3 More Sleeps

      For most of my husband's career, he has had to travel for his work.  Sometimes he would be gone for a couple days, sometimes about a week.  While it's not the most favorite part of his job, it's what we do and we're used to it.  When my kids were much younger, they would always look forward to when their Daddy would be coming home.  If I told them he would be coming home on Wednesday, or Friday, they never really could grasp how long that would be.  So, I got in the habit of counting the number of "sleeps" until the day Dad came home.  We would say "3 more sleeps til Daddy comes home!" It made it much easier for my little ones to keep track of time.  It's actually become the phrase we use when we are looking forward to an event.  "5 more sleeps until Christmas!" "10 more sleeps until my birthday!"  It's always fun to do the count down.
     The latest event that we started counting sleeps for was for my son Dillon leaving for 2 years to serve an LDS Mission in London. With about a week left we started saying "6 more sleeps til Dillon leaves!" "4 more sleeps til England!"  We looked forward with nervous anticipation.  There is a lot to think about during that last week.  We had shots to get, last minute errands to run and packing to do.  We tried to keep busy and not really think about his impending departure.  It was much easier to take things one day at a time, or even 1 hour at a time.  That way we could avoid the very real truth that Dillon was leaving for 2 years and we wouldn't see his face or even talk to him more than twice a year.
     As hard as this was, this was a very joyful time for us.  We could not have been more excited about this adventure that Dillon was about to embark on.  We are so proud of his choice to put his life aside and devote the next two years to serving others and the Lord.  As difficult as we imagined it would be, we knew it was the best thing for him and us.  Dillon was more than ready and anxious to get started with the next chapter of his life.  With one more sleep left, we spent the night laughing and talking and praying together, hoping to savor every last moment.  It was a really special night full of laughter and love.
     With no sleeps left, the day had arrived.  We packed up our boy and drove to the airport.  After many tearful hugs and last goodbyes, we watched as our oldest son passed through the the airport check points and up the escalator to begin his new adventure.  No matter how many times you imagine that moment, you can never understand the emotion that comes with sending your son on this journey.  It's very much like having the wind knocked out of you, but you can't really seem to get it back.  We were all feeling this loss as we walked slowly out of the airport to make the ride home.
     As I walked down that long hallway, I felt the emotion come over me like a wave.  At first, I allowed it to wash over me, but I realized that this could go 2 ways.  I could be engulfed by this wave of grief, and if that happened, I would be a sobbing lump on the floor for the next week.  Or I could suck it up, and pull myself together and move forward.  I chose the latter.  I tried to keep busy and focus on the good things.  Keeping busy helps--alot.  Now that it's been a week, I continue to look for ways to keep busy, but there's still a part of me that's keenly aware of Dillon's absence.
     So for the next two years, a big chunk of my heart will be residing in London.  It will be molded and shaped just like my son will as he grows into the man he is to become.  I just keep moving forward and counting sleeps.  Only 723 to go.

Performance Art

     My youngest is taking piano lessons this year and I anticipate he will have to participate in some kind of recital or performance during the year.  I have full confidence that his teacher will be able to prepare him and pull the talent from his fingertips.  I'm sure it will be a magical night with tears and applause, as Cooper's performances usually are.  You see this is not our first rodeo.
     At our Elementary school all kids in grades 1-3 take music class.  In this class the kids are educated in music and musical instruments and at at least one point during the year, they are asked to perform a musical number.  They can really do whatever they like as long as they express themselves musically. Each of my kids has had the opportunity to perform in this setting.  But I'd like to share the crowning moment of all music class performances from our family.
     It happened last year when Cooper was in 3rd grade.  One night Cooper was busy working on a  Coat of Arms for class. "I have to make this for my class and share it with everyone tomorrow,"he said.  He then added, "Oh yeah, can you come to class when I present it?'  I always try to make time for things at my kids' schools, so I told him I'd really try to make it work.   As we helped him fill in the information on his Coat of Arms,  I mentioned to Coop that it was plain and  kind of sloppy.  "Doesn't it need to be colored," I asked?  He assured me it was no big deal.  He went to bed I made a mental note to be at his school the next day.
   When I showed up to an empty classroom the next morning, I went looking and found his Core teacher. I asked where Cooper was because I needed to see him share his assignment.  She said the students were all in the music room.  "Music room?" I thought to myself.  "Well that's funny. Why would he share his Coat of Arms in the Music room?"  And I hoofed it down the hall to the music room.  I found Cooper sitting at the front of the class with about 5 other children and their mothers.  I hurried and took the seat next to Cooper at the front of the room facing the teacher and about 25 other kids.  The teacher thanked us all for being there and pointed to 2 little girls next to us to go ahead and share their work.
     When the first little girl shared her Coat of Arms, I noticed it was bright and colorful and creative.  It was not the penciled in, rough draft that Cooper's was.  She shared about her family and her favorite things and it was great.  As she took her seat, the next little girl got up.  Hers was adorable with pastel drawings and was neat and tidy.  I actually wondered how much of the assignment she did and how much her mother did.  Thinking Cooper was next, I started to prompt him to get up, but he said no, that the girls were going to do their performance.  Whaaaaatttt???  Sure enough, these two little girls got up and walked to the other side of the room, picked up two microphones and started singing a duet.
     You know in The Empire Strikes Back, when Luke is dueling with Darth Vader and in the heat of the moment Darth Vader proclaims "Luke, I am your father." and the world as we know it flipped upside down?  Well, watching these two girls pick up the microphones and start singing their hearts out was very similar to that moment for me. I leaned over to Cooper and whispered, "You aren't doing a performance are you?" and he said "Yep, I'm singing a song.  Me and Cooper C made it up."  (My Cooper has a best friend, also named Cooper.  We call him Cooper C.)  Oh noooooo!!
     I didn't know it was possible to have so many different emotions at the same time.  Fear, pride, embarrassment, joy, panic.  Mostly panic.  Keep in mind, Cooper is next in line and only has until these two 3rd grade divas finish their karaoke routine.  So I start to frantically whisper in Cooper's ear, "Why don't you just sing one of the Primary songs you know?"  He says, "No, Cooper and I made up a song and we've been practicing."  That's when I asked the one question I kinda wish I never asked, "What is it called?"  He said, "It's called 'I Smack You In The Face!'"
   Well, who would have seen that coming?  Horrified at the name of the song and remembering all the Anti-bullying campaigns the school has had, I plead in my frantic whisper for Cooper to sing a song from the Church program last fall, but to no avail.  He won't change it.  Apparently they've been practicing it all week.  Who knew?  Not me!!  All my pleading goes ignored and Barbra and Judy are done with their song.  Now is the moment of truth.  Cooper stands up and presents his pencil sketch Coat of Arms.  The content is there, and that's what is important.  The teacher gives me a sympathetic look as if to say,  " You were probably too busy to help," and tells him it's great.  Then asks him if he's ready to do his performance.  I put on my best "I'm a proud mother" grin and squirm in my chair while I watch Cooper walk to the other side of the room to debut his original musical number.  Here's how it went:
    It begins with the two Coopers standing to face one another.  Cooper H sings the words "Hey Cooper, what are you doing?" to which Cooper C shouts, "I SMACK YOU IN THE FACE!". This exchange is repeated with Cooper H singing another line, and Cooper C shouting back at him, "I SMACK YOU IN THE FACE"!   And this is when things go blank for me.  Time slows down as I look around the room.  The kids are already laughing and having the time of their lives.  The other mothers are watching with polite smiles, glancing at me out of the corner of their eyes, and I'm trying to be there for Coop and disappear at the same time.  And then, I catch eyes with his Core Teacher, and she's smiling at me.  Not an embarrassed smile, or courteous smile, but an honest--"Can you believe this is actually happening?" smile.  And at this moment, I smile back and realize it's OK.  That sometimes kids want to express themselves, and come up with ridiculous, slightly inappropriate, loud songs and I should be proud that he is confident enough to do it.  
     So I sit back just try to enjoy the ride.  The kids are laughing so loud that I can't hear the words that Cooper H is singing in between Cooper C shouting "I SMACK YOU IN THE FACE!"  This exchange happens about 10 times before the song comes to an end.  The Coopers take a deep bow and return to their seats amid the cheers of their fellow students.  The other mothers are horrified, the music teacher is polite and complimentary, and his Core teacher has her hands over her mouth to hide her laughter. And, it all happened so fast that I didn't record it.  The shock of it all rendered me paralyzed and it will go down in Hutchins' history unrecorded.
     The rest of the performances were white toast compared to Cooper's.  But I will give kudos to the little boy who made his own musical instrument out of rubber bands and a paper towel roll and then proceeded to play a song on it.  Way to be industrious!  And every time I need a little pick me up I think back to the two Coopers yelling  "I SMACK YOU IN THE FACE!"  and giggle.  It was a fine moment of performance art and excellent parenting!  If you'd like tickets to Cooper's next performance, just let me know.   
   
   

Mmmm....Candy

     Halloween is slowly closing in on us and every year I am met with the same conflict.  Do I buy candy that I like or do I buy candy that I don't really like so I won't eat it before Halloween?  The smart version of me chooses the candy I won't be tempted to eat it.  This year, I was smart.  Actually, I went with the plenty pack from Costco that has a couple of candy bars I like, but mostly stuff I don't.   I do this because our first Halloween as a married couple, I had bought candy a couple of weeks early and put it in the cupboard in preparation for Halloween.  Halloween night I got home from work and went to get the candy to give out and it was gone!  I'm not quite sure who ate it, but his name might rhyme with Scott!  We had to leave the house and go out for dinner until all the trick-or-treaters had gone to bed.  Ridiculous.

     I just need to say the chocolate bars in Canada are soooo much better than the ones here in the States. Topping my list of favorites are Crunchie, Crispy Crunch, Coffee Crisp, Mr. Big, and of course, Smarties!  Smarties are technically not a candy bar, but candy coated chocolate much like a plain M&M, but 1000 times better.  (BTW, for my Canadian friends, the States have their version of Smarties, which are like a super cheap Sweet Tart).  You all from the US might not appreciate Canada's superiority in this area, but it's true.  The only chocolate bar that comes close to our Canadian versions are Symphony bars, preferably the kind with Almonds and Toffee.  Enjoy America,  you have 1.
     Doesn't thinking about candy take you right back to your youth?  Because when you are young, you can eat 5 different candy bars, a bag of licorice and chase it with a soda and you are good. Today, it would put me in a sugar coma and I'd gain 50 pounds.  But when I was growing up in Vancouver, we had a convenience store around the corner from our house called Hardy's that had the greatest candy in the world.  I swear they had every candy known to man and it was such a treat to go to Hardy's and pick out my favorite sugar fix.  I usually would go for the Fun Dip and Bottlecaps.  They also had something called the Ton-o-Gum that was just a big chunk of gum. Fantastic!!  A few years ago I went back to my old neighborhood and to Hardy's and sure enough, it lived up to my memories. There were rows and rows of all different types of candies.  It was amazing!
     When we moved away from that neighborhood we would still go back to get candy.  One time after getting candy one day, we were driving down the road and my sisters, Kerry and Kristi, started fighting.  After telling them to stop a few times, my dad finally lost it, reached back and grabbed both of their bags of candy and threw them out the window.  I was sitting in the back clutching my candy like my life depended on it and keeping my mouth shut.  Kerry started crying that she had all of her money in that bag, so begrudgingly, my dad turned the car around and marched into the median to retrieve her bag, leaving Kristi's candy there.  Talk about tragedy!  I don't think Kristi ever recovered. If you know her, ask her about it. You'll get an earful.
      But everyone has their favorites and their different ways of eating them.  Personally I prefer to let my gummy bears air out and get tough and chewy.  Then, when I eat them, I bite off the ears, hands and feet before eating the body.  It's a bit barbaric, but necessary.  Also, if you go to a movie, put the Milk Duds in the popcorn so you get caramel popcorn bites.  It's divine.  I've heard people do that with Junior Mints too, but it doesn't sound as appealing.  Right now you are probably thinking about your favorite candies and what strange ways you eat them.  It's okay.  We all do it.
     So I've mentioned my favorite candy is Smarties.  Ever since I was a kid, I have loved this candy and when my parents come to visit me they usually bring me a box or two.  A couple of years ago I was surprised on a Saturday evening by my friend Christy from High School.  We hadn't seen each other in years and she was visiting Utah with her family.  Seeing her was such a big surprise and we talked and laughed like old times.  And, being the true friend that she was, she brought me a huge Costco pack of Smarties!  I was so excited.  After she left, every time my family or I ate the Smarties, I thought of Christy and her generosity.  What an amazing friend!  I was shocked a few months later when I found out that Christy had passed away from cancer.  I am sure that during the time of our visit she knew her time here was drawing to a close, but she didn't say a word.  Her visit was all about surprising me and doing something nice for me.  I miss her and will never enjoy another box of Smarties without thinking of her and her big heart.
     So as you go to the store to purchase your Halloween candy which do you choose?  Are you giving away your favorites or not allowing yourself to be tempted into eating all your loot before you give it out?  Either way, enjoy it and enjoy your memories of your favorite sugary treat.  I know I will.

   

Diet Coke...A Love Story

     I grew up in a home where we were not allowed to drink caffeinated beverages.  No coffee, no tea, no Coke, or Pepsi.  This was a hard, fast rule that was not to be broken.  I even remember being out to dinner with my family when we heard the news that Dr. Pepper had caffeine.  I was devastated, because I knew it was the end of that deliciousness.  Once my grandparents came to visit and they had driven about 10 hrs or so.  I got in their car and saw cans of Tab and Pepsi!  I couldn't believe it.  Concerned that my grandfather had been doing something so scandalous, I asked my mom about it. She said that my grandfather had to drink it because it was too hard to drive all that way without it. I accepted that there was a need for him to have the caffeinated soda, so it was ok.
     So growing up, I was a pretty good girl who didn't like to break the rules.  BUT, at the end of my senior year, (and I'm not sure how it happened), I started drinking Diet Coke.  It started off slow, maybe a can at lunch once in a while because I clearly couldn't drink it at home.  But then I got a job at a restaurant/cafe the summer before my freshman year of college where we could drink all the soda we wanted.  I worked very long hours, 6 at night until 4 in the morning, so there was a lot of Diet Coke consumed.  Diet Coke with lime to be exact. I developed a great appreciation for my grandfather's willingness to take one for the team, in order to make it through the night.  And that willingness...it turns out, was delicious.
     College introduced the daily ritual of 32 oz Diet Coke with pebble ice from the Conoco. In fact, in a round about way, Diet Coke is what led me to meet my husband.  Scott's brother Rob worked at the Conoco where I made my daily stop and I got to know him, so then I was able to meet Scott...go figure.  Diet Coke quickly became my favorite part of the day.  Going to get a Diet Coke was fulfilling and just made everything better.  If I was sad, I'd go get a Diet Coke.  If I was celebrating, I'd go get a Diet Coke. If I met a new guy, I'd go get a Diet Coke.  If I was bored, I'd go get a Diet Coke.  And, if it was from Harts it was even better.  Harts was a gas station west of the dorms and I don't know how, but their Diet Coke was better than everybody else's.  Maybe it was the hearts on the outside of their cups, or their see-through lids and red straws, but get a Harts Diet Coke and a frosted pink sugar cookie and all was right with the world.
     I will now let you in on my greatest moment of shame associated with my Diet Coke addiction.  My Sophomore year at BYU, my parents bought me a cute little Honda Spree scooter.  It was a one seater, bright red and it was awesome!!  What was the 1st thing I did after my parents left town and I was on my own?  I rode down to the store to fill my Harts 44 oz refill mug.  The first part of my trip went just great.  I got my mug refilled and then held on to it with my right hand as I drove home. Everything was going fine until I had to get up the 1 inch lip to the sidewalk where I would park my scooter.  I needed to give my scooter a little bit of gas to get over the lip,with my right hand, while almost simultaneously grabbing the brake with the same right hand.  What could possibly go wrong?
     I tentatively released the brake and gave a little bit of gas with my right hand (still holding the beloved beverage).  Not enough gas. I gave it a little more...almost there..and then BAM!  up I went, over the lip of the curb.  So at this point, there was about 25 feet before the sidewalk ended and then there's a patch of grass and a fence.  I quickly reached with my right hand (still clutching my baby) to grab the brake, but as I did so, I inadvertently pulled hard on the gas and was suddenly hitting Mach 5, speeding toward the fence.  I tried braking again, and I accelerated again!  The only way to stop was to drop the prized soda, and that was soooo not going to happen!  So, right before the scooter hit the fence, I screamed (maybe cursed a little, loudly) and jumped off the scooter, letting it crash onto the grass and run into the fence.  I clutched my precious Diet Coke and ran inside to my apartment.  I couldn't believe what had just happened.  It was one of the scariest experiences of my life!  I'd almost lost 44 oz of my precious Diet Coke!!  I rushed to change my clothes, threw on a hat and walked back outside to where my scooter was lying next to the fence.  I exclaimed loudly "Look what my sister did to my scooter!  I can"t believe it!", just in case anyone had witnessed what just happened.  I picked it up, checked for damages (none, except for my ego), and parked it.  Then, I went back inside to enjoy my cool and delicious Diet Coke.  I actually thought I got away with it until the end of the year when a guy who lived in an upstairs apartment said to me, "Didn't you crash your scooter at the beginning of the year?".  I quickly replied, "No, that was my sister." Busted.
     My love for Diet Coke continued for 24 years.  I would quit only during pregnancies and would look forward to the end of my nursing so that I could start drinking it again.  It greeted me in the morning, it went to bed with me each night.  Diet Coke was more than a drink or a way to quench my thirst.  It was how I functioned every day.  But not for the caffeine.  I could drink 32 oz right before bed and fall quickly to sleep.  It made me feel great.  It relieved stress and made things right. I chose restaurants by whether or not they carried Coke products (and yes, I knew which ones did).  I couldn't start a project until I got my Diet Coke. I wouldn't sit down to read a book until I had my Diet Coke by my side.  Diet Coke got me through 2 years of Girl's Camp.  It was a part of me. For those of you who have the same addiction, you know what I'm talking about.  But with all addictions, admitting it is the 1st step, and I knew I had a problem.
     I had a Diet Coke in my hand or within 5 steps every moment of every day.  I didn't drink anything else except water with dinner.  Diet Coke makes almost everything taste better, especially Mexican food and In-n-Out Burger.  But I would drink Diet Coke right after finishing a bowl of cereal.  It was what I did.  Until this point, I don't think I've ever really admitted how much Diet Coke I drank, but I would guess easily 2, 44oz sodas each day.  I know, I know, I know.
     I happened to get a really bad flu about a year and a half ago.  The type of flu where you think you are going to die, but the doctor says it's a virus, so just wait it out.  I wasn't eating or drinking anything, even my precious Diet Coke.  I was unable to keep much down, so not much went in.   I had lost my voice for weeks because of dehydration, so as I started to feel better I just drank water. I took a look at my addiction to Diet Coke (because that's what it was) and decided enough was enough.  I didn't want it to rule me anymore. And, long story short, I haven't had Diet Coke since that day I got sick.  Wait--I did have a sip of Scott's about 2 months into my Diet Coke rehab and to my surprise, it didn't taste the same!  It was nothing like I had remembered.  Weird!  I was relieved, because if had been the same, I probably would have just kept drinking.
     But here's the thing.  When I tell people I quit they say "Oh, don't you feel so much better?"  NO, I don't.  I don't sleep better, I'm not happier, I don't feel different.  But I think my bones are probably thanking me. I didn't move on to caffeine-free Diet Coke (eeeuuuwwww!) or other soda.  I am now addicted to water, or rather, having a bottle of water next to me every moment of the day.  No wonder smokers have to chew gum.  The physical part of the addiction lasted for a long time.
     I still see Diet Coke commercials and feel a little giddy.  When I hear Scott open a can, it lightens my mood.  I know it's wonderful and I appreciate the love everyone has for it.  I read an e-card that said something like "When a waiter asks me after ordering a Diet Coke, "Is Diet Pepsi OK?"  I say, 'Sure, is Monopoly money OK?' ".  It's so true.  There is no substitute for Diet Coke.  It's fabulous.
     As I said, this is a love story.  But not all love stories end with the lovers riding off in to the sunset. Sometimes, you have to let something you love free.  So --Go Diet Coke.  Move on and share your love with the rest of the world.  I'll be here sipping my water, cherishing the memories of the  magical times we shared.  And remember, it's not you...it's me.

If you can't say anything nice...

So, when I was little and someone said something mean I would say "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me".  Then one day I happened upon a book that said, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will ALWAYS hurt me".  I think the second one is true don't you?

Words have power.  Whether spoken or written, the words we say make a difference to people around us, and we need to be responsible for them.  If we're going to put something out there--OWN IT!

For instance, I went to Cooper's first piano lesson.  In the piano room where he had his lesson sat Cooper, his cute teacher Mandie, Mandie's mom Tena, and myself.  The lesson went great until Cooper had to scoot down to play "Hot Cross Buns" on the lower keys.  In the process of scooting, Coop lost a little control and broke wind--loudly.  Coop looked up at me in embarrassment and without missing a beat exclaimed, "MOM!" as if it was me!  I didn't know what to do.  I was laughing so hard that he'd done it in the first place, but when he tried to pawn it off on me, I laughed even harder!  I finally regained my breath and told him not to blame it on me.  What's the famous line--whoever smelt it, dealt it?  Coop needs to own up.

On a larger scale, we shouldn't put anything out into the world unless we are prepared to own it.  A year and  a half ago some kids at my son's high school decided it would be funny if they wrote an anonymous blog about other kids at the school.  It was highly mean spirited and hurtful.  When Dillon stood up to these anonymous bloggers to defend his friend, they immediately focused their attention on him.  What they wrote was cruel and demeaning in every way.  As parents we felt helpless that we couldn't protect our son from these cowardly cyber-bullies.  If this had happened to me in high school, I'm not sure if I would have returned to school.  He claimed it didn't bother him and those people were idiots.  He seemed to brush it off and not give it a second thought. Although the blog continued a while longer, it eventually ended with the end of the school year.  

Last month, my son received a text message from an old friend from high school.  After exchanging niceties, the boy said that he had something to tell Dillon and he wasn't sure he was going to like it.  He admitted that he and his friend wrote the blog and said he felt horrible about it, especially what they had written about Dillon.  Dillon was surprised by the boy's admission, but more surprised by how he felt about it.  He said he felt an instant forgiveness for this boy and had no hard feelings against him.  This boy has recently given Dillon the access to this blog and Dillon has removed all the hurtful messages except for the one written about him.  He also wrote his own post on this blog sharing his feelings about how this experience has affected him.  I'm very proud of how he has handled this.

But here's what's interesting.  Dillon said that while on the blog, he was able to view all of the incoming emails  and responses.  He was surprised at how many people were willing to spill hurtful information about their friends.  He also saw the protests of people who pleaded with these bullies to end their mean posts.  One person even said that he was glad he was a "nobody" because if the blog was about him he'd probably kill himself.  While many of these emails had names attached, the majority of them were also anonymous.  I think this speaks to the character of these individuals.  I can only hope that most of them have improved since leaving high school.  I am also very proud of the boy who had enough guts to apologize to my son and own up to what he had done. I'm sure that wasn't easy to do.  But he owned it, and now he can move on.  

This makes me evaluate what I'm "putting out there".  It's not always easy for me to hold my tongue when I feel the need to share my feelings.  But I can keep working on it right?  Maybe we all should.  So whether it's claiming our own toots, sticking your foot in your mouth or declaring your opinions, we need to be able to be responsible for what we've said or done. Personally I'm trying to follow the advice that Thumper's father gave to him that "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all".  However, I would suggest that a slight eye roll is sometimes necessary.

I Am A Grasshopper

We're all familiar with the story of the Ant and the Grasshopper.  The Ant works and toils during the summer months, tirelessly stocking up for winter.  As he goes about his work, he ignores the frivolous Grasshopper who has no concern for the approaching fall and winter, and who spends his days singing and lying around in the field.  We all know the Grasshopper ends up regretting his decision to play while the ants worked, and the ants are pretty proud of all their hard work when winter comes.  Thanks Aesop for the life lesson.

So, I was thinking about a story written by my mother-in-law's dear friend Louise Plummer in which, while considering the mess in her household and relating it to this fable, she declares herself to be a Grasshopper. I was thinking about this story when I arrived home this afternoon, and I have decided that today's truth is that I too am a Grasshopper.  I realized this was a moment of self-awareness and acknowledgement of what is truth.  Although I may have Ant qualities, I believe my personal Grasshopper wins out.

Every Friday night I go to bed with a big Ant list of things to accomplish the next day.  Then, Saturday morning rolls around and the Grasshopper feels like it's more important to sleep in, or stay in bed and watch Coyote Ugly on VH1.  (Let's be sure to include Coyote Ugly in that list of movies that mean nothing to my life, yet I'm obligated to watch if it comes on TV).  By the time the Grasshopper is ready to get stuff done, the day has moved forward with the Ants and I struggle to get 1/2 the list done.

I try to push myself into being an Ant.  I have bursts of Ant-like behavior. I have a super Ant organized chore chart.  I have a "Busy Mom's" day planner.  I have filing systems and menu plans to assist in my desired Ant behavior.  And a lot of the time it works.  I manage 2 car pools, corral 4 boys--3 of which attend 3 separate schools and have completely different schedules, work full-time, attempt to make a semi-nutritious meal most evenings, wash, dry and fold laundry that never ends, manage our bills, etc, etc. The truth is, I would very much like to be an Ant.  Many of my friends are Ants. But as I strive to be like them, I find my Ant qualities lack longevity, and I'm OK with that.

Being a Grasshopper  is not a life of irresponsibility.  It's about taking the moments you are given in life and not rushing through them.  It's appreciating that kids will grow up and move on before you know it, so it's okay to lounge with them and watch cartoons on a Saturday rather than making sure the chore list is done.  Grasshoppers allow themselves the luxury of curling up with a good book while dishes wait patiently at the sink.  Grasshoppers understand that basketball games are sometimes played in the kitchen and the greatest football receptions are made onto LoveSacs in the family room.  Grasshoppers regard cleaning bathrooms as a necessary evil.  Grasshoppers have headstand contests on the family room rug with their kids.  They work hard, but also recognize that when work is done--it's time to play.  Grasshoppers never forget to enjoy the peaceful moments, savor the sweet ones and capture once in a life time memories.

The proverbial winter seems a while off, so my Ant/Grasshopper struggle will continue.  And while I endeavor to be more Ant-like, I am happy being a Grasshopper.  Being a Grasshopper makes my life pretty full and allows me the time and space I need to be a Wife and Mom with limited guilt and self-doubt.  (Guilt and self-doubt comes with Motherhood.  It's a package deal and also a truth for another day.)  So, with that being said.  Today's truth is "I am a Grasshopper".

Monday, September 3, 2012

The Beginning...

Pride and Prejudice begins, "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."  Well Jane, times have changed.  Which is to say, Truth's have changed.  Today, if a single man is in possession of a good fortune, it means he probably needs a good broker.

Would it be more correct to say that opinions have changed?  Aren't our opinions what we consider to be truth?  What might be true for me may not be true for you.  For the argument's sake, let's just stick with Truth.  Either way, time marches on and what was true in the 18th century may or may not be true in the 19th or 20th century. I would like to focus on what I believe to be true.  You may agree or disagree, but it's my blog.

Here are some truth's I am sure about today. (Keep in mind, I am a 40 something, devoted wife and mother of 4 boys, LDS, former Canadian, and my truth's change from time to time).

1.  Life is Good!
2. Chocolate Cake is awesome and a great joy in life.
3. Exercising is hard.
4. The Kardashians are a complete waste of time.
5. Raising kids today is not for wimps.
6. Money is not the key to happiness, but it sure helps.
7. Good books have healing powers.
8. Freckles on little boys faces melt my heart.
9. God has a plan for us. (And it's different for everyone).
10. I have a voice, and would like to be heard.


Let's just conquer one truth at a time.  Today's truth is Life is Good!

Today is Labor Day.  (Labour Day for my Canadian friends).  Being a holiday, I wanted to do something fun with my kids.  As usual, we all slept in (a favorite in our household) and enjoyed not having to jump at the buzzing from a crazed cell phone alarm, signaling the start of the day.  Strolling down to the kitchen, I discovered the chocolate cake I had made the day before for my husband's birthday.  Of course, I grabbed a fork and just had a "little something" from the side of the cake.  By the way, if you never get a plate out and just sneak a little from the side, the calories don't really count.  Cake for breakfast is divine!
Around noon, a couple of the kids and their friends went with me to hike the "Y". Which is to hike a big trail to the huge "Y" painted on the side of the mountain.  I haven't done this particular hike for about 3 years and let me tell you, it was a killer.  I'm sure I will have a day where I discuss my lack of enthusiasm for exercise, so I'll save you the details except to say that I resent the man who was running the up the trail while I was making my way down.  Nobody likes a show off.  But I survived, and now here I am creating my 1st blog post.  Life is Good!

Life is good does not mean life is not hard.  Those two things exist simultaneously.  It's just that if I can focus of the good things in my life, it doesn't seem as hard.  I don't always use my focusing power in this manner. A lot of the time I can get swamped by the things that are hard and struggle to find the good.  But today, the good prevails.  The sun is shining, my kids are happy, and my husband is busy whittling away at the pinewood derby car that Coop will be racing Tuesday night. The colors of the leaves on the mountain are changing, signaling that fall is coming sooner than I'd like.  But it's beautiful!   Life is good--This is today's truth.