Halloween Really Really Late

We did celebrate Halloween this year. We celebrated twice- both early. This year Ethan picked our theme. One of these years, I'm actually going to convince Colonel Mustard to participate so we can have cool costumes too!

We went Greek. Greek Gods and Goddesses that is. Aphrodite, Zues---I'd name more but I had to think long and hard on Halloween what their names were--now I've forgotten again.

 I'll call them the Toga Boys and the Muses!

I don't know if I'll ever get a really good picture of these kids again. Someone always looked mad, or cross eyed, or stoned. Oh well--I guess if they all make it in the picture it's a success--of sorts!

The actual Halloween day was spent doing this.

And that is why I'm so behind posting Halloween. I've been a little preoccupied trying to get internet--and a cell phone signal--apparently those don't exist here.

The Hardest Part

If you ask a Mother, "What is the hardest part of parenting?" you will likely receive a handful of answers depending the age of her children.

Topping the list for many young mothers--potty training. Seriously--who really enjoys that task? Close seconds include pregnancy, birthing, breastfeeding, sleepless nights, and two year old temper tantrums (at present I have two of those--one screaming in her room and one throwing herself on the floor here next to me.)

 In the early years, a mother is a caretaker. An exhausted overworked nurse, problem solver, teacher, human milking machine, sanitation worker, chef, etc. etc. So naturally, when we think of the burdens of motherhood, our mind shifts to this physical marathon that occurs during the early years of a child's life. And rightfully so. The extremely demanding nature of these years is not to be discounted.
However, as a mother matures, and the potty training days are behind her, I think the really painful work of motherhood begins.

Last night, Colonel Mustard and I sat in our first middle school parent teacher conference for Andrew. It was a bit daunting to sit at a table with his four core teachers around the table and the parents on one end. It was the first time Colonel Mustard had ever accompanied me to a parent teacher conference, and I found myself grateful not to be the only one sitting there. As our short conference unfolded, we discussed his progress in school and then the focus shifted to his situation in life and the challenges that has presented. I saw concern from his teachers as we discussed the immediate future challenges he would be facing at such a delicate and precarious point in his life. I left satisfied, that at the moment, he was as intact as we could hope for.

As we left the school and began the 20 minute drive home, I couldn't help but start to cry as I pondered the predicament our oldest son was in. I so desperately wanted to take away the challenges and struggles he was facing and would continue to face. However, I was deeply impressed with two facts.

1) I am completely unable to stop the events that are unfolding in his life.
2) Even if I could change his circumstances, I would be doing him a disservice  by taking away the opportunity for him to grow and become who he is suppose to be.

And that's when it hit me. THIS is the hardest part of being a mother. It is not the endless marathon of early childhood that makes a mother who she is. That marathon works to break her down, to humble her, to prepare her to submit herself to a will that is not her own. To realize that moment when her job is to step back and allow Heavenly Father to take the child she has so lovingly cared for, and make them into something more--something far greater than she could have made by herself. It is not a physical marathon anymore. It is a spiritual marathon, and it is far longer--for it lasts the rest of your life.

It provides a glimpse of the divine as our Father in Heaven prepared his spirits, gave them their agency, sent them to earth and had to sit back and watch them suffer trails he couldn't take away, in order for them to grow and become worthy to return to his presence one day.

I am in a partnership with God. And last night, I realized I have taken the next step in becoming more like him. I too must suffer the burden of allowing my children to grow--and I am so grateful to know that I'm not in it alone--because This, is really hard work.

Unsolicited Help

Unsolicited Help?? What is that? When a child chooses to clean something in the house without being asked to do so? I didn't think it ever happened....and then tonight...it did!!

While the girls were in the hall doing this...

Andrew was in their room doing this.

I was so excited he cleaned someone else's room without being asked I could have kissed him! BUT...he wouldn't let me.

Now only one question remains....Exactly what is it that he wants??!!

Problems I wish I had.

I could bore you with a list of the problems I currently possess, but I thought instead would bore you with problems I definitely don't possess, but WISH I did.

Nap time. Tot and Ruby-- a problem. Me? A problem I wish I had.

Being grounded from electronics. Andrew and Ethan--a problem. Me? A problem I wish I had.

Skinny jeans. Ava- that is all she owns...but they don't look like skinny jeans--a problem. Me? Skinny jeans? are you kidding? I can't get my big too in a pair of those! Too big? A problem I WISH I had.

Ava in a pair of her baggy "skinny" jeans

Toothless

There it is. Another one bites the dust. I really hate it when the first tooth goes. Bye bye to another baby.

Deep Thoughts...

Instructions mean different things to different people. For instance:

"Clean off the table"

My definition: To clear the table, put away the leftovers and wipe the surface down clean.

My boys' definition: To eat anything leftover from dinner at a frantic pig-like pace and walk away leaving a bigger mess than before.

Moments

Our lives are made up of many mundane and seemingly insignificant actions. Over and over, we repeat most of these actions with little to no consequence, and very little memory that each such action occurred, as day after day blurs into the next.

When we look back through our memories, we may remember the routines and the rituals that were followed day in and day out, but our mind latches onto small pieces, significant moments that define who we are, where we have been, and where we are going.

A moment is defined as a minute portion of time, or a comparatively brief portion of time. However brief and fleeting, these moments in our lives can be so powerful that when we scan through our memories, it is often these bookmarks, that tell the unfolding story of our lives.

Stop and think. What are the moments in my life that have shaped who I am? Scan through and tell me what you see?

 I see myself on my wedding day--the moment I knelt across the alter from my husband. I see the moment I stood in a cold sterile hospital room and knew my father was no longer in that body lying on the table. I see that glorious moment when my eyes met the gaze of each of my precious children for the first time. I see and feel the heart wrenching pain I felt each time my phone rang to share the news that another precious loved one had passed on from this life. Each of these moments holds a place in my heart and my memory that will always be with me.

Tonight however, I was lying in bed as my mind began to quickly wander, flashing through memories, moments, unexpected moments that have unexpectedly changed my life. Moments when my character was defined. Moments when I had perfect clarity for only a few seconds. Moments that have etched a place in my heart, however small and insignificant it seemed at the time. As I let my mind wander, I would like to share with you a few of the moments where my mind stopped to reflect.

I remembered a moment stepping on the school bus for the last time, on my last day of 6th grade--My parents behind me crying and filming the end of a special chapter in their lives. I remember standing alone, looking down the long empty gate at the airport where my mother had just left me to fly home to the other side of the country. I remember standing on the grass in front of the capitol building, looking back as the sunset that last night I spent in Washington D.C. I remember the patronizing look on Colonel Mustard's face after I told him I would be going home to Mom because we had gotten in our first fight! I remember hanging up the phone after receiving the news that our daughter was allergic to everything but rice and vegetables. I remember my three older children hugging me and crying when they realized the doctor had just given the order that we would not be spending Christmas together. I remember Colonel Mustard stopping the moving van as he saw Andrew's friend riding down the hill on his bike for one last goodbye.

These are just a few of the bookmarks that my memory paused on tonight. There are many others. As I stopped the flow of memories in my mind, I was deeply impressed that these memories were experiences for my benefit. A gift of faith building, testimony strengthening experiences from a loving Heavenly Father. A bookmark that I can open to, and relive each moment as the need arises for me to garner strength to face today's new trials. A gift I am most thankful for.

Take a moment, to find those moments in your life. You will be grateful you did.