Light Refreshments Served

I consider myself lucky to be Lisa’s friend. I can talk to her or hang out with her pretty much whenever I want. If you know Lisa, you know she loves babies. She’s one of those people who loves babies. She talks in terms of eating them and squishing them. There was another woman like this in my old ward who loved babies and even admitted to fantasizing about taking people’s babies because she was done having her own babies–a phase that came to an end ONLY when her husband “surprised” her by getting a vasectomy while she was away for a week serving as a leader at Girl’s Camp. I really love my own babies, but I’m not an indiscriminate newborn holder. I will hold your newborn, but I don’t crave it. I can see myself missing babies and wanting to hold newborns more as my own children get older, but for now I just don’t have that hunger.

I was thinking that maybe I feel about toddlers the way Lisa feels about babies. Again, I do love babies–don’t get me wrong–but there is something so appealing and irresistible about toddlers. Their clothes hang better, they can’t talk that well but they try and they think they are big and competent even though they aren’t. It is so funny to imagine that Ellen, my toddler, puts on nothing but my red shoes and her little purse and yells “Let’s go,” thinking she is ready for the day. She eats like a pig and bosses her older siblings around. She isn’t self-conscious. She “rocks” her doll by making an incredibly awkward and exaggerated motion from side to side. She thinks she can fix herself some food so she pours cereal into a cup or puts an M&M on a plate. It’s funny and cute.

Today my toddler screamed at the top of her lungs for about an hour in the car because she didn’t have “Bea,” her blanket that was in the wash. My husband asked me if I still really loved toddlers and I said “No.” I guess I don’t love any age or phase of growth unconditionally.

Over Christmas I gained a new appreciation for my older kids who, while too big to dress and cuddle and carry around, are finally old enough to give really thoughtful Christmas presents. My 11- year-old son bought an ornament for me–an old fashioned-looking clip-on bird with a feather for a tail. Christian and I get a new ornament every year for Christmas. One year before we had kids, we bought an antique clip-on bird with a horsehair tail. Sam broke it when he was little and I made a point of explaining to him that the ornament that was perhaps 80 years old couldn’t survive for even a few years in our house. Because of him. (I’m mean like that and like to drive home the point.) Well, years later I am finally reaping what guilt has sewn. He replaced the bird. It was so thoughtful–I wanted to eat and squish him!

Though it’s hard to imagine anything cuddly or satisfying about angular and moody tweens, I’m starting to see the light. What did a baby ever do for me? Sure I have to put up with my older kids’ messes and occasional sass but they pretty much take care of themselves and they feel so delightfully guilty when I want them to–Ellen couldn’t care less!

And even though I miss out on the intense glee that babies bring to Lisa, I also miss out on the grief she feels as they age. So, I suppose it all evens out in the long run–which is to say, Happy First Birthday to Lisa’s baby, Margaret. She’ll be clomping around in your shoes in no time. . . and screaming for hours in the car. . . and buying you really wonderful presents!

It’s not that I don’t want my kids to have goals. Just because I don’t have any doesn’t mean they should suffer. I mean that. Unless their having goals means that I have to suffer, then the rules change. Like about a month ago when we were in the car and Samantha said, “I think we should try to go a week without TV.” What the…? Quick, think of something supportive that doesn’t make you sound lazy. “That’s probably a good goal for other families who aren’t getting cable for the first time, but I don’t really think that’s necessary.” She went on to list all the negative bullet points of too much television and I listened politely before adding, “Good point honey. Let’s revisit the idea after everyone goes back to school.” Translation: See that 8-year-old boy over there? Yeah, that one. See, he and I are about to spend the next six weeks together. Six. Weeks. And there’s only so much SKIP-BO and Uno Attack we can engage in before Nickelodeon comes into play. So try to remember that I supported this idea at the onset and then let’s forget this little conversation ever happened, all right?

Did you ever see that commercial where the dad is always working and the kids keep bugging him to go camping? And every time they approach him he’s busy doing something else and he says, “Next week”. Finally, the kids trick him into getting in the back of the car and they lock him in, waving as if it’s all fun and games and the narrator says, “Remember when you told your kids you’d go camping next week? Well…it’s next week.” He laughs and goes along for the ride and everyone is happy. I’ve always thought that commercial needed a follow-up showing how happy the dad is when he’s trying to put up the tent while all the kids run in and out of it before it’s staked down and they’re dragging all the marshmallows on skewers in the dirt.  It would be like the 2nd half of “Into The Woods” where the “happily ever after” goes down the toilet.  Anyway, not the point.

So I went into Samantha’s room the other day and found the white board in her closet where she had written: “January – NO TV.”

Crap.  Is it “next week” already?

I find New Year’s Resolutions exciting and refreshing.  I get the feeling that most people don’t.  I think as a modern society we’ve taken the hope and wonder and imagination out of it all.  If you make resolutions that you think you should be making, instead of the ones you are giddy with anticipation in actually doing, then of course you would face the idea with dread.  I like to think of resolutions like cleaning out the cobwebs (and the sorrow), and taking a deep breath to get back on track.  What track?  Whichever one you want.  Are you sensing the anticipation of it all?  

I have been systematically, but casually cleaning out little corners of my house.  I started by clearing out Hugh’s train table and under his bed.  I threw out all the junk toys, broken bits and pieces, and collected garbage, and organized his toys.  We found lost treasures and forgotten favorite action figures.  Surprise!  After I was done he played in his room for hours.  Bigger surprise!  The next day (See, I’m not totally cleaning crazy.  I space it all out.) I took all the appliances off the kitchen counter and scrubbed them down and wiped the counters and sink with Comet.  It’s amazing how having a clean toaster and polished sink makes the whole house feel clean.  Fifteen minutes of work and my old house feels clean.   And then today I went through my books, dusted them all off, threw out the ones I don’t want to keep, and organized them.  Everything had a place, and it reminded me of two books I’m dying to read and are now there, just waiting for me.  

Cleaning gives me a hopeful perspective:  a task completed start to finish, and so do resolutions.  Even when I break them.  My 2008 Resolution was to become more mysterious and I failed at it miserably, but it was fun to think that maybe, possibly, I could change my “I-wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve” attitude and transform into someone a little more intriguing or alluring.  What’s funny is I started writing this blog (not mysterious), which explores how I feel (really not mysterious) and I joined Facebook (everyone is doing it=hardly mysterious).  But Topher’s Resolution was to wink more, and he failed miserably at that as well (I don’t think I saw him wink once, even ironically, this entire year), so at least we’re not progressing, in regards to winking and being mysterious, together.  That’s gotta count for something.  What I’m saying is that I count it.  

I will never forget 2008.  I had some extreme highs and extreme lows:  Margaret was born, she is amazing, she went to the hospital with RSV, I had a little dance with some post-pardum, we had some incredible family-bonding moments, great mini vacations close to home, a family tragedy, hope, despair, loneliness, great comfort, miracles prayed for and received, miracles not anticipated but showed up anyway, life lessons learned, funny spontaneous moments, great unanticipated improv’d performances, good meals, and all the rest.  There was a lot of personal growth in 2008.  I’m hoping for more “riding the wave of my comfortable routine” in 2009.  

My resolutions for 2009?  (Thank you for asking. . . )  Less crying, for one.  I fully admit that “less crying” is the new “be mysterious”, but I’ll write it down anyway.   More writing and more painting are my obtainable resolutions.  Whereas 2008 had the fog of “just keep it together,” paring down the details and extras, 2009 is “carefully add some details” based on what I want to do, not what others expect me to, including myself.  Out with the broken, cheap-o McDonald’s toys, in with the always vivacious laughing Elmo doll!  Out with the boring emotional crumbs stuck in the toaster, in with the new, polished, easily- controlled panini maker!  Out with the dusty old books I think I should read, in with the ones I really want to read! 

I wonder what resolution I’ll come up with if I clean out the hall closet?

STEP ONE:

STEP TWO:

STEP THREE:

WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?!

Why does nobody else in my house know how to do this?

They are so lucky. Joshanoosh, Mommyoffive, and Amylouwho won leg warmers and lids from Snuggle Luv. Hurry and send me your addresses, guys. And Snuggle Luv will send you your prize.

(These lucky folks won and were contacted on Christmas Eve Eve–Can you imagine? A Christmas miracle!)

Because our youngest child is 17, Christmas morning has pretty much lost its magic for us. How exciting is it likely to be to open the pair of shoes you picked out for yourself, plus a card with a check in it? Gone the days of wide-eyed wonder, of awestruck amazement, of knowing Santa must have brought that present because Mom and Dad never would have sprung for it. Don’t get me wrong–we love Christmas, and we always have fun, but Santa hasn’t really been to our house in years.

Until last week.

Last week, our son opened a smallish package tagged from Santa to find a Nunchuck Controller for a Wii. He held it up, confused, not comprehending. The light dawned first for his sister, who shouted, “Quick, get that bigger box! Look in there!” They ripped off the paper and shouted in gleeful disbelief, just the way they used to when they were four years old.

We got the Wii for us, of course. Most of those kids don’t even live at our house anymore. I was hoping that a distracting, gamelike experience might be what I needed to get me exercising. That’s the party line, anyway. The truth is, we shamelessly invested in a kid magnet. “Come to our house, guys, and we’ll play with the grandbabies while you play the Wii.”

Whatever the motivation, the bottom line was that Santa truly got to surprise our kids one more time.

It was a good moment.

This picture pretty much sums up our holiday break.  It is wonderful and magical, like Indiana Jones (1 through 3 at least).  All the kids had a happy ending:  everyone was pleased Christmas morning (even Miles, who wanted an iphone, but he’s ten + his dad and I don’t have one = no way he’s getting one.)  I had some problems and upsets, much like Indy himself, like having some sort of stomach bug from Christmas Eve through Christmas Day to the next afternoon (which is tragic mostly because I had the most decadent breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and snacks all planned out, weeks in advance, to eat on Christmas Day, and I ate nothing), and Hugh spilling red creme soda on the carpet, drawing on the couch, and stealing his brothers and sisters’ toys, but it’s not like Christmas sucks you through a vortex of time and space into a parallel universe where everyone is the same, only perfect.  But we always hope a little, don’t we?  It was a soft, quiet family day and although I hate surprises myself, I love giving them out.  It felt good to get all the presents, wrapping, and secrets stuffed under my bed, in my closet, and in any crook and cranny I could find out in the open.  Giving out presents + de-cluttering my closets and crannies = de-light-ful.  

I find that all Christmas break, while the kids are at home, I keep following around room to room picking things up, dropping a load of laundry in, wiping things down–general scurrying about.  It’s never-ending.  But I’m making a concerted effort to relax and let it all go. Just kidding!  I totally pick up and then relax.  But overall, the past few days have been simple and relaxing (relatively) and nice.  The  kids were happy, Topher and I were happy, and the kids played with their new toys under the soft glow of the tree (really), and I will take those moments where I can and collect them and save them for the long, grey, cold winter ahead of us when we’re all stir crazy.

As you may recall, I keep a list of every book I have read since 1999. Yes, yes, I’m lots of fun at parties! What follows is an annotated list of books I’ve read in 2008. Just to be clear, sometimes I start a book and never finish it. Those books don’t make the list. Also, I just finished my 35th book today but it’s entirely possible that I might read a book tomorrow before midnight. In which case–please do not worry–I will IMMEDIATELY add it to this post with an explanatory note. Here goes. Recommended books are in bold. (As in, you have to read this one.)

1. Confessions of An Organized Homemaker by Deniece Schofield

2. How to Organize Everything by Peter Walsh (These organization books are all the same and yet I have a compulsion to read them.)

3. Life Skills for Kids by Christine M. Field (I’ve read this before. It’s good.)

4. Honey for a Child’s Heart by Gladys Hunt

5. A Thomas Jefferson Education by Oliver Demille

6. You: The Owner’s Manual by Mehmet Oz

7. The Warmest Room in the House by Steven Gdula (A history of kitchens.)

8. Cesar’s Way by Cesar Milan

9. Take Two Chocolates and Call me in the Morning by Emily Watts (She might even sign it for you!)

10. Project Organization by Maria Ricks (This is worth reading.)

11. Born Standing Up by Steve Martin

12. The Eyre Effect by Jasper Fforde

13. The Ultimate Career by Daryl Hoole

14. Father Knows Less by Wendell Jamieson

15. Litttle Heathens by Mildred Armstrong Kalish

16. The Art of Tasha Tudor by Harry Davis (She’s kind of a weird bird.)

17. Amphigorey Also by Edward Gorey (Talk about a weird bird.)

18. Gifts From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh (It’s weird to go back and read it knowing she was unhappy in her marriage.)

19. To Hell With All That by Caitlin Flanagan

20. Confessions of a Happily Organized Family by Deniece Schofield (Haha! I read it twice without even noticing.)

21. When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris

22. Is There Life After Housework? by Don Aslett (Short version: Nope.)

23. Why Do I Love These People? by Po Bronson

24. The People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks

25. Tiptionary by Mary Hunt

26. The Joys of Homemaking by Daryl Hoole (While I don’t necessarily recommend it, you should read Daryl Hoole for anthropological reasons.)

27. Little Things Long Remembered by Susan Newman

28. Take the Cannoli by Sarah Vowell

29. In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan (Could change your life.)

30. The Writing Life by Annie Dillard

31. The Unthinkable by Amanda Ripley (Could save your life.)

32. The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama

33. IV by Chuck Klosterman (Is there anyone better suited to being my pal?)

34. Wonderful Tonight by Pattie Boyd

35. Clapton The Autobiography by Eric Clapton

I know that was a long list, but while I’ve got your attention may I say something about the last two books I read? I was excited to read about the woman who inspired George Harrison’s “Something In the Way She Moves” and Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.” I mean, their fight over Pattie Boyd is the stuff of legends (VH1’s Legends, specifically).  What would this woman be like to inspire such beautiful music and passion? (Eric Clapton also wrote “Layla” for her.) As it turns out, she’s fairly shallow. And everyone’s a major drug addict. It’s really disappointing and uninspiring. I know a little about having a song written for me and the pressure involved with being someone’s muse (Check out 1,000 Dreams’ Beautiful Brown circa 1988) and, frankly, it’s not such a cross to bear. Compelling reading though.

Eric Clapton, however, sees his way out of the debauchery to the other side of addiction. The first half of his book was getting me down–the quantities and logistics of drug and alcohol addiction are shocking. I guess I’m pretty naive. At around age 42 Eric Clapton finally gets it together. His story is quite moving and if you’ve ever heard “Tears in Heaven,” written about his little boy’s tragic death, you may have some idea of how the story unfolds. It’s worth reading to see the contrast between Eric Clapton hiding booze under the rugs in his car by the gas pedals and Eric Clapton recommending The Baby Whisperer and evaluating the success of a tour based on how well his children traveled. Pretty interesting. I’m sort of obsessed with it right now.

Any questions?

*Addendum: I forgot that I also read The Splendid Table’s How to Eat Supper by Lynn Rosetto Casper and Sally Swift, Carmindy’s 5 Minute Face, and Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney which is probably the funniest book I’ve read in a long time. I highly recommend it.

Kacy, Kristy, and I met together in Utah for cheese fries and ultimate dipping sauce.  It’s totally the ultimate. We missed having Emily and Chelsea.  We, of course, each ordered our own plate of cheese fries.  (These are the details that hold this blog together.)  These are women I respect immensely.  

Hey, who is that cute kid in the back?  Hmmm, looks familiar.  

Oh wait. . . that guy looks familiar, too.  Oh yeah:  that’s Kristy’s family!  How nice of them to sit at a different table while we could have our “business lunch.”  It was very professional, so it was nice of them to respect that.  (Did I mention there were cheese fries?)  For this LRS meeting, I didn’t change my baby’s diaper under the table or nurse under a tent.  I really felt more professional.  

We talked about food, friends, kids, raising daughters, soda, Christmas, family, blogging, publishing, writing, laying around, napping, cleaning, Utah, homes, landscaping, and traveling.  All things we can look forward to blogging about in the new year.

You should have been at my house Christmas morning.  The kids made up a song the night before to sing to us as our wake up call, I got the first 2 seasons of “Remington Steele” on DVD, Cory lost a bet regarding a Neil Diamond song and had to do the dishes, and I danced to MC Hammer in the kitchen (because I looked up the meaning of “troll the ancient yuletide carol” and that’s what it said, “dance to MC Hammer” - the socks on the wood floors was optional) while my daughter called me a dork.  ‘Tis the season!

Part of my Christmas wish was to get out of town and visit some family, so when I found out that four out of my 6 siblings AND my parents would be in Utah we got in the car and blazed through I-70.  So here we are.  If you are one of my friends who lives here and you haven’t heard from me yet, could you pretend you didn’t know that?  Thanks.  Guilt is such a buzz kill.

I love visiting Utah, and not just because I’m going to meet with my fellow LRS comrades tomorrow at Training Table for cheese fries with ultimate dipping sauce, but because the billboards in Happy Valley are remarkably entertaining.  Cory and I like to read them out loud.  “New DVD coming out on the life of President Monson, Modest Clothing for Sister Missionaries, a new movie about Emma Smith, and what’s this one…Adult Videos?!  WHAT THE…?”  Silly Gentiles, always looking for more attention.  All I have to say about that is DON’T GO IN THERE.  And not just because it is a very, very bad place, but because the day you walk in there is the day you run into your former missionary companion and the definition of “awkward” gets finely tuned.

Also, when the scriptures talk about the “great and spacious building” I’m convinced they mean “Gold’s Gym”.  Tell me I’m wrong. 

Yesterday I attended church with my sister and her in-laws.  It’s been a while since I went to Relief Society, and while the lesson was quite nice, there were heart-shaped doilies involved and I never really got past that.  Not to mention that among the “good news” shared at the beginning one woman announced the healthy birth of a kidney stone on Saturday.  Now, I’ve never had a kidney stone, but if I did?  I really, REALLY don’t think I’d share my “delivery” news to a room full of women.  The internet, maybe, but definitely not a room full of women.

Finally, my nephew totally stinks at Nurts.  I’m so playing him again tomorrow.

. . . twelve verses:

Luke Chapter 2