Author Archives: S.D. Sorensen

Lost teeth and lost time

Posted in Divinity by

I hope you will indulge me in occasionally re-posting an entry that was lost when my blog went down (TDBD).  It allows me to re-create my archives little by little over time.  This was originally posted August 17, 2008.

dscf14251 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 http://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.

Because I have my limits

Posted in Diapers by

No matter what happens with the economy, no matter how bad off we are, I will never, I repeat, never get a job working in the childcare center at Lifetime Fitness.  Even walking in there to drop off my children and pick them up makes me feel like I might need a padded room.  This is not an actual picture, but it conveys why I want to run away:

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I believe I have the same feeling in that gym childcare center that I would have if I tried to go swimming at this pool in Japan:

crowded-pool-japan

I will clean toilets.  I will even do your laundry.  But I would rather chew glass and drink lemon juice than spend more than 5 minutes in that place.  The end.

What job would be on your “not even in the worst circumstances” list?

photo credit

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Reminder:  As of April 1, this blog will be hosted solely at http://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.

I wonder if I’ll even die on time.

Posted in Diapers, Divinity by

makes_eat_timeIn college, I had a roommate who was ALWAYS late.  It made me crazy.  We would all be ready to leave for church or a night out and she’d still have curlers in her hair and just be beginning the process of looking for her things and grabbing something to eat.  She would pretend like she was in a hurry, but she was so slow at getting things done.  I had no patience with her.

Fast forward to the present.  I know God loves me, but I’m confident He laughs at me.  He turned me into her.  He gave me children, and I became my old roommate.  I think I have been on time to less than one dozen events since Grant was born six years ago.  I do not think He will cure me of this problem until I stop getting mad about it.  I noticed the other day that I always drive like I’m in a hurry because, well, I usually am.  At best, I’m about five minutes behind schedule, and at worst … um, let’s just say that sometimes I give up on even going where I was headed in the first place.  Not to make excuses, but — actually, yes, I will make excuses!  These are the reasons I am never on time:

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  1. Children who wear diapers ALWAYS poop on the way out the door.
  2. It does not matter how many times you have done laundry and sorted thousands and thousands of pieces of mismatched footwear, your children will NEVER be able to find socks when you say it’s time to go.
  3. They do not want a coat when they need one, and they want to bring extraneous toys and books along when they do not need them.  Battles about said preferences ensue.
  4. Even if you get all your children dressed and ready one hour before it’s time to leave because you are trying EXTRA hard to be on time, they will pee their pants or step in yogurt in their socks or take off their jacket and hide it in some place that will take you at least 25 minutes to find later because they “don’t remember” where they put it.
  5. Although I’m finally starting to get past this stage, small children have a mass amount of equipment that needs to accompany them on every outing.  So even when you get them ready to go, you have to check your “suitcase” and make sure you  have enough junk to prepare you for anything that may come your way, from an extreme diaper blowout to the possibility of being abducted by aliens and having to entertain your child for an extended period of time while you wait to appear before the intergalactic tribunal.  I have no idea where that just came from.
  6. Even if I am going somewhere without the children, the process of getting out the door feels like trying to escape from quicksand.

Every time I hear one of those talks about how important it is to arrive to church early so that you can prepare yourself to hear the messages, and not be disruptive to the congregation with your late entrance, I just get mad.  Do the people who give this counsel remember what it’s like to have small children?  I’m mad at myself, mostly, because I can’t seem to figure it out.  I do not know why I have not been able to overcome this struggle.  I have tried many experiments.  Charts on the door.  Restraining all children in car seats and THEN gathering equipment.  Getting ready earlier.  Organizing my front closet so that all coats and shoes and backpacks and bags are easy-access.  Yelling and barking orders.  Skipping breakfast.  I’m still late.  I’m doomed.  Wait a second.  I just realized, for the very first time in six years, that I have never once prayed about it.  I’m serious.  I’ve never had that thought before.  Duh. Is there really a chance that Heavenly Father would help me get out the door on time?  Then what would He laugh at?  Oh please, He’s got PLENTY to keep Himself entertained on the Stephanie Channel.

I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, part of this whole struggle is not so that I learn to be on time, but so that I learn to be PATIENT.  Can I be rushed and still be kind to my children?  Can I purge myself of all the frustrated feelings and just get on with my life?  Can I be running late to church and not get mad about it, thereby ruining my chances of feeling the Spirit there anyway?  Ugh.  I have always loved the writings of Neal A. Maxwell and I found an awesome talk he gave entitled, “Patience.” Check out some of these gems from that talk:

“When we are impatient, we are neither reverential nor reflective because we are too self-centered. Whereas faith and patience are companions, so are selfishness and impatience.”  . . .

“Clearly, without patience, we will learn less in life. We will see less. We will feel less. We will hear less. Ironically, rush and more usually mean less. The pressures of now, time and time again, go against the grain of the gospel with its eternalism.”

I love his stuff because he takes simple principles and attributes and places them in an eternal perspective.  So I’m feeling a little renewed after writing this.  I might even humble myself enough to hear some of your suggestions for being on time.  I’ll try really hard not to roll my eyes when I read them.  But I’m definitely trying that prayer thing, too, because bless my roommate’s heart, living late all the time is no fun.

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Reminder:  As of April 1, this blog will be hosted solely at http://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.

Extreme makeover: totally lame mom edition

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Much to my husband’s dismay, I’m kind of a binge-and-purge girl when it comes to chores.  You see, I kind of LIKE it when my sink starts to look like this:

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I mean, if my sink never began to be a health threat, how would I ever feel like a superhero?  Tonight I put the kids to bed and Clark said, “Mom, are you going to be upstairs or downstairs?”  This is code for “How much trouble can I get away with after you turn out the lights?”

“I’ll be upstairs.”

“Why don’t you go downstairs and work on the computer?”

“Because you would be naughty, and I have to wash the dirty dishes.”

Grant piped up, “There are a lot of dirty dishes indeed.”

What American 6-year-old talks like that?  “Indeed?”  I felt like I was in a Mary Poppins movie, except without a nanny or a live-in cook and housekeeper… more like the part where everything’s a mess right before they play that “Let’s clean up the nursery” game.

So we said our good-nights and I made my way into the kitchen to begin my superhero work.  You will hardly believe this ladies and gentlemen, but that very same sink only a few minutes later looked like this:

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See?  Why would I slave away my days obsessively rinsing and stacking each dish as it’s actually used when I would clearly rob myself of the joy of results brought about by my extreme makeover labors?  I just don’t get it.  This habit plays itself out in many areas of my life.  (I’ve learned that scripture study is not one that I can get away with; it HAS to be a consistent thing to work for me.)  Let me give another example where I struggle maybe a tad with consistency.  Just this past weekend Matt said to me, “Steph, you are perfect in almost every way, but you suck at laundry.”  I have no idea what he’s talking about:

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However, lest you judge him too harshly, I already knew I sucked at laundry.  If I still had any of my blog archives, this is where I would link you to a bunch of old posts lamenting my laundry woes.  I choose to focus on the part of his statement that acknowledges that, like Mary Poppins, I’m practically perfect in every way.

You know, I do think that maybe Mary Poppins had it right.  It’s magical to change things around, but in the end what brings us the most happiness is time well-spent with our families.

In an article written by a woman named Winnie Dalley, she outlines what I believe is the most important thing for us mothers to remember amid all our tasks, whether we do them constantly or in frenzied spurts.  The quote’s a little lengthy, but I’m betting that you’ll recognize yourself in it right away:

“Nearby in the kitchen, a mound of dirty dishes waits for me in the sink. The laundry is not done, the carpet not vacuumed, the bathroom not scrubbed. Toys are strewn haphazardly all over the living room and kitchen floor. A pile of unpaid bills sits arrogantly on top of the bookcase, exerting silent authority. All of a sudden, the negative aspects of the moment seem to outweigh the positive.

But it is really not so. I remind myself that I need to look beyond the temporal mists and regain my eternal vision of clarity. A house does not have to be perfect to be a home of joy, a child does not have to behave perfectly to love and be loved, and every moment of life does not have to be perfect to be of value. Too often, I realize, we fail to see the glorious reality of the simple joy that abounds in the seemingly mundane routine of day-to-day living. Instead, we tend to idolize the past, idealize the future, and devalue the present. We complain abundantly, we worry too much, and we appreciate too little. We forget Amulek’s exhortation to “live in thanksgiving daily, for the many mercies and blessings which [God] doth bestow upon” us (Alma 34:38), as well as Alma’s counsel to “let [our] heart be full of thanks unto God” (Alma 37:37). What better way to show our appreciation to Heavenly Father for what we have than to embrace our lives, albeit “ordinary” and “unexciting,” with joy?

Motherhood is not always idyllic; nevertheless, it is one of the greatest and most glorious experiences I have encountered. I have no doubt in my mind that whether it is performed in this life or the next, it is the most important work a woman will ever do. Just as the worth of a child is immeasurable, so is the worth of a righteous mother, and so is her joy”

Right on, Winnie. I also recently came across an old article in the Ensign that referred to a small plaque engraved with the following prayer:

Dear God,

We work and pray, but at the end of the day, no matter how hard we try, there are still many reasons to cry. So please send us angels to comfort us in our fears and help us turn the small successes into cheers. Amen.

I think I should hang that plaque in my kitchen.  I’m hoping angels come do the dishes and laundry tomorrow, but in the meantime, let’s hear it folks:  Three cheers for Stephanie and her clean sink.  “Hip, hip hooray.  Hip, hip…”

Oh, and don’t forget what Mary Poppins said, “A spoonful of chocolate makes the chores go down.”  Don’t tell me if I remembered that wrong.

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Reminder:  As of April 1, this blog will be hosted solely at http://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.

Public speaking, Primary, and talking body parts

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I’m pretty sure four-year-olds are bipolar by nature.  Maybe it’s just Clark, but I need to believe it’s some universal trait that all children have and will soon outgrow.  This past weekend, my niece got baptised (In the LDS church, children are baptised at age 8), and she wanted her cousins to be a part of the program.  Grant gave the opening prayer, and Clark volunteered to give a talk.  I know what you’re thinking because it’s the same thing I was thinking:  Are you kidding me?  Are 4-year-olds even allowed to speak at baptisms?  He’s never even been baptised himself, for crying out loud.  This has the potential for disaster and great shame. But, his aunt insisted that if he wanted to do it, they would love to let him.

He took his assignment very seriously, and he did me proud.  He stood up there with great reverence and dignity, and delivered his little one-page sermon.  The bishop attending said it was the best baptism talk he’d ever heard in his life.  For posterity’s sake, and to get a glimpse of my mischievous and adorable boy, I give you Clark:  (The audible groan in the background is Grant reacting to errors in his computer game.)

Then this same kid was a headache at church the very next day.  I’m the Primary President (don’t choke), and I could not get him to stay in or near his seat yesterday.  He was wandering the room, playing with the chalkboard, hiding behind the media cart, etc.  After several failed attempts to redirect him, I went and got Matt and directed that Clark needed to finish out the rest of the meeting in a time-out (empty) room.

Later that night, Matt and I tried to talk to him about what happened at church.  His excuse was that “Primary was just so boring.”  Gee, thanks, kid.  It’s good to know that I’m up there doing that whole ridiculous song and dance for a good reason. Matt asked, “What’s more boring? Primary? or the time-out room?”  He thought for almost a whole second and replied, “They’re both the same boring.”   “Okay,” Matt said, “next week, we’ll just go sit in the time-out room the whole time then.”

“Nooooo!”

“But you said they’re both boring.  Where would you rather be?  In Primary? or in the time-out room?”

“Let me ask my hand.”  Matt and I look at each other, with unseen but understood question marks above our heads.

He then held his hand up to his ear and made this little squeaky voice sound as if his hand were telling him a secret.  “My hand chooses Primary.  Let me ask my other hand.”  More squeaking, and another vote for Primary.

“Now let me ask my foot.”  Squeakity, squeak, squeak.  “Primary.”

Another foot, belly, legs, arms … you know where this is going don’t you?

“Let me see what my bum says.”  It’s hard to squeak when you’re cracking yourself up.  I promise that pun was not intended.

Then he reaches for his front netherparts.  Matt interrupts, “No. Clark.  Just no.  You’re not going to talk to your p****!”  (I’m not afraid to say or type the word, but I don’t want this post to show up in Google for the wrong kind of search if you know what I mean.)

“No I wasn’t saying that.  What’s these called again?” (pointing below.)

Blink. Blink.  “Testicles?”

“Yep. Testicles.  Let me ask them.”  More squeaking secret code, and again the same conclusion.

I was crying by now, but trying as hard as I could to NOT act like this was hilarious, because  I shoud not encourage this kind of conversation, right?  All moms have moments like this when we observe our children (I’m trying to convince myself.  How am I doing?), where our feelings are a combination of shock, humor, wonder, and a teensy-weensy bit of pride for how clever and imaginative they are.

So anyway, the decision was unanimous.  Clark’s body wants to go to Primary next week.  Netherparts and all.

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Reminder:  As of April 1, this blog will be hosted solely at http://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.