This is my life now
Three children in a row
Following one another
Wherever they may go
This is my life now
Three little heads to watch
Running round in circles
Intent not to be caught
This is my life now
Three little babies snoring
My heart bursting with joy
Never stop adoring
Falling falling down in life
Falling from on high
Reputation gone away
Fallen from your might
Of course it was the only one
The one I couldn't do without
If only I had held on tight
Instead of falling out
Terrrificly terrrible Terrresa
Millled along Mollly's way
Hummming a horrrible sonnnet
In the heat of a blisstering day
Wood, tile, laminate
How should we lay our floor?
From kitchen sink to great room wall
From front to garage door.
His suit of red
His ride bright green
He flies across room
It brings a smile
To my sick boy
When Iron Man calls zoom zoom
Whenever you're worried or crying with pain
Remember your Father is near.
If hurt is your burden, your trial too much,
Pray and He will hear.
He will hear.
He will hear.
Your Heavenly Father is near.
He will bless you. He'll strengthen your soul.
Your Heavenly Father is near.
Washerwoman was away
Scrub the dirt and chip the clay
Rinse the mud off and the hay
Washerwoman wash all day
Sometimes you wake up full of good intentions and the day just laughs in your face before punching you in the gut...figuratively, of course.
See, today I intended to run three miles, lift some weights, take my son to piano lessons, cook a yummy pasta salad for lunch, wash the dishes that I neglected to do last night, read while my boys napped, prepare a yummy dinner, and clean my living room.
Instead I have sopped up gallons of water with every single bath towel I own, hung them out to dry on the back fence, subsequently removed them all from the back fence and dumped them in a bucket because of the impending rainstorm, moved every un-shelved item out of the game closet, taken pictures and videos of the water underneath our floorboards, documented the water damage on six walls, shoved my rug, lovesac, and couches away from the affected walls, allowed my son to watch three movies (so far), cuddled my sick baby, helped the cleanup company lady with questions about her assessment, changed the smelliest diaper said baby has produced in months then washed my hands with a water bottle (yay for being overprepared for Harvey), munched on leftovers, pinned some sewing, watched tv while snuggling my sick baby to sleep, answered the insurance lady's assessment questions, and called a plumber.
But, on the bright side, I did clean the floor under the fridge like I've been meaning to do for the last few months. Gold star!
In all seriousness, though, as unexpected and inconvenient today's water leakage has been, I am grateful.
-The location of our leak is such that nothing personal was damaged. Floors, cupboards, and walls are easily replaced.
-My husband is not away on business, and though he has spent most of the day at work, he was home when we discovered the problem and was able to get the ball rolling on cleaning up the damage.
-We have insurance that covers this kind of situation.
-We are financially stable and will be able to pay for our portion of this without any financial strain.
-My five year old was at school.
-My three-year-old is so shy of strangers that, rather than get in the way or spread the mess, he spent the whole time the assessor was here firmly planted on the pit-of-the-way lovesac.
-Because my baby is sick, he was napping for almost the whole time the assessor was here and spent the rest of the time snuggling in my arms or sitting in his high chair.
-My boys are very good nappers which has kept them away from the mess for several hours.
-This leak occurred long enough after Hurricane Harvey that the insurance company cannot claim the storm as the (not-covered) cause.
We have been blessed in this inconvenience. I'm sure the next week will reveal more trials, but for now I will simply try to keep a smile and laugh at the absurdities of trials that come in waves.
Hush little baby. Don't you cry.
Mommy's here to hold you.
Hold you forever, my heart and my arms
I love you, so hear what I've told you.
Hush little baby. Mommy is near.
I'll guide and I'll protect.
Yours is a light that will always shine bright
To lighten and project
I have never been hugely confident in my appearance. There have been times when I have been content with myself and times when I have hated my body. But even at my "best" I have been self-conscious. (I say "best" because that is what the social expectations are. Skinny, flat bellied, perky-breasted, clear-skinned.)
Like many women, I have hidden my imperfections, embarrassed by what I see in the mirror. I wear shirts loose around my tummy to hide the skin stretched by pregnancy or delicious food. I wear a swimming suit with a skirt to cover what I have always seen as ugly legs. I have yet to find a bra that holds my post-nursing breasts in an appealing fashion.
And yet...
I love who I am. As I have begun this journey with running I have found myself more and more satisfied and impressed with the things my body can do. Yesterday I ran three miles without stopping; a month ago I struggled to run two. Today I curled 12 reps of 20 pound weights. Last week I ached after curling 10 pounds. Little by little my body is growing stronger and with it my confidence is growing. I still have the fat, the skin problems, the stretch marks, the flab. But this morning as I readied myself for my workout I saw a different person.
I saw a me that I am proud of, a me that wants to keep fighting and becoming more. I saw a me that for the first time was not afraid to see herself. I have not become beautiful. I have become confident.
Not every day is the best day
But don't you know that it's okay
Because if every day were the best day
There'd be no room for today
"Ah, you made it through."
That's what the Apostle of the Lord said to me after church today. "Ah, you made it through." I laughed it off and agreed that yes, I had survived the meeting with my three little ones acting as if they'd never heard the word "reverent" in their life. But inwardly I was embarrassed. Embarrassed at my children's behavior. Embarrassed at my lack of parenting skills. Embarrassed that that they had been anything but perfect angels while sitting on the second row from the front, directly in front of an apostle.
I laughed it off because he was trying to be kind, but inwardly I was frustrated with my kids and I wanted to cry. They know how to behave and they chose this day, this moment, to ignore those lessons. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if we had been several rows back, or if we had been on one of the sides. But, no, we were front and center. "The best seat possible" my husband had said.
When discussing the experience with my mom, she responded much as the apostle had, with a smile and a laugh. "He's been there before. He understands. He's not going to judge you, and he probably won't even remember it."
It's been several hours now, but I'm finally feeling the frustration ebb -- it helps that the culprits are in bed -- and feeling some peace about the whole thing.
Despite my initial feelings, this servant of the Lord, Elder Ballard, said something to me personally that I really needed to hear. "Ah, you made it through." Our exchange lasted maybe ten seconds total, but I don't think it is one I will forget. For an hour he sat on the stand, and though I don't flatter myself that he spent even a tenth of his time watching my family, I know that he saw us. He couldn't not have, and at one particular moment he looked me in the eye and held my gaze for several seconds while he spoke. So when he said "Ah, you made it through," he wasn't speaking a random sentence to a random mother of a random child. He knew I had been struggling. And he was acknowledging my efforts, pitiful as they were. He knew what I was feeling and he let me know it was okay.
Some days making it through is all we can do. We may not always come away knowing what every talk was about, but we are setting an example for our children, showing them the importance of the sacrament and church attendance.
In time they will learn to be better behaved. They will grow and learn and sit still. In time I will be more composed, less climbed-on, more focused. But for now I will take it one meeting at a time, one Sunday at I time. I will make it through.
Butter, spread, or margarine
Soda, pop, or coke
Buggy, cart, or basket
Relative or folk
All is simple word choice.
What you say or not
Tells about your person,
Tells about your thought.
A is for Ankylosaurus, his tail a hammer hard
A spiky back and armor plates to make a solid guard
B is for Brontosaurus, tall and stately giant,
Reaching for the highest leaves, his neck was surely pliant
C is for Coelophysis, speedy little critter
You wouldn't want his teeth to bite or nip upon your sitter
D is for Dracorex, a spike-headed softy,
The crown upon his gentle head makes him look so lofty
E is for Edmontosaurus eating pines and cones
If I made a Canadian joke it'd bring on grunts and groans
F is for Fukuisaurus, Japanese by birth
G is for Gallimimus, swift across the earth
H is for Hadrosaurus; I, Iguanodon.
J is for Jurassic Era. The list goes on and on.
K is Kentrosaurus, a pointy, prickly guy
L is Lophostropheus, arrest above his eye
M is Maiasauras, who nested with her young
Raising them til they were grown and weighing several ton
N is for Nomingia, feather-armed and furry
O is stealthy Oviraptor, runs off with a scurry.
P is Parasaurolophus, snorkel head or flute
Hanging in the water, making muddied seaweed scoot
Q is for Quaesitosaurus, very very long
R is for Rugops, whose teeth were very strong
S is stegosaurus, with plates along his spine
The sharpened spikes upon his tail could swipe at any swine
T is for Triceratops, that three-horned, frill-laced beauty
Don't mess with her or you'll receive a piercing in your booty
U is for great Utahraptor, sly, sneaky, crafty, lurky
V is for velociraptor
The size of a small turkey
W is Wonders found when digging in the ground
X is X-ray images and finding bones with sound
Y is Yes, I am a nut. I love these dinosaurs.
Z is Zillion other specifies you won't see in the stores
I saw a woman at the gym today that was wearing makeup while working out. Not something gong I would normally notice or call into question except that she looked like a Barbie doll. She had the caked-on-probably-spent-two-hours-applying-it look. And it just made me sad, really. Sad for her that she felt the need to hide behind so much artifice. That she was so lacking in confidence that she felt the need to wake up early to hide her face, only to go to a place filled with women who are their own raw selves.
This is something that I have loved about going to an women-only gym. Here it is acceptable to get gross. We sweat. We smell. We have messy hair. We wear clothing that isn't designed to show off our breasts or our butts. This is where we are able to just be, and we accept each other for it. I love the woman who works so hard on the elliptical that her bra line is the only dry spot on her shirt. I love the woman whose extra pounds dance with her as she does Zumba. I love the girl who pins her green-streaked hair to the right while she runs because her left side is shaved. I love the pair of sisters who constantly one-up each other at the weight bar. I love the elderly women who let their saggy skin be seen as they walk from the pool to the dressing room in their swimming suits and flip flops.
I love these women because they are safe. They don't judge me or put me down because I haven't shed all the weight I gained in my last pregnancy. Instead, they encourage me to keep running, to keep trying. They encourage me to lift a few more pounds, to run a few more minutes, to push a little harder, to sweat a little more. I don't have to look perfect here. I feel their love every time I step through those doors. With every smile, with every nod of the head or wave of the hand, I know they are happy I am there with them.
And so I hope that this woman with the painted face can feel that love, too. I want her to know that we don't judge here. She is perfect how she is because she is here.
Just like daddy
I can be
He's my hero
Yessiree
Love my daddy
He's my pal
We cheer together
Let's go, Cal!
Ride with Daddy
Down the street
Like my helmet?
Where's my seat?
Goodnight Daddy
I love you
Goodnight Buddy
Love you too.
My my
the world ain't dry
The winds are raging by
The power's gone
The lights ain't on
Good time to be a fly
Blue blue blue blue purple
Hey you don't match, he said
Blue blue blue blue purple
You weirdo dunderhead
My tie matches mommy's dress
Her dress matches sister
Brother's shirt is also blue
So why wear purple, mister?
Daddy's tie is violet
I hope his sense ain't catching
'Cause I think life is at its best
When all my family's matching
Most weeks I go to church for three hours. We call this the "block schedule." It is made of three parts: first is our Sacrament meeting, in which we partake of the bread and water in similitude of the Savior; second is Sunday School, in which we study the teachings of ancient scripture; and third is our Relief Society (women) and Priesthood (men) meetings, in which we study modern-day teachings and daily living values.
All three meetings serve important purposes that help us to become closer to God and to become better people. But for the last several weeks, we have foregone the three-hour block and held only a truncated Sacrament Meeting, in order to allow the members of our congregation the time and opportunity to serve our community in the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey. This temporary change has called my attention to the importance of service to our spirits.
By cutting our church time, our church leaders are essentially showing us that in this time of extreme need, we are better off helping others than learning about Jesus. And why is that? "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God" (Mosiah 2:17).
Christ is the ultimate example of service. By spending our Sundays cleaning the homes of the misfortunate, preparing and delivering meals, creating hygiene kits for the homeless, etc, we are DOING the Lord's work. We are learning and teaching about Jesus in a very visceral way.
Next week we will go back to our regular schedule at our regular time. At some point life must return to some semblance of normalcy. But for those coming in to our city from around the nation, these truncated Sacrament meetings will still be there, allowing those who serve to follow Christ as he bade, to partake in the covenants and ordinances of his love, and to serve his children.
Two hundred fifty
That's pretty nifty
Two hundred fifty days
To play in the sun
To run and have fun
In two hundred fifty ways
I am human. I am no supermodel or crazy alien goddess. I am a real life human being. And humans have gas. We do. Don't even pretend you've never let one rip and been a little bit proud of the echo it created. And some days that has is near-toxic. Today is one of those days.
I have super bad gas -- the kind that hurts when it's in and reeks when it's out. So I'm there at Walmart with my two boys trying to decide which is worse, the pain or the stench, and I figure "you know what, I don't know anyone here. I'm walking. I'll just let some slip and move past it. No one will be any the wiser." So I let some whiff out. At that exact moment a poor, unsuspecting elderly couple comes around the corner, right in front of me. They stop and take a moment to comment on my cute, close-in-age boys. I can't escape. The coupIe is standing directly in my getaway path. There is no way to move without obviously and rudely veering around them. So I stand there, a polite smile plastered on my face, waiting for the inevitable nasal assault to drift into range.
And then it happens. As if the cloud of noxious fumes is visible, i see the very moment this poor old man smells the effects of my rancid rear. His nostrils flare. His brows furrow and his eyes go wide. He literally coughs on my fumes and loses his train of thought. I can see his mind attempting to process this attack on his nerves, the way his lips purse together in an attempt to either cut off a verbal exclamation to rival my own foulness or to refrain from inhaling any further toxicity. His wife was the next victim. Her fists visibly clenched around the handle of her shopping cart and her gaze flitted from her husband's face, downward, and back up, while her face contorted in surprised disgust.
I felt no compunction to correct her assumption.
Apparently embarrassed by the unavoidable occurrence they had literally just walked into, the nice old lady wished me a good afternoon and stepped quickly away from the scene of the crime. As I attempted to hold in my laughter I peeked over my shoulder and heard a hushed accusation: "oh my goodness, Lou!"
Sorry, Lou.
I was asked "who made the chicken salad sandwiches." I didn't really know how to answer. Was it the woman who opened the cans, drained the chicken, and dumped it in the bowl? Was it the women who cut the grapes? Was it the woman who added the mayonnaise and stirred? Was it the women who spread the mixture on the bread? The women who topped the sandwiches and put them in baggies? Several women worked to make those sandwiches, while a dozen others filled the lunch sacks with apples, carrots, chips, crackers, pudding, and applesauce, or cared for the children, or filled the coolers with ice, water, and Gatorade.
So, who made the lunches? The Relief Society.
Crack the door open
Suit coat, shoes, socks, shirt, and pants
Nine hours 'til church
Today I ran two miles in under twenty minutes. That may not be a big deal for a lot of people, but for me it was historic. I have never been a lover of running. In fact, I've hated even the thought of it pretty much my entire life. I'm a reader. A creator. A writer. A cook. A homebody. An artist. Not a runner. On the rare occasion I found myself enjoying physical exertion it was in the form of short, concentrated, muscle-based exercise: rock climbing, bowling, moving furniture (yeah, that's how bad it was).
But two months ago I decided I needed to change. So I finally mucked up the courage, pulled up my big-girl panties, and joined a local gym.
There were many surprised friends and family members when this action was announced. My dislike for exercise was no secret. Why would anyone willingly put themselves through all of that grossness that comes with running?
Well, it turns out when you're doing it correctly, including warming up and cooling down, and with the correct shoes and appropriate clothing, running isn't so bad. Now, don't get me wrong, it has hurt. But when you actually cool down properly, your body doesn't automatically want to hurl as soon as you stop. You don't get major headaches. You don't feel like you're going to die. Go figure. And when you warm up properly, you don't immediately feel like your legs are burning or that your side is going to split open. And when you wear shoes designed for running, you don't want to cry every time you take a step for the next week. Who knew?!?!
Now, I'm not saying I've suddenly become some phenomenal athletic goddess. No no, I still run slowly. I still can't run far. My lungs still burn when I run harder and faster than my particular threshold. But that threshold is increasing. The distance I can go is a little farther each time. My speed is a little faster. I run on a treadmill because it forces me to keep a steady pace and a straight line. It helps me to properly carry out those warm ups and cool downs that keep my body going. I know that's not as cool as running in races or exploring my city (although this is not a runner's city). But it's a start.
It's a start to a new, hopefully better, me. When I run I get sweaty. I smell bad and probably look worse. But I feel fantastic. Today I accomplished something I have never done before. My pride in myself and my body overwhelms the discomfort that I felt as I finished. For the first time in a long time I am happy with the way my body is performing. I am happy with myself for getting better, for doing more. I know I have a long way to go before I can really consider myself a runner, but I'm getting better each time I try.
Two months ago I couldn't run to my mailbox (down the street and around the corner). Today I ran two miles. And I couldn't be happier about it.
