Tickling the ivories.

When I lived in Nevada, I played the organ in church for a friend who was out of town.  

FYI, I don't really play the organ.  I know enough to get by, but I'm too chicken to use foot pedals in the actual meeting.  I realize that I probably sound like a total nerd with all this organ talk, foot pedals, etc.  There's something nerdy about the organ, in my opinion.  And what do you know, I was playing it:).  I've said before that I'm a nerd, and this is proof!

You know how there's always that one person in a congregation who's "interesting?"  I always liken it to a guy who wears shaded spectacles INDOORS.  Unusual, kinda creepy, but always a very nice person.  Anyway, after the meeting, this "interesting" fellow came up to me, wiggling his fingers, and said, "Good job tickling the ivories."  What?  Whoa.  Seriously, it was hilarious and creepy at the same time!  I have NEVER forgotten that.

Speaking of tickling the ivories, I've decided to start teaching Annie piano.  You know your own kids best, and Annie is the first of mine that I've felt would do well with ME as her teacher.  The other kids, YEAH RIGHT!  It would never work with the boys.  They'd fight me all day long.  Annie is different.  She is eager, she's mature (when it comes to responsibility), she's driven.

  

I think we might actually have a lot of fun together.

Sometimes I sit on the couch listening to her tinker on the keys in the other room.  She gets it.

We'll see how it goes.  Maybe I'm totally off on this, but I have high hopes.  We start tomorrow.  

Wish us luck! 

Free to be.

I have loved all of my babies.  I'm sure of it.  

But this time is different, and the difference is ME.  

My first baby, I tried too hard to do everything "right," by the books, as if there is such a thing.  I was worried, awkward, and unsure about my own identity as a mother, HOW to mother, if I even loved BEING a mother.  Don't get me wrong, I loved, loved, LOVED my baby, but it took awhile to bid my carefree, selfish life, goodbye.  Until I did, I couldn't fully embrace the mother in me.

The next three babies came so fast (this was a choice).  All less than two years apart.  Lots of babies, lots of basic needs, lots of survival mode, but not without lots of love that I tried so desperately to shower on them, amidst the chaos.  This time of my life was all about learning to establish boundaries.  I was not good at boundaries.  I wanted to be a fun mom, so I thought I had to be lax about a lot of things.  BIG MISTAKE.  (I will be forever grateful for a true friend who had the courage to tell me, lovingly, that my "boundaries" were nonexistent.) 

I've since changed my tune.  I can still be FUN, but I've learned to be FIRM.  Furniture is NOT a trampoline or a jungle-gym.  Your pee MUST stay IN the toilet or YOU clean it, there are times/places where being wild is okay, and times/places where it's not, etc.  Of course, my children are angels who hang on my every whim and delight to honor me.  Hah, tell me another one!  We try our best like everyone else.  We screw up like the best of them.  But, we're "becoming" and that takes time.

With Sam, I feel like so many of my mothering-wrinkles are smoothed out.  I'm not wrinkle-free by any stretch, but I've found my groove and I'm okay with myself.

I'm free to enjoy being a mom.

I'm free to be head over heels excited about Sam's two little bottom teeth coming in.

I'm free to be thrilled that he's rolling over.

  

(And I can laugh when he gets so mad that he can't roll back, and his little arms are flailing out on both sides while his face is planted in the rug.  But don't worry, the face plant is relatively short-lived.  I'm always there to help the fella roll back over.  And there's usually a nice little booger waiting for me in one of his nostrils).

I'm free to just be me.

Idaho Republican Caucus.

Super Tuesday (or NOT so super, as you'll quickly see).

Idaho decided this year to hold its first EVER Republican presidential caucus.

What on earth is a caucus?

I'll tell you (although I didn't know either, until a month ago).  A caucus is a local meeting at which people from a political party express who they hope to represent them as their presidential nominee.

I was SO excited to be a part of this momentous occasion.  Over the years I've developed a sort of closet-passion for politics.  I still feel very ignorant, probably because I KNOW how little I know.  But I know enough to maneuver my way around, slowly but surely.  (I also have great friends who are fantastic political mentors.)

I was looking forward to tonight.  Ben offered to watch the kids so I could bask in the crazy-energy of a political gathering.

I had to park a 1/2 mile away from the high school, thanking my lucky stars that I wore my rain boots.  I trudged through snow, slush, and mud to get there.  I would be lying if I said that I wasn't snickering to myself as I watched people trying to save their shoes (evil, evil me).  Don't worry, I got my comeuppance.  Just wait.

The rest of the evening was a devastating blur.  

Days before the caucus, I made sure that I turned in my party affiliation paper to City Hall, so I could bypass much of the craze that night.  The lines were never-ending.  Once I reached the desk I told them my name.  My name WASN'T on the list!  (Insert speechless, mouth-dropping Lanette.)  My only choice was to get another paper, fill it out, and try again...in a LONGER line.  "Sorry," she said.  Whatever.

I walked out of the school in tears.  I called Ben and cried.  I couldn't bear the thought of waiting in line AGAIN, wrestling the crowds.  He felt so bad for me, sweet man.  I hung up and turned to walk the 1/2 mile back to my car.  But then I stopped, turned around, sucked it up, and decided to try again.

I waited and waited and waited.  Finally it was my turn.  I gave them my paper.  They looked me up on the registered voter's list.  I WASN'T ON THAT LIST, EITHER.  Who was out to get me?  I have voted in this county before!!  There was nothing they could do.  If I wanted to participate, I'd have to stand in ANOTHER line and register to vote (I'm already registered, people!!).  It killed me to see Ben's name sitting pretty on that list and mine wasn't.

By this time they were ready to shut the doors.  My window of opportunity was basically closed.  I walked out of the school in a full-on sob, shaky breath, massive tears, bumbling voice.  I was a mess!  I was angry and defeated.  This was so important to me and being denied the opportunity was devastating.

It was a long walk.  Alone.  In the dark.  And cold.  And.  I was still sobbing.  I was 50 yards from my car when a friend pulled up alongside the rode, asking if I wanted a ride to my car. It would've been so easy to say no.  I didn't want to subject her to my emotional breakdown.  But, if you're gonna break down, SHE'S the one you'd want picking you up:).  Angel friend.  Seriously.

She let me go on and on.  She listened.  She empathized.  She helped me let go of the anger, because holding on to it was pointless.  She was a listening ear when I needed it most.  And I'm sure Ben would thank her for calming me down a bit before I got to him.  He was off the hook.  Lucky guy.

Friends are a gift.  Truly. 

The Republican Caucus, not so much.

(p.s. Mitt Romney won with an astounding 88% of the votes.)