See this kid?

He is my oldest.  He just turned eight a couple weeks ago, and this weekend he will be baptized.  And I’ve got that same nightmare feeling.  It’s like this is the big test of my motherhood, and I do not feel ready.  My time for preparing him to make major covenants and lead a life of free agency is over.  (I know this is a little exaggerated and melodramatic, but hello?  Eight already?  Gah.)

And remember how I said before that I think Satan gets a free 90-day trial before their baptism? I’m sure of it.  He and I have been at odds lately. (Grant and I, not Satan and I.  Maybe.) At odds.  He has been pushing all my buttons, and I’ve felt angry and exasperated and thoroughly convinced that I have somehow failed at preparing him for this major event in his life.  Oh, he knows lots and lots of things about the gospel of Jesus Christ, the promises he’ll be making, and what it all means.  But he’s still just a punk little kid who makes me want to put him in time-out until he’s 18.  Evidence:

“I think this family is dumb.  I think your dumb too.  I wish this family didn’t even exist.  Hate, Grant” (Note he penned on a paper towel and then handed me a couple nights ago at bedtime.  Why so angry? Because he didn’t get ice cream after throwing water on his brother.  Right after our “Love at Home” family home evening lesson.)

So I guess I just have to really count on the Holy Ghost to take it from here?  Either that or the ethereal hope that when he gets older, he’ll like me again and his heart will be flooded with all the things I taught him over the years and he’ll turn out all great and stuff.  Oh boy, Holy Ghost, work your magic.  Some of you experienced mothers out there better tell me that this is going to be just fine.

Anyway, I wasn’t very impressed, but my children pigged out to an embarrassing level (Matt gave them free reign of the dessert buffet.).  Then they each got a fortune cookie as we were finishing up.  Grant opened his and started jumping up and down for joy.  He started yelling, “Yes!  I’m going to Disneyland!”  He was SO excited.  Matt and I looked at each other quizzically and I asked him for his fortune paper.  A close look revealed the following fortune:

“You will soon be traveling to a distant land.”

His hasty reading had an unfortunately over-abundant translation.

I tried to comfort him by reminding him that he had just consumed more desserts than children in most third-world countries get in a year.  Somehow that wasn’t quite as magical to him.

Personally, I think it was a nice introduction to the season where Santa politely says no to most of the things on his Christmas list anyway. 

(For those of you who missed it, please join us in the  12 days of Christmas challenge! Random acts of kindness daily until Christmas. Today’s the “2nd day of Christmas.”  Click here or on the button on the sidebar for more information.)

Grant lost his first front tooth the other day.  Now he looks like an all-American snaggle-toothed boy:

It made me nostalgic, and I went back and read one of my very first blog posts from August 2008.

So my oldest child, Grant, just lost his first tooth. I’m thinking to myself, “It wasn’t that long ago that he got his first tooth!  And he’s already losing them?!”  Other moms (the ones who had toddlers and preschoolers a long time ago and actually lived to talk about it) always say, “they grow so fast.  Enjoy it while you can,” and you know how inside you say stuff like “yah, whatever…  I’ve already planned in detail the first 3 weeks of activities once my youngest gets into school, and don’t even get me started on retirement…”?

Well, this tooth thing has made me think that maybe I do want time to slow down a little.  I mean, come on, kids are just never as cute once those big ol’ crooked horse teeth start growing in.  And now he’s starting kindergarten in a few weeks, and even though I’m thrilled about the tiny dose of “freedom” it might offer me, I dread the influence of “bad kids” and elementary school Darwinism once he’s out of my watchful eye.

I find comfort in the scripture in Ecclesiastes that says, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”  Then it talks about things like dancing, crying, etc., but I think that it really does mean every thing, like losing teeth, going to kindergarten, and retiring.  I can’t help but think that God wants me to take in each season and actually live it through, the same way I must live each season of the year . . . I can’t just skip ahead or pause or rewind the calendar.  So, I’ll just start to enjoy the toothless years in one child and the teething years in another and just take the moments as they come.  (But, seriously, don’t you think God must laugh a little when he puts those ugly big adult teeth in little kids’ mouths?)

Sigh.  And now he’s finishing first grade, and Clark’s finishing kindergarten, and Natalie’s a bright-eyed preschooler.  It did kind of pass like a dream. I always say that the days can be SO long, but the weeks and months just fly past.  So this summer I’m going to relish time, savor it.  I’m hanging onto this slippery summer as tight as I can.  Do you think putting my calendar in the freezer would help?

(The subtitle of this post is:  Why I want to kick Grant’s science teacher in the knees.)

Thanks to Grant’s science teacher, our first-grader has become an environmental vigilante.  Never mind that we already have a fairly well-coordinated recycling program in place.  My recycling garbage can is always at least as full as my actual-garbage garbage can, we trade in our printer cartridges for refills, use rechargeable batteries, and replaced all our lightbulbs with those twirly-whirly- save-lots-of-money lightbulbs that I can’t remember the name of.  If the tree-huggers could look past my compulsive paper towel use and occasional paper plate use, I think they might be kind of proud of us.

I do not know if Mr. Science Man has a program in place where he bribes small children with treasures untold if they can confiscate half of their family’s belongings and bring them directly to him to be disposed of properly, but I have my theories.  Several times, Grant has tried to grab all our printer cartridges and convince us that he needs to take them to his science teacher, along with all our batteries.  That same self-proclaimed genius cannot seem to comprehend that I will recharge and refill them on. my. own. (thank you?) and thereby save our family some money.  “But Mr. Science Man says we have to bring them to him!”   No matter how I try to make him understand that his teacher’s intention is to keep those items from being thrown away, and we are NOT throwing them away, he still thinks I’m ruining his life as an activist.

Today he came from school and enjoyed his after-school snack for a few seconds before he jolted, quickly remembering that he is a man on a mission.

“Mom!  Do we have milk cartons or boxes or things that we can use to make other things?”

“They’re in the recycling bin, Grant.”

“No, mom!  We’re not supposed to throw them away.  That’s a waste!  We can use them.”

“Grant, when they are recycled, that means they can be melted down and use them again.  We are not wasting them.”

He began digging through my garbage.  I began picturing his science teacher in that torture machine from The Princess Bride.

He grabbed a ziploc bag and held it above his head, victorious.  “Do not throw these away, mom!  That is a waste.”

I rolled my eyes, “What?  Do you want to wash them out?”  “Yes!”  “Fine, you can do it.”

He kept digging.  “I need a bottle or something for my agates (small rocks designed to make your mother curse when she does the laundry).”

“Grant, the bottles are in the recycling bin which means they are going to be re- … never mind.”  I give up.

Anyway, I think educating our children is severely overrated. I offered him this box from the garbage to carry the rock collection he’s accumulating so he can impress Mr. Science Man.  I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he sees how resourceful we are in our family.

Since I heard Sister Beck’s talk in May about intentional parenting, I felt really strongly that I needed to establish some routines in our home that would help me to achieve the goals I have for my children.  Matt and I sat down and thought about what kinds of things we wanted our kids to know and do and be.  And then I built them into a weekly schedule.  (Just a loose schedule, to make sure that every goal-related thing happens at least once in a week.)  Wednesday mornings are for service.  I just really want my kids to grow up thinking about others and trying to show love.  I taught high school, so I’m particularly annoyed by the arrogant, self-centered entitlement that seems to be the norm among many teenagers (and now adults).  Anyway, on Wednesdays, after they finish their chore, we try to think of something nice we can do for someone else that day.

Today, we had to go to the grocery store for milk, so we decided to buy some flowers and take them to someone.  I dropped off the flowers where the person worked and Grant and Natalie came with me.  Clark stayed home with his great grandmother who is visiting from Utah.  The receptionist took our flowers and card, and then offered my children a balloon.  They both accepted it and then Grant said, “Can I have one more balloon please?  I have another brother, but he stayed home with my grandma.”  So with three balloons in hand, we walked back to the car.

Grant was happy, and he asked, “Mom, are you glad I got a balloon for Clark, too?”

I said, “Yes, that was very thoughtful of you.  And kind.”

“And service?”  he asked.

“Yep, Grant, you did service.”

And I felt like our little efforts meant something, and were making something happen inside my children.  It’s just another testimony to me that when you feel prompted to do something, and you do it, the blessings come.  In many, many cases the results are not visible for a long time.  Motherhood, after all, is “creation in slow motion,” but it’s sure nice to get those little glimpses of success every once in a while.

We went Wal-Mart (that in itself should be a misdemeanor).  Clark wailed in the parking lot and said he did NOT want to go in.  His heart was set on Sam’s Club and free sample handouts, but my membership expired, so we went to Wal-Mart instead.  He wasn’t happy.  He refused to get out of the van.  I explained to him that if I left him in the van, someone would call the police, and they would come get him and take mommy to jail and he would have to live with another family.  He thought about that for a minute with a scowl on his face.  I’m not sure what his real preference is, but perhaps for the sake of not hurting my feelings, he hopped out of the van and surrendered to our shopping trip.

While I was checking out, he and Natalie somehow managed to get about 5 toy cell phones in their possession and run with them over to the blasted arcade section in front of the check-out area.  I finally wrangled them back and returned all the merchandise to its appropriately unpurchased position.

When I got home, I unloaded the van.  As I was putting the groceries in the kitchen, Natalie kept digging in her pocket.  “I have lipstick,” she grinned.  “What lipstick?”  I was trying to think what she might have dug out of my backpack or van.  She proudly showed me her treasure.

“Hey, where did you get that?!”

She smiled again, “At the store.”

“Natalie….(remember that grumpy sighing I told you about yesterday?)… that’s STEALING.”  I went on to explain to her in terms that she understood that she was a robber.  (She always asks me, “what if there’s a robber?,” and I say, “He’ll go to jail,” and she says, “I’ll punch him in the nose.”)  I’m not sure whether she was more afraid of jail or a punch in the nose,  but she got a little remorseful and said, “I’m sorry mommy.”  I asked her what we should do and she said, “take it back to the store.”   To be honest it feels like torture to return to Wal-mart again with my children, but it must be done.

All that criminal behavior for this little gem:

Yes, it does say “Oooh La La Bubble Gum Lip Gloss.”  What can I say?  Natalie’s got impeccable class.

Grant is my smoochie kid.  He is super cuddly and lovey-dovey.  Not being much of the affectionate type myself, I’m often annoyed with his abundant loving.  (I know, that’s not very nice of me, but I am.)  So today, Clark and Grant were playing tag and I hear Clark say the classic line of obnoxious childhood, “You missed me.  You missed me.  Now you have to kiss me,” which of course Grant takes literally and chases Clark around the house for 30 minutes trying to smooch his face off.  I reminded him of my tramautic childhood experience of being chased by a kissy boy around the playground in kindergarten.  I also repeated my sage warning that boys who kiss people who don’t want to be kissed can go to jail.

So, I’m sure you’re all proud of me for raising a band of 3 pint-sized hoodlums.  Maybe our family can just become a small gang of toddler thugs.  Yesterday I cut off the bottom of sweatpants to make shorts for the boys and I used the discarded pieces as hats.  How do Clark and I look?

Maybe our gang can be called the Jailbound Jesters.  Send me chocolate when we’re all in the slammer.

(Final plea to go vote for my blog at MMB by tomorrow…. look on my sidebar for the link.)

I recently discovered that the side of his bed looks like this:

No, your eyes are not playing tricks on you.  It really IS that gross.  So now, his bed has been equipped with this:

And if that isn’t bad enough, there have been other totally unacceptable infractions of the no-booger-wiping rule.  The lastest was so dire that I did what any good mother would do and forced my child to make a public, internet-based confession.

Did you see all that heartfelt remorse?  The sorrow?  The wailing?  Um, yeah.  Well, Clark and Natalie were jealous about Grant’s debut on the big screen, so the climbing, whining and button-pushing resulted in this:

I know, I know, you are SO impressed.  Feel free to send an Academy Award, or Xanax, whichever seems more appropriate.

In the van on the way home from preschool yesterday, the boys discussed their money-making plans and were trying to guess how long it would take them to earn the money and how many Webkinz they would be able to purchase with their jackpot.  Clark declared, “Mom, I’m going to work and work and work all day.”

“That’ll be great, Clark.”

So I wrote up a handful of chores on the living room window with these fancy new Crayola Window markers I purchased as a late-conference distraction.  While Natalie happily scribbled on the window (and surrounding window frame and wall), the boys wrote their names next to the chore they wanted to undertake first.  Clark chose “clean off table.”

Well, it only took about 5 minutes before he changed his mind and declared that it was the most boring job in the world and he didn’t want to do it.  He moaned and wailed and insisted that he should be able to choose another chore because he didn’t like that one.  (This has been a pattern lately.  I refer you back to the Angry Mom sign.)  I said, “Sorry buddy, you need to finish that one before you can start another one.”  He wanted me to do it.  I told him that if I finished the job then I would earn the money.  He whined some more about how he really wanted the money, and finally declared his true intent:  “I want you to do the work and I get the money.”

Um.

Nope.

Wasn’t it Elder Oaks who talked about entitlement?  How we somehow think we deserve things, but aren’t willing to labor for them?  I’m probably stretching his context, but I was not giving in.  I taught high school and I know what entitlement looks like when it grows up.

After much wailing, and a broken record stuck on phrases beginning with the words, “But I don’t waaaaaaaant to…,” Clark decided it would be easier to do his chore.  (Incidentally, I decided it would be easier to move to a desert island.)  Then for a short while, they both worked quite peacefully and even Natalie got in on the action with some Lysol wipes.

And for anyone keeping track, there is now $1.25 in the Webkinz fund.  (Yeah, I don’t really care about minimum wage laws.)

In other news, before 7:30 this morning, sweet little Clark who is FOUR AND A HALF years old pooped in his nighttime diaper (nothing brings on more morning rage for me) and Natalie removed her diaper and peed on the living room floor.  There may be another death in the family by the end of the day.

President Spencer W. Kimball said: “When children go off to school or to play with their friends, parents cannot be totally sure of what the children are learning. But if parents take time at home each evening to explain the gospel program to their children, it will replace the negative things they may learn during the day.”

Let me set the scene for you.  Today at the dinner table, Grant proudly showed Matt and me the drawings he did this week at his art-center table at school.

Me:  “Um, wow, Grant.  Is that you covering your ears when Natalie’s crying?”

Grant:  “Nope.  Not Natalie.  It’s my friend Josh.  He drawed a picture of me going pee-pee and I hated it.”

Me:  “Okay….?”

Matt piped up, “That looks like me right now with Clark.”  (Imagine in the background the wails of Clark in time-out.”

Me:  “What else did you draw?”

Grant smiles.

Me:  “Uh, are those guns?”

Grant: “Nope, they’re swords.”

Matt:  “I don’t think mom likes that one, Grant.”

Me:  “Remember scriptures this week where we read about the 10 commandments and one of them is Thou shalt not kill?”

Grant: (sheepishly)  “Oh yeah, sorry about that.  Here, this one will cheer you up.”

Me:  “Yep, that sure is cheery.”  (looking at Matt with raised eyebrows.)

Grant:  “Yeah, it’s me running away from a leopard.”

Curtain closes as Grant grins proudly and mom shakes head silently and plans next family home evening in her mind.

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Reminder:  As of April 1, this blog will be hosted solely at www.diapersanddivinity.com (”wordpress” will no longer appear in the URL).  When that change takes place, the old feed will be reset and you will need to go there yourself and subscribe again (for the LAST time, I promise).  Any previous RSS feed will no longer work.

So my oldest child, Grant, just lost his first tooth and I’m thinking to myself, “It wasn’t that long ago that he got his first tooth!  And he’s already losing them?!”  Other moms (the ones who had toddlers and preschoolers a long time ago and actually lived to talk about it) always say, “they grow so fast.  Enjoy it while you can,” and you know how inside you say stuff like “yah, whatever…  I’ve already planned in detail the first 3 weeks of activities once my youngest gets into school, and don’t even get me started on retirement…”?

Well, this tooth thing has made me think that maybe I do want time to slow down a little.  I mean, come on, kids are just never as cute once those big ol’ crooked horse teeth start growing in.  And now he’s starting kindergarten in a few weeks, and even though I’m thrilled about the tiny dose of “freedom” it might offer me, I dread the influence of “bad kids” and elementary school Darwinism once he’s out of my watchful eye.

I find comfort in the scripture in Ecclesiastes that says, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”  Then it talks about things like dancing, crying, etc., but I think that it really does mean every thing, like losing teeth, going to kindergarten, and retiring.  I can’t help but think that God wants me to take in each season and actually live it through, the same way I must live each season of the year . . . I can’t just skip ahead or pause or rewind the calendar.  So, I’ll just start to enjoy the toothless years in one child and the teething years in another and just take the moments as they come.  (But, seriously, don’t you think God must laugh a little when he puts those ugly big adult teeth in little kids’ mouths?)

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Reminder:  As of April 1, this blog will be hosted solely at www.diapersanddivinity.com (”wordpress” will no longer appear in the URL).  When that change takes place, the old feed will be reset and you will need to go there yourself and subscribe again (for the LAST time, I promise).  Any previous RSS feed will no longer work.

Have you ever noticed how powerful a child’s prayer is?  My kids often blow me away with the goodness of their prayers.  Especially Grant, my kindergartener.

Elder James E. Faust said,

“What is a prayer?  … We sing, ‘Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed.’ Sincere prayers come from the heart.”

Well, Grant has prayed fish back to life, rain to stop, and the recovery of his lost brother at the mall.  I’m positive he’s the sole reason my parents were not robbed on their mission in South Africa because Grant prayed EVERY day, “Please don’t let the bad man steal Grandma and Grandpa’s stuff.”  If our family is driving down the road in a snowstorm and cars are sliding off the road all around us, we know we should ask Grant to pray.  He usually thinks of it first, though.  He’s good.

Unfortunately, he’s also sincere.  There are occasionally the meal prayers that say, “Please bless the dinner that it won’t be gross.”  Ha ha, very funny. Or “Bless Natalie that she won’t play with my toys.”  What a sweet little selfish guy.

So, this has not been my finest mothering week.  When my blog went down on Wednesday– the sad event that shall henceforth be called TDBD (The Day the Blog Died)– I spent the majority of the next two days either at the computer or thinking about the computer.  My children were not the recipients of much deserved attention from me, and the attention they did get was mostly grumpy and distracted.  I was frustrated.  I claimed the kids were naughtier than usual, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the real problem was.  Nevertheless, this is Grant’s dinner prayer one of those nights:

“Thank you for this wonderful day.  Sorry Clark and me made some sins.  Please help us.  And please bless the food.  Amen.”

Aaagh.  I hate it when they’re better than me!  So then I reflected (who are we kidding? It was a guilt trip) about my own behavior, and last night when I put them all to bed,  I apologized.  I explained to them that my blog got broken and erased and that’s why I was so grumpy and spent way too much time at the computer.  Rather than begrudge my obvious failings, they were earnestly concerned about my blog and began asking many questions about how my blog “got disappeared.”  Grant had many theories.  This one was my favorite:  “I know.  I know what happened.  Maybe your blog was just tired, and it got so tired that it just went to sleep, and while it was asleep the computer just started re’rasing it.”  Then he offered to say a prayer about it and told me that “you and daddy should probably say a prayer about that blog too.”

If I were really a smart woman, I would have consulted Grant before we even began the backing-up-data process.  My children are my prayer mentors.  And I’m learning that simply by virtue of the fact that I am babysitting their little souls for God, He wants me to talk to Him about them more often.  This quote by Elder Holland inspires me every time I read it:

“Be believing. Keep loving and keep testifying. Keep praying. Those prayers will be heard and answered in the most unexpected hour. God will send aid to no one more readily than He will send it to a child—and to the parent of a child.”

I need to learn to put as much faith in my own prayers as I do in Grant’s.  But if anyone needs any miracles or anything, let me know and I’ll pass it along to him . . . just in case.

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Forgive me as I include this announcement at the bottom of all my posts for the next little while. Thanks to TDBD, there have been a few technology-related changes around here.  To my readers who subscribe to this blog through any kind of RSS feed, including Google Reader:  As of April 1, (no, this is not a joke), this blog will be hosted solely at www.diapersanddivinity.com (wordpress will no longer appear in the URL).  When that change takes place, the old feed will be reset and you will need to go there yourself and subscribe again (for the LAST time, I promise.)  May this be the end of the transition….