Love My Babies

I've been following the tender story of the Pack family.  They were involved in a tragic auto accident that snuffed out the life of their sweet 18-month-old little boy.  Mom and Dad are still in the hospital, trying to grieve and recover from their own serious injuries.  My heart breaks for them.

I wish I had a magic wand sometimes.  I can't change what has happened - in my life or anyone else's.  But tonight, I will give my babies an extra hug, or two, or three.  I will sneak into their room when they are sleeping and stroke their still-fine baby hair heads.  I will say an extra prayer over their crib, asking the Lord to please watch over them, and help me be the very bestest Mommy I possibly can for them.  I am so thankful for my babies - and for each of my children.  Thank you, God.  I have been so richly blessed to have my quiver full.

Come Depressed, Leave Refreshed

I did some travelling recently.  I was reluctant to leave home, but I'm glad I went.  Sunday morning found us in Salt Lake City, where we stopped in at Temple Square and watched the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's weekly broadcast of Music and Spoken Word.  It was amazing.

I love the organ.  I love its deep, throaty rumbles that can vibrate you out of your seat.  I love the slight disharmony of using a 5/8 pipe.  I love the high delicate flute.  I love, love, love the horns.  I went to college on an organ scholarship.  That's not such a big deal - what high school kid learns how to play the organ?  I'm sure all three of us across the country got organ scholarships.  I loved playing and performing (and even the practicing most days).  So it was a thrill to see and hear such a grand organ, and the choir was wonderful, too.  It filled my bucket.

The theme of the program was "Come depressed, leave refreshed."  Yes, and yes.  So glad I could go.  Still battling the blues, but any drops in my nearly-empty bucket are appreciated and oh, so refreshing.  If you ever get the chance, go.  

Refreshed, me.

Stomach Flu

I know I said I was going to write about the happy things that come my way.  Stomach flu wouldn't seem to fit this category, hmmm?

source

A few days ago, one of the twins came down with a minor case of diarrhea.  I've seen it misspelled "dire rear," and I think that fits nicely, doesn't it?  Of course, it didn't take long for the other twin to get it as well.  Not a big deal, just a few extra diaper changes.  Then one of the older boys started throwing up.  Then another.  And now the girl is at it, too.  It doesn't look like it's anything worse than a 24-hour bug, but it's never fun to be feeling terrible.

I've put little Angel to bed five times now, and have had to do a complete change of bed linens and pajamas four times.  She cries, and says her tummy hurts, then that her nose hurts (yes, the vomit goes up her nose), and her mouth hurts (tastes nasty!).  As I smooth on clean sheets, I feel grateful that we have a washer and a dryer.  In our house.  And they work.  I help her pull on clean pajamas and I am glad that we have enough clothing.  A sweet aunt brought over a bag of hand-me-downs just today with more pajamas.  What great timing!  I put her head on the pillow and smooth her hair, damp with tears, and I am glad we have her.

My Mama heart is filled with love by doing these acts of needed service.  I've enjoyed settling the big boys on the couch as they stay home from school, and getting to visit with them during the day.  Somehow it seems different than helping them when they whine and mope.  Today, I feel a bit of the Divine in my motherhood.  As I soothe each child, I say a little prayer of thanks to Heaven for letting me have these sweet children, even if only for a little while.

Never on Sunday

We watched the Rose Parade (Live from sunny Pasadena!) a few weeks ago in our pajamas.  It was fun to see the elaborate floats, and fun to hear some of the all-natural materials they are made of.  Crushed rice and hayseed, folks!  I think the floats are better for me than my breakfast cereal is.  I love the marching bands.  There is just something about seeing the all-in-step marching and hearing the foot-tapping music that gets my head nodding and my fingers waving.  The babies were dancing, bobbing their heads from side to side and trying feebly to jump.  So cute.

I did a bit of research on the parade and found out that they have a "Never on Sunday" policy.  When the first of January falls on a Sunday (as it did this year), the parade is postponed until Monday.  It had something to do with not spooking the horses tied at the churches' hitching posts during Sunday services in the late 1800s.  Some might think it is antiquated, but I like it.  It makes me feel good about standing up for what you believe in.

Way to go, Rose Parade!  (And thanks for the 76 Trombones!)

Snoring

I was tucking little Miss Angel in to bed the other night.  It's getting to be quite a routine she demands!  She was hyper from the late hour, and was resisting my efforts to calm and quiet her.  In a smooth voice, I started telling her what the other kids were doing.  "Alec is sleeping in his bed, and David is getting his pajamas on, and Chris is already in his bed, just like you are in your bed."  I went on, "And Grandma is in her  bed, and Grandpa is in his bed, sleeping and snoring."  I paused.  "Do you know what snoring is?"

"No," she answered.  She was talking now, not whining.  A good sign.

"Snoring is when you sound like this while you are sleeping," I explained, and did a short impression of a cartoon snore.

Angel though about this for a moment, and then said, "I don't haf any snores."  She loudly sniffed through her nose to show me that there were, indeed, none there.  "Nope," she proclaimed in her best authoritative three-year-old voice, "no snores.  Because I am not noisy.  Prob'ly Gramma wakes up and says, 'Grandpa!  Be quiet!'  But I am not noisy when I'm sleep."

And she settled down, her dear head nestled into her soft pink pillow, ready to spend the night - quietly.

This Year's Resolution

And while I'm thinking about things I ought to be doing this year, I ought to address the dreaded New Year's Resolution.  Once the Christmas tree is down, and the floor vacuumed of fake pine tree needles (which sure don't smell as nice), we think of the whole next year.  Funny how normally we can take a day or two, or a week at a time.  But in January, we somehow think that we can take on an entire year - and plan it!  No wonder we have so many failing marks on our resolutions report card.

In the past, I've done all kinds of things - I suppose we all have.  I've made lists of resolutions.  I've made 5 goals, one for each finger.  I've made graduated goals to add on to each month.  I've made a goal to not have any goals.  Heck, I've even made lists of resolutions for everyone around me to keep!  And they all work about the same: good for a while, and then... not so good.  I suppose making goals and striving to accomplish things can only make us better people in the long run, though.

Do read this wonderful article about finding real joy.  It is so lovely!

This year, I'll concentrate on the single word: JOY.  Christmas is such a reverent, magical time for me, and I suppose it is the joy that wiggles down deep into our hearts that makes us feel so... wonderfully Christmasy.  I was thinking of focusing on "happy", but all too often I just don't feel happy.  Maybe I could do "happier", but I want more than that.  I want the peaceful heart, give my troubles to the Lord, "I can maintain a smoother life even when everything around me is falling apart" kind of happy.  I think that is joy.

The kids picked the word "Feast" to focus on this year.  I think, while grinning a little bit, that it is inspired by our always-hungry teen-aged boys.  I can never seem to feed them quite enough.  But I think there are some fun overtones to the term, helping us remember to make the most of all the good things we have.

I'll give updates as to how our focus words go this year.  Now, I ought to go see how I can put them up so we don't forget.

This Year, I'm Gonna...

I should write more.  I think we can all say that "I should (insert ANYTHING!) more."  And afterwards, we sigh and think poorly of ourselves.  So I'm actually gonna do something about it.

I have so many happy things and blessings happening all the time.  I really do.  I forget about the good things when I get down and discouraged, and think that just because I'm feeling black, the rest of my life is the same way.

SO... this year, I am going to write EVERY DAY (edited to add: every day that I remember!) about the little happinesses that come my way.  A blessing, funny words from my little angels, tender mercies, something beautiful... these things are all around me.  Join me as I start on this new year, recording the wonderful moments that come by - and may have otherwise passed, unnoticed.  But not this year!

My eyes are peeled and my heart is open.