The Seed

Family scripture reading is a somewhat painful event. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the whole episode feels like I'm swimming in tar and I have to pull the kids along behind me. Good times.

But then there is the remaining one percent. In those slivers of time, something good happens. The moments are rare, but they're golden when they happen.

A few nights ago, we (which is a very loose term) were reading in Alma:

"...Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in you heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed....behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say..."

At this point, I looked up to find Sam staring at me with bright eyes and a large smile. She simply stated, "I gotta get me one of those seeds. It makes your boobs grow."

Spiritual moment? Apparently it was for Sam. Todd and I laughed so hard we almost peed. I told her that if I ever find one of those seeds, I'm keeping it for myself.

My Soap Box Has Me Thinking

I exploded this week. On my kids. It happens every couple weeks. This was a pinnacle in my patience and I cracked. Severely.

I've reached the point where I can't stand to ask them to do something four and five times. They don't even listen to me speak the first 3 requests. Then I scream, and they question why I am always yelling at them. Go figure.

Tuesday morning, before school, I exploded. Bad. I forcefully explained that I am the mom and this house is not a democracy. In all uncertain terms, they must listen and obey. I admit that I also took away a large amount of privileges. After I made my point, I simply stopped talking, and they were rather thrilled.

Since that moment of impact, I've tried to point out every unheard request. I stop and show them how many times I've asked them to Do. Something! They just stare at me with big eyes, like I'm an idiot (Which I am not. At least, I don't currently think I am.)

My 'Listen and Obey' soapbox has led my thoughts elsewhere. Me and my relationship with the Lord. He often asks me to 'listen and obey'. Sometimes I do. Other times I don't. And in between all those times, I do as He asks, but I whine and complain the whole way through. So, how much does that count in the obedience category?

Why can't I always bear His principle with patience, and Listen and Obey? The reasons are endless. I don't want to, it's hard, I'm sick of trying, or the all too common, I'm worn out. I feel like I've turned the tables on myself. I am now the one who stares with big, silent eyes full of questions. My desire is there. That fact never changes. It's my mind that makes me waver.

For the last couple of days, my soul seems to point out to me all those moments where He asks. Once, twice, and again. His requests feel more prominent now, they hold a brighter outline than all the other daily requests that run through my mind. I think I shall try to hold them there. To give them the weight they deserve. And hopefully, with a little patience, I can step down off my soapbox.

Reach

Those toes are so yummy. Right? I could just eat 'em.

At what age does tip-toe go out of style? Toddlers are so cute when they stand up high to reach. Why don't adults look adorable doing the same thing? It makes me wonder.

Watching my sister's twins makes me wonder about a lot of things. The most prominent of which, when did 'wondering' cease to exist in my mind? I suppose I'm still curious about a few things. Like, why do my girls pretend they don't hear me when I speak? That's about the depth of my wondering.

Toddler's minds take them everywhere. They reach to grasp at everything around them. My mind seems stuck on the ordinary. The everyday. Especially those parts that are irritating, or make me feel like a failure.

So, for today, we should all tip-toe. Take time to Reach. And Wonder. Who knows where it will lead....

The Long And Short Of It

The day has unfolded to be something of a catastrophic tumbling of events. One thing has led to so many others, that I am now left unable to write full sentences. In broken fragments:

Out the door by 8:45 am. Lots. To. Do.

Shop at Walmart. Car won't start. Same car that got a new battery LAST WEEK.

Ask my sister to come jump start my car.

I don't want anyone to park next to me, so I stand there. In the parking lot. It's hot. It's humid. Once I realize I'm sweating inside my bra, I lose all sense of normal thought.


Car jumped, still won't start. Call a tow truck and wait FOR AN HOUR!

The fun keeps growing. Amidst our looks of desperation, a darling older man stops to help us. He tells us all about the 4 raccoons he just caught in his yard.

Tow truck man deposits van at the mechanic.

Then, the most horrific event of the day occurs-- I miss my haircut appointment. I know, I know. It's too sad to even write.

Mr. Mechanic calls to tell me I have to take my van to the Honda dealer. Soon.

The girls trickle home off the bus. We ALL load into my sister's car (2 adults, 5 kids).

We escort my van to the dealer. In. rush. hour. traffic.

With. Starving. Fighting. Kids.

Now I'm home. I reflect on the awesomeness of the day. And a tear squeezes out of my right eye. Am I laughing or crying? I think both.

Group Project

Why do school projects always become a parent-focused activity? Maybe teachers just want parents to spend more time with their children. Because working on projects, the night before they are due, always brings out the love.

Last night, Sam, I mean Todd, had to build a race car powered by a balloon. Here's the kicker- she couldn't use any normal race car parts. Everything had to be common items, preferably those that can be recycled.

When Sam first explained the project to me, she reached the word 'build', and my mind immediately shut off. I looked at her with by big, blue eyes and said my favorite mom words, "talk to your dad". She did. He built, she helped. Or maybe she built, he helped. I just stayed on the side lines looking pretty and offering words of encouragement.

She took her homemade race car to school today. If she wins, I'm totally taking credit.

Cheese On A Sunday

A momentary calm in the chaos called Sunday.

"Say cheese."

Wipe Away

I'm a glass half-empty kind of person. Well, actually, I'm probably more of a glass a third empty-with a slow leek, kind of person. But, whenever I'm with this girl, my glass feels completely full. Riley just makes me happy. It's just the effect she has on people.


The other day, I uncovered a secret. This girl likes her some baby wipes. Somehow, I had accidentally put her on the floor next to an open package. Once she discovered that she could pull them out, she was mesmerized. And because I'm the aunt, I let her do whatever she wants.

This was a full package when she started. I let her pull ALL of them out. By the time my sister showed up, she thought that Riley was sitting in a huge pile of kleenex. I waited for an hour before I told her she would need to buy more wipes.