for a special family

growing up, my brothers and i had an awful lot of horrible babysitters. babysitters that would smoke in the bathroom and tell us that if we told our parents, we'd be in huge trouble. babysitters that would lock us out of the house. babysitters who would watch t.v. and that's about it.

there was a family in our ward. their dad was the bishop of our church and they were THE family to look up to, at least we did.

i can't remember how many kids there were altogether, 9? i was friends with the younger ones, and the older sisters had babysat me and my brothers at one time or another. they were actually our favorites. i know we were a handful, but they never mistreated us like the others. they were kind and patient, even if we were annoying brats.

i just received some terrible news about one of my former babysitters. she lost her daughter yesterday. it's been years and years since i've seen her and i've never met her daughter. but when i read the notes of condolences, my heart broke. although we aren't close, i have fond memories of my former babysitter, and their family has always held a special place in my heart. it hurts me to know that they are suffering.

when my parents left the church almost 20 years ago, we went through a very trying time.

then my brother died three years later.

i still remember the slew of people at our house.

my dad had distanced himself from the members of our church, but even then, there was our former bishop holding my dad as he wept for the loss of his son.

i think my dad was afraid he had cut ties to the extent of losing dear friends, and still, there was Bishop Y. there he was, his arms wide open and mourning with his friend. i will never forget that selfless and loving act of kindness.

i have always looked up to this family. they are spiritual giants, and i don't know how we would have made it through past struggles without their friendship and great example.

i know words are useless at a time like this, but i do know that you will see her again. i know she will be watching over you, embracing you from the other side. you come from an exceptional family of spiritual giants, and you will have the strength to get through this, even if you feel like you don't.

my son once asked, "mom, is heaven real? is Heavenly Father really there? and is it really as beautiful as everyone says it is?"
 i answered, yes.
he said, "well, i can't wait to go to heaven. i can't wait to see Jesus and Heavenly Father again."

escapee and other horrors

i was hoping that i'd get to relax in my pj's this morning. mosiah had been up teething and up again at 5:30am. he wanted to be fed and i'm currently trying to ween him off those early morning feedings.

anyway, my morning didn't go as planned.

sam texted me some trampoline info. there was a guy on craigslist selling his trampoline that was used for only 3 months. i'd have to go to lacrosse right away if we wanted to take advantage of this hot deal.

so, i fed the babies, got samiyah dressed, and mo as well.

i put them on the couch, turned their cartoons on, and went upstairs to throw some decent clothes on. i was upstairs for maybe 3 minutes, 5 minutes - tops.

i came downstairs and the living room was empty. i immediately looked over to the sliding door, which was open...and there was mo on the patio. no samiyah.

i ran outside. she tends to run away, and i've placed numerous child locks on the door handles trying to keep my runaway in, but she has successfully broken and torn off each and every one.

i did a quick glance around the yard. no samiyah.

i ran around to the front of the house calling for her. nothing. the streets were empty, the sidewalks, empty. the backyard, empty. i ran back inside the house, hoping to have missed her. i yelled in every room and i began to panic. just recently, she's been on this hide-n-go seek kick and i really just wanted to lift a bulging blanket and hear her say, "boo!"

but the house was quiet and empty.

i panicked and fell to my knees on the staircase saying a prayer begging to please just let me find her safe and sound.

i ran back outside calling her name.

my landlord, who is our neighbor, asked if i needed help. he came out and began scouring streets.

i ran down our lane and came across some other neighbors, asked if they saw a little girl in a red dress with white flowers. they hadn't, but they quickly got inside their cars and helped me look as well.

the dread was taking hold and i ran back to the house, not sure where else i could possibly look. i ran back to the patio where mosiah was now snotty-nosed and bawling.

i ran back inside, i'm not sure why, and when i ran into the living room i heard cartoonish noises.

i walked towards the noise coming from behind the couch. 

there she was watching cartoons on my phone, crouched between the couch and wall, a space too small for me to even think to look in the first place.

i threw my head back, 

"AGH!"

i ran back outside and let everyone know that i had found her. 

this girl is gonna send me to the mental hospital someday.

but today, i'm so glad i found her.

the rest of the day played on in a sort of weary blur.

i picked up the trampoline.

i picked up a 2x4 for sam to saw to fit the empty space in the sliding door to keep samiyah from escaping. while i was there, samiyah was pushing buttons, again, and would not sit down on the bottom of the cart. she sat on the edge and i was counting down from 3 for her to get her bottom down when i heard, "ma'am, i need you to get her to sit down in the cart."

"yeah, that's what i'm trying to get her to do right now, thanks."

i was snippy. i shouldn't have been, but this day had already been too much for me.

some time later, the kids were doing their chores when they got home and samiyah found a bottle of nail polish. makayah screamed from the kitchen. i ran and checked. there was red nail polish splatters on the linoleum...

a day later and they're still there. i know how to get them out, but it seems an impossible task to have to add to my to-do list right now.

it was tuesday night, sam was out for the evening with his golf league.

so, i made an easy dinner of leftover chicken salad, bathed the kids, popped some popcorn, and we played games outside until bedtime.

the kids were in bed at 7:10pm.

the sun was still bright and streaming through their windows. they asked why they were going to bed so early.

because it's bedtime. i hope that was a good enough answer.

tonight it will have to be.

***

today i am grateful for:

*answered prayers and helpful neighbors.

*safe children

*hairspray...eventually, when i feel like it, i'll get that red nail polish off the kitchen floor. 

mother's day off day...

on friday at 3:05pm, isaiah and makayah busted through the doors, bouncing with excitement. 

"don't look in my bag until mother's day!"

and

"what fun things do we have planned for mother's day?"

well....um, hmm.

this is my 8th mother's day. the celebrations range from picture perfect picnics in the park to crying and chaotic herding of the crowfoot riff raff in public eateries. fine dining isn't fun with toddlers busting loose from their high chairs, yes, even on mother's day.

what did i really, truly want for my mother's day, ahem, weekend?

jewlery? no. mosiah would eat it and probably choke, and we'd end up in the e.r.

flowers? no. samiyah would eat it or crush them into tiny pieces strewn over my newly mopped floor.

chocolate? yes, but only if i don't have to hide in the pantry to eat it without having to share with begging mouths. selfish, i know.

actually, i just wanted a little slack, a break, a day off from high expectations of having to be awesome.
haha, okay, maybe awesome is too generous, after all, i have had the cops called on me for my motherly incompetence of allowing my 2 year old to break free and wander our backyard alone. yeah, that was embarrassing, and isn't this MY backyard, anyway?

i relayed my plans of slothful diddly-squat to sam. and sam, being sam, obliged.
just recently i watched an old 80's movie about an incompetent father who suddenly had to take over housekeeping and child-rearing duties (it was obvious he had never changed a diaper or vacuumed a floor). and two days ago i read an article about how mothers in the native community tend to baby and favor their sons creating dependent and irresponsible men.

well, it being mother's day, i'd just like to express my appreciation to a special mother in my life. after watching the ridiculous behavior of the father portrayed in the horribly sexist and ill-made 80's movie (not all of them were gems ;)), i can't help but be extremely grateful for the woman who helped mold the man i am married to today.

he woke up at 6am to supervise and feed the early-risers so i could sleep in until 8:30.

he is involved in his children's lives; and boldly takes them out on adventurous activities like biking, fishing, camping, clothes/shoes shopping - things i would NEVER do with four small children.

he is never in short supply of compliments or witty things that make me laugh.
he is fun and spontaneous, something i desperately needed in my rigid by-the-rulebook life.
he's not afraid to throw on an apron and make an outta-this-world meal for his family.
he scrubs down the bathrooms because he knows that it makes me gag - a little quirk i acquired from previous pregnancies.
he scrubs down the entire house because he knows clean floors and empty sinks get me all hot and bothered.
he goes to work day in and day out, whether he wants to or not, to provide for his family.
but more than any of this, he is sweet and kind, not only to me and the kids, but to perfect strangers.

i know if he wasn't raised in love and righteousness - if his mother did not show mercy and love to this kid as he flooded neighbors' kitchens or painted neighbors' garage doors with tar, he might not have turned out so kind and generous. i know if his mother didn't give him the opportunities to work and help with his siblings, he may be that clumsy and absurd father who didn't know what a diaper was for. and heaven forbid he's the man who demands his wife to be in the kitchen making him 3 meals a day like the boys in the article i read about.

speaking of destruction of neighborly property, i never thought i'd have to exercise so much patience for my own kids. i once told my mother that with my educational background, the outpouring knowledge in my head would grant me perfect, rule-abiding children. pfft, motherhood would be a piece of cake! she laughed. not one of those big, in-your-face laughs, it was more of an under-her-breath-i-hope-so laugh. it wasn't the smattering of scheduled child psychology/education classes or the endless hours of student teaching preschoolers that helped me to be the mother i am today.

i remember there was always an open invitation to my mother's lap. even when i grew too tall and lanky, i'd lay my head on her lap and she'd run her fingers through my hair.
she'd sing songs with personalized and made up lyrics as we drifted off to sleep.
she taught me how to clean and cook despite my blatant protests of teenage feminism (by the way mom, that really came in handy in college).
and when i became a mother myself, she was still at my bedside when i was in pain; enduring the torturous hours with me, crying empathetic tears.
she'd forgo new shoes or clothes so i could get that trendy such and such.
she was gentle, kind, and patient.
and although i'd roll my eyes every time i'd hear her say, "just forgive," i wouldn't have learned how to lighten my burdens, otherwise.
her smile is heartwarming, her embrace is comforting, her words enclose me in a special unconditional love that is like no other.

without these special women in my life, i might have ended up a sad news story of abuse and neglect, instead of realizing the possibilities of joy and laughter in my role as a mother.
i've come to know so many amazing mothers in my life and they have all influenced me for the better, and i thank you all.

so, my sweet, sweet babies - you know i love you.
i rack my brain thinking and planning fun things for you to do.
i use my spare time making homemade knickknacks for you to play with.
for every 1 picture i take of myself, there are at least 100,000 that have your face plastered all over it.

but there comes a day once a year that allows me to put my hand up and say, "nope, don't whine to me, go tell your dad."
and that once-a-year day, i get to watch my movies, read my books, listen to my music - all day long.
maybe i might have my nails done and not because there's a wedding.
maybe i might curl my hair, just because.
maybe i might buy a pair of shoes without your pleasantly screeching taunts of sibling rivalry in the background.
i may kick you and dad out of the house to go fishing or running in the park so i can just sit in peace and calm and solitude, enjoying the squeaky clean house.
and that cheesecake in the fridge?
i may just share a piece if there's any left, if.

you know i love you.
and tomorrow, i promise i'll be awesome all over again...at least to your attainable standards of awesome.

the end.