sweet disorder

dreams: january recap

just checking in on my new year's resolutions:

volunteer once a month in each classroom:  i didn't volunteer in either classroom--but i did attend parent teacher conference:), i emailed my schedule so i can start to volunteer next month, and bronwyn's teacher started reading our copy of Where the Mountain Meets the Moon aloud to the class after chatting together.  i'm counting skyler's speech meetings at the district and school for this goal this month.

daily devotional:  pretty good.  i feel like i had contact with some talk, book, or scripture every day.  and i think the 29 gifts can count for a gratitude journal. 

exercise in nature three times a week:  i started going to water aerobics.  once a week.  getting there.

weekly meal plan:  pretty much a total fail.  but i don't think we really ate out as a family even once this month.  which is huge from our fast-food past.

keep windows clean:  total and complete fail.  i don't even own windowcleaner right now. 

A failure is not always a mistake, it may simply be the best one can do under the circumstances. The real mistake is to stop trying.

— ― B.F. Skinner--so take that dirty windows!  i'm trying again next month. 

starts 29 gifts 29 days:  pretty much been my focus this month.  which is the way i learn best.  boot camp, all-consuming, slightly addictive style.

one-on-one kid dates:  davis got the first rotation. 

four awesome read-alouds:  we are in the middle of The Hundred Dresses and the kids have really connected with it.

brunch:  had a fun brunch with a friend who i love but haven't seen in years--as in nine or so (thanks sage!!!).

magical date:  dinner at los and a movie.  that's always a magical combination for us:).

29 gifts 29 days: day 21

gifts given:  bronwyn was home sick.  i had a project that was calling my name in the basement.  a fun project that i was dying to finish.  but i watched two episodes of cake boss with bronwyn snuggled in bed.  although, she would have been fine watching it by herself while i went down to work on my project.   later, when a certain child had a meltdown.  i stopped everything, after not losing it, and took the extra time after he was calm to read 45 pages of garfield comics.   i'll admit, it was very hard not to finish my stuff today.  i kind of woke up with a "plan"--and i think it could have been okay if i just trudged through--which is why i am counting these things as gifts.   i kept thinking of that hour glass and the phrase, "slow is fast with people"  and made a deliberate choice to connect--in one instance to nurture, in another to calm.   taking the directive to connect and say, "learning how to bake lavish cakes is important to you and i'll sit down because it's important to you" (even when i am dying, dying to to sneak away and do something else).  and it was fun, and  now i feel like i better start planning my birthday cake now.  and when i hit the bookmobile i checked out three more garfield comics.  (by the way, in third grade i told a boy i had a crush on that my dad was jim davis, the creator of garfield.  when he asked for proof i traced a garfield comic and brought it to school.  later, in sixth grade he asked me to dance.  so, name dropping and lying totally worked for me).

gifts received:  a nice night out with the girls at the chocolate.  have you been there?  i kind of love everything about it (and that's saying a lot considering i ordered herbal tea tonight).  the smells, the paint, the decor, the big mugs, the pink upholstered chairs,  the cozy rooms.  heck, just looking at the different desserts is a treat.  and the music is basically my personalized pandora--so its a great place to hang out for a couple of hours. 

29 gifts 29 days: day 20

last week i gave my children some books.  books my own mom had saved from my childhood.  she gave me four boxes to go through.  rather than put them all on a shelf, i wanted to give them a few selected titles at a time.  on thursday, before dinner they waited with their hands over their eyes jumping around on my bed waiting for me to bring their "gifts." 

i had hoped to give these gifts and then be on my way.  i had dinner to finish.  a table to set.  and i had a class to get to that night.  i was busy.  and i hoped these books would keep the kids busy too--so i could be busy without them.

they begged for me to read them.

it was a decision point. 

and i decided to pull back my fluffy white covers and they all gleefully snuggled in with me.  and we read some of my favorite books.  and a few i didn't remember, but thought that they would love.

tim came home.  and we were still snuggling and the table wasn't set.  but, we had just finished princess furball.  and davis asked if i would make that special soup the princess was so famous for.  for dinner please, tonight. 

and that was the gift.  not the books (as i had thought and already "checked off" my gift giving for the day)-but the time reading of the books.  together.

 

after listening to mindy gledhills "hourglass" i fell in love with the song and knew i needed an hourglass.  this hourglass, filled with turqouise sand, is the third i have purchased.  the first--filled with pink sand never made it home from the store.   i went back to buy another, but they were all sold out.  the second--filled with white sand didn't last more than a day.  i had told the kids there weren't many things i would be sad if they broke--but this new special thing i would be--because  it was a reminder to treat each moment with them as special.  so be very careful.  davis crept out of bed that night to turn the sand over again.  and it shattered on the floor.  then i think he crept back up to bed--somewhat terrified--because i found glass shards mixed with snowy sand the next morning.

i had turned the hourglass while i was taking the picture.  i wanted some sand on top and some on bottom.  the sand drained. i still hadn't felt i had taken "the one."  so i snapped one more.  and this was the one.  the sand's shadow seen on the top, just as time  had slipped through. 

"[Motherhood] is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in.  It is what God gave you time for.  Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling."  Rachel Jankovic, as quoted in Elder Neil L. Anderon's talk, "Children."

As I've been "checking the condition of my heart" with my children,  i have noticed how many times i am busy, or distracted--and how many times i have to stop myself from saying "just a minute" or to really look right then at that very special thing they want to show me. 

"Live the gospel in the things that no one sees. Sacrifice for your children in places that only they will know about. Put their value ahead of yours. Grow them up in the clean air of gospel living. Your testimony to the gospel in the little details of your life is more valuable to them than you can imagine. If you tell them the gospel, but live to yourself, they will never believe it. Give your life for theirs every day, joyfully. Lay down pettiness. Lay down fussiness. Lay down resentment about the dishes, about the laundry, about how no one knows how hard you work."--Rachel Jankovic

that is the prayer for my children.  that i will treat my time with them as precious.  and as they turn the glass they will know i care more for them than the broken pieces of glass.   and i wonder, in turn, if that is their prayer.  to be treated gently, to be seen, to be heard. 

i've been mulling over a quote from my parenting class for a couple of weeks:  "With people slow is fast."  Stephen Covey

today--this picture is my gift for myself and for you..  a little reminder, that sometimes we need to "stop" time.  

29 gifts 29 days: days 16-21

gifts given: 1) a lot of sweet loving care in the form of herbal tinctures, essential oils, herbal teas, good food, snuggles, and loves for sick kids.   2) books to kids (from a few boxes my mom gave me of my childhood books).  3) homemade hand salves to my neighborhood book group.  4)  date with davis--as part of our date he helped me pick out things for a super secret special gift i'm working on.  5) potted flower to my visiting teachee. 

 

gifts received: 1)  my dad brought a box of apples and visited.  2)  our kind neighbors snowplowed our driveway--again.  3)  tim cleaned the kitchen every single night (i had something every single night this week).     4) dinner and babysitting at the andreolis and then dinner again on sunday.  5) tim's testimony during a 5th sunday meeting.  5)  sweet email from a friend--telling me all the gifts i had given her.  6)  a great parent teacher conference. 7) good talk with a friend on the phone--in the walmart parking lot.   8) the most awesome parenting class ever--this week's topic "uncondtional love"--tim's been singing this song all week.   he sings it most often when someone in the household is having um, "issues."  9)  two years since we've been to the doctor.  this week i was again grateful for all the wisdom from mentors--who were so patient while i emailed them tons of questions.  i was able to successfully navigate this week relying by myself, because of all the previous "gifts" i was given.

lessons learned:  1)  i've been a lot more friendly to strangers.  i try to compliment every clerk, librarian, etc.  i feel like i am trying hard to slow down a bit and see people as people.  to give the gift of simply not being annoyed or hurried.  i've also tried to start up conversations when i sit by people.  i went to relief society a few weeks ago (none of our nursery kids showed up that day).  i was really nervous because i didn't know who to sit by.  i haven't been to rs really since we've moved here and i still don't know tons of people.  i asked to sit by some ladies--and i am sure they were just in the middle of a conversation--but they all turned their backs and continued to talk.  i was there feeling so, so alone.  and frankly super anxious and deciding if i should leave before i had a panic attack.  then i notcied another woman, looking at her phone.  i thought, "i wish i had a phone to look at--then i wouldn't look so stupid sitting here with no one talking to me."  so i got up and went and sat by that woman.  and we talked.  and i moved my things.  maybe she didn't want or need someone to sit by her--but i know i did.  so i've made a little resolve to look for people by themselves.  2)  i continue to take most of the gifts i am given for granted.  most of them are from family members.  the most being from tim.  i often forget to "count" his gifts.  3)  when i was assembling two "arrow of light" awards for tim's pack meeting i thought about the amount of work church leaders, church teachers, and teachers do.  when was the last time i sent a thank you note to a bishop, rs leader, or primary teacher?  4)  i continue to remind myself to give gifts without any attachment to the outcome (this applies to my children--for some reason i am most attached to the outcome.  as in, can't you see i just gave you all these wonderful gifts--now doesn't that reward me some awesome behavior for the next week?).  5)  i've noticed a lot of gifts were given ages ago--and come in to play later.  6)  the biggest lesson this week?  realizing the world is a good, kind place.  that people are caring, giving, and inspiring.   

29 gifts 29 days: day 15

"And for this year, my wish for each of us is small and very simple.

And it's this.

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.

So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.

Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it.

Make your mistakes, next year and forever."--Neil Gaiman

(listen to those generous thoughts)

yesterday i didn't give a gift.

i had plans to.

but i suppressed a few generous thoughts.

early in the mornig a flower i had planted to give away bloomed.  i had a thought to give it to someone i had never met.

and i chickened out.

wondering if i would be really weird to do that.

and i really, really loved the flower and i didn't want to chance that it would fall into unappreciative hands (yes, i already forgot my gift-giving lesson about "no strings attached").

and then i thought to give my chair up to someone.  a friend of a friend that i recognized who was expecting.  and i kept checking over my shoulder.  trying to build up my courage to get up and introduce myself and ask if she wanted to take my seat--since there were no more chairs. 

but i chickened out.

what if i got up and offered her the seat and she thought i was weird?  and what if she didn't want to go sit down and wanted to stay standing by her friend?  and then i would be standing there and then i guess i would have just gone back and sat down.  with people watching me in the middle of a talk.

and then i had a plan to gift something.

and someone else beat me to it. 

and so at 11:31 last night i wondered what i could give.

and maybe i didn't give anything for my project yesterday

but i almost started crying when i walked in the door and saw that tim had cleaned the kitchen.  and i opened the fridge.  and each shelf was clean and organized.  and i know i had spilled some elderberry syrup, ormus green powder...well, a while ago on the shelves.  and i know it was crusty and gross and i am sure there were moldy lemons.  because i despise cleaning the fridge out. 

and i was so happy that tim had not supressed a kind thought. 

 

 "For many who have need of our help, it is not necessary to create new programs or take actions which are complicated or costly. They only need our determination to serve—to do the right thing at the right time, without delay."  Jose L. Alonso

 

"My daughter-in-law’s mother, Susan, was a wonderful seamstress. President Kimball lived in their ward. One Sunday, Susan noticed that he had a new suit. Her father had recently returned from a trip to New York and had brought her some exquisite silk fabric. Susan thought that fabric would make a handsome tie to go with President Kimball’s new suit. So on Monday she made the tie. She wrapped it in tissue paper and walked up the block to President Kimball’s home.

On her way to the front door, she suddenly stopped and thought, 'Who am I to make a tie for the prophet? He probably has plenty of them.' Deciding she had made a mistake, she turned to leave.

Just then Sister Kimball opened the front door and said, 'Oh, Susan!'

Stumbling all over herself, Susan said, 'I saw President Kimball in his new suit on Sunday. Dad just brought me some silk from New York . . . and so I made him a tie.'

Before Susan could continue, Sister Kimball stopped her, took hold of her shoulders, and said: 'Susan, never suppress a generous thought.'

Susan didn’t have an assignment to make that tie. She wasn’t hired to do so. Despite feeling a bit hesitant, she did it because it felt right. Susan had a quiet sense of mission to serve others. I was also the beneficiary of such service. Her service went beyond any calling because it lasted throughout her life. Never suppressing a generous thought became a part of her personal ministry.

Some years ago, at the conclusion of a Utah Board of Higher Education meeting, Elder Neal Maxwell submitted his resignation. He said he needed to do so to make time for his personal ministry. Most of the board members assumed he was referring to his apostleship. However, he explained that his personal ministry was different than his apostleship. His personal ministry was to comfort fellow cancer patients.

We often speak about the Savior’s ministry. But have you ever wondered if you have a personal ministry? I have.

What is personal ministry? Each of us has a personal ministry. I believe we received our personal ministry in the premortal world. It was divinely given and lasts a lifetime.

Asking to be an answer to someone’s prayer has a powerful impact. There are sacred, quiet experiences for those who participate with the Lord in answering prayers. As we go about listening, watching, and feeling for the answer to those prayers—even in the midst of our busy schedules—I testify that our earthly ministry unfolds by revelation and divine empowerment. Our testimonies, faith, and feelings of connectedness to the Lord expand in amazing, unexpected ways."  Bonnie D. Parkin, "Personal Ministry:  Sacred and Personal"  (I wanted to include the entire devotional--it is really amazing).

29 gifts 29 days: day 15

Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book. And then there are book which you can’t tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.

— ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

angelfallby susan ee.

i read through the cybil's finalist list and started checking out the books--reserving them at the library and checking them out on amazon.   when i saw angelfall was available only in kindle editon--FOR 99 CENTS--i bought it and started reading.

um. wow. yowsers. i read this book from beginning to end--there was absolutely no stopping place. not one.  i was starving and i had to pee--for hours, but i couldn't stop reading.  finally, at 8:30 i  snuck (my spell check is telling me that is not a word) down to the kitchen to grab something to eat so i wouldn't faint.   and i was terrified. i was alone in my house. it was dark. and raining.  of course it was.  i was barefoot and my worried thought was i might be killed before i could finish angelfall, which would be a true tragedy. 

tim always jokes that in the apocalypse he hopes we would be killed in the first wave--you know the earthquake or heaving of seas or something. after reading angelfall i agree. i think i'll pass on the idea that i could or want to survive the aftermath.

i cannot remember the last time i was so completely and totally gripped by a book. there are few books that leave me thrilled to simply be alive because i was lucky enough to have the experience of reading them (okay, and be alive at all). complete awesomeness.  it was like a movie in my mind (imagine a jack black voice saying that).  i was not surprised when i looked up the author that she is also a filmaker.   

AND i actually screamed in excitement that Daughter of the Forest was listed as one of susan ee's  favorite books.  uh, i knew there was an underlying awesome influence to penryn and raffe. 

after i finished i danced around and it felt that my emotions simply could not be contained in one frail human body.  i had giggled, hugged by knees to my chest, tip-toed in the dark to lock the doors, felt that i had been punched in the gut (even though i have never been), and mostly just kept gliding my finger across the ipad to move to the next page.  and i kept checking the page number to see how much was left--because it was that equal parts i NEVER want this book to end and i MUST get to the end because i am on a roller coaster i cannot stop. 

i was giddy to pass this book on to tim--and that um, mostly never happens.  i came in after he had a chance to read 10 pages at 11:00 that night.  eagerly i asked, "what do you think?"  he said he had just started it.  he was unconvinced that angels could be scary.  and he was unsure of how to picture the main character.

ahem.  i might have had a moment.  where i told him he was no longer allowed to read my sacred angelfall if he couldn't already see the glory streaming from the ipad.  i might have jumped across the bed trying to wrestle the ipad from him and not wake up the sleeping four year old snuggled by him as i declared, "angels are scary!"  "she's beautiful--that's all you need to know!"  sometimes i geek out like that.  he knows to let it pass and usually suggests i   a) eat    b) sleep.  we chose to sleep--back to back. 

so, you are only allowed to read this book if you will love it--otherwise i revoke all spooning privleges. 

i am filled with a weird evangical zeal as well as a secrecy about sharing this book. 

this book is not for most (if any) of my dear gang of readers--but i wish it was because i am dying to have everyone read it and come over to discuss it wearing angel wings and eating ramen noodles.   this book is pretty intense and at times pretty horrific. 

IN HONOR OF AWESOME BOOKS--MY GIFT TODAY IS TO GIVE AWAY 10 KINDLE BOOKS. 

so email me or leave a comment  and tell me if you would like. . .

1) ANGELFALL (you've been warned)

or

2) UNEARTHLY

unearthly by cynthia hand--the other book i read and enjoyed this weekend.

this is a perfect weekend escape.  fleshed out characters--with real relationships.  jackson hole wyoming.  angels.  cowboy.  fly-fishing.  snow.  kissing.  clean read.   i can't wait to pick up the sequel that was released last week. 

29 gifts 29 days: day 7-14

gifts given:  1) bought two boxes of girl scout cookies.  2)  3)  a sister of a friend of a friend emailed me and wanted to purchase some prints of my "mothers who know do less" (the glass ball) picture.  i sent her the full-size image. 4) skyler is the greatest gift giver.  he was giving away some of his christmas toys the day after christmas.  i have to bite my tongue when he gives stuff away.  he gives a lot of stuff to davis.  today he was really sad because he wanted a bey blade too--but he had given his to davis months ago.  i went to walmart and picked him up a new one.    5) i picked up the kids from school.  they usually ride the bus, but love when i pick them up.  6) i had a decision to make.  tim was playing volleyball.  i could "take the day" off or really clean the house and give my family a gift.  my goal was to vacuum and mop--which means the entire house has to be clean.  and i made it.  and it felt awesome for those five minutes:).  7) a secret gift:).

gifts received:  1)  my necklaces.  2)  three shirts from tim.  he gave me one for christmas--and i liked it so much he went back and picked up a shirt in every single color.  3)  water aerobics.  our ward has a water aerobics at a homeowner's gorgeous pool in the morning--the mountain view is amazing.  my visiting teacher is the instructor.   4)  going to a class.  5)  i think this is a gift:)--skyler got into "talking time"  a preschool program for speech.  with davis we were on the waiting list for a year or so.  6) tim took the kids and after i finished cleaning i read an AWESOME book.  7)  9:00 church.  which means i have the gift of a long, lazy sunday afternoon and read another great book. 

 

lessons learned: 

i don't think i fully realized how many gifts people give---some i would not have recognized before.  i think i have come to expect certain things in life and from people.  for example my vt who teaches water aerobics--what a gift she gives every week--but i think i wouldn't have viewed that as a gift of her time before.

i do a lot of things on "auto pilot."  when the girl scout came to my door i was actually going to turn her away.  until i thought, this girl is out here door to door selling cookies that tim loves.  why would i not give $7 for a couple of boxes?

i gave $ again to the library, but decided that the gifts needed to be different for each day to "count."  but it was still fun to open my heart up a little and put money in the box.

sometimes i give with a lot of expectations.  i felt like i really tried to get davis some awesome gifts for his birthday.  he might have been complaining a little the next day because i hadn't returned his faulty gift for a new one.  in that moment i was frustrated that he couldn't see how much work i had went to.  i think that once it leaves my hand that needs to be the end.  whatever people do with it after has to be detached from my giving. 

and a funny thing.  several times when i passed by a mirror i actually stopped.  um, is it strange to be surprised at your own beauty?  i kept passing by and thinking, "wow, i look really beautiful."  i think perhaps that all this focusing on gift giving lightened my countenance or something.  or maybe it was just those three new shirts--that i wore in a row.  and then started rotating through again. 

living the "brutiful"

image via momastery

 

i jumped into the archives of the momastery blog and haven't really come up for air--well i came up for a few chocolate chips cookies that made me feel sick.  so i made herbal tea instead.   i cried and laughed and nodded and hugged my heart and looked around and wondered that someone else could feel like that--and have the gift to write it down. 

"Friend, I am sober this morning. Thank God Almighty, I’m sober this morning. I’m here, friend. Yesterday my son turned eight. Which means that I haven’t had a drink for eight years and eight months. Lots of beautiful and horrible things have happened to me during the past eight years and eight months. And I have more or less handled my business day in and day out without booze."--Glennon, "Recovery."

i'm recovering.

alcoholic?

no.

perfectionist, among other things.  recovering from sadness.  from pain.  from lost expectations. 

if your life isn't everything you expected it to be i think it is brave and courageous to admit it.  and then follow with the work.  to face it.  without addiction.  without numbing it with stacks of books.  or shopping trips to target.  or eating funfetti cake batter in the pantry. or sitting down to hours of blog surfing to avoid life.  or being a whirlwind of apparent awesomeness and waiting for the praise it brings.  or being too busy.   or ignoring it and stuffing it down, hoping no one will see.  convincing yourself that everything is a-okay, when it's not and your gut says its not. 

to walk away from a life-time of unhealthy ways of dealing with life. 

that, my friends, is scary.

your mind may scream--"don't be naked.  don't do it!!!  we've kept up this gig for a long time.  we can do it a little longer."  and your body may become shaky and you may forget how to breathe sometimes.  and you think that everyone knows somehow.  before you felt covered up, but now your padding it gone and you're not sure if you even like what you see and you're too raw and scared of all these feelings that if someone else doesn't like it--you might not be able to handle it.  but you show up again and again--without the booze.  every day.  and it may look like you are handling things worse than before--and maybe that's true.  but you're sober.  and that's the one thing you owe yourself. 

and i think that is brave. 

and i think anyone else who does the same is brave.

i remember the most stirring testimony ever borne in testimony was a new-ish member who talked about his previous struggles with alcohol and how much the gospel had meant to him.  i was amazed that he would share it.  it was real and humble and simple and powerful.  because that it what the gospel is about.  we are all recovering or falling short or hurting.  but we are also all trying.  some of us with more courage than others.  and i look up to those people.  and when i want to hide i think of them. 

and i think those that are trying to face the beauty and pain of life--without numbing--are very brave.  because it can hurt.  so much you hide under your not-even-close-to-being-color-coordinated shirts in the closet--but you know you can't stay there long because you have somewhere to be, on time.   or so much that you think your heart might bust out of your chest when your daughter sings her solo at church and you feel that you might reign it in because you wouldn't want to look proud or you might be embarassed if the members found your flopping heart there in the middle aisle.  and sometimes those two things happen in the very same day.   and sometimes you face it with courage and sometimes you don't.  but you did it--again, without the booze.

glennon from "momastery" uses the world "brutiful" to describe life--brutal and beautiful all wrapped up into one. 

and me, i'm grateful to be living it. 

seeing its gifts, every single day. 

happy 7th davis

photo by colette davis

 

this image squeezes my heart and my breath catches in my throat.  this, just looking at this, is a "kairos" moment. 

the last gift i received last night--a link to this fantastic post about motherhood.  just what i needed to end my day. 

Don't Carpe Diem by Glennon Melton

Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:

An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."

Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.

I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.

I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.

Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast."

At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."

That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.

There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"

I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.

Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?

That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.

Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!"

My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.

But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:

"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out."

Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Here's what does work for me:

There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.

Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and my God -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.

Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.

Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.

These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.

If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.

heard in the home

a conversation with bronwyn.

me: "i woke up at 6:00 today."

bronwyn:  "i woke up at 4:00."

me: "really?  what were you doing?"

bronwyn: "dreaming."