This Morning

I woke at 6:30 this morning.  Kent was not in bed so I figured he was up with Brandt, our early riser.  I grabbed my exercise clothes to head downstairs for a bit of jumping around, but stuck my head into Brandt's room to invite him to come downstairs too.  Kent was not there (he was in with Blythe), but Brandt was up and said, even before I could say good morning, "Mom! Will you read to me?"

Last night we started a Roald Dahl book, The Magic Finger.  I was tired, however, and sort of started falling asleep while reading to him (it was warm and darkish and I was horizontal), so we hadn't gotten very far.  The Gregg family had just been shrunk, had their arms turned to wings, and the Gregg sons had just flown out the window when I had to put the book down and turn off the light.

I knew that if I crawled into bed with Brandt this morning, I would get any exercising done.  If it doesn't happen first thing, it doesn't happen.  But how could I possibly say no to my boy?  Is exercising any sort of excuse for not snuggling with our lad and reading something fun like Roald Dahl?

So read we did.  For a long time!  We finished The Magic Finger, but it wasn't enough.  I started in on The BFG (Big Friendly Giant) and read about five chapters.  Then I had Brandt read a short book about penguins to me.  We totally snuggled, with arms wrapped around each other, cheek to cheek.  I LOVED IT!!!!  Way tons better than exercising.  The only thing that got me out of bed was that I had to go to the bathroom.  It was a good thing too.  I had gone into Brandt's room at 6:30, and when I came out, it was 7:55!  Brandt needed a shower and breakfast, plus a lunch packed, and we did not have much time.  Kent had to drive him to school because he would have been late otherwise.

It was, however, totally worth it!

Dinner Struggle, Part 2

Last night I made soup for dinner.  When it was time to eat, both Brandt and Blythe came and sat down, they tucked right in, they talked to us about what had happened at school, and although they did both get up once or twice, dinner was eaten--all of it!--and no one was crying at the end (not even me!).  It was fantastic!  It was stunning!  It was absolutely wonderful!  We praised and thanked the children for their good behavior.  The stars must have aligned.  We could arrive at no other explanation.

I am trying to recognize the tender mercies and small miracles in my life.  Last night's dinner was one of them.

A Small Visitor

Donovan was over last week.  Our house isn't baby-proofed anymore.  Donovan loves to get into stuff under the kitchen sink, especially the pot scrubber.  He carried it around for some time, scrubbing all sorts of things.  He makes me laugh.

Chores

Clear, shoveled walks

I had a long "To-Do" list yesterday, and as I was without children from 9 to 1:30, I got most of the items on the list crossed off.  One thing I needed to do was clean the floors--vacuum and mop.  The kitchen and dining area in particular were pretty bad.  I hadn't put it on the list, but I felt that today had to be the day.

By the afternoon, when I went for Brandt, I had vacuumed everything and mopped the kitchen and dining area.  I told myself I would finish when I got back with Brandt.  It has snowed all day, however, and as we stomped through the snow covering the sidewalks and driveway, I decided I would shovel instead of mopping.  The snow was heavy and the air was chilly, but it was nice to be outside in the brisk atmosphere clearing the walks.  I felt good about the results of the efforts, but have to admit that I didn't finish the mopping.

Should I feel bad about that, guilty that the majority of the hardwood floor is still dirty? I think not.  I think I will enjoy the idea that the walks are clean (though I probably won't go out much), and recognize that the dirt on the floor will be there for me tomorrow.  How lucky is that for me?

Grocery Shopping

I need to go to the grocery store today.  It is on my list of things to do.  I mentioned that I was going and Brandt piped up, "Don't forget the broccoli!"

That's right.  My six year old son wants me to buy broccoli.  How fantastic is that?

A Conversation

Today Brandt had a read-a-thon at school.  It wasn't all day, but for a couple of hours.  He brought home a note yesterday saying he should bring a pillow, a snack, and a book.  I suggested he take all of our Elephant and Piggie books (by Mo Willems; delightful, funny, easy readers that everyone in class loves, and we have all 18), and popcorn for everyone.  Brandt thought that sounded fantastic.  I go into his class on Thursdays, so I brought a backpack full of the books, his pillow pet, and two grocery sacks full of popcorn.  Brandt must have told everyone his mom was bringing a surprise because he spirited the bags away to a back room without showing anyone.  It totally smelled like popcorn, however, so it wasn't much of a surprise once I arrived.

I preface the actual conversation with this explanation because it figures in significantly.

This afternoon, while Blythe was at dance, I told Brandt he could finish watching a program on TV and then he needed to turn it off and do his homework.  The program ended, I turned off the TV, and Brandt flipped out.  He began to shriek and slugged me three or four times in the back.  It hurt.  I told him he could not hit and he needed to go upstairs to his bedroom and have a time out.  He defiantly refused.  I tried to grab him to help him upstairs to his bedroom, but he ran around the other side of the table and wouldn't let me get near him.  I had to push the table towards him and corner him, then fight him upstairs to his room.  I did it all very calmly, didn't raise my voice, and wasn't, I felt, unkind, but I was firm and was not going to let him off without some sort of consequence.

I left him in his room, but I went back up after a couple of minutes so that he knew I was still his friend, I just wanted him to behave.  When I walked into his room he glared and at and said, "Get out!"  I did.  He called me back up about a minute later, and I went right back up, thinking he was probably calmer.  When I walked into his room again, he said, "Get out--of the house!"  I laughed and went away.  I went up again to tell him his time out was over, and he said, "You don't love me!"  I assured him that I did, that he is my best boy, and that I think he is great.  I don't this his hitting is great, but I think he is great. We were fine then, played for a bit, and went together to pick up Blythe.

Later in the evening, Brandt said to me (here is where the conversation part actually starts), "Everybody in my class wants a good mom, and you are kind of good.  You are really mean sometimes, like when you gave me a time out."

"Was I the only one who was mean today?" I asked.

"Yes."

"So you think hitting is nice?" I asked again.

"No," Brandt said.

"So you were mean too, then?"

Looking sort of sheepish, Brandt said, "Yes. I guess."

I suppose that makes me a kind of good mom, and Brandt a kind of good son.

The Circus

We went to the circus this afternoon/evening.  I had a community council meeting, so Mikayla took Brandt and Blythe and then I went a bit late and met up with them.  Christopher and Tysen came with their kids, and Sharae brought hers, though without Collin.  It was loud but fun.  Acts on the trapeze and high wire, performing elephants, horses, dogs, and even a camel, and women in skimpy outfits dancing, hoola hooping, and dangling from ropes.  Every time I go to the circus I am intrigued by those whose lives are about performing in that sort of venue, and this time I am determined to check out a book from the library about circus life.

I picked Brandt up from school today and asked if he was ready to go to the circus.  He replied, "When you meet a clown, if he comes up to you, just walk away.  You never know if he has a pistol."

I certainly agree with the first statement.  I'm not a huge fan of clowns and probably would walk away if one approached me.  But what's up with the pistol?  When I questioned a bit more, Brandt told me that Izaiah told Troy who told him, so I suppose it must be true.

Just walk away!

FHE and Faith

Tonight, as Kent and I were cleaning the kitchen before family home evening, the children were in the living room dancing to the electric piano playing what they think sounds like circus music.  It does.  I sort of consider that particular piece of music (I don't know the name, it is just a demo song programmed into the piano) our family theme music because it frequently feels like a zoo around here.  The music was loud and fairly raucous, and the children were certainly both.  I turned to Kent and said, "The current mood being created in the living room isn't really conducive to a calm family home evening.  What are we going to do?"

"Let's cut right to the chase.  No opening song, no business, let's just get right to the story you're going to read," he suggested.  I was going to read a story from the Friend, so when we finished up in the kitchen, we went into the living room, put the cushions back on the couch and cleared a space for us, and then I started reading.  Blythe was all over and sort of chattering away, still, and Brandt was sitting on the couch upside down, but I read.

The story was about President Monson.  When he was young, during the Depression, he worked really hard and saved his money and earned five dollars.  He traded his dad the coins he had for a five dollar bill.  Unfortunately, he forgot about it in his pocket when his pants were sent off to be washed with the rest of the dirty clothes.  Desperate not to lose his money, he prayed that Heavenly Father would see that the money came back in his pocket.  Sure enough, the money was there when the clothing was returned and he felt that God had truly answered his prayer.

Kent bore his testimony that when we turn to God and ask for his help with something, he will answer us.  Brandt said, "I am sick." (This is true.  He hasn't felt well all day.  He had a play date scheduled with a neighbor down the street and didn't go because he felt crummy.)  Continuing he said, "Dad, will you give me a blessing and ask Heavenly Father to help me feel better.  I know that will help."

Tears sprang to my eyes.  Our lad has a testimony that Heavenly Father knows him and loves him and will bless him.  He has faith!  He believes God will help him feel better.  I am so grateful that he is learning and embracing the gospel.  Kent gave him a sweet blessing, and I am grateful for Kent's worthiness to hold and exercise the priesthood to bless our home.  Although I didn't think it would be such a great family home evening, it turned out to be beautiful.

Dinner Struggle

Not my family.

Dinner time is not always a nice time of the day.  More often than not, the children are pretty bad at dinner.  They won't sit down, they run around the table, they fight across the table, they ignore their utensils and eat with their hands.  It tends to be a frustration.  Kent and I have employed a number of different strategies to try and entice the children to actually sit and eat, and most of them have failed miserably.  We have threatened, we have excused them almost before we began, we make them sit at the counter, not at the table, when they won't sit still.  We appointed someone to be a judge and then shared interesting facts, stories, or experiences to see who had the best report.  We regularly have competitions to see who can finish their dinner first, and we have cajoled, pleaded, begged, and nearly screamed while trying to get the children to just eat.  How hard can it be?  Really?

Hard.

Tonight's trick was thought up by Kent.  It was a competition variation.  Brandt and Blythe were up and down and around and around and Kent said, "OK. From this moment on" (when we had been at the table perhaps ten minutes and their dinner was half eaten) "the next person to leave their chair loses.  Let's see who can actually stay in their chair and finish first."  The "first to finish" isn't new, it was the leaving of the chair that was new.  The children launched in--again--and made a bit of progress.  Then Brandt wanted a carrot that was too far for him to reach while in his chair.  So he stood up.  Kent said, "Oh, are you getting out of your chair?"

"I am still touching my chair," replied Brandt.

Kent agreed that was okay, but I immediately realized that "still touching my chair," could get ridiculous.  It isn't super hard to move a chair around and still be touching it.  It took Brandt marginally longer than it took me to realize this, but he got it.  He wanted his pocket knife that was sitting on a table about seven feet away from the kitchen table, so he got up and pulled the chair over, making sure we all understood that he was "still touching his chair."

I was recently asked to speak at BYU's Women's Conference.  I had to decline the invitation because we will be out of town, and that is probably for the best.  I had been asked to speak about making dinnertime a more significant time of the day.  They offered several different avenues of exploration, but quite frankly, the only personal examples I could share would be negative examples of all that doesn't work.  That's all I know.  So far, at our house, we haven't yet figured out dinnertime.

An Obsession

 

Last Sunday in Primary, Mike Phillips was doing sharing time.  He was introducing the new Primary theme for the year, "I Am a Child of God."  He was asking the children how they knew they were children of God. Brandt raised his hand to answer, and I thought to myself, 'Oh, my boy knows he is a child of God.  I wonder what he will say.'  

Brandt said, "Heavenly Father has a light saber "  

What!  Poor Brother Phillips looked somewhat at a loss as to how to respond.  I said, "Don't you love how the gospel learning is really sinking in at home?"

I suppose Heavenly Father could have a light saber.  He is all powerful and all knowing, and he did create the world, so it isn't out of the realm of possibility.  But I must say that in none of our family home evenings or informal gospel discussions has it ever been mentioned that Heavenly Father does have a light saber.  I guess my work as a teacher of the restored gospel is not yet finished.

A Happy Morning Face

I love this sweet face!

Blythe is bundled up in her coat, with hat and gloves, on her way to pre-school.

It was 1 degree when we woke this morning and it hasn't really warmed up all that much.

I looked out the window this morning and saw shimmering in the air.

It is so cold apparently any moisture in the air is freezing making the atmosphere sparkle.

I walked down the street to pick up Blythe and the snow is so frozen it sounds cold.

But in spite of the cold, Blythe is happy, just like her name suggests.

A Small Helper

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned to Blythe that I wanted to get a little dresser, specifically a valet dresser, that was my grandmother's out of storage, paint it yellow, and put it in her room for her treasures.  I had seen the dresser, I have three gallons of yellow paint (I wanted to paint Blythe's room yellow, but she insisted on pink), and Blythe, as a girl, has lots and lots of treasures that need a place to live.  Unfortunately, I mentioned it before I was actually ready to do anything about it, and for weeks now, she has been saying to me, "Mom, when do I get my dresser for my treasures?"

Last week I went and got the dresser, did a bit of sanding, and then on Friday, we painted.  Blythe helped. I was nervous about her painting in her clothing, but it is cold in the basement, so I had her be really careful.  She did get a bit of yellow paint on her shirt, but I wiped it off quickly and I don't think it will be noticeable.  She was so happy to be participating and painted four of the six drawers before she was ready to move on to something else.  When Kent got home from work the first thing Blythe said to him was, "Dad! Dad! Come downstairs and see something!"  She made him close his eyes once they got downstairs and then led him to where the drawers and the dresser were drying.  She excitedly jumped up and down yelling, "Look! Look!" She proudly told him how she had painted, too.  

The dresser turned out cute.  As with most of my projects, I get so excited to launch in, I forget to take a "before" picture, so there is only an after.  I didn't really try to do a superb job because I just wanted to get it finished and in Blythe's room so she would quit harassing me, but I do think it pops against the pink walls and next to her green curtains.  And it contains all sorts of wonderful stuff.

Growth

On January 1st we measured the children against the wall outside the loo.  That's where we have marked their height.  We had last measured them at the beginning of last year and we discovered that in the past twelve months, both children have grown three inches.  Three!  They were so pleased to see the difference they have asked several times since if we could measure them again.

Blythe looks sort of funny.

We had all had a flu shot the day before (see Brandt's bandaid?) and she had a slight reaction.

Her eyes were red, she had a runny nose, and she was sneezing a lot.

By the next day, however, she was better.

The Potato Dance

Last night, as we were finishing dinner, the children were wired and being very silly.  They were standing with their backs to us and then making us count down from five, then turning around the dancing.  They were shaking, writhing, and flailing.  Brandt picked up a potato from a bucket that needed to be put downstairs and began gyrating around while singing, "Have a potato! Have a potato! They are really nice!"  This from a kid who won't eat a potato unless it is french fried.  It was post-prandial entertainment at its finest.

Before and After

We've been doing some work around the house.  Projects.  We have finished three in the past little bit, like this past weekend.  Here is our work.

First.  Probably twelve years ago, we bought this couch from a tweaker client of my dad's.  She was losing her house and her stuff, and we thought the couch was beautiful.  Well, let me rephrase.  We thought the couch shape was great and that it had the potential to be beautiful.  We have been storing it and moving it for years, at least four times.  Kent and I will sometimes talk about what we would do if we had a million dollars, and I always say, "I think we should get the couch recovered."  

We don't have a million dollars, but we finally decided to have the couch redone anyway.  I had already refinished the wood trim, so we just needed to find fabric we actually liked.  Something about the yellow, blue, and green floral didn't really appeal.  We found a guy who does upholstery for a decent price, we found fabric for a great price, and we had the couch recovered.  Finally.  

I love the way it turned out.  The fabric is gold with a squarish accent.  It looks so classy and came out as beautiful as I thought it could be.  When Hector (the upholsterer) brought it into the house and set it in place, I was thrilled with the way it looked, and fairly unhappy about the way the other couch next to it looked.  

This is a bad picture of the couch, but it here is what was next to our new, fantastic sofa.  A hand-me-down blue couch (without the chalk) that looked tatty.  So I had Hector take the other couch out and went looking for other fabric.  With four choices, Kent and I decided to have this blue recovered in a silky feeling red.

 How about that!  Although this couch does not have the same great wood trim on the arms and across the back, it is much the same shape as the other and looks really good next to the gold.

So here is the living room.  I recently made the curtains from a striped fabric I love, love, love, that has all the colors of our house and tie things together nicely.  We also just got the picture of Kent's great-grandfather Paul that we have hung above the bookcase.  I love the way the living room feels and love being in there.

While the living room projects have all been decorative, we have been doing other remodeling.  When we bought our house, there was carpet all over, including in the bathrooms.  We ripped it up the first day we had occupancy.  Before we were finished with everything we wanted to do before we moved in, my friend Heidi suggested we not recarpet the stairs, but instead, replace the treads with wood and paint the risers.  Kent and I both liked that idea, so we didn't carpet.  Then, it took us months to actually do the stairs.  Months to start, then months to finish.

Redoing this stairwell was very tricky.  When Kent finished he said, "If I ever decide to do this again, I'm not doing it.  I'm hiring someone else to do it."  The treads did not come up easily, the risers were mangled, and the landing had to be sawn through.  But Kent persevered, and the stairs look great.  I removed the railing (on the left in the picture) so we could replace the stairs underneath, and I like the way it looks without, so we are not going to put it back up.  I don't figure it will matter until we sell the house, but as we have no plans to do that anytime soon, I'm not worried.

Before and After.

They are warm and so easy to clean.

Looking down from upstairs

and from the entryway. 

In October, I had been talking with Kent about redoing the loo.  The half-bath on the main floor is boring and needs some spicing up.  One evening when we were talking, Brandt piped up and said, "When do I get flooring in my bathroom?"  There was carpet in all the bathrooms originally.  While there was linoleum around the toilets, by the sinks and showers there was carpet.  We ripped it up and haven't replaced it with anything yet.  Yup.  For a year now we have lived with sub-floor in the bathrooms.  I haven't been too concerned knowing we were going to get to it eventually, when we figured out what we wanted.  When our six-year old son asked about his bathroom floor, I decided he should be given priority because he obviously cares.  So on Thanksgiving weekend, we launched into a bathroom remodel.

It proved to be a lot of work.  Kent removed the toilet (we needed a new one) and the linoleum underneath, and we began our work.  We laid tile, painted, stained the cabinet, and hung hooks, a towel bar, and a toilet paper holder.  I fancified some towels and hung three pictures to finish it all off.  I must admit that I love the way it turned out, and so do the kids.  

Here is Kent laying sub-floor for the tile.

As you can see, the walls are a very boring yellow tinted white and the cabinet is stained golden oak.

It is a not a bathroom with a lot of personality.

The Monday after Thanksgiving, Kent stayed home from work and we tiled.  Why is it that projects always take longer than you think they will.  This is a small bathroom we thought we could finish in a couple of hours.  All told, it took us six hours just to lay the tile.  It was a bit trickier than we thought it would be.  The small tiles came with a mesh back that held them together in a 12x12 inch square, but they moved around when they were being set and I wanted to try and keep them as straight as possible.  

I am happy to report that Kent and I did not fight while we were doing this tiling.  We worked really well together.  I grouted the following Wednesday while the kids were at school, and by Thursday evening, I was taping and readying the room for paint.  Blythe pointed out that this is her bathroom too, that she and Brandt share, so she wanted some input on what color we should choose.  We needed a color that would stand up against the green of Brandt's bedroom, so we did some compare and contrast with several different colors.  Blythe was pretty keen on a purple, which I thought would be great if we could find a purple that was bright enough and boyish enough for Brandt.  However, in the end, the children agreed on a blue, Resonant Blue to be precise.  "Resonant" because it is so loud you can hear it echo.  

Brandt helping with the painting. 

I made him take off all his clothes (well, almost all) so he wouldn't get paint on them.

The painting went very quickly because it is such a small space, then the baseboard was put back, the toilet replaced, and Kent declared us finished.  I, however, did not like the golden oak cabinet with the black and white floor.  I wanted something different.  So, I removed the drawers and doors, sanded those as well as the cabinet base, and stained the whole thing black with a product Kent is launching on the wood market soon.  It looks perfect with the floor and the walls.  

So here is the finished product.  I hung the pictures (the kids with their DeMartini cousins), and I sewed some decorative finishes on the towels.  The whole thing is exciting and interesting and much more in keeping with the feel of the rest of the house.  

Brandt wanted a large B while Blythe wanted a smaller one.

Two different colors so that they can distinguish whose towel is whose.

New light fixture too.

The other was cheap and ugly.

Looking from the jolly green bedroom into the resonant blue bathroom.

Fantastic! 

Doing Puzzles

Grandma Merlynn was here on New Year's Eve afternoon.  She watched a movie with the kids, then I suggested we do a puzzle.  Grandma likes to do puzzles, so she sat at the table with Blythe.  It was delightful for me and Kent to watch Blythe helping Grandma.  She was talking to Grandma exactly the same way I talk to her when we do puzzles.  She was showing Grandma what she should be looking for, showing her where pieces go, and suggesting changes. 

In this picture, they were working on a Very Hungry Caterpillar puzzle with food items around the outside.  Blythe was saying, "Grandma, do you see this piece?  The sausage goes above the ice cream cone.  We need to find the sucker."  She was undoing pieces Grandma was putting together wrongly, and stuck with it until the puzzle was finished.  It was so nice to see Blythe being sweet and patient with Grandma.  And it was funny to hear her parroting the exact things I say to her to Grandma.