Friday, April 24, 2009

Neverending Excitement

Wade and Isaac have this thing that they say when they want something to last for a very long time. They say "Neverending." Not "Never Ending." It's clearly "Neverending." As in neverending time out (in a game, not when I send them), neverending ownership of a toy, etc.

It's seems that Wade is having neverending excitment lately. First his awesome black eye, and now this!! I'll tell you one thing, though, I've never seen a little guy so brave, or so PROUD!!

And I behaved the way any concerned mother would....I stood there with my cell phone taking pictures. (I knew he'd want documentation of the whole event. I did it for him, see?)

Just getting it set and cast

Of course he chose BYU BLUE
Although the doctor teased him and said that
if he chose pink
he only had to wear it for three weeks.
If he chose blue it would be six weeks!!

It was nice that the doctor and nurse properly fussed over him.
He felt so special!

That's what you get for falling off a fence!!

Wade has always loved shapes and the shape things make. He loves to play with action figures and pose them in different ways. When the doctor asked him how he landed when he fell off the fence, he wasn't really sure, but he was able to give a perfect description of how he looked while he was in the air!! Wade, you're AWESOME!!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Random Memories

In November 1985 I was a senior in High School. I was in the choir, and we had this big Veteran's Day concert with all the high school choirs in the school district, along with the 23rd Army band, at the Huntsman Center at the University of Utah. My older brother was in the band, and I was in the choir, so my mom came to the concert. My mom came to every concert. And there were a LOT of concerts. I seem to remember that she had three or four of my little brothers with her, and probably my little sister, too.

After the concert was over, I fooled around with my friends and just did whatever teenagers do when they're not really doing anything. I had come to the concert with a friend, and I was planning on getting a ride home from said friend. As I was galavanting around, I saw my mom standing there surrounded by little brothers and sisters, waiting for me. I don't remember exactly what was said, but something to the effect of "Where have you been? We've been waiting for you!" And me, being the selfish, self-centered teenager that I was (were you? Please tell me you were...) I didn't stop to think of how long they had been waiting there, or that they probably didn't know that I had already arranged for a ride home, and I snapped back with something rude and too loud. I didn't thank my mom for coming to my concert. (Did I ever thank her?) I didn't thank her and my cute little siblings for waiting around for me. I yelled at my mom because she yelled at me, and we started yelling and crying and the whole public spectacle ended with me running away while she called, "How are you going to get home?!"

By this point my ride had left. I, in my selfish, horrible pride, refused to go back and get a ride from my mother. I wandered around the Huntsman Center looking for anyone I knew who might be able to give me a ride home. I considered walking. In November with no coat late at night. (This was, unfortunately, in the days before cell phones. If I'd had a cell phone I would have called my little brother to come, or my boyfriend, or anyone. But I didn't have this option...) So fortunately, I came upon one of the band directors from another high school, someone I knew pretty well from a district orchestra I was in (Mr. Chatelain, for those of you who care). He asked me what on earth I was still doing there, wandering around alone. I, of course, burst into tears and blubbered something about missing my ride.

He offered to take me home, which I accepted, EXCEPT I didn't go home. I had him drop me off at my boyfriend's house. I refused to go home to my mother who I knew was mad at me, and that she hated me.

(2009 version--I refused to go home to my mother who was worried sick about me and probably cried her head off wondering where I was and what had EVER happened to her cute little girl. The one who used to never be able to sing "Mother I Love You" on Mother's Day because she loved her mommy so much that all she could do was stand there and cry while all the other children sang. The one who proudly wore all the dresses and jammies and double-knit polyester plaid pants that her mom made for her. The one she taught to sew, and read, and play the piano, and sing, and change diapers, and cuddle crying little brothers. THAT cute little girl.)

Eventually I had my boyfriend drive me home, because his parents wouldn't let us have sleepovers (can you EVEN believe it??) I would have stayed there and never told my mom where I was if his parents would have let us. Anyway, I went in the house and went straight to my room. I know my mom saw me come home, but I didn't speak to her. I was that kind of teenager.

Well, times have sure changed, haven't they?

***
SIDE NOTE: For those of you with young children, I would like to share an important lesson I learned a few years ago. Here it is:

There comes a point in your children's lives where THEY DO NOT LIKE you talking about them to other people. They resent you telling their stories in Relief Society. They HATE it when they find out you've written about them on your blog. Even though the lessons they are learning are important and Mom wants to share what she is learning from it all, BE CAREFUL.
This is me being very, very careful....

***

Perhaps I'll wrap up this post by admitting that yesterday I drove away from one of my children. Kicked said child out of the car and drove away screaming to myself (out loud, mind you. Not in my head. Out VERY loud). Cried my head off. Tried to rip the steering wheel off the car (thank goodness I don't have super-human strength or I would be in the market for a new car today...) And my heart was broken.

Sigh...I feel like I'm at that place in the woods, you know, the one we all stopped by on a snowy evening? The two roads are diverging, and I know which way I need to go. But I'm so desperately tired, and I think that right now, just for a while, I'm going to sit down and not go anywhere. Just catch my breath and try to gather strength for the next storm that I know is coming.

Oh, and Mom? Thanks for coming to my concerts.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Mommy Blogs

I have a question. You know all the popular "Mommy Blogs?" The blogs where young mothers talk about how wonderful and stressful and difficult and rewarding being a mom to young children can be? What I want to know is where are the blogs where middle-aged (I can't believe I just said that) mothers like myself talk about their TEENAGERS? We've covered potty training, night terrors, crayon on the walls, spoons in the toilet, and ketchup on the walls. We're all willing to write about the trials and rewards of learning to share, learning to obey, having picnics in the sunshine, and taking wonderful indoor rainy day adventures .

Well, where are the blogs about the holes punched in the walls with a bare fist? Where are the posts about the child who wouldn't talk to you for six hours because you asked him/her to stop banging the console cover while you were driving in the car? What about teenagers who sleep around? What about drinking and drugs? What about pornography? What about kids who quit coming to church? What about our sweet little ones who grow up and drop out of high school?

I know the trials of motherhood with toddlers. And I enjoy reading the Mommy Blogs. I especially enjoy reading the blogs of my sister and sisters-in-law and hearing about the antics of my nieces and nephews. But I just want to say that it is difficult (and oh so painful) for parents like me who have struggles with their children that are of a more personal nature, and cannot really be written about on blog posts or Facebook, or even in a private journal. I ache to blurt it all out somewhere, to confess that I want to quit, to wonder if I was really not cut out to be a mother at all.

The fact of the matter is that I have four wonderful children. They are healthy and whole. I love them desperately and am trying my best to be a good mother and a good mommy. But guess what? The little ones grow up and make their own choices. Choices that hurt themselves and their loved ones. What can a mother do? Not much. Not much at all.

And I wonder if it mattered at all that we read Drummer Hoff ten thousand times with voices and sound effects. That I slept on the floor when they were sick or scared. That we made cookies together and drank hot chocolate when it was cold. That I squirted whipped cream straight into their mouths and on the end of their little noses. That I hand-made the Christmas stockings they still use. That I let them eat cereal for dinner when Daddy wasn't home. That I took them to church and told them stories of Jesus. That I saved jars for them to catch bugs in. That I paid them a quarter to poop in the potty.

And I wonder if it will matter at all that I can't sleep night after night when they don't come home until 2 am. That my thoughts are constant prayers for their safety and can't He do something to help? That I hug them and stroke their hair when they cry. That I get up each morning when all I want to do is lay in my bed until I turn quietly to dust.

There. How's that for a Mommy Blog?

Thursday, April 2, 2009

H-E-Double Hockey Sticks!!

Wade is a handsome child. He is a really good boy. He has a great smile and an awesome sense of humor. He came home from school today with a surprise for me. Behold the BEFORE picture (taken a few days ago):

Here are a few AFTER shots:




He got hit in the face with a hockey stick during PE at school. And yes, he feels very cool.