choosing seat partners and dividing into bus groups. I was terrified that there wouldn't be enough seats and I'd end up sitting next to someone who was forced to sit next to me.

I was in luck, though. My bus seemed to hold mostly sophomores like myself, and there were plenty of seats. I staked my claim midway back and began to arrange my belongings, waiting as the directors checked the last details of our trip. As the excited chatter around me began to rise to a fevered pitch, the loneliness weighed down on me even more. What was I doing here? What was wrong with me? I should be home in bed. I should be on the phone with my friend planning out a Saturday full of fun. I'd never make friends. I'd never fit in.

Tears were overwhelming my eyes. I had to get off that bus.

Leaving my stuff, I jumped down the steps and walked out into the parking lot. I wanted to walk home. I wanted to walk anywhere, but at that moment, I saw my mother's car turning off the highway to drive the street in front of the school.

My mom worked nights as a nurse, and at 7:30 in the morning she was coming off a long night filled with sick patients, snappy doctors, and worried families. I saw her car driving towards home and my heart ached even more. I knew my mom would understand. I knew she would know what to say. I knew without a doubt that her wisdom could help. But I just waved goodbye as she approached.

Then at the last second, she turned into the parking lot. I was confused. Had she thought I was signaling her? I walked towards the parking space where she was now parked. She rolled down her window.

"I didn't think I'd catch you in time," she said breathlessly.

"Did I forget something?" I wondered if I'd remembered my ruffle bib and cummerbund, integral parts of my super-snazzy uniform.

"No, I just thought you might need something for the bus trip. I got enough for you to share with the other kids."

She opened up a brown paper grocery bag. I looked inside to see piles of every kind of candy I could think of. I could barely lift the bag as she handed it to me. Then she pressed two five dollar bills into my hand.

"I know it's not much, but it should by a small souvenir."

Then she looked at me seriously and said, "There are adventures waiting to happen for you. Grab the ones that are good and let go of the ones that are bad. You'll remember these days as some of the best you ever had."

Then, it was time to go. I walked back to the bus thinking about what she'd said, and wondering how she'd know that I needed her in that moment. There were tears again, but of a different type.

As I climbed the steps to the bus, everyone wanted to know what I'd forgotten. I sheepishly showed them the bag of candy, and made instant friendships of the enduring kind that only chocolate can create. I had conversation for the entire trip, and that bus trip became a turning point in my ability to make and keep friends.

My mom had rescued me.

I'm a mom today, and I'm called in for search and rescue despite the fact that I rarely feel competent in my ability to help. There are so many times when I'm at the end of my day, on my knees, praying for the ability to have more, do more, be more. There are many rescue attempts that just plain fail.

But then I think about my mom. I know there were a million times when she wasn't able to make it all better...at least not right away. But those memories are foggy and distant to me. The moment that I remember...the memory that floods my mind when I hear the word "mother" is the one of my mom dressed in her nursing scrubs, driving her maroon Chevy Impala. pulling in to a parking space at my high school, and saving the day at the moment when I needed her the most.

I can't guarantee that I'll be able to soothe all the hurts of my kids. In fact, I can guarantee that I won't be able to fix everything. Honestly, that's probably a good thing. I hope they find treasured memories like I have...simple ones where I was able to help them. I think they will.

And my mother's words then, still ring so true.

I think of them when I feel the need to be rescued again, as a grown-up, and a little farther from Mommy's comforting reach.

"There are adventures waiting to happen for you. Grab the ones that are good and let go of the ones that are bad. You'll remember these days as some of the best you ever had."

Yes, mommy.

I've learned just how true that is.

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A Feather In My Cap

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 04:20:00 +0000

In Kindergarten, we six-year-olds learned quickly that the crowing symbol of educational achievement came in the form of brightly colored feathers. There were five main achievements that our ancient Kindergarten teacher wanted us to have accomplished at the end of our time together. Each time we met a requirement, we received a feather.

1. Tying our shoelaces.
2. Writing our name.
3. Coloring a picture in the lines.
4. Cutting shapes out of paper on the lines.
5. Citizenship.

It was a rigorous curriculum.

We worked all year on these tasks, throwing a little bit of folk dancing and pretend play at the wooden kitchen center into the mix to create a well-balanced education.

I excelled in the pretend kitchen area of the classroom, but that was the extent of my Kindergarten skills.

One by one the other students earned feathers for completing the requirements to prove that they were all accomplished Kindergartners. One by one, I butchered shape worksheets, tangled shoelaces until they had to be cut to be removed, and made a general mess of any standardized assignment.

I missed free time for several weeks to sit at a table with the teacher and practice writing my name. But every time, the S and the H would be backwards, with the As completely illegible.

My Rs were perfect, though. I rarely got credit for such well-crafted Rs. Those wounds are slow to heal.

In desperation, my teacher finally gave me a feather for managing to color a circle without going too far outside the lines. I also earned a citizenship feather after I cooked a seven-course pretend meal for my entire class.

On graduation day, we made circular bands out of paper, shaped to fit our heads perfectly. One by one, the teacher stapled the feathers that each child had earned onto their band.

Every other student had 5.

I had 2.

I started to cry and I couldn't stop.

As my teacher searched frantically for the package of feathers, I cried harder.

Even at such a young age, I didn't really want "gimme" feathers. I wished I could have earned my own.

And then something strange happened.

One of my friends pulled off his brightest, yellowest, sunniest feather and stuck it in my hat. Another little girl gave up her prized pink feather and placed it gently near the front of my band. Soon many other students were plucking their stapled on feathers off of their own hats and putting them in my hat.

I ended up with more feathers than anyone in the history of Kindergarten. And I was proud to bear the gifts of my classmates.

I hadn't cut along the lines perfectly. No one could read my name. I would search out lace-less shoes for the rest of my existence. But somehow all of those six-year-olds were able to see something of value in me and provide a visible, tangible celebration of that value. I've rarely felt that special.

Tonight I was feeling sorry for myself. I had shattered a Pyrex dish, burned a loaf of bread, under-coooked the bean soup for dinner, lost my temper with a tired and cranky three-year-old, and permanently abandoned the hope of ever having 100% of my laundry done at one time.

And then my Daddy called.

We chatted about mortgages, back pain, swine flu, our Savior, the scriptures, faith, family, memories, and more.

And at the end of our call, he told me how proud of me he is.

He said that I was a feather in his cap.

And I felt special, all over again.

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Manses: All Are Welcome

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 12:30:00 +0000

Most kids go through a phase when they love action figures. But my husband and his siblings created a unique name for action figures that has been passed down to a new generation of children.

Manses.

Man + zes

I've studied every possible etymological evolution that could have led us from action figures to manses, and finally determined that manses means multiple action figure men who have little regard for grammar.

Or something like that.

And in case you are wondering...the singular form of the word manses, is mans.

But just like nearly every other word in the English language, (and many of the made up words my children have subsequently added) manses has morphed to mean more than just it's initial meaning. Apparently the manses have a fairly inclusive club.

This is a whole group of mans...hence they are called as a collection "manses". There are many of them. They are all strong and manly. Sort of.

This mans is actually the leader of a faction of intelligent robots. He can transform into a tractor trailer rig. He's earned the title of mans, even though he's not human because of his willingness to protect all forms of life. Also, the position of Robot Ambassador needed to be filled quickly.

This is a ninja. He is also a mans. His enviable stash of weapons makes all the other manses jealous. Luckily he's willing to share a nunchuk or two with other manses who've had their weapons suffer any untimely vacuum cleaner death.

This is a bad mans. Nobody really wanted to let him join the club, but bad guys are hard to come by, and he proved sturdy when he was tested for initiation by the infamous "little sister chew toy" test.

This is in fact a shark.

None of the other manses have the heart to tell him that he doesn't belong.

This one is actually a girl. There was an issue with gender equality...so she had to be let in. She spends most of her days lobbying for a name change. She's torn between
Wo-Manses, and SPAWM (Society for the Protection of Action Women and Men). The group votes in November.
Even Tom Selleck managed to get in.

This mans had an unfortunate training session with The Thing. He's really lost a lot of his swagger.

But, his other half has proved much more resilient since the accident and is really beginning to get ahead.

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Because He Knows Me So Well...

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 04:15:00 +0000

Tonight, I realized that I had promised the kids that they could take their lunches to school tomorrow. A quick look in the pantry revealed that unless the kids wanted to take rice or instant gravy mix, a trip to the store would be necessary.

I drug my feet, flailed my arms, and complained loudly to the dog about having to go grocery shopping when all I really wanted was my soft pillow and a cozy effortless novel that I'd almost memorized the words to.

Have I ever mentioned that I'm married to Prince Charming?

He swooped me up in his arms, carried me out to his gleaming silver charger of a mini-van, and turned a late night run to the grocery store into a laugh-fest.

And as we waited in line to check-out, he even slyly turned over the only remaining copy of Martha Stewart Living so that the impossible to recreate crafty elegance wouldn't tempt me into a guaranteed disappointment. I returned the favor by pretending that there were no white chocolate candy bars in any of the checkout lanes.

I had to laugh at how much fun I had on our atypical mini-date. 12 years of marriage down, with an eternity that I'm looking forward to.

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Tagging Photos

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 15:21:00 +0000

Every now and again I get a few minutes to myself. It's a rare enough occurrence that sometimes it takes me 2 1/2 minutes to realize those minutes are there, but it does happen.

This morning I had five minutes, and I decided the wisest use of my time would be to empty my memory card onto my computer, hoping that at some point in the future another five minutes would allow me the chance to actually view the photos, then later edit the photos, eventually share the photos, and maybe by the time my children sell my home, pilfer all of my stuff, and enroll me at the local retirement home...I'd eventually find five minutes to print those now vintage pictures for practical use.

I believe in setting long-term goals.

I plopped my memory card into the computer slot only to be greeted by this window.

Apparently my computer was giving me the option to tag these pictures so that they would be easier to find later on in the decade when I'd be given some more time to work with them. Excited by the chance that this might actually save some of my precious free time in the future, I thought long and hard about what tags would be best for this group of photos.

I had to use the one picture as a visual clue as to what moments I'd been trying to capture with my camera.

In this photo, we see my husband giving a long overdue trim to our son's hair. He's wearing his church softball t-shirt. A t-shirt that was accidentally ordered 2 sizes too small, and was further shrunk by his wife's superior laundry ability. In the background of the photo, there's a nice shot of our not-yet-clean electric grill, and a stack of stuff that needs to be filed.

And I still had 1 free minute to use the bathroom.

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5 Minutes

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 15:23:00 +0000

3 Bags of Orville Redenbacher Tender White Popcorn ($2.99)
+ 5 Cans of Store Brand Orange Soda ($1.00)
+ 1 DVD of The Backyardigans with episodes never previously viewed by your children ($11.88) =

5 uniterrupted minutes before someone pegs his brother with popcorn, causing said brother to spill soda all over the baby and the carpet, causing the baby to knock over the entire bowl of popcorn, causing the popcorn to turn orange and soggy, forcing everyone in the house to burst into tears = still blissfully worth it.

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Second Cousins (Once Removed)

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 20:42:00 +0000

Second Cousins (Once Removed)

My second cousin, once removed, is a special friend of mine
She walks with me...
she talks with me...
And all around us the world starts to shine.

My second cousin, once removed, looks like me, I guess.
We've both got fast legs.
We've both got bright eyes.
And we're too busy to notice the rest.

Her Daddy's Dad is my Daddy's Uncle, and vice versa, I think.
Sorting out cousins
can be lots of work,
but I know that we all interlink.

No matter how many times removed, I know she'll be there for me
'cause second cousins,
even once removed,
are faithful, friendly, and free.

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A Feast

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 04:38:00 +0000

Today, the baby dragged a basket of pretend food down the stairs and announced, "I am making a feast. Will you help me?"

But I was busy.

So I said, "In a minute."

And while she put together french fry cakes and brownie shrimp with her baby dolls, I checked my email, washed the dishes, vacuumed the carpet, washed loads of laundry, reconciled a bank account...and missed out on a once in a lifetime opportunity.

She made her feast, and it kept her occupied for almost an hour. Every five minutes she would ask, "Are you not busy, yet?" And every five minutes I would say, "Almost not busy." And eventually she gave up.

And long after we'd finished up the day. Long after she was tucked safely into bed...I came across the remains of her feast. A feast she would have shared with me, if I hadn't been too busy.

It made me so sad that I briefly contemplated waking her up and apologizing. Instead, I cried a little because life seems so hard to prioritize, and memorable moments seem to float by...barely out of my reach.

And so tonight, I resolved to be less busy tomorrow. I'm hoping to wow her with my doughnut/ice cream/asparagus creation. It's a delicacy around here.

And I am determined not to miss another feast.

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A Mommy Fit

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 07:55:00 +0000

It's 5:00 pm and I am directing the after-school homework session.

There is resentment, frustration, an inability to understand basic math, and a decided lack of love for the written word.

The kids aren't happy either.

We make it through four sets of spelling, math, silent sustained reading, handwriting practice, and research on the planet Jupiter. All the while listening to the small planet researcher explain how unfair it was that her teacher wouldn't let her research Pluto. And "isn't it unfair that Pluto was unceremoniously stripped of it's planet status". And when she is President, "her first official act of office will be to reinstate Pluto to the family of known Planets, 'cause who cares if it's spinning on a weird axis."

Meanwhile all of the children who are finished with homework would now like a second snack/to play outside/to play the Wii/to watch a movie...all at the same time.

It's enough to make me begin to spin on my own weird axis.

Then the baby starts to throw a fit because I say she's had enough juice for today and needs to drink water or milk.

As I watch her temper tantrum unfold, for a moment I am jealous.

Right now, I would love nothing more than to throw myself to the floor and begin to flail my arms and legs around with little regard for what gets in the way.

I play out the scene in my head.

The kids would stand horrified at the fit their mother was throwing. They would cover their ears in amazement as I screamed out,

"I don't want to. I don't want to do homework. I don't want to make snacks. I want to take a nap. I want to take a shower. I want to read a book. You can't make me make dinner. I won't do it. Never, ever, again. I'd rather eat dirt than wash laundry. Laundry stinks. You can't make me do it. I'll never drive anyone to another practice again for as long as I live."

The tone of my voice would reach a fevered pitch just as Daddy walked in the door.

But, I would just continue banging my head on the floor and grunting complaints into the carpet.

In desperation my family would call in the big dogs.

Fire rescue, police, and ambulance EMTs would crowd into the room shaking their heads, unsure of their next move. In disbelief they would stare.

Meanwhile I would crawl on my back and continue shouting at the ceiling and everyone within a 4 block range, causing a crowd to gather, "You don't love me. If you loved me you wouldn't make me do math. Math is too hard. I just want to eat chocolate. I'm never doing math again."

Finally, they would turn to the only source of help they had left. And in the door would walk...my mother.

She would take one look at me and nod her head knowingly. With wisdom she would shoo the extra people out of the room, disperse the crowd, and shut the door.

Turning to my husband and children, she would tell them gravely, "It's a Mommy fit. They are rare, but the only cure is to let her cry it out, and then give her a hug and cookie."

Then she would hang up all the backpacks, put the lasagna in the oven, and direct the kids out the back door to play. After a few minutes, the lure of her chocolate chip cookies would coax me up off the ground, where she'd be waiting to give me a big hug and then be on her way.

I smile as my "all in my head fit" comes to a close and I contemplate how un-grown up I looked in my daydream. The baby stops crying, and I realize that the kids have actually put away their own backpacks for once and are all reading on their own for fun.

I hug each one and pass out the cookies.

We've all earned them, and just for good measure, I have two.

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We Interrupt This Epidemic...For a Blog Post

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 04:25:00 +0000

Boose had a fever. Not a big deal, right? The next day, Nod came down sick. Then, Bal didn't feel so well. And then, can you guess? Jare and Baby.

Not so bad. I can handle this. I've got a plan in place. And so, even though my living room floor was covered with pallets, and I bought enough 7-up to supply a 3rd world country...I had a handle on things.

And then I started coughing.

And then my head felt like it had been repeatedly caught in a slamming car door.

Then, my fever began spiking...and don't even get me started on the Tom Selleck hallucinations.

Sick. The mommy. The caretaker.

And just to prove that he is the World's Greatest Dad/Husband/Medicine Deliverer, the love of my life took a sick day for tomorrow to take care of those of us still recovering.

Here's hoping you guys are all well.

Think un-germy thoughts, my friends

And if you were planning on dropping by my house...enter at your own risk.

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My Mom

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 14:50:00 +0000

Reeling
Not knowing where I am
Fear and doubt are closing in
I will not make it through
I cannot make it back

And then a voice

The one that quieted childhood fears
The one that soothed illness and hurt
The one that chased bullies and welcomed friends
The one that sang O Holy Night and couldn't keep from crying
The one that said "I love you" more than ten times every day
The one lifted in prayer
The one firm in disappointed chastisement
The one tender in forgiveness
The one that taught me how to love and live

She speaks

Words of comfort and care.

You'll be okay.
I'm right here.
You're stronger than you know.
It's just a phase.
He'll lift you up.
He knows your name.
I love you always.

And I am whole.

***Happy late birthday, Mommy. Sorry that technical difficulties prevented me from posting this earlier. You are my hero and I still want to grow up to be just like you. I love you...always and forever.

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I Pledge Allegiance...To the Band...

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 04:56:00 +0000

Just so you know where I ranked on the totem pole of coolness in high school. Most people who have to wear a vinyl cummerbund and a ruffle bib every Friday night in public just don't stand a chance.

***For more Sincerely 'Fro Me to You, head on over to We Are THAT Family. It's the best carnival in town. Kristen is also hosting a special S.W.A.K. carnival right before Valentine's Day...join us and share your love story...I'm still in the planning stages, but I'll be there too.

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It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses a Toe From a Falling Box of Dominoes

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 04:45:00 +0000

It was such a simple request.

The Baby wanted to play with a puzzle.

I knew we'd neglected the upkeep of the game closet. I had an inkling that it was cluttered and messy, but surely I could find a puzzle quickly for my daughter.

Did I say we'd neglected the closet? I meant completely surrendered it to the seven levels of the game board underworld.

I stood for awhile looking at the mess, hoping my neighbor with the telephoto lens wasn't getting an eyeful of my secret shame.

I was asking myself how it had gotten this bad, when the metal tub of dominoes slid from somewhere on the stack and landed on my bare feet.

By the way, dominoes are heavy.

Consider yourself warned.

Apparently there was only one way I was going to get a puzzle without severely injuring myself.

So I dug in and cleaned out. I put the flippin' rubber frogs in the Flippin' Frogs box. (It's a real game, and that's really its name.) I found two complete sets of Uno Spin, just in case the first one gets buried in a pile of rubble. I located the "One Ring" for our Lord of the Rings Monopoly Set mixed in with paper butterflies from the Elefun game and tiny plastic cherries from Hi Ho Cherry-O.

I took a brief break to Chicken Limbo, and I'm sure my neighbor will be selling those photos to the highest bidder soon.

And in a handful of hours, (man handfuls, mind you) the game closet was transformed.

Pick a game, any game.

This is for the small card games/flash cards, and any stray pieces that need to be put back into a game box.

The kids are hoping for a snow day tomorrow so they can dive into all the fun games that have been rescued from the deep dark pit that was the closet.

And that's fine...they can play. But if they mess up that closet, there's going to be...

Apparently with a Hi Ho Cherry-O on top.

***Check out more Works For Me Wednesday Posts hosted by Shannon at Rocks In My Dryer.

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Texas in January: A Photographic Study With Rhyme

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 23:35:00 +0000

On a clear winter's day,
One Daddy said, "Hey"
"I've got a fabulous plan!"
"It's 80 outside,
So let's go for a ride."
And off they all trouped to the van.

Finding themselves near
To the park they loved dear
They stopped to admire the view.
And sat on the ground.
Near a creek that they'd found.
Where there frolicked some geese, quite a few.

Next Jare proved his talents.
On a canon he did balance.
While the crowd held back every sound.
Not once did he stumble.
His resolve would not crumble.
(Though he was 1 whole foot off the ground.)

Daddy's challenge was met
And he came to regret,
Inviting Boose and her long legs to race.
For though he escaped,
His pride was quite scraped,
When she easily matched his fast pace.

Away from the rest,
Bal found his own test,
In the form of an infamous hill.
Undaunted and brave,
His best try he gave.
And proved once again his strong will.

Meanwhile, back at the bars,
Nod reached for the stars
Not knowing what the outcome would be.
His reach was quite small,
But his determination tall.
And he rallied triumphantly.

The baby set her eyes
On a most worthy prize,
A massive and magnificent steed.
With a little boost
To the saddle she was introduced.
And she relished in such a fine deed.

At the end of the day,
This family could say.
They had given their all and their best.
They left feeling pleased.
Their cabin-fever eased.
As they set off on another fine quest.

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History Lessons

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 05:15:00 +0000

Today, I plopped all 5 of my kids down in front of the television and interrupted their last day of a four day weekend for some history.

They were not pleased.

They could have been listening to iPods, playing air hockey, making aliens, bossing around a robotic dog, or building castles out of sand that is guaranteed never to dry out.

Instead they were watching Charles Gibson and the rest of the ABC crew comment on the Inauguration festivities.

An almost actual transcript follows.

Jare, "Mom, I thought you didn't even vote for this guy. Why would you want to watch him become President?"

Boose, "How long does an Inauguration take? Is it longer than watching Kung-Fu Panda?"

Bal, "How do you spell Presidential Inauguration?"

Nod, (watching the proceedings) "How come only old people get to go to that party?"

Me, "Guys, your teachers will probably ask you tomorrow if any of you watched the Inauguration. Won't it be cool to be able to say yes?"

They stared at me as though I had no clue of the definition of cool.

I tried again.

"This is history in the making. This doesn't happen every day. Don't you want to be a part of it?"

They looked at me again, trying to determine if I was actually giving them a choice.

"Oh, forget it", I said.

And so they milled around doing whatever, while I watched the proceedings. They only showed interest when they saw the people skating on the ice over the reflecting pool after the ceremonies were over.

"Wow, I wish we were at the Inauguration," Bal said, voicing the opinion of all five kids, who were now staring at the television screen watching with rapt attention.

So apparently ice skating may be the key to get our youth emotionally invested in the political process.

Who knew?

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First Job Mess-Ups

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 20:30:00 +0000

I didn't expect to relive a long forgotten moment in my life because of a trip to Sonic. I was just trying to buy lunch. It should have been an easy thing. After all, I knew exactly what I wanted to order.

Unfortunately, the voice on the other end of the big red button was not being cooperative. She kept repeating back my order incorrectly. And I kept correcting her. Then she would read it back another time...still incorrectly. It seriously took 15 minutes to order 5 kids meals and 2 combos.

15 minutes later she brought out the food. She looked like she was 17. She had that happy innocence associated with a first job. She was smiling and cheerful.

She also forgot the burger and chili cheese coney that went with my two combos. Before I realized it, she had skipped back inside. So I pushed the button again, and eventually my entire order was delivered.

Watching her apologize and walk back in to the store...I remembered something...something I'd buried in the catalogs of my memory.

My first real job.

I was working in an office for a non-profit agency creating hard copy back-up files from a computer.

Nothing you can mess up there right? It's just click and print. Click and print. Click and print. Click and single-handedly bring down a charity organization.

Oops.

I somehow managed to cause every printer in the office to start spitting out paper with weird characters on it. I remember standing in the middle of the office while people were running around shutting down printers to try to stop the madness. My boss kept looking at me and sighing.

I had tears running down my face.

One of the other office personnel squeezed my shoulder and said, "Someday, you'll laugh about this. You'll tell your kids about your first job and you'll laugh. Everybody has had a first job."

Then she told me about getting a job as a book-shelver at the library in her hometown. She was 16. On her first day she got her arm stuck in the book deposit slot. The fire department and town doctor were called in. They got her out, but not before her cousin who was working for the town's newspaper got a shot of her and the fireman trying to get her arm out of the slot. It ran the next day as the front page.

I remembered how much I loved her for telling me that story.

And in my heart I had some compassion for the skipping carhop and the memories she was sure to create.

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100 More Things About Me

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 21:28:00 +0000

1. I'm 31 years old.
2. I grew up with 2 sisters.
3. I have 0 brothers.
4. Except for my imaginary brother.
5. His name was Nathan and he was older than me.
6. My favorite kind of food is Italian.
7. I make a mean lasagna.
8. When I was younger my nickname was "burnt bread".
9. I occasionally caught bread on fire when I would cook it...and dish towels.
10. I played clarinet in junior high, high school, and college.
11. I was also forced to play the bass clarinet sometimes.
12. Bass clarinets are a billion times more heavier than clarinets.
13. I'm addicted to buying books.
14. There have been some interventions.
15. I cannot change my ways.
16. Amazon.com rules!
17. I don't have a lot of talents.
18. But there's a lot of stuff I'd like to learn.
19. Knitting, sewing, baking, crafting, Mandarin, Cherokee, Spanish, tribal drumming, guitar, piano, woodworking, macrame, calligraphy, painting, drawing, and pottery.
20. I was kidding about tribal drumming and macrame.
21. I already rock at those.
22. I have a love/hate relationship with Martha Stewart.
23. I love everything she does.
24. I hate that I can never replicate it.
25. I did pretend interview her once.
26. Impressive, I know.
27. I research my family history.
28. So far I've found a nice mix of educators, artists, explorers, ranchers, and lawless rabble.
29. It explains a lot.
30. My degree is in Secondary Education/English.
31. I've been married for 12 years.
32. To the most amazing guy on the planet.
33. He's also an amazing kisser.
34. Sorry if that is TMI, but it's true and it had to be said.
35. I'm a Southern Democrat.
36. Which is the most confusing thing to be.
37. I'm not even sure what it means.
38. But I always vote and I try to know what I'm voting for.
39. I was raised in a small town in Oklahoma.
40. Then I went to college in another small town in Oklahoma.
41. Then my husband dragged me to live in a city of half a million people.
42. Surrounded by cities with another 2 million people in them, collectively.
43. When I think about the number of people here, I get claustrophobic and have to lie down.
44. Also, I wasn't really forced to come here. I came willingly. Somewhat.
45. When I was 11 years old I went outside to hang clothes on the line and heard a chorus of trumpets and thought Jesus was returning. I was really disappointed when He didn't show up.
46. When my mom gave me my first training bra, she forgot to tell me that you could take it off when you sleep.
47. I didn't know until I was grown.
48. I think Raspberry Coconut Zingers are the best food in the world.
49. My first car was a light blue Chevy Cavalier.
50. The rear passenger door had been damaged and wouldn't open.
51. I loved that car.
52. It was totaled while my sister was driving shortly after she got her license.
53. I still love my sister.
54. My second car was a red Bronco II.
55. I loved that car.
56. My sister totaled it while I was away at college.
57. I still love my sister.
58. I'm very forgiving.
59. Unless you take my last Zinger.
60. I have five beautiful children.
61. Ages 11, 9, 7, 6, 2.
62. Soon to be 11, 9, 8, 7, 3.
63. Who act like they're 35, 22, 5, 2, 19.
64. They think I'm wonderful.
65. Except when I ground them from the Wii.
66. Then I'm mean, mean, mean.
67. I'm afraid of heights.
68. I get dizzy and can't breathe.
69. When I went to France in high school, my friends forced me into the elevator for the Eiffel Tower, and held me down until we got to the top.
70. The view was beautiful, but I thought I was going to die the whole time.
71. I survived.
72. But not without emotional trauma.
73. My Dad is my hero.
74. I love my Mommy, too.
75. My sisters are alright.
76. Just kidding.
77. They are infinitely more talented than me.
78. And younger.
79. We shared a room as kids.
80. Every night growing up I had to sing Silent Night and Bibbity Bobbity Boo to get them to go to sleep.
81. I would also try to play the quiet game with them and take an inordinately long time to pick someone, hoping they'd drop off to sleep.
82. It rarely worked.
83. I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
84 Some people call me a Mormon. I've had other people call me crazy.
85. That's okay. I know who I am and what I believe.
86. And I know that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer and Savior.
87. I'm the Primary President in our ward at church.
88. That means I'm in charge of all the kids 18mos-11 yrs, their classes, teachers, and activities. I love every kid in the bunch and am grateful to serve them.
89. The current First Lady of Oklahoma was my AP History teacher when I was in high school. (Hi, Mrs. Henry!)
90. It's a small state.
91. I'd love to get my Master's degree in Library Science.
92. And be an archival librarian.
93. The kind that works with old records and has to wear white gloves.
94. Or, I'd like to open a bookstore.
95. The kind that Meg Ryan's character owns in You've Got Mail.
96. Did I mention I'm addicted to books?
97. Just thought you should know.
98. I'm fiercely loyal to those I love.
99. It's not hard to make me love you.
100. After reading all that blather about me, I love you already.

I realized that several of my 100 things were outdated. Mostly my age. And rather than go in and edit away all the things that have changed...I thought I'd write a new list to reflect my growing interests and experiences. You know, narcissism at its best.

----a big apology to my little sister who was indeed licensed ( but just barely) when a large red truck ran a red light and killed my car while she was driving. Luckily she was physically okay. I blame old age for not remembering the incident correctly.---

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A Letter To My Daughter

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 04:49:00 +0000

Dear Boose,

When I checked on you tonight, I noticed that your feet nearly touched the footboard at the end of your bed. I stood there staring at you for awhile, wondering how it was possible that you'd grown so much overnight.

You are growing up too fast. It's not your fault. It was bound to happen. But there are times when I reach to hug you and can't seem to find any part of the baby that you were.

There are things I miss about that baby.

I miss how she called birds, "ya-yas", calling out, "Dat a ya-ya" everytime she saw a bird flying in the sky.

I miss how she shrugged her shoulders up and down whenever she got excited.

And even though I worried and worried that she'd never grow hair, I miss that soft bald head.

Can I tell you a secret, though.

I'm so proud of the young woman you are growing to be. You are kind, compassionate, and fair to a fault. You laugh with every bit of energy you can find in yourself...and cry for those who others wouldn't think to cry for.

You drive me crazy with your competitiveness, but I can't help but admire your determination to succeed at everything you do. You've got me convinced. There's nothing you won't conquer.

I love the way I snuggle down on your bed to have some "girl talk". You see the world in such a unique way. I learn from you daily.

Baby, it's okay to be a little different. It's okay to like things that other people think are dumb. You've got the conviction to carry it off.

And sweetie, other people are always going to try to get you to be just like them.

Don't fall for it.

Shine just as brightly as you want to. Those seeking light will be drawn to you. They already are. I know I am.

I love you forever and always,

Mommy

Weeds and Wishes

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 17:49:00 +0000

When I was a little girl, I called these wishing flowers, and a field of them beckoned to me with all the hopeful optimism of wishes soon to be granted.

I would pluck the stalk and hold it in my hands as I closed my eyes. A minute later, and my wish was made. I blew with all the recesses of air I could find in my body to dislodge the tiny seed pods with their fuzzy parachutes.

Tiny bits of fluff would take flight in the wind, carrying my wishes to far off places. I would watch them go, confident that in return for my services, my wishes would come true.

As an adult, I no longer see them as wishing flowers most days. I've succumbed to the grown-up/practical need to see weeds marring a nicely manicured suburban lawn.

But for a moment I set aside my practicality and knelt close to the wishing flower. I watched as the wind slowly blew away the seeds. My eyes trailed upward to follow the steady assent of optimism and I wondered what wishes would soon be fulfilled.

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A Couple of Wordsmiths

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 01:29:00 +0000

I'm playing Scrabble with my husband and sister-in-law. They are kicking my tail for the billionth time in a row.

It's not so bad to be beaten by my sister-in-law. After all we both have English degrees, and while I immerse myself daily in Corduroy and the Backyardigans, she actually uses her degree teaching a future generation of students. But to lose to my husband, who'd never read a full length novel until he met me in college? That's just sad.

And while I'm able to lose and still enjoy myself, it would be fun to be in the lead.

Just for a few minutes.

I glance at my tiles and an idea comes to mind. A word that would use all of my letters, hit a triple word spot, and net me about 80 points, placing me squarely in the lead.

I place my tiles.

My husband laughs, "Redenied?"

"That's not a real word", my sister-in-law chimes in.

I'm stunned. It sounded so good in my head, and I can use it in a sentence.

"Well what do you call it when someone is denied for a loan, they reapply, and they are denied again." My logic is fool-proof. Those points are in the bag.

"I challenge it", my husband says.

"Me too", my sister-in-law adds, because she's a traitor to womankind.

It is looked up.

It is not a word.

Not only do I lose all of those points, but I lose my turn.

And I ultimately lose the game.

So I pout, act like a baby, and plot my revenge.

The next night my sister-in-law puts this word on the board.

As in "the lurchy man was redenied for a loan".

Ah, revenge is sweet.

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Pictionary Leftovers

worldsgreatestmommy@gmail.com (World's Greatest Mommy) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 04:39:00 +0000

*****Updated answer at the bottom of the post.*****

I've never been very good at Pictionary. It's a really fun game, but I'm the farthest thing from an artist that anyone could possibly be...Ask anyone...Go ahead...Ask them.

See? I told you.

I like playing, though. So I was thrilled when some dear friends of ours joined us for a friendly game on New Year's Eve.

I have to say I was impressed by the ingenuity of the people at the table with me.

There was this little tidbit...

Answer: Dissolve

My husband managed to get 2 clues out of this one. The first was "electric chair". On the next clue, he drew an ear for "sounds like", a seal, and a sound coming out of Mr. Electric Chair's mouth. Squeal. He's good.

I can't remember what this was. My guess was the Michelin Man. I think somebody else guessed that it was a Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle. Both were wrong, and the artist scribbled all over his creation in frustration. Pictionary is not for the faint of heart.

Answer: Gridlock

This one ended up being "tea leaves". My husband guessed that it was marijuana. He's better at drawing than guessing.

But there was one drawing clue that had us all laughing...Can you guess it? Bragging rights to the first one to guess in the comments.

Very good thoughts...but the answer is "fertilizer". I think my aunt deserves the prize for Shedaisy, though.

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