So, I have been feeling this pull lately; just this pull to write and express myself. This is mostly in hopes of trying to figure out what I truly want and what makes me truly happy. Sometimes that's hard for me. I don't know if other people feel this way too but for me a lot of my life follows the path of least resistance. I tend to take the easiest course instead of making intentional directions. That's a fine way to live except that I think there might be more inside of me screaming to come out if I will just listen.
Sometimes I actually think about myself and start to get panicky because I remember a time when I felt like I was good at quite a few things....maybe not everything but I had a general feeling of competence. And then I constrast that now with my mountain of evidence of mediocrity and wonder what happened along the way. But it's my own fault. It's not circumstantial. I let it get that way.
One part of me that I miss is writing: putting complete thoughts into words that convey an idea. It used to be such a commonplace thing in my life but "stay-at-home mom" doesn't require that. So I have let that part of me go. This is one part of my life that I have chosen to be intentional. I am not just going to bump into it or come across it; I will create it.
I have chosen my blog as my forum not because I think many people will read what I write, but because I can pretend that they do which I think will make me accountable. We'll see, huh.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Monday, August 8, 2011
Random Thoughts and Happenings
I haven't been writing lately. Can you tell? In fact, I haven't written in so long that I don't even know what to write about. Surely STUFF has happened in the last three months. At least, surely THOUGHTS have happened. And yet, I still draw a blank in trying to describe the breadth and depth of life. There's too much.
Should I tell you about living in a new place and meeting new people and who my new favorites are? Should I tell you about my insecurities in making new friends and taking a long time to trust these friends?
Or maybe I should tell you about the poor choices some of my children have made this summer and how those choices and have torn me apart, made me feel personally ashamed . . . even though I wasn't the one making those mistakes? And how discouraged I have felt?
Should I talk about how I haven't raced this entire summer . . . a first for me? The truth is I'm scared. I don't want to face the fact that I work hard but don't even compare to the runner that I used to be. Or maybe I should tell you that I did run the Ragnar Relay thinking it would be a cakewalk and it ended up being a gut-wrenching, nausea-inducing, sleep-depriving, trip in an RV.
Would you like to hear how I've been called to work with the Young Women in my ward only to discover that they are both socially and spiritually more mature than I am? And I that I'm having a beastly time remembering all their names?
See, I'm having a hard time narrowing it down. Here is a list of randomness--not including the aforementioned topics. Be forewarned; this list has no subject.
1. We still have no grass. But we do have three trees and an in-ground trampoline which we spent an entire Saturday installing.
2. I pieced my first quilt, a patchwork with every-other denim which I cut from used jeans. I started this project thinking this would be an economical way to get nice bedspreads for the boys. Let's just say that the economical part is debatable.
3. Jackson talks like a madman. Sometimes he's talking so much I wonder how he can breathe. And his favorite topics start with "supo-he-yos" and "supo-powos." (He can't say his r's and l's.)
4. I got a chemical burn last winter while trying to clean out my rental house. I learned not to use lime-away without gloves. Now that it's summer, the skin on that arm looks a little funny whenever it gets sun. Do I have cancer?
5. I started reading Jane Eyre for the first time and only have 60 pages left. Somehow, even after reading 400 pages I've lost interest and instead have been reading the entire Percy Jackson series.
6. I've lost interest in cooking and have finally succumbed to calls for pizza, tacos, and hamburgers. Healthy fare.
7. We went to Bear Lake. Don't ask.
8. There was someone in my neighborhood who decided to shoot off aerial fireworks every day of July just because they could. I got kinda sick of it.
9. My kids took swimming lessons from the Nazi swim teacher. It was horrendous. They hated it. They whined the whole day worrying about the next lesson. I worried that this was bad for them. They learned to swim.
10. I keep forgetting to get my oil changed and my tires rotated.
Should I tell you about living in a new place and meeting new people and who my new favorites are? Should I tell you about my insecurities in making new friends and taking a long time to trust these friends?
Or maybe I should tell you about the poor choices some of my children have made this summer and how those choices and have torn me apart, made me feel personally ashamed . . . even though I wasn't the one making those mistakes? And how discouraged I have felt?
Should I talk about how I haven't raced this entire summer . . . a first for me? The truth is I'm scared. I don't want to face the fact that I work hard but don't even compare to the runner that I used to be. Or maybe I should tell you that I did run the Ragnar Relay thinking it would be a cakewalk and it ended up being a gut-wrenching, nausea-inducing, sleep-depriving, trip in an RV.
Would you like to hear how I've been called to work with the Young Women in my ward only to discover that they are both socially and spiritually more mature than I am? And I that I'm having a beastly time remembering all their names?
See, I'm having a hard time narrowing it down. Here is a list of randomness--not including the aforementioned topics. Be forewarned; this list has no subject.
1. We still have no grass. But we do have three trees and an in-ground trampoline which we spent an entire Saturday installing.
2. I pieced my first quilt, a patchwork with every-other denim which I cut from used jeans. I started this project thinking this would be an economical way to get nice bedspreads for the boys. Let's just say that the economical part is debatable.
3. Jackson talks like a madman. Sometimes he's talking so much I wonder how he can breathe. And his favorite topics start with "supo-he-yos" and "supo-powos." (He can't say his r's and l's.)
4. I got a chemical burn last winter while trying to clean out my rental house. I learned not to use lime-away without gloves. Now that it's summer, the skin on that arm looks a little funny whenever it gets sun. Do I have cancer?
5. I started reading Jane Eyre for the first time and only have 60 pages left. Somehow, even after reading 400 pages I've lost interest and instead have been reading the entire Percy Jackson series.
6. I've lost interest in cooking and have finally succumbed to calls for pizza, tacos, and hamburgers. Healthy fare.
7. We went to Bear Lake. Don't ask.
8. There was someone in my neighborhood who decided to shoot off aerial fireworks every day of July just because they could. I got kinda sick of it.
9. My kids took swimming lessons from the Nazi swim teacher. It was horrendous. They hated it. They whined the whole day worrying about the next lesson. I worried that this was bad for them. They learned to swim.
10. I keep forgetting to get my oil changed and my tires rotated.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Luau
Alisa had a luau for her 5th birthday party. Here is a smattering of the pictures. By the way, I did not take these pictures; my friend did and she is a much better photographer than I.
Briggs fixing a zhu zhu pet house he made for Alisa. Seriously adorable.
Seriously, have you ever seen such a cool candle blowing picture?
Briggs fixing a zhu zhu pet house he made for Alisa. Seriously adorable.
Southern California Vacay
A few weeks ago we took a trip with the Rufs to Southern California. I know you must all be bored stiff with pictures of Disneyland but I couldn't resist this one . . . . .
or this one . . . . .
or this one . . . . .
or basically any of these other ones either.
or this one . . . . .
or this one . . . . .
or basically any of these other ones either.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
House Guests
Last week, we went on vacation and when we returned, someone had moved in.
Can you see it? Sticking out the sides?
Wow, that must be a whole week's worth of work.
Sorry Mr. Bird. but we have to evict you.
Can you see it? Sticking out the sides?
Wow, that must be a whole week's worth of work.
Sorry Mr. Bird. but we have to evict you.
The Path of Least Resistance
The other day my brother mentioned something to me about "since you stopped blogging." Wait a minute . . . did I stop blogging? Like so much in my life, sometimes decisions are made in a passive manner--where I let things take their course without my direction . . . where I keep running along on the path of least resistance. I hate that about myself. I would prefer to have these grand ideas and make a plan and carry them out.
Today I was thinking about how in adolescence I told everyone that I wanted to be a marine biologist. And, at the time, I thought my biggest problem was that I lived so far from the ocean. Now I am wise enough to know that I suck at math and that I am terrified of being more than three feet under the water. And that I have a short attention span. All these are much bigger problems than not living on the coast. But at that time I wouldn't let myself see "meaningless" obstacles because I was a dreamer and capable of anything.
Currently, my personal aspirations (if they are still in there) are buried beneath a barrage of day to day child-rearing, house keeping, and food making. I have been so caught up in trying to keep up with life that I have forgotten than maybe I could do even more.
And yet, I have to admit, I am happy. I have achieved many of my dreams. I don't regret anything I have done.
So what I am wondering is this; is it ok to just be who I am without being something spectacular? Without ever being noteworthy? Without being someone who utilizes her time on earth to really make a difference to people? To go on doing what I've always done?
For now, I choose to just keep on living and I hope that's ok.
PS I haven't stopped blogging.
Today I was thinking about how in adolescence I told everyone that I wanted to be a marine biologist. And, at the time, I thought my biggest problem was that I lived so far from the ocean. Now I am wise enough to know that I suck at math and that I am terrified of being more than three feet under the water. And that I have a short attention span. All these are much bigger problems than not living on the coast. But at that time I wouldn't let myself see "meaningless" obstacles because I was a dreamer and capable of anything.
Currently, my personal aspirations (if they are still in there) are buried beneath a barrage of day to day child-rearing, house keeping, and food making. I have been so caught up in trying to keep up with life that I have forgotten than maybe I could do even more.
And yet, I have to admit, I am happy. I have achieved many of my dreams. I don't regret anything I have done.
So what I am wondering is this; is it ok to just be who I am without being something spectacular? Without ever being noteworthy? Without being someone who utilizes her time on earth to really make a difference to people? To go on doing what I've always done?
For now, I choose to just keep on living and I hope that's ok.
PS I haven't stopped blogging.
Friday, March 11, 2011
At our house . . . .
. . . . you have to bring your sunglasses to breakfast.
"Mom, stop messing around with the camera and give me my pancakes."
"Mom, stop messing around with the camera and give me my pancakes."
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Sum of My Parts
I should be making dinner right now and I should be cleaning up the basement for Jackson's party and I should be supervising the craft time in the laundry room but you know what . . . I just don't feel like it. Instead I feel like writing, like expressing some coherent thoughts that will mean something. I wish that I had something profound to say because I feel like being profound. Unfortunately, profoundness doesn't come on command. Usually, bursts of inspiration come while I am doing something else. Which, incidentally, would require doing something.
Instead I just want to say that I am more than the sum of my parts. I am more than just a mom. I am more than a wife. I am more than a runner. I am more than a cleaner. I am more than a cook. I am more than a party planner. I am more than a chauffeur. I am more than a sounding board. I am more than a robot who can move from action to action accomplishing and completing. Actually, I am a complicated piece of matter that even I can't figure out completely: living, changing, growing, thinking. I am a jumble of thoughts, emotions, feelings, urges, desires, and un-desires. I am shy and confident at the same time. I am indecisive and decisive in the same moment. You don't believe me, do you. You should.
Also, I have a gut-full of sugar in the form of rice crispy treats. How's that for profound?
Instead I just want to say that I am more than the sum of my parts. I am more than just a mom. I am more than a wife. I am more than a runner. I am more than a cleaner. I am more than a cook. I am more than a party planner. I am more than a chauffeur. I am more than a sounding board. I am more than a robot who can move from action to action accomplishing and completing. Actually, I am a complicated piece of matter that even I can't figure out completely: living, changing, growing, thinking. I am a jumble of thoughts, emotions, feelings, urges, desires, and un-desires. I am shy and confident at the same time. I am indecisive and decisive in the same moment. You don't believe me, do you. You should.
Also, I have a gut-full of sugar in the form of rice crispy treats. How's that for profound?
Friday, February 11, 2011
Pairs
I have a problem. It's a serious problem. It's a sock problem. Seriously. I have a problem with socks.
I hate folding the little buggers. Actually, I hate MATCHING and folding them. I just don't see the point of it. So much time for such little return. You know because I get so much more fulfillment out of the rest of the laundry. Who am I kidding.
But the socks . . . I just can't get around it. I can go months without folding a single sock. I'll just pile them up in a basket and expect family members to dig through them until they can find a pair. It probably isn't kind. It's kinda like how I expect my kids to get their own stinkin' water. But that is a different story.
One time, a pregnant friend of mine asked me how to make sure that the little newborn socks didn't get stuck in the washing machine. I replied, "buy all white." And I was serious. Finding errant pairs are just not a high priority for me.
After my last baby, my mother was helping me with the laundry. When she saw my sock pile, she gasped. Audibly gasped. I told her sometimes I just buy more instead of folding them. (I was only halfway kidding.)
But the really pathetic thing . . . the thing that really puts me above the rest . . . is that I brought my sock problem with me when I moved. I mean, even when cleaning out an entire house I couldn't bring myself to match socks and instead schlepped the entire 5 lbs of unfolded socks with me.
A couple of weeks after we moved in, I found my husband in the laundry room surrounded by an explosion of socks. He was going through them and folding the darn things. As if he didn't have enough to do.
So after he took care of the initial load of socks, I vowed to keep abreast of the socks and fold them right as they came out of the dryer. But the temptation is so great to just go ahead and throw them in the basket.
Anyway, now that I have revealed to you one of my darkest secrets, I feel so much better about myself. I mean, if unfolded socks is all I've got, then I can't be doing too bad.
I hate folding the little buggers. Actually, I hate MATCHING and folding them. I just don't see the point of it. So much time for such little return. You know because I get so much more fulfillment out of the rest of the laundry. Who am I kidding.
But the socks . . . I just can't get around it. I can go months without folding a single sock. I'll just pile them up in a basket and expect family members to dig through them until they can find a pair. It probably isn't kind. It's kinda like how I expect my kids to get their own stinkin' water. But that is a different story.
One time, a pregnant friend of mine asked me how to make sure that the little newborn socks didn't get stuck in the washing machine. I replied, "buy all white." And I was serious. Finding errant pairs are just not a high priority for me.
After my last baby, my mother was helping me with the laundry. When she saw my sock pile, she gasped. Audibly gasped. I told her sometimes I just buy more instead of folding them. (I was only halfway kidding.)
But the really pathetic thing . . . the thing that really puts me above the rest . . . is that I brought my sock problem with me when I moved. I mean, even when cleaning out an entire house I couldn't bring myself to match socks and instead schlepped the entire 5 lbs of unfolded socks with me.
A couple of weeks after we moved in, I found my husband in the laundry room surrounded by an explosion of socks. He was going through them and folding the darn things. As if he didn't have enough to do.
So after he took care of the initial load of socks, I vowed to keep abreast of the socks and fold them right as they came out of the dryer. But the temptation is so great to just go ahead and throw them in the basket.
Anyway, now that I have revealed to you one of my darkest secrets, I feel so much better about myself. I mean, if unfolded socks is all I've got, then I can't be doing too bad.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Progress Report: Final
I know you are probably all sick of reading about my house. I know I am sick of writing about it. But it just doesn't feel right to go on writing about other things when I have left this hanging. We moved into our new house the second weekend in January and we are enjoying it immensely. Lots more space and just how we like it. There are a few things that have surprised me like how everyone says that it has that "new house" smell. I didn't realize there was a new house smell. I mean I've heard of "new car" smell . . . Also, I am surprised that I feel so comfortable here. It felt like our house from the first morning we moved in. I've also loved how welcoming and kind the neighborhood has been--which is a big deal for me.
Here's a little tour. I had to take the pictures at night because it was the night before we moved in. So, sorry, no natural lighting.
Front entry--we have added hooks to the shelf for hanging coats etc.
Looking up as you enter the front door.
Looking straight as you enter the front door. On the left is the office. On the right is the entry bench. Straight ahead is the kitchen/family room.
Pocket doors that connect the office/living room to the family room. (Announcer voice: "So easy a baby can do it." Doesn't it look like I staged that?)
Looking from office to family room fireplace.
Family room. Apparently it is good for dancing.
Looking from family room to kitchen.
View of kitchen.
Main floor powder bath.
Master bedroom.
View from master bedroom to bathroom and closets. One closet on each side of the hallway.
Master bathroom vanity. Strange girl taking pictures. Looks like I didn't take pictures of the other half of the bathroom but you can kinda see it in the mirror.
Alisa's bedroom and closet playhouse. I didn't post pictures of the other two bedrooms but they are similar.
Laundry chute door that feeds down into the laundry room. (By the way, this is the best system ever!)
Kids bathroom vanity. Oops. Forgot pictures of the toilet/shower part. It's just behind the next door.
Three kids bored out of their minds resorting to watching movies on the laptop.
The laundry room. I have added baskets above and below and this room has turned out super functional. We also put our old table in here for the kids to do their crafts.
Looking from the laundry sink to the other side of the room. We added hooks here too. The flat door leads to the garage so this a mud room for the kids. It's so nice to have a place for them to hang backpacks and kick off shoes.
Ta-da! Finally all painted. 
Come over anytime and sit on my porch with me.
Here's a little tour. I had to take the pictures at night because it was the night before we moved in. So, sorry, no natural lighting.
Front entry--we have added hooks to the shelf for hanging coats etc.
Looking up as you enter the front door.
Looking straight as you enter the front door. On the left is the office. On the right is the entry bench. Straight ahead is the kitchen/family room.
Pocket doors that connect the office/living room to the family room. (Announcer voice: "So easy a baby can do it." Doesn't it look like I staged that?)
Looking from office to family room fireplace.
Family room. Apparently it is good for dancing.
Looking from family room to kitchen.
View of kitchen.
Main floor powder bath.
Master bedroom.
View from master bedroom to bathroom and closets. One closet on each side of the hallway.
Master bathroom vanity. Strange girl taking pictures. Looks like I didn't take pictures of the other half of the bathroom but you can kinda see it in the mirror.
Alisa's bedroom and closet playhouse. I didn't post pictures of the other two bedrooms but they are similar.
Laundry chute door that feeds down into the laundry room. (By the way, this is the best system ever!)
Kids bathroom vanity. Oops. Forgot pictures of the toilet/shower part. It's just behind the next door.
Three kids bored out of their minds resorting to watching movies on the laptop.
The laundry room. I have added baskets above and below and this room has turned out super functional. We also put our old table in here for the kids to do their crafts.
Looking from the laundry sink to the other side of the room. We added hooks here too. The flat door leads to the garage so this a mud room for the kids. It's so nice to have a place for them to hang backpacks and kick off shoes.
Ta-da! Finally all painted.
Come over anytime and sit on my porch with me.
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