Saturday, March 31, 2012

if you take me to the snowy mountain i'll tell you all my secrets.

"what did you learn in dance class today?"

"it's a secret. but if you take me to the snowy mountain i'll tell you all my secrets."

"what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"it's a secret. but if you take me to the snowy mountain i'll tell you all my secrets."

"why did you throw all of your toys down the stairwell again?"

"what can i do to help you make better choices?"

"it's a secret."
"it's a secret."

"but if you take me to the snowy mountain i'll tell you all my secrets."

"here we are at the snowy mountain. now will you tell me all your secrets?"

"well, in dance class i learned about sprinkle-fingers. and i forgot all the rest."

thanks, aunt choody for the snowy mountain holiday.

in return i'll tell you some of my secrets.

sometimes i wish we could go back in time together and heart-attack houses. you make me think of ruth in the scriptures. and i wish i could cook like you.

ps- maybe someday a grown-up will take a picture for us.

Monday, March 26, 2012

today i love...

today i love...

iggy's song that goes, "wack-uh-doo, wack-uh-doo, wack-uh-doo in a santa suit."

i love when fitz puts his hands around his eyes like binoculars and yells loudly to the person next to him, "i see you!"

i love baby moe's growing body and the way she stops nursing every 2.5 seconds as not to miss a moment of the-brother-show. it's her favorite.

today i love sparky's constant eves-dropping. i love when he comes out of the woodwork to ask, "wait, who said what?"

i love that i can't tell if their freckles or their vocabularies are multiplying fastest.

there are so many hard things about today. it's a no-end-in-sight sort-of day.

but i love that when my husband comes home in the middle of the night he'll wake me up for a sleepy kiss. he'll ask how the day went and i'll tell him that it was hard. he'll say his day was long but then we'll start talking about the sweet, silly things our babies are doing lately. and we'll fall asleep in total agreement that we're the luckiest.

today i love that i have him.

and that we have them.

a cat a kid and a mom.

This week a poem has been calling to my stubborn heart saying, "Megan, Megan, take a good look at yourself."

A CAT, A KID, AND A MOM

"Why can't you see I'm a cat," said the cat,
"And that's all I ever will be?
Why are you shocked when I roam out at night?
Why are you sad when I meow and I fight?
Why are you sick when I eat up a rat?
I'm a cat."

"Why can't you see I'm a kid?" said the kid.
"Why try to make me like you?
Why are you hurt when I don't want to cuddle?
Why do you sigh when I splash through a puddle?
Why do you scream when I do what I did?
I'm a kid."

"Why can't you see I'm a mom?" said the mom.
"Why try to make me wise?
Why try to teach me the ways of a cat?
Why try to tell me that 'kids are like that'?
Why try to make me be patient and calm?
I'm a mom."

-Shel Silverstien

I am happy to say that I'm growing. I'm stopping myself from displaying hypocrisy at every turn. While I'm asking them to learn, I'm requiring the same from me.

Duke and I are changing the way we approach bedtime. We're changing our discipline tactics. We're taking a harder road which we believe will take our family to a more lovely destination.

Now that I'm listening, they're teaching me all about their world.

-a forgotten world of sliding down car windshields before driving anywhere and placing stuffed animals perfectly before sleeping at all. When I stop and listen, what they do sort-of starts to makes sense. They were never being defiant at all. Just being kids.

Iggy threw all the costumes, mattresses, and bedding down the stairwell.

I was irritated because he's done this before and I thought he'd learned something since last time. I was irritated but calm. I listened. I helped with kind, willing hands, and I noticed something amazing. All of the hard costumes (swords, shields, armor, etc.) were placed gently aside and excluded from the mess. I asked him why he hadn't thrown those things down, too. He replied, "Well it wouldn't have been very nice to be so loud and wake up my brothers."

Wow.

He has learned something. Really learned something. He made a kind choice. Because he is kind. And he is becoming aware of the impact of his actions on others.

Cats can be tame.

Kids can be considerate.

And mothers can calmly exchange disappointed scowls with hopeful smiles. If they try.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

cherry blossums.

Spring?

Can you hear me?

Spring, can I do anything to help?

You're acting weird.

rose colored glasses.

i say, "don't put all your eggs in one basket."
they say, "what eggs? what basket?"

i say, "the early bird gets the worm."
they say, "a worm? where?"

i adore spending my days with children. i love the excuse to dissect common expressions and explain the ordinary things we say, reminding myself that language is a treasure. i imagine the origin of such phrases and think of them as a common heritage of short stories.

all the whining about a blustery spring-break had me admonishing that they wear "rose-colored glasses."

we decided to take the suggestion literally.

even the window we doused with optimistic pink.

all of the glass dried in a milky gloomy crust, dimming the life-giving-light.

but we put on our figurative rose-lenses and had a dandy of a time chipping cheery pictures.

midnight.

I look up at the clock, then back at the computer screen. I think, "I'll go to bed right after I check this one last website." I look at the clock again 30 minutes later and I think, "I'll just check my email once more then I'll lay down." My mouse clicks, the clock ticks.

I delay rest, though I know my eyes will close like a baby-doll's, because I don't want to miss the moment he comes home. I can sleep without him here. But usually I refuse.

Last night I spied "midnight" written in clock-hands and turned my body away from the world that is the computer. I was shocked to notice that it was brighter outside than in. I walked out into the yard and considered packing everyone up for whatever the Second Coming would entail. It just doesn't snow here like this. I was giddy, watching the skies.

Late at night when my husband is gone my superstitious side surfaces. I see unusual ques and exaggerate their significance. The other night he was working late and I kept noticing doors open that I thought I'd shut. I thought the house was haunted.

So, I'm at home responding unreasonably to all stimuli. Ghost hunting in my pajamas. And he's among the living-dead at work. Unaware of the golden midnights. We need one another. Together we equal one sane, happy person.

25 days. We can last 25 more days of winter. I know we can last because he built a porch snowman at 6 in the morning just to brighten my day. Plus I made him zuppa toscana soup and orange julius while seven kids swarmed me in the kitchen. We can do anything.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

wanna see our cool tricks?

The other day I took a video of baby singing to herself. I had it pulled up on our computer screen and the boys played it over and over, giddily giggling. They are sweetly smitten.

We like home-videos around here. Playing back our silly moments makes us feel fabulously famous.

Is there anyone in the wide world who didn't once dream of the basking in the lime light for some stupendous success?

Do your kids put on a production for every visitor in your house like mine do?

I'll tell you an embarrassing secret. I still show off my cool tricks to everyone I can, like I never left my 6th year of life. I guess it's not a secret if you've ever been over and seen me do my amazing floor spins.

What's that? You want to see us do a cool trick? No, no, we couldn't. Oh, well, if you insist.


The whole point of this post was to share that rad video of me jumping over a stick, so now I have nothing else to say.