Little Things . . . revisited.



I forgot the MOST IMPORTANT "little thing."

This has CHANGED my life.  And that's NO exaggeration.

Many of you may have discovered this and I don't know why it took me so long to incorporate into my own routine.  My mornings are 100% improved.  My childrens' mornings are 100% improved.

The secret: having the fellas lay out their clothes the night before.

I don't know what it's like at your house, but often, too often, the kids were digging through laundry baskets or piles to find socks, pants, and shirts.  The BANE of my existence!  We wasted oodles of time and even tears trying to find clothes--appropriate school clothes--I'm not okay with old soccer jerseys from when they were four that have gross, black remnants of old bubble gum strewn across the front.  That's just NOT okay. 

No joke, if my kids ever become homeless people, they will be expert garbage-dump-pickers.  "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."  I'm seeing a book title in my mind, How I Trained My Children to Become Homeless: an insider's guide.  Don't all run to Barnes & Noble yet, I'm still formulating the particulars. 

Joking aside, this has done great things for me, too.  Laundry has always been a struggle.  The "folding and putting away" part.  Because we're trying to stay on top of clutter, piles, clean bedrooms, etc. I feel motivated to keep the ball rolling.  My laundry piles are becoming non-existent (ask me in a few months...that may change).  I had so much guilt sending my kids to school stressed out because they couldn't find socks and "...THE BUS IS COMING!!"  Poor little guys.

I'm happy to report that we're all happier.  The kids are out the door fully-socked and pants-ed with smiles and kissed-cheeks.

Thank heavens for the "little things" in life that make such a difference.

Little Things.

The little things.
Insignificant if breezed over or passed or unnoticed.
If you catch them, you're lucky.
They're gifts.
I've noticed a few little things lately. 
Blessed.
That's how I feel.

 (Hero-worship of Dad)

 (Hand-sewing patches that were glued in haste...and didn't work.)

 (Watching Old Glory wave after a long, harsh winter.)

 (Sunsets and thunder clouds out the back window.)

(Daffodils.  The earth coming alive again.)

Springy Easter Joy.

I think the Lord was looking out for me this weekend.  He gifted me with three perfect springtime days.  I've said it before: give me sunshine and I'm one happy gal! 

Don't ask about today.  It's not perfect AT ALL.  I'm cold.  It's darkish.  I'm coming close to eating an entire pan of rice krispy treats by myself.  Nuff said.

In church on a sunny, bright Easter Sunday, one of our leaders said he imagined the day of the Lord's resurrection to be like that very day.  I imagine it like that, too.  It makes sense to me for Father in Heaven to make the most joyful of all days a beeeautiful spring day.  Sun and hope and rejoicing.

I think my photos will tell our weekend story just as well as words (minus Sunday.  I didn't take any pictures on Sunday, oops).  We revelled in the reverence and fun of the easter season (not to mention a birthday for William squeezed in there, too).  Both are magical.  Both are special in different ways.  There was time and room for it all, the Lord and easter egg hunts.

Somehow, eventhough there was always something to be done, I felt calm and peaceful.  I didn't go overboard on anything, I didn't expect grandeur.  It was simple, we were happy, and it was enough.  I love when you find the perfect balance, even if just for a moment, a weekend...

 (Briggs and BFF, Lizzie)

 (William and BFF, Jace.)

(The Carter 8 year old rite of passage: the BB-gun)

A Day to Remember . . . 11 years ago.

11 years.

11 years of fabulousness mixed with a little reality along the way.

11 years of being married to my Sweetheart. 

Today is our wedding anniversary.

I went back today and read a journal we started days before we wed.  This "joint" journal lasted, um, four days.  Thankfully, a marriage can last longer than a journal, right?  It was somewhat entertaining reading my thoughts from eleven years ago.  I remember wanting everything to sound wonderful and look nice and neat on paper.  And it was . . . for the most part. 

I laughed recalling all the problems we had the night before our wedding: BOTH cars broke down, the tux's AND my dress weren't ready to go until THAT evening.  We didn't even eat dinner until 10:30 p.m.!  After the wedding when Ben and I would've had time to be alone on the hour-long drive to the reception, we realized his car keys were in his suit instead of his tux.  His suit was in his brother's car . . . on the road already!  We had to ride to the reception in the back of MY PARENTS car!  Part humiliating, part comical.   

Actually, I remember feeling a little releaved--my poor, virginal, sweet, innocent-self had only then fully realized that once I was married, Ben could kiss me and kiss me and wouldn't have to stop.  With Mom and Dad up front, that put a kink in our plans.  Ah, to be so innocent again.  Looking back, all that innocence accounts for so much in the wonder of getting married.  We started together full of newness and unknowns.  We've learned them all, well, 11 years-worth, together.  Believe me, we've laughed through a lot of them!  I've had eleven years to prove to Ben that I am, without question, a nerd.

Today, I'm so full of love for my Love.  He's been all that a husband should be--He has made me feel like a beautiful woman every day of our 11 years together.  Even, and especially, when I'm an over-weight-post-partum-psycho!  We've had a marriage full of fun with much stretching and growth along the way.  He still makes me laugh.  Often.

My mom said once that, "Marrying Ben was the best thing that ever happened to you."  And you know what?  She was right.

Monopoly.

It's begun.

I have oodles of memories--days-long memories--filled with Monopoly, Risk, and The Farming Game.  These memories wouldn't be complete without my three older brothers.  Of course, I never won.  Ever. 

I think it was a good thing that I learned to lose when I was young.  To this day I still have to hold my tongue when I lose.  I stew with myself about how I could've played differently.  Ridiculous, I know.  Grow up already, Lanette.

The boys have discovered Monopoly.  Playing-by-the-rules Monopoly.  I sat in my comfy chair reading Cold Sassy Tree while they played, knowing that sooner of later they'd need a referee.  And they did. 

I'm amazed they lasted as long as they did.  We have yet to finish an entire game before someone gets tired of paying rent or going to jail and quits.  We made it to the Hotel stage.  That's pretty good in my opinion.

(Lincoln's utter-cuteness when he collected $100.)

Monopoly teaches great skills, life skills, money skills.  I didn't care about all that as a kid.  As a parent it's so cool to see your kids "get it."

I'm sure we'll have years of Monopoly to come: 
Years of seeing that board grace my coffee table. 
Years of envy towards the owner of Boardwalk and Park Place. 
(And don't forget the bragging rights of owning ALL 4 railroads.) 
Years of correcting the pronunciation of Reading Railroad (REDding, not READing). 
Years of yearning to land on Free Parking.
Years of fun mixed with tears (when I lose).    

Ode to Mud.

Spring has sprung,
Mud abounds,
Children outside
Digging holes in the ground.

Gooey, slimy,
Muddy places,
No wonder why
I can't see their faces!

Working together,
Hours of fun,
Thoughts of clean-up
Lost in the sun.

Knocking outside,
I've just mopped the floor,
Think again if you thought
I'd open the door!

Smiles and mud
Hold kid-magnet power,
Wish Ben would install
A BIG outdoor shower!

Resurrection.

I love "firsts." 

I get a thrill from the newness of experiences because it's all so fresh.  Every moment feels significant and leaves a crisp impression on one sense or another.  Like Marianne Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility, when she shouts, "Is there felicity in the world superior to this?"  (I tend to identify with Marianne often, and that's not always a good thing.)

I guess that's what it's like to be a kid again.  All that wonder.  Moments like those are a gift, when you catch a child having a "wonder" moment.  It's all in the eyes, isn't it?  A brightness, an eagerness.

Yesterday marked the first non-snowy day of the year when I really played outside with my kids.  And I don't just mean "watching" my kids, I mean playing, sweating, laughing, and running with them.  It had all the magic and wonder of a true "first."  As you know, I hate to be cold.  Hate to be cold.  (I'm not exaggerating my use of that word, I use it with all the passion it invokes.)  But yesterday the world began to thaw, even if just for a day (this IS Idaho).

I smelled everything coming back to life, I sat in the grass, I watched the sun set, I smiled through Lincoln's whiny cries when he didn't win, I kicked a ball over the kids' heads on purpose to prove that I'm still a totally awesome mom who has skills and is good at sports, eventhough I've hibernated for 6 months.  I made them all laugh and kissed their rosy pink, freckled noses.  I let them jump on the tramp past dark, beyond bedtime.  I reveled in my kiddos and they, in me.

In a way, it felt like I was coming back to life again, too.  And it felt SO good.

Just so I don't forget...

Annie: "Mommy, I just need you to hug me and kiss me."

This was out of the blue, and, therefore, completely heart-melting.  Like a mass, gooey heart glob all over the kitchen floor.  In the administering of said hugs and kisses, I think I wore out my welcome.  She started squirming off of my lap.  Some kids just don't know a good thing when they get it . . . 

(Maternal instincts don't come naturally to this guy, hence my sweet surprise with this picture.  "Naturally" for Lincoln is more like G.I. Joe survival mode.)

Lincoln: "Dieter, Dieter, Pumpkin eater . . ."

This was during general conference weekend.  He was walking around the house unaware of his adorable altering of this beloved and slightly disfuntional-marriage-ish nursery rhyme.  It was so sweet.  I'm thinking I should write President Uchtdorf and tell him.  I bet he'd smile.  Maybe he'd even talk about it in October conference!?  There's got to be some connection between flying an airplane, the Gospel, and eating pumpkins, right?

That naughty c-word.

I have to laugh at myself because here's what I was thinking this morning:

"Wow, I feel pretty good about my mothering lately.  I think the kids might turn out okay after all.  They're being so good, taking care of eachother, helping, doing great in school for the most part, their strong character is really shining through, etc."

Now the clincher, in the car this evening, on the way to Grandma's for dinner:

"Okay, guys, when Mom feels like CRAP (emphasis=increased volume), you DON'T act like CRAP.  You just don't do that!  It's NOT okay!  If you misbehave in ANY WAY or have bad manners AT ALL while at Grandma's, I will take you out to the car--even if you haven't eaten A THING--drive you home, and put you right in bed!  Got that?"

In my defense, I'm fighting a terrible head cold, sore throat, cough, etc.  I was a helpless witness all afternoon to some pretty serious wrestling, covert snack-runs, marker fights, and more. 

I wouldn't consider this one of my most attractive days.  I walked around with toilet paper in each nostril to prevent the constant faucet-that-is-my-nose from dripping on every imaginable surface in my house.  Can you imagine kissing that face on the way to work?  Yeah, not too pretty.  But, sweet fella that he is, Ben DID it!  He was laughing at me, but, he still kissed faucet-face.  Noted: brownie points for compassionate husband.  I knew I liked him.

p.s. I don't normally say the C-word in front of the kiddos.  Shame on me.  I know.  There's no excuse except . . . they MADE me do it.

Tu-lips . . . or one?

If there are two weekends out of the year that I yearn for, they would be General Conference weekends in April and October.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about, click on "General Conference" and you can read all the awesomeness that I heard on Saturday and Sunday! 

I feel complete warm fuzzies all weekend.  I get caught up in the idea of millions of Latter-day Saints and others all over the world united together in faith.  A Gathering.  It is so sweet to me.  My soul was filled this weekend, filled with love for all that is good in this world.  But also, for a loving Father in Heaven and Savior.  I learned so much and am anxious to put it into practice.  I feel a longing and sadness when its over.  Life resumes.  Things feel busy again.  I don't like busy.  I prefer planned, not busy. 

I feel so sad for those who live without hope, without belief, without faith.  There's nothing quite like it and no real way to describe the fulness, completeness that accompanies it . . . unless you try it yourself.  I know it's hard for so many to put their trust in God, in something they can't see, something that can't be proven with intellect alone.  But once you do, oh, that is priceless.  Life-changing.  Beautiful.  Like my tulips.  I planted them in the Fall, full of faith that they would grow and give me delight this Spring.  They're coming up.  I knew they would.  Faith in God is like that, too.  Taking the steps to learn of Him, full of belief, not just going through the motions.  And little by little, God proves Himself, like He's promised.  The flower of your faith blossoms into something vibrant and precious and personal.

And for that, I am grateful.  Really grateful.

Present . . . once again.

Dare I make a come-back?

Will you welcome me back?  Consider me the prodigal son in the Bible.  Here's what I'm hoping for: open arms, tears . . . a feast, perhaps?  You're all invited.  Well, I won't expect quite as much, but the open arms part would be nice. 

It's always hard to pick up where you left off.  For me, I couldn't stand seeing my fang-face anymore!  "Oh, geez," I'd think to myself every time I hopped on the blog to check on all of you, welcomed by the not-so-flattering retardness that is myself.  Oh well, I yam what I yam.  (Seriously, Lanette, cut it out already!)

The frequent blogger that I was, taking a break stirred these weird, totally false feelings in my poor self.  For example, if I didn't blog it, well, shoot, my life wasn't as important.  Retarded Idea #1, I know.  There was a list of retarded ideas and I'll spare you the details.  I do have my pride, you know.

It took some time, but I got over these feelings.  Life continues whether you blog it or not.  Life is GREAT whether you blog it or not.  Some of the neatest people on this planet don't blog.  Does that make them not as capable or cool or savvy or whatever?  Heck no. 

So, I'm happy to be back.  A little more balanced, a little--hopefully--less retarded.  Well, um, that might be asking too much.  That is one quality that would be too hard to mask.  You're stuck with Fang-Face.

Here we go again!