Same But Different

Today during church I couldn't help but notice how my boys entertain themselves in such different ways, indicative of their different personalities.

Ryan is quite the snuggler, and having his mother sit still for a full hour invites his attention. Today was no exception, and for most of the meeting Ryan was leaning against me or had his arm around me. Ryan also spent some time doodling. This, naturally, led to taking apart his pen, playing with the insides, putting it together without the grip, playing with the grip, taking the pen apart again, and finally assembling it back properly. Next, he investigated my pencil case, saving a piece of gum for after the meeting, straightening a paper clip, twisting it around, breaking it in two, and he finished off by playing with two thumb tacks.

Todd loves games. We have two small dry-erase board notebooks from the Dollar Tree. They were Christmas presents from my nieces. These notebooks are perfect for church. The past few weeks Todd has tried to initiate a game of hangman with me or Ryan and has ended up frustrated when neither of us would play. Ryan simply isn't that interested. I try to tell Todd that I will play a game with him at home, but when I come to church I want to listen to the message. Playing hangman is a little too distracting for me. Todd will often ask me to come up with a page full of math problems for him to work on. It used to be addition or subtraction. These days he asks for multiplication problems with a few division problems thrown in for fun. Today Todd used the dot-to-dot page in his wipeable notebook to make mazes. He still wanted to play a game with me, but it wasn't that distracting because it took him so long to create the maze. I was able to do the maze pretty quickly and without talking. The first few mazes Todd made were pretty simple. Then Todd had to make it more challenging, similar to a video game. First I had to get the shield, then I could go back and make it through the poison traps without getting killed.

Despite their differences, Todd and Ryan can play together nicely. Sure, they have their moments when they need a break from each other or when they are interested in doing different activities. More often than not, they realize that having a brother to play with is a great thing. This morning while I was getting ready for church the boys built a blanket fort in the family room. Since it has turned out to be a day of non-stop rain, I am glad that I let the boys keep the fort up. They have been playing together for the past hour since lunch--speaking kindly and fairly softly, cooperating with their plans and games, and using their imagination.

Watching them and listening to them play together warms my heart. I am so grateful that they are so close in age (16.5 months) and that they have continued to be buddies. My hope for them is that they will continue to be great friends as they get older--especially in high school when differences can drive people apart so easily. As adults it can be easier to recognize the value in having people who approach the world from a different perspective. I hope that each of my boys will appreciate their differences and see the strengths and value in his brother.

Bad Guys and Good Boys

[A morning conversation with Ryan.]
Ryan: When I was little I used to think that no bad guys lived in Florida.
Mom: What do you think now?
Ryan: Bad guys can live anywhere. Even in jail. Like they might try to knock down the door or something to get out.

On a happier note, I just thought of another benefit of not having a very large home. The first and foremost benefit is that there is less to clean. I struggle enough as it is. Another benefit is that I pass by the boys' bedrooms on the way to my own. Were that not the case, I might miss out on glancing at them as I pass by multiple times each night after they have fallen asleep. The boys sleep with their bedroom doors open, and I love to see them sprawled out or sweetly snuggled in their covers.

For Brett From Home (5/30/12)

I never put up the hummingbird feeder. In fact, I never refilled any of the feeders. I think I didn't want to get their hopes up only to disappoint them when I leave. (Good excuse, no?) I think it's cool that the wrens nested in our garage twice this year. I think there were three babies this time. They left the nest last Thursday, and on Friday there was still one left in the garage. It looked like Momma wren was still coming in and feeding the bird, but the baby couldn't figure its way out. I figured I would let them work it out on their own, but when the baby still hadn't left the garage on Saturday I finally opened the back door a crack. It didn't take long before the baby was outside. I heard the birds chirping around the yard for the rest of the weekend, but I haven't seen them since. I have seen a Rufous-Sided Towhee hopping around the back yard a few times. I think the coloring on those birds is quite striking, so I have been excited to see it so often. It's been a few years. [Apparently the bird formerly known as the rufous-sided towhee is now the Eastern Towhee. Thank you, Wikipedia.]

I am looking forward to seeing my family soon. As always I panicked before purchasing the plane ticket. It is so expensive to travel. Even though I knew that there was no way around it--it was going to cost what it was going to cost--I wished that you were here that night to encourage me to go ahead and press "Purchase Ticket." It was after 10:00pm and there was no one that I could call to calm me. Even if you were home you would probably have been asleep; I would have woken you up to ask you if I should go ahead and purchase the tickets; and you would have been a little annoyed with me. I always freak out with big expenses. But, I really feel like it is worth the expense to spend this time with my family, to meet my brother's bride and see him get married, and to see you as well.

I started going through the book about New England that I picked up from the used book store. As I looked through it, I decided that I am going to encourage my boys to do a little extra study to go along with our excursions. I started compiling a reading list for them including some books by local authors as well as the history behind some of the places we will be visiting. I plan on doing this for both Utah and New England. Todd's teacher just told him today that she expects her students to read 33 hours over the summer. That averages to about 3 hours a week. We are hoping that he has the same teacher for next year, and I would love for him to be able to report back that he continued to read. I also think it will be good for Ryan to have a reading goal this summer.

I have big plans to keep Todd busy learning this summer. I think I already told you that his teacher wants to work with him via e-mail and online to get ahead on the fourth grade math and hopefully finish the book this summer. And I would like to pick up where we left off on some piano lessons. Lofty goals we have.

I am looking forward to having a girls night out (just dinner at this point) with Jen, Donna, and Anne, for my birthday Friday night. I drove by Coach-N-Four earlier this month. It made me miss you and the birthday dinner you might have treated me to. Actually, I really enjoyed my birthday dinner at the Boathouse last year. That was a lovely evening.

I love that I have been able to talk and hang out with Jen more. I really enjoy having her live close. Jen took me and the boys out for a Mother's Day (Eve) movie. ["Chimpanzee" was a great choice for our diverse group--young, oldish, male, female.] It meant so much to hear Jen tell me that I was one of her favorite mothers. It literally brought tears to my ears to feel her sincerity when she said that.(Especially after a tough week when I felt like my new neighbors maybe didn't respect my parenting much. What do they know, anyway?)

I feel like my brain has been a little fried lately. I have not done nearly as well keeping up with my updates as I would like. But I think about you all the time. I get excited to share your story with people who ask about you. I really am so proud of you and what you are accomplishing. Sometimes I probably gush too much, but I can't help it. You are very cool, and I have enjoyed following you on this adventure.

Photo Challenge #8 - Dream

My most important life dream of becoming a mother came true about nine years ago. I have loved being a mother to these two sweet boys.

The Intimacy of Smell

Last week I finished reading a book by my favorite author of young adult novels, Shannon Hale. It is called "Book of a Thousand Days" and is not part of a series. According to the inside cover, "...this little-known classic fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm is reimagined and reset on the central Asian steppes...."

The main character of the story describes a custom of her people:
"In greeting, we always clasp forearms, touch cheeks, and inhale through our noses so as to breathe in each other's scent"
[I did a little online research and discovered that this really is a customary greeting of the Polynesian island nation, Tuvalu.]
"Smell is the voice of the soul, and this greeting is the most intimate. It's common among family and clan, of course, but I've been on my own for so long, I'd forgotten how warm and wonderful it is" (p. 173).

I find this a fascinating greeting. I can see that it is so intimate that it would be reserved for those dearest to you. As I reflected on various greetings, I found it interesting how we can use all the senses as we greet those close to us. Sight, sound ("Hello"), and touch (hand shake, hug) are natural greetings. But we also include taste (While a kiss is not much of a "taste" of someone else, I know I have experienced a "taste" of my children after kissing a slightly salty forehead.).

Why should smell not be included in our greetings? I often found myself inhaling the newborn baby scent of my boys. What surprised me was how much I would continue to inhale their scent, long after it morphed from newborn to little boy.

"...As we gripped arms, he pulled me closer, resting his cheek against mine, and inhaled through his nose, taking in the breath of my soul" (p. 213).

Before I became a mother, a coworker of mine had told me that she loved the smell of her kids when she leaned in to wake them up in the morning-even when their scent was slightly less than ideal. At the time I thought it was strange. Now, I think I get it. We want to experience those we love with all five senses. We want the memory of them to stick with us, always.

"Things worn closeset to the skin, to the heart, carry the scent of a person, and of course, scent is the breath of the soul" (p. 48-49).

I finished reading this book the week before Brett left. I had noticed in the past that I would breathe in Brett's clean scent, resting my head against his chest in a hug. Last week, I found that I was more intentional--like I wanted to breathe in a part of him and keep that part of him with me while he is away. I would be close to him like that thinking, "I miss him already."

Now I am left to think something along these lines:
"Is it wrong for me to imagine laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes and breathing in his smell?" (p. 214).

Just to clarify: I have no desire to smell Brett as he is currently sure to be smelling.... I would prefer to breathe in the clean "breath of his soul".

Little Helpers

On Sunday evening the boys and I were discussing our plans for the next day. I had told them that after taking care of a couple of things in the morning I was going to mop the floor. It needed it badly and was at the top of my chores list. Monday came and went and the mopping still hadn't been done. Tuesday was going to be a busy day, but I was still planning on getting that kitchen floor done. I got the boys some cereal in the morning then hopped into the shower. When I came out I saw that the boys had decided to do my mopping for me. I hid my discomfort: the floor hadn't been swept yet, which would mean a little more work for me while I finished the floor. And I was afraid that the water would be everywhere (it wasn't that bad, actually). Instead, I responded with a sincere thank you. I told them how thoughtful they were--so thoughtful.

A little later Uncle Mark stopped by and heard the boys saying that they should get some flowers for me. Sure enough, they asked to borrow my scissors and came back with some flowers cut from the garden.

I don't know what I did to deserve their thoughtfulness this week, but as I look at the beautiful flowers in my kitchen window I am reminded that my crazy summer monkeys are really sweet boys.

From the Eyes of a Child

Proof of my dry, frizzy hair. I had no idea it was this bad! (I will say that I'm loving my stylish earrings, though.)

Light Reading

Last month I checked out a (non-fiction) book from the library called, Confessions of a Slacker Wife. I noticed another book in the same section called "Mommy Wars," which I went ahead and checked out at the same time.

The "Slacker Wife" book is about the expections women put on themselves, or the expectations they feel the need to meet. The author talks about how she gives her self some slack. I found myself respecting her more for some of those decisions. For example, she "admits" to not going overboard in planning her one-year-old's birthday party complete with the perfectly clean house, fancy foods, clowns, jugglers, bounce houses, expensive party favors, etc. [I returned the book a week ago, so I'm going off memory now.] It was a good reminder to me to look at what I am doing and make sure I am doing things for the right reasons.

For example, do the kindergartners in Todd's class really care whether I bring homemade heart-shaped cinnamon sugar cookies to the Valentine's Day party tomorrow? Or would they be just as happy with the chocolate chip cookies my husband suggested? Honestly, I'm sure they'd be fine with the chocolate chip cookies, but I've already made the dough for the sugar cookies. It's Valentine's Day--they need hearts! . . . Obviously, I could use to be more of a slacker wife in some ways.

Mommy Wars was a collection of essays written by almost thirty women who tell their story about how they ended up becoming a full-time working mom, part-time working mom, work-from-home mom, or stay-at-home mom. The woman who collected these essays explained that she was concerned about the conflict between mothers who work and those who do not. She wanted to hear from women in all working situations and learn more about why they made the choices they did. As someone who has always wanted to be able to stay home with my children, I was interested in gaining more understanding for those women who chose otherwise. Most of the women who wrote were from large cities and had high-profile careers before having children. The more I read, the more frustrated I became. I kept expecting to read an essay with a similar story to my own. It wasn't there. Perhaps I am not part of the intended audience. I am not a feminist. In addition, I feel that prayer should play a huge role in the decisions I make. But am I less intelligent, capable, and important because I generally believe in traditional gender roles?

I do not regret reading this book. It made me think, and I did come to respect the way some of the women thoughtfully made decisions about balancing and timing work and family. However, I still feel the need to write my own essay from a stay-at-home mom who aspired to be a stay-at-home mom (and who isn't going crazy and doesn't wear sweatpants everyday now that she has become one).

I was able to talk with a stay-at-home mom who was visiting from Manhattan shortly after I finished reading this book. We had quite an interesting conversation. I asked how she felt being a stay-at-home mom in New York where these "Mommy Wars" can apparently get pretty nasty. I liked her answer. She said that people will disrespect you more when you are insecure about your own decision--regardless of what your decision is. She is confident that she is doing what is right for her own family, and because people see that she is confident in her decision they respect her for it.

I was kind of worn out after reading so much feminist mommy material in a fairly short time. I needed to switch gears. I started out by watching a four-part English movie called North and South, based on a novel by Elizabeth Gaskell. I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially since I was unfamiliar with the story. Later that week I stayed up one night and read Austenland (again). I needed something light and fun--no thinking required. This fit the bill. I was having a great reading this light romantic fiction, so earlier this week I read The Wednesday Letters.

I could have kept going and going with the easy romantic fiction that I love. I almost wish that I had picked out one more romantic novel for this weekend, being that it is Valentine's Day and I am likely to find more mushy romance in a book or movie than in real life. However, I decided that I needed to challenge myself with a little variety. I could read my sweet romances all the time, but whenever I read a different genre I am glad that I did. Even though it may be more difficult for me to get through, it feels good to be thinking about something I normally wouldn't.

The book that I just started, To See Every Bird, was a gift from my mom. It is a biography of a man who was a "big lister" in the world of birdwatching, written by his son. The son describes the obsession that his father had. As an amateur backyard birder, I am enjoying reading some of the history of birdwatching. I can tell you now, I will never be a "big lister". The commitment that it takes to see thousands of birds is mind-boggling--but interesting to read about.

What have you been reading lately? Can you recommend a good romance? I'll probably be ready for another one after reading my non-fiction birding book. [Please keep in mind that when I refer to the romantic movies and books which I love, I hope you know I mean the sweet and tender Jane Austen type of romances--not the Harlequin type.]

Two Good Things I Did For Ryan

I love it when you do something right for your kids, and you know it immediately. I don't always take the time to play super-fun, messy, or inconvenient games or activities with my kids. Last Friday Ryan asked me to play "camping" with him. He was asking me to play with his camping toys, but I went a step further and suggested we build a tent. As soon as I started getting blankets and the dining room chairs Ryan got so excited. I knew right then that constructing this tent was the best thing I could be doing with my time. Ryan had a blast playing in it on Friday. We played "camping" together, then later had some quiet reading time in the tent. When Todd came home from school he thought it looked great, and Ryan and Todd were able to enjoy it together. I kept the tent up all weekend (until Sunday night--after the kids were in bed--when I couldn't stand looking at the "mess" anymore and the boys had started losing interest).

Friday night was also the last home football game for the high school. Papa took Todd to two other football games this season, and they thoroughly enjoyed watching the games together. Ryan doesn't quite have the attention span to handle watching a full game yet; at least, not if he is expected to actually sit and watch the game. Ryan also gets tired earlier, so it is really best if he stays home. When Todd found out that this would be the last home game, he told Papa that they would be going together. Papa readily agreed.

I felt a little sorry for Ryan that this would be the third night out that Todd got, while Ryan didn't have any special one-on-one dates. So, I decided to take Ryan out for ice cream. I didn't want to go very far, so I went to a Hershey's Ice Cream less than 10 minutes away. I wanted Ryan to be able to go somewhere where he could look at a ton of different ice cream flavors and pick whatever he wanted. This was our first time here, so it was a treat for both of us. We (at least I) drooled over some of the different flavors, sampled two, and made our decision. Ryan went with chocolate chip cookie dough in a plain sugar cone (he declined the dipped-in-chocolate-and-covered-with-sprinkles sugar cone!). I went with the red velvet cake ice cream in a cup.

I don't know if Ryan regretted his choice at all. He certainly ate all his ice cream that night. But since then, he has told me we need to go back again so we (either one of us) can get the Superman ice cream. The bright red, yellow, and blue Superman ice cream is a swirl of strawberry, banana, and "blue moon" flavors. Yes, the flavor was described as "blue moon"--what is that, really?

I regretted going back into the dining room to finish our ice cream. We started eating our ice cream at the tables outside, under the protection of the outside awning and an umbrella. It had started raining earlier, and there was quite a bit of lightning (no thunder though; but enough to cause the football game to be cancelled). Ryan said the lightning was making him scared, so we went back into the (freezing) dining area inside. Unfortunately, there was a TV in the restaurant playing the Disney channel. For the rest of our date I sat there trying to make pleasant conversation with Ryan while he finished his ice cream. I found myself talking to a TV zombie who kept asking me questions about the show which I couldn't see, since my back was to it. Next time we go we can get the Superman ice cream, but we're sitting outside.

A "Ya-Hoo" and a "Thank You"

These two simple phrases made my day this morning.

First:
Ryan has a Speed Racer shirt which he inherited from his nieces (or he stole from them, I'm not sure...). Ryan would wear this shirt day after day if I let him. In fact, I have had to tell him to put it back in the laundry basket more than once this week. Ryan was disappointed (again) that he couldn't wear it today. Luckily, Todd had good news for him. "Ryan, Mom is washing your 'Mini-Do' shirt this morning." To which Ryan happily replied, "Ya-hoo!!" That's every bit as good as a "Thanks, Mom!" in my book.
[I couldn't tell you why they refer to Speed Racer as Mini-Do. I'm still trying to figure it out.]

Second:
Every morning I make Todd's lunch before school. He has a few Lock & Lock containers which I use to pack his lunch in. This morning I had the square container with four small compartments. I try to give Todd a variety of moderately healthy foods, including at least one container of a fresh fruit or vegetable. This morning I prepared a chunky peanut butter and marshmallow creme half-sandwhich on whole wheat bread, dried mangos, carrot sticks, and some Nabisco Honey Maid Bees. Todd had been watching me make his lunch, wondering out loud what I would put in the compartments. When I was finished he reviewed my selections and said, "Thank you for such good choices, Mom." His comment made me feel so good that I snuck a small sugar cookie in with the honey bees.

Perhaps my young children really do appreciate my efforts as a homemaker. Joyous thought!

Spooky Mic

My boys have not been playing with the toys in their room as often these days. The weather has been nice in the afternoons, and most days you will find them playing outside when Todd comes home from school. I'm happy about that, but feel sad for their neglected toys sometimes.

This Sunday, one of these neglected toys was retrieved and provided a good hour of laughs. The boys found it funny because Mom was having so much fun with the toy, a Magic Mic. We received this toy microphone for Christmas last year. One thing I like about this microphone is that it doesn't require batteries and does not really amplify one's voice. Rather, it creates an echo directed back at the user--meaning that the user has the most fun and only becomes annoying to those around him/her when he/she won't stop talking or singing just for the sake of hearing his/her own voice.

Case in point--once I got the Magic Mic in my hands while I was preparing lunch for the boys, I had to sing/say everything directed at the boys through the mic. [singingly] "Please get a plate, cup, and fork." [la, la, la] "What would you like on your sandwich?" [la, la, la] . . . that sort of thing.

The real fun started when the boys asked me to make a spooky sound. We discovered, much to our great amusement, that the Magic Mic is perfect for making silly, spooky ghost noises, "oooooooOOOOOOoooooo". The boys would pretend to be scared of the ghost (laughing the whole while) and would hide for a minute. When the ghost got a little quieter they would peek around the corner, which would just get the ghost going again.

The ghost had great fun testing the sound of her howl, seeing how high she could "ooooOOOooo" before the echo caused the tone to become unpleasantly distorted.

What a great Halloween-y activity.

I was just thinking that I probably would have really enjoyed using the Magic Mic about three/four years ago when I was struggling with impatient toddlers. Todd had a hard time waiting for me to prepare his meals, but because I was juggling taking care of a baby and a toddler, it was difficult to get much food prep done until they were both strapped safely into their chairs, unattached to Mom. When the screaming would start (from the kids) I was often tempted to scream in return. Instead, I would expend my frustration-energy through (loud) opera singing, "Dooooon't you seeeeee that I am fiiiiiixing your luuuuuuunch?? It will be reeeeeeaaaady veeeeryyyyy soooooooon." Imagine how much better that would have felt, and how much more amusing it might have been to my children if I had been using the Magic Mic!

Identity

The topic for this post has been on my mind for a few weeks. It came up at my MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) meeting last month. We were talking about identity, specifically about how so many mothers struggle with discovering who they are after they have children or remembering who they were before. This comes up quite a bit in groups like these. We (mothers with young children) are reminded to take care of ourselves, figure out what we enjoy doing, take time to do those things, talk with other moms, etc. Our speaker at that meeting was talking about the different roles we have: mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, employees, caregivers, teachers. She also emphasized the role we have of "woman" without the attachment of these other roles. Can we define who we are without including the relationships we have with other people?

I always tend to zone out when conversations lean this way. Not because I don't think they offer some valuable advice. I just don't relate very well. We talked about the speaker in our small group discussion. A few of the women talked about their struggle with figuring out who they were as mothers. I wanted to know if there was anyone who didn't have this same struggle. Am I weird because I didn't lose sight of my self? I shared my perspective--how using my talents and interests with my children, especially with music and reading, helped me maintain them. I was hoping for some reassurance that there were others like me, but I was left with some blank stares.

Since then I have done some introspection. Did I struggle with my identify at some point, and have I forgotten about it already? If not, what made the difference? Am I too simple-minded or boring? Or do I have some strength of knowledge that has helped me know who I am? I like to think it is the latter.

I think it boils down to faith and knowledge of the gospel. From the time that I was little I was reminded of my true identity--that of a daughter of God. Because I am truly his daughter, he created my spirit, and I have inherited divine qualities. This sounds trite, but I know it's true. Each one of us has been blessed with certain gifts and talents. Growing up in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I was encouraged to figure out what my gifts were early and to work on developing them. Of course, there are some gifts that we won't discover we have until we are put in certain situations. We discover our weaknesses along the way as well, but we recognize the resources we have to overcome those weaknesses.

Working on programs in the church like Personal Progress gave me opportunities to try new things, to develop my faith, and discover my gifts. I have also learned more about myself and increased my faith as I have served in the church. I have enjoyed developing friendships, learning more about the gospel, and seeing how my talents and gifts can bless others. All of these things have worked together to make my life full.

I have a purpose, a long-term goal of improving myself and returning to my Father in Heaven. I have not lost sight of that most-important goal in the different phases of my life: living at home with my parents, college student, young (poor) married woman, full-time working (not-so-poor) married woman, mother of infants, and my current role as a mother of a preschooler and kindergartener.

It helps that I saw the value of motherhood early on. I have wanted to be a mother from the time that I was a young girl. I knew that it was important to have a good education, and being a college-graduate was was one of my goals as well. But ultimately, I wanted to be able to use my education to help care for my future family. Becoming a mother was always part of the plan, and maybe that was another reason it wasn't so difficult knowing that I could still be "me" and a mom at the same time. I think I would've struggled more if I had not married or had children. Even then, I hope I would have had the faith to recognize that God still had a plan and a purpose for me, regardless of what my plan was.

My biggest struggle has been finding time to work on all of those things that I would like. When my babies were babies it was hard to find time to sing in a chorus. I have been singing in a community chorus for a few years now, but I still find it a challenge to sit down and really practice the piano. However, even with young children I was able to both sing and play on occasion at church.

I keep a running list of things that I would like to do (see, Lisa, I don't think you're so weird in that respect): books I would like to read, recipes I would like to make, projects I would like to sew or cross-stitch or needlepoint, crafts I would like to make, photos I would like to organize and scrapbook, flowers and plants I would like to grow, far-away and nearby places I would like to visit, languages I would like to learn (German and Spanish), songs I would like to play or sing.

Does the fact that I don't have time for all these things right now change who I am or what my interests are? No.

Ultimately, as I focus on my faith, my identity is confirmed. I am a daughter of God. That will never change. The more I focus on strengthening that relationship by praying, studying, and righteous living, the happier I am and the greater is my vision of that which is most important.

Born For Glory

I just finished one of the books in my read-and-pass-along stack, Stranger at Stonewycke. I received it as a gift, and I don't think that the giver realized that this book was the first book in the second trilogy about a family in Scotland, heirs of an ancient castle named Stonewycke. It is an Inspirational (Christian) fiction and is a little cheesy, but was still a diverting, easy read.

The lead male character learns more about his great-great-uncle Digory who had been a groom at the estate. The Lady of Stonewycke admired this man and spoke of him with respect.

"He was not a man of many words or great intellect. But he lived what he believed, and I think it shaped me as a child more than anything else in my life. . . . Digory couldn't help what he did. He was not trying to foist anything off on me. Just being around him was a learning experience. Sometimes he didn't have to say a word. You could see in the way he treated the animals, or in that glowing peace which was always in his eyes, that there was a difference in him not found in the average man. So many in our station of life look down on what they call the common man. But often real commonness lies in those the world counts greater. True nobility is a matter of the heart, Logan. And I can tell you, your uncle Digory was no common man. He was a true aristocrat. When he spoke, every word possessed substance and came from a heart of love." (Italics added)

Similarly, the lead female, after experiencing a change of heart, reflected on what made her own father a great man.

"Such thoughts reminded Allison of the boundless love in his nature that more than equalled his energy, and his hearty laughter, and his capacity to make friends with everyone. She had not allowed herself to notice such qualities of his character before, qualities which made of him no common man indeed, but rather a great one. How much she had missed!"

I really liked these paragraphs and what they said about the things that make a great man. I didn't think much more about it until a day later when Ryan asked me about a magnet on my refrigerator. He asked me what it said. It was one I received after a lesson in Relief Society; it reads, "You were born for glory."

Certainly, I have heard this message countless times as I have grown up. I am a child of God. I am an individual with unique gifts and am important in the eyes of the Lord. He will bless me more than I can imagine as I live faithfully and continue to put Him first in my life. I have also been taught about those individuals who were not great in themselves, but who were able to accomplish great things because they followed the Lord and did what He needed them to. Queen Esther was a great example of a woman in the scriptures who courageously stood up for what was right and saved a nation.

However, thinking about what I had read and about the words on the magnet gave me another chance to think about this principle. I don't need to save a nation to be a great woman. In fact, because I don't think that I ever will have to do that, the words had not sunk in and become personal to me. Rather, realizing that greatness can and often does occur with those who are considered common was eye-opening to me.

It should not have been a surprise. After all, our greatest teacher, Jesus Christ, spent his life in service. And though he was the Only Begotten Son of our Heavenly Father, he was not above washing the feet of his friends. However, because he did so much more than that I think I forgot that I can be great in my own small way by living as a righteous daughter of God.

These thoughts were followed by an experience I had yesterday afternoon. Ryan and I went to eat at Danny's Fried Chicken. I let Ryan pick the table, and we ended up sitting right next to a woman who was eating alone. I saw her look over at us a few times, but didn't think too much of it. (Who can resist watching an adorable little boy?) When she had just about finished her lunch she started up a conversation with us, saying that Ryan looked like a sweet boy and it looked like we had a good relationship.

I had never thought about our "relationship" before. I sometimes worry about what our relationship will be when the boys become teenagers, but talking and spending time with my little boys has been easy. However, I could tell that the woman's words were sincere, and they hinted at a little sadness and regret in her own life. I did not think much of what I was doing that would impress this woman. Ryan and I had just spent our lunch chatting and sometimes cuddling because the restaurant was a little cold, but I also had to remind him to sit on his bottom and eat his food a few times during the course of our meal.

The woman had told me that I was a good mother. It surprised me that such a common experience--watching a mother eat lunch with her little boy--could leave such an impression on a stranger. But it brought home the lesson I was meant to learn this week. In those everyday interactions that I have with my children, my family, and my friends, great things can be accomplished as my actions and words are filled with love and follow the example of my Savior.

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven" (Matthew 5:16).

Poetry and Comparisons

I know it's not good to compare ourselves with others, but sometimes I can't help it. I think we're all guilty of it at times. I don't try to compare myself with others to prove my superiority over others or to be judgemental. Nor do I compare myself with others to the detriment of my own self-esteem. In fact, sometimes when I compare myself with others I see ways that I can improve and am encouraged by those I admire--or rather by those whose qualities I admire.

This is true as I read about mothers who do a great job of making a happy home life for their families and who are creative and artistic in the process.

One such mother is Stephanie Nielson, a mother whose blog I started following a few months ago. She was in a plane crash about a month ago, along with her husband, and suffered serious injuries. I miss reading her posts, but have been uplifted and amazed at how many people she influenced for good. Her sister has been helping to take care of Stephanie's children and has been a great example through her blog as well. Both of these women seem to make a point to make good things happen for their children.

We had a nice day at home. All were generally happy. No one had a time out today. The children were fed and bathed. The boys have plenty of toys to play with and plenty of space to play in, and they seemed to enjoy playing to their fullest today. But aside from letting them help me fill up the birdfeeders and bringing the Fisher Price Little People Noah's Ark and school bus down from the attic, what did I do to make it a special day? . . . Nothing. With the exception of our 10-minute scripture time this morning, I didn't even read to them! I wish that I had that knack of taking a few minutes out of my chores-and-to-do-list time to focus on doing something with them. I know that it doesn't take much, and the more I read about what things others are able to do, the more I am encouraged that I should be doing the same.

On the other hand, I watched Nanny 911 for the first time today. My sister-in-law is gone for the night and asked me to come by to take care of Dixie. I thought I would enjoy a few minutes to myself flipping channels and got stuck watching. So, even though I had Brett finish up with the last 10-minutes of the bedtime routine tonight because I was kind of worn out [read: didn't even kiss my kids goodnight(!)], after watching the two families featured on the Nanny 911 show I was feeling like the Best Mom in Town!
Note: I'm not anxious to watch the show again. Yikes! I actually found it kind of depressing and very frustrating at the same time. And, rest assured, I will be stopping by the boys' rooms on my way to bed (as I always do) to give them their goodnight kisses.

Finals results after comparing myself to others: I may not be Stephanie Nielson, but I think I'm doing a pretty good job in the long run.

And speaking of being creative, this almost sounded like poetry (albeit depressing poetry) when it left my lips this afternoon as I hand-picked clumps of hair off the carpet. Be sure to compare this with the poetry of a two-year old rather than that of someone who actually has talent.

Dog hair
Dog hair
Dog hair
I'm so sick of it!