Matthew, Champion of the Library

As an aside that is totally unrelated to this post, our friends had us do 16 personalities quiz.  I'm a Mediator type, INFP-T.  It was eerie reading it because I have never heard myself described so well, including things I couldn't put into words and motivations I couldn't understand.  Wow.

Moving on...

Here we have Matthew.  His 6th grade year was rough, at least for his parents; he seemed to do okay...because he could escape into books...and he read a lot of those.  His librarian gives out awards called the Champions of the Library.  Among 6th graders, Matt checked out far more books than any other kid, clocking in at 150+ books...and most of those were novels, not comics/graphic novels.  It's a little thing in the grand scheme, but he thought it was pretty cool to be acknowledged for something he's so passionate about.

He's such a loving caring deep-thinking soul. His family prayers just melt my heart with their thoughtfulness and sometimes take me aback with their forthrightness about family issues we may be having.  Onward and upward, my boy!

L Finishes 8th Grade

I went to an assembly two days ago with a bunch of other parents and 400 eighth graders.  It was so neat to see lots of people working hard to achieve.  Media kind of makes me think teens are useless teenagers (media, not my personal thoughts!), but there were some incredible kids.

My incredible kid got awards for reading lots of books this year, for getting her first year of all A's (to some this is not a big deal but she worked hard and stayed on top of assignments daily; she was a machine), and for being a very helpful student to her FCS teacher (because she loved that class and would stay after just to help clean-up and go the extra mile). 

I honestly hadn't reflected on the fact SHE IS GOING TO HIGH SCHOOL next year quite so much until that moment.  She has a lot to learn and so many more 100s of times to butt heads with me, Lucas, her brothers, the world, but I see lots of glimpses of goodness and a serious amount of hard work.  My baby is growing up fast, and it was nice to take an hour to contemplate her and other kids, some with pretty rough circumstances, trying their best and seeing results. 

Irises on the River

I saw these beauties along the greenbelt this week.  Breathtaking next to the flowing waters, I tell you.  On a walk last week with Matt and Daph, I noticed several huge swaths of orange poppies which have naturalized along the river as well.  

It's really quite fantastic to take walks often enough to notice each change the season brings...not to mention the river levels this spring.  Some days my path is flooded and sometimes not, though it's always been passable, unlike last year.  My favorite little off the beaten path place has been flooded for weeks.  I hope my favorite log for push-ups and foot soaking isn't washed away when it's all said and done.  We'll see.  I'm hopeful whatever the flood waters leave behind that it will still feel like my little hangout.  I would miss Warrior 3 by the river because something about the surroundings and especially the sounds let me hold poses for a long time that I struggle to maintain for a minute at home (make that 10 seconds if there are screaming children OR flippant cats OR an over-friendly dog helping me with my practice.

And, as always, I find my river walks in nearly any kind of weather so inspiring.  I have so many stories flowing through my head when I walk.  I've only taken a few notes.  I need to get writing again.  Anyway...

We took the Activity Girls on a bike ride along the greenbelt.  It was a reprise as we took them in September but the most excited girl broke her wrist in the church parking lot before we even left and she missed out.  Now she got to go and they loved and I think most of us could have gone on a lot longer, but a short beautiful ride as another of those May storms moved in, with tearing through the puddles of flooded water on the pathway, was probably much better than going too far and hearing *gasp* complaining.  I never have to deal with that kind of thing around here (rolls eyes, and sometimes I'm as bad as the kids).

I love you, River.  Forever and ever and always.  Sure this sounds like an overstatement, but you have changed my life.  I probably have God to thank for that, but you are certainly an inspiration to me, and He created you.  He did a perfect job!

Random P.S. to go with random river thoughts:  Lucas is desperate for a new phone as his is dying a slow sad death, and there is a BOGO deal.  I don't really want a new one yet, but I could get an 8 EIGHT EIGHT!!! megapixel upgrade and that is the one beef I have with my phone.  It's my main photo source and I am often not impressed.  Decisions.

A Fan of Family

A couple of Sundays ago, Ben asked to check out FamilySearch and so I let him loose in my account.  I didn't see how he could do any damage.  He figured out how to show the family fan chart and...

He took it upon himself to start copying the chart by hand.  He talked to me off and on as he did it, drawing connections with who he recognized and asking me about the ones he didn't.  Then he shared information he learned with his siblings.  It was pretty adorable.  For a kid who says he hates learning and loves tests, I think he kind of likes learning.

GT Ben

Once there was a kid named Ben.  He was a middle child, wedged firmly in the middle of 4 distinct and quite lively personalities, but he was determined to be the liveliest of them all.  Sometimes it got him into trouble.  Even though Ben wanted more than anything to be THE STAR OF THE SHOW, one of the next items on his bucket list was to be as mind-blowingly smart as his on and off again mentor, his older brother Matt.  When they shared a room, the boys stayed up late into the night as Matt recited all sorts of facts to his brother and then quizzed him on the facts.  Ben loved that one on one time.  So, naturally, when his teacher asked his mom if he could take the tests to determine if he could be in a challenging program just like Matt, he was very thrilled.  He hounded his teacher to know when he could test, but waited patiently for the most part...and took the tests...complaining to his mom about how he loved taking tests but these were pretty hard.  Then he waited some more.  And finally he ran proudly to the car one day after school but wouldn't tell his mom his secret as he wanted Matt to know first.

Next year, Ben will get to be in the GT Challenge program and good riddance.  He is so proud of himself and has had the roughest time fitting in and finding true friends.  Hopefully a new group of kids to see once a week and the opportunity to expand his mind rather than be a bit bored with math sometimes will make a difference.

As aside, it's funny because when Matt's teacher asked for him to be tested, I was so proud.  He's like some sort of little genius, I thought.  Little did I know that sometimes it would feel like Matt and I were on different planets.  Now with Ben being his very own, very different very BEN type of person, I know that we will have another planet in the solar system for me to navigate to, especially when middle school comes.  For me, having a kid who gets bored with all the regular and normally exciting or challenging things has been my own challenge program, and it is stinking hard at times, so I'm a bit nervous for Ben to fit that mold.  However, Ben has thrown pretty much anything you could imagine at me as far as the good kid but in desperate need of attention and wanting to test all the boundaries variety goes. 

Good luck, Ben.  I can't wait to see what all my kids will grow up to be and do, but you will be the greatest surprise of all, I'm sure, no matter what.  (just make it surprising in a wonderful, non-criminal kind of way, and you'll go far)

Now if I can get their bodies to catch up to their minds in coordination and prowess, that'd be something that'd shock my system thoroughly.

Rain

A week of chaotic weather.  Each day cloudy, sunny, warm, sprinkling, a downpour with thunder and lightning, then sun again.  Spring came furiously, all the blooms marching boldly through in their usual order.

For us, a calm afternoon.  I mix bread dough in the KitchenAid.  Daphne stands on a stool watching the rain flood the street, singing, "Have you ever heard the wolf cry at the (blue corn) moon?" as if no one is listening.  I look toward the group gathered round the table, the older 4 plus Matt's BFF, all playing a new game Matt had waited eagerly for to arrive in the mail.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5.  How rare to have all my children gathered and not fighting but all content in their own way.  A lovely snapshot in time.

A More Orderly Existence

Ha.  I strive for a more orderly existence at least 50% of the time but...IT  IS  NOT  EASY.  The theory of chaos, entropy - it's no joke.

But we have attempted to make some headway with me boldly pushing, pushing for it.  It helps that Lucas is not taking classes for this semester.  Yay! (I try to be encouraging about school, but I like projects to get done around the house, and, though capable, my impetuosity gets me in pickles, so I like to have the voice of reason as my partner.  Then we get things done and we get them done right).

It all started with my master binder of organization to help with the influx of papers with no permanent home as we took away our traditional office space.  I have a lovely list for Lucas including re-seating our downstairs toilet (ugh, not gonna do that one alone), building me a big garden bed (my kind of Mother's Day gift), and lots of garden bed clean outs with maybe a few trees to chop down.  But then I also got a few more ideas, re-doing our porch/door (I can handle that one) and making perfect organizational sense out of our game closet and garage hall closet (which essentially has ended up being a mudroom with no organization at all).  I was inspired by our rental house in Oregon and bought a shoe organizer/bench, cleaned out our garage hall closet and organized it impeccably, threatening the children lovingly about the importance of only putting shoes in it and NOTHING ELSE.  Now our way to the garage is clear and safe and things are easy to find. 

Our game closet, though, that was a serious beast.  People pulling games out and putting parts of games all over in it.  Puzzle pieces and game pieces everywhere with some pet supplies and TV trays mixed in for good measure.  I planned and drew a shelving system to organize games, our vacuum + attachments which never really had a home, and a shelf for each child to put reading books, school papers on, etc., if they just couldn't stand the thought of walking all the so far long way to their rooms to put items.  Lucas worked late into one Saturday to get those shelves done; I placed games in an orderly fashion, and then did another session of DO IT ALL VERY NEATLY CHILDREN.  HAVE MERCY ON YOUR MOTHER'S SANITY.  The children have been pretty good so far, although a bit of slacking has been noted the last few days which I should probably whip back into shape (not literally, c'mon you guys).  I am so thankful that Lucas humored my idea, trusted my measurements, borrowed tools to simplify it, and took the time to do it.  Huzzah!

My Happy Place

Where is my happy place?  Oh sure, I have a lot of places I feel happy - being pretty much anywhere with Lucas, reading to or playing with my children, river walks, uncontrollably laughing as we eat dinner with friends, going to the temple, being all by myself in the house (a truly rare event).  But I have been searching for my happy place in life.  I was raised and do verily believe that not only does God have an ultimate plan of happiness, but he has individual plans for all his children.  What is His plan for me?  How much of it is 'flexible' because He is really big on letting us have agency and choosing our paths and how much is, "Marianne, you were sent to earth for this VERY specific reason (or many specific reasons) and you must find out what your mission is!"?  I've heard all sorts of interpretations, and I think this is probably an area with some gray to it because we are all so different.

But boy have I been trying to figure out what He wants me to do, and let's be honest, I'm no angel, what I want to do to be happy, to feel like I made a difference on earth, to feel like I am enough.  I have a niggling feeling that I could be a rocket scientist brain surgeon and still not feel enough, so no matter what I do I have to teach myself to get over that.  We are children of God with eternal divine potential.  Therefore, we are enough.  A bag lady on a corner IS ENOUGH.  The richest guy in the world IS ENOUGH.  And all the in between people, and certainly those who want to love and help rather than criticize, belittle, hate and murder, ARE ENOUGH.  But, you know, once I cross the hurdle of yes I am enough, even with some extra weight, some extra baggage, despite my inability to keep a clean house and to keep my eyes from leaking often, I still want to know what I really, really want and, preferably, I want that to line up with what God wants.

Another confession:  I downplay my role as a mother, a wife, and a friend/neighbor.  Even as I know it's so important, even as I see other women in the trenches and cheer for them, I think, yes, of course I do that stuff, but what else should I be doing?  It's ridiculous because I am the biggest advocate of, wanted so badly for so long to be JUST a mom, but I've been a juggler more often than I've felt like a stay at home mom.  I had such rigid expectations of how I thought life would go, and there is a stubborn part of me that fights embracing the messy beauty that is me and my family and my life, I guess because it's not much to look at by the world's standards, but it is pretty glorious in its own right.  It is actually quite rare, too, so, yes, I should never downplay what has been carefully built by Lucas and me, by our family, by God.  Also, I'm certainly no social butterfly, but I have no problem helping someone out at the grocery store or visiting with a neighbor and I hand out smiles right and left to anyone who will take one.  I need to know (not just hear from others) that if all I ever was was a kind person who served others and never had an official job title, that would be enough.  I marvel at the stories of so many people who are and were just that.  Their amazing blood runs through my veins.  So, yes, this not enough thing is just so aggravating because I would never expect of anyone else what I expect of myself, and I have exhausted me, depressed me, hidden away and torn myself down with all these expectations and self-claimed glaring failures.

But I still feel a push to do something else.  I'm so here and there and everywhere that I don't know if my motives are all pure, but I think I'm headed in the right direction.  My patriarchal blessing has helped.  Lucas has given me a couple of priesthood blessings as I have wrestled with ideas.  I've had to battle through information, applications, phone calls (a big deal for this phone hater), some figurative slammed doors blocking some paths, some doors opening, and I've fought all of it all along the way.  Stubborn.  Brother, so stubborn inside.  No one would guess it from looking at me or talking to me.

Even as I feel like I would like to teach, I think oh that's not good enough.  Oh, you will humiliate yourself.  How will you get a job?  I seriously need to work on my cheer leading skills.  I feel like it's a Whitaker thing, or a dad thing.  Never get your hopes up, keep your head down, don't dream.  I mean, it's not a glamorous job, but of any decent paying, real-person adult job I could have it allows me to do what I love most which is be a mom.  I'm not a social climber.  The thought of fame makes me want to break out in hives.  And Lucas does a great job providing so I don't need the big bucks, just enough to help take care of 5 hungry kids who need clothes and educations and opportunities and missions and weddings.

I'm so afraid of failure I've almost talked myself out of it a time or ten.  But last night, last night, as I lay exhausted (I hate working every night so late), I felt hope and excitement.  The fear was chased away for a few minutes.  I pictured the very-different-from-what-I've-been-doing-for-the-last-14-years vision of not having the job I have now, getting paid a salary, talking with people I work with about our students and collaborating, meeting new pupils every year and trying so hard to love each of them, even when they sort of seem hard to love.  And before that, I thrilled at the thought of having to study hard and take 'scary' Praxis tests, proving to myself (and 'the system') that I am capable; I picture going back to school which is pretty trippy in your late 30s when all your kids are in school and you thought back in 2003 you'd never go back to school again (hahaha).  And all those things I pictured if I thought of them any time in the last 4 months and probably any time in the next 4 would just be terrifying, but last night it all sounded pretty sweet.

In conclusion, I've prayed and pondered.  I've made pro and con lists, studied different programs, different careers, costs.  I've played out scenarios of what it would mean for my kids, my husband, thought of enough what if's to possibly make my husband's head explode (because, oh yes, you bet he gets to hear most of my thoughts as I angst and PMS and worry about all of it again and again).  And I kind of sort of think I will move forward.  I am bright.  I am teachable.  I have love to share.  And I do love to see a child learn.  Yes, I have also thought of all the what-ifs about paperwork, troubled kids, administrators, politics, and those first few years of lesson plans all evening after working all day, and that all sounds kind of nightmarish, but I have a good heart, a good mind.  I am strong, so very strong (despite the leaky eyes).  And if I could make just the littlest difference for someone (like Mrs. McAdams and some of my other teachers did for me), wouldn't it be worth it?  Being a stabilizing, predictable, kind force in someone's day for 9 months of a year wouldn't be half bad.  I'm sure I could take all the crap along with the good because I have become an expert at taking crap and tolerating all manner of things thus far in adulthood as I live for the little golden moments here and there, the tender mercies God graciously sprinkles upon us here and there just when we need them, especially when we are paying attention.  And who's to say that despite what seems to me the most twisty-turny, stubbornly-fought mental journey that leaves me wondering what have I done with myself and how did I end up here, that this isn't exactly the journey God intended for me and that I'm about to embark on a path that will take me to the exact people he needs me to help?  With God all things are possible!  I'm a firm believer of that.

I will always be first and foremost Lucas's help meet (or sassy counterpart depending on the day) and mom to 5 children who lived in my heart long before I grew them in my belly or fed their bellies in my kitchen, but maybe I can add a little more to that on this earthly journey.  I just hope it's not selfish and it is most definitely the best thing I can do for my family and myself.  I think so, and I guess I'm willing to fail if I am wrong and start over.  After all, I certainly have a safe happy place to fall if I think, once again, what was I thinking?

Mothers' Day

Talk about getting put on the back burner.  Poor blog...poor writing in general.  A little part of me weeps for you, but I've been trying to figure all sorts of things out and appear to have abandoned you.

I'm back though, and I haven't abandoned my children, so Mothers' Day is a good reason to do a little writing.  Growing up this holiday was so simple.  Yay, a day to celebrate my mom...who was most definitely under-celebrated for most of the year.  I don't remember much about Mothers' Day in Wyoming, except that I loved to pick dandelions off the church lawn to present to my mom.  I don't even know if there WERE dandelions around our house, but since the church had a lawn, it sure as heck had dandelions and I would pick her bunches as my family chatted away at THE social event of the week before heading back to our (relatively) middle-of-nowhere ranch.

After moving to Blackfoot, we started a tradition of Dad driving into town on Saturday night and buying her a cake, a corsage to wear to church and maybe something special to go with Sunday dinner.  I always got deliriously excited about this tradition he started because a) it showed her loved her and b) I thought she'd be so surprised the next morning.  In retrospect, she was probably sharp enough to figure out exactly what would happen as it was a tradition.  I love younger Marianne, what a goof.

Once in a relationship, I looked forward to being a mom someday.  Dear Lucas even got me a Mothers' Day present 2 months before we were married as the future mother of his children.  A few people thought it was weird, but I thought it was a most romantic gesture and wore the dress proudly for our wedding day luncheon.  And when Lily was born I'm sure my first Mothers' Day was extra meaningful, but somewhere along the way my feelings got all jumbled up, my expectations got a bit ridiculous and now it's sometimes great when I go into it with zero expectations and sometimes (like yesterday) a mixed bag of emotions with lots of crying and regret, all while my sweet children pour love and attention upon me.  They have yet to pull off a Mothers' Day without fighting and teasing each other or getting extra hyper from the excitement, but they are not angels, just beautiful children (still, that would be the ultimate Mothers' Day).

Now Mothers' Day is a time I reflect on all the motherly traits I lack, on my weaknesses as a mother, on if I will ever be enough.  I mean, honestly, I do this with all of my life.  I hate this part of me (it can be a bit exhausting to Lucas too), but on Mother's Day it's just really bad.  Because, because - as I've probably stated a million times, being a mom is all I ever wanted out of life.  I've even felt ashamed of that before, but not so much anymore.  So what?  I never wanted to be an executive or famous or the greatest scientist of all time.  I wanted a beautiful little flock of children surrounding me, and I've got them.  And they came into my life so seamlessly.  I literally feel like I was born in every way to be a mother.  Mothers' Day should be great.  But somehow I've filled it with shame, regret, guilt.  Why did it all come so easily to me and not to other women?  I struggle at feeling I never give my kids enough attention.  Why didn't things work out how I imagined them as a wife and mom?  My kids will never have great things to say about me when they grow up like all the graduating seniors say about their moms.  Ugh.  I mean like lately Lily has been describing all these other moms as organized and perky.  She makes it very clear I am not perky.  And I can testify I will never be perky.  Silly, comedic, nature girl, caring, chef, worrier, walker, cheerer, hugger?  Yes!  Perky.  No.  I'm much more Eeyore than perky, and to hear my children noting my flaws (and they note many) hurts.  I mean, don't get me wrong, they tell me things they like about me too, but, naturally, the 'what I'm nots' are what stick in my brain.  And to top it all off, stupid, stinking, wretched comparison.  And I know it, I know it is the worst thing ever, but I compare what I do as a homemaker, housekeeper and mom to what I see other's do and boy am I lacking.  I know I shouldn't, but I do.  See, naughty, naughty girl. 

So that is why Mothers' Day is not my favorite.

It has gotten better.  Last year, I didn't expect anything and just jumped in with housework and feeling like it was a 'normal' day and it felt really nice.  This year, it took my awhile to get in the right mindset because, boy, had Lily (with some definite Matt contributions) put a lot of thought into feeding me (presumably until I would burst) a lovely breakfast and lunch.  My goodness, she had a shopping list, and a planning session with Matt.  She and her dad shopped the night before and she set up flowers on my nightstand and my table.  Makes me cry now and realize I need to thank her even more after school.  Because for being the kid who seems to like me the least, she put so much into yesterday that maybe she does like me a lot. 

So maybe this post is a little venting, a little therapeutic, and a reminder of what I need to not do to myself in the future. 

Of all my dreams (99% of which have not come true which is probably, like, I don't know, life), my deepest heart's desire(s) did come true, and no matter who else is or is not a traditional mom, no matter how great or horrible or lucky other mothers are or are not, this is my house, our sanctuary from the world, and God has given me a mighty wonderful husband and 5 children who are as wacky in their own wild ways as I am in mine.  As a family, we do everything imperfectly.  We fail and pick ourselves back up and fail again, but there is love, and there is always ALWAYS that willingness to try again and love again and forgive again, and that is enough.

I'm sure God smiles upon us when a child who shall not be named proudly announces that he actually did wipe his bum once today (beaming as if I should be immensely proud as well when truly I would prefer him to wipe EVERY SINGLE TIME).  I'm sure God says keep going Marianne when he looks down in the morning to see me reading the Book of Mormon aloud as husband and children lie in various states of awake and sleep around me on my bed.  I'm sure he laughs when he hears Ben the Hen bedtimes stories I tell just for Ben's sake.  It's one of the few bonding opportunities that child allows me.  The tales are absurd, like much of what Ben does.  I'm sure Ben makes God laugh a lot.  And I'm sure that God himself feels immensely proud when he hears each person in our house, especially Lucas and I (the examples of all things), say I'm sorry, make up, forgive, say it's okay and I love you.  Because all of these things are what make home a real, raw, and safe place, a place that you want to come back to after a hard day or a hard life.  I want my home to always be, if nothing else, a safe place full of love, as little judgment as possible, and occasionally peace for anyone who is here.  Because sometimes home and mother feel like and can mean the same thing, and that's the kind of mom I want to be to anyone who needs it but especially my beautiful, quirky, sigh-inspiring chickadees.