Not Quite on Board with the 'Day of Rest' Thing.

She sat there bemoaning her boring Sunday for a little too long to be cute.

"Georgia, do you expect me to produce a circus for your entertainment every day of the week?"

"YES I DO." She yelled as she stomped out the front door.

I then overheard the report of her sad condition to her sisters outside. "I kept asking Mom to play but she just sits there on her butt for hours!"





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Potpourri of After Mother's Day Stuff.

I have been taking my son home in the afternoons to work with me.  I suppose it is Homeschooling in a way.  Mostly it is a detox-from-daily-meds-and-try-to-fit-in-constructive-learning-that-helps-him-feel-successful session.

A lot of times (especially in the past couple of weeks) he just runs away from me and refuses to participate.   But every once in a while a miraculous exchange occurs and he becomes successfully focused on a project or an idea.  He loved building his own game of yard golf, and cooking is almost always a hit, we read about animals and plants and work on a fairly strict behavior modification program.

There's a catch though....

The minute I lose my focus, the minute the phone rings or The Littles need me or I remember that I need to pay a bill or, God forbid, go pee, then he clicks right back off, never to be heard from again, and the task becomes impossible.  Or sometimes I am 100% all the way there and he just decides to throw a fit.

The leaves me feeling rather beat up.

But when I look at the instagram pictures of what we've been up to, I can see that it is pretty good stuff.

I would love to re-post all the Oakley at homeschool photos, but I can't right now.  You can browse through my instagram photos here)  And if I get it together I shall put a badge up on the blog to link there.  If I get around to it.  I hope.

Also, I think that Instagram and Facebook are stealing all of my creative energies.  There is so much to write about and so little on this blog these days.  I used to be such a faithful little blogger.

But times change.

I would like to say that Mother's Day talks change, but nope.  They don't. This year was the same old building of an impossible pedastool for me to perch on.  Sad really, it's not the speaker's fault, they are always wonderful people who mean well.  Every year they just recite what has been said over and over and over again by men in suits that are supposed to know more about this than we do.  But do they really?

So very tired of the Motherhood pedastool am I.

So very tired of being told how Motherhood looks and how I am supposed to feel about it and why it is the one and only truly divine thing I was created to do and how holy my uterus is (now that I was fertile that one time I suppose I qualify for this, phew, because great are the tears shed on Mormon Mother's day for one whose uterus is broken) and how I am equal to my husband but he is still in charge, and how I should just sit up on my pedastool and smile and nod in holy self sacrifice, a need-less want-less woman to the end.

Really.  Really. Tired. Of. This.

And really scared to bring up my daughters in a culture that does not seem to be changing fast enough for my liking.

I am so much healthier as a human being when I shed expectations, when I embrace who I am, when I follow the desires of my heart with intent, purpose and joy. My children need me the way I am.  Not a divine title on a throne.

I read a few things about Mother's Day that resonated with me, here is one of them.

From: "A Holy Experience Blog" by: Ann Voscamp
The deal is — Motherhood isn't sainthood and we’re all a bunch of sinners here and don’t let anyone tell you any different — pushing something out of your womb doesn't make you a better woman. Real Womanhood isn’t a function of becoming a great mother, but of being loved by your Great Father. 

This being said, I must say I loved Mother's Day this year with my kids. I loved the bacon and eggs and the fancy table setting that Eden stayed up late to prepare for me.  I loved the crayoned letters and hand made gifts and the family canoe trip that went awry.  I loved the imperfection of our day together.  (note to self, post pictures here).

My table top tulips say a lot about me and Motherhood.

I have planted many bulbs in my back yard, none of which ever do that great.  But these guys, they started sprouting under the deck a few years ago.  How they got there, I don't know.  But instead of yanking them out because they were not supposed to be there, I just let them be.

Now, a few years later, this random bunch of tulips, growing amid the rubble and weeds under the back deck, are the prettiest, most vibrant bulbs in the yard.  

Better yet, when they are on my table and I photograph them with massive under exposure (not good photographic practice, any book will tell you that) and in direct sunlight (ditto), I find beauty and detail that would be otherwise lost.

Who knew that in the heart of a tulip blossom, a star can be found?

It is photographs like these that reflect to me the beauty found in simple, honest moments. Moments of Motherhood,  moments of an ordinary day, moments of success with my son, moments of connection with my daughters,  moments of being alive, moments that are noticed only when I ignore the impossible expectations and just do life the way that makes my heart sing.

Six! Six! Six! Six! Six! Six!

Do you like how I did that? Six sixes.  Clever, I know.

My Ivy Bug is six years old, and I would say "where did the time go" or "time just flies" but really, that is so cliche.

However, it must be noted that Ivy's sixth birthday gives me 28 years of collective parenting experience.  And still it is all such a mystery.


Dear Ivy,

You are my once in a lifetime baby. You called to me from across oceans and over continents.  Your presence in our life is a miracle.

From time to time I have felt bad for getting pregnant right after we brought you home.  My grand plans of attachment parenting and attending to your every orphan need were dashed by severe nausea and crippling fatigue.

But we gave it a good go, didn't we?  You took tubbies in the sink and rode on my back like all the other babies, you explored the cupboards and dumped oatmeal down the vents...you covered all the important stuff.  And as it so happens, you and Georgia are the best of friends, being close in age has been a good thing for you two.  So far, so good.

Ivy, I love your smile and your laugh.  Your intensity and determination give me a run for my money, but I believe that these characteristics kept you alive early in your little life and will be a strength to you as you get older.  I pray you can channel this energy for good things.  Good! Good! Good!

Sometimes I worry about raising you in a small, conservative vanilla town.

You are vibrant and happy, and you would eat sugar by the spoonful if I let you.

You talk and talk and talk and talk and I indulge your stories more often than not.  Mostly because you are so good at shaking your hair about when you tell your tales.  Truly mesmerizing   But sometimes I must put you in front of the TV so that my brain can have a rest.

Doesn't your brain ever need a rest?


The other day your brother was being a naughty little turd.  You piped up in the van, "Mom Oakley is making some bad choices right now, but we know you still love him and Heavenly Father loves him and just because he makes a mistake it doesn't mean he's bad.  We are all just learning Mama."

My Mommy heart thumped a little faster just then, because we talk about these things all the time, and just then your six year old self spat out a truth that has taken your (much older) mother a few more decades to internalize...

Just because I make a mistake it doesn't mean I'm bad.

We are all just learning.  Making mistakes, getting things right, saying we're sorry, trying again... over and over and over again.  When you are six years old and when you are thirty-seven years old.  We are all just learning.

I am blessed to be learning along in life with such a lovely little spirit, and I love you so much it makes my teeth ache.

Happy Birthday.  I hope you liked your birthday party at the fanciest place in town.   We spare no expense for you.

Love,
Mom

Pieces of the World | Life Story

(this has been sitting in my 'draft' file for weeks because I can't get around to assembling all the pictures to go with the post.  But I am just going to post it without photos and perhaps add them later.  Maybe.)


My parents wanted me to see the world.


It started with parks and swimming pools all over Edmonton and branched out to the freeways criss-crossing North America, canyons in the desert, the beaches of the Indian Ocean, the Legislature on the Thames.

Equally enthusiastic about getting us out and about, we saw a lot.


Back in the day, the gold wagon ferried us about Edmonton to many-a-park.  A new splash park had been created across the city and my Mom was determined to take (all six (!!) of us) on summer day adventure.

No sooner had we packed the cooler, assembled the suits and piled up the towels did we find ourselves on one of the impossible round-abouts so popular in Edmonton at that time. (I called it a round-about just to sound British.  They actually called them traffic circles.  Boring.)  People kept honking and yelling at my Mom (who was making her third time around, since it really is a pain to exit those traffic circles).  But, as it turns out, they were not criticizing her multiple loops around the loop.  Nope.  They were warning her of danger.  Our tire was flat.

And so it was that the grand field trip to the splash park was derailed and ended up in the parking lot of some black government building just on the other side of the traffic circle.

We spent the afternoon running about in the parking lot.  I seem to remember dancing with a tree and getting snacks from a stranger.

My Mom found help with the tire and we never did make it to that splash park.  At least not from what I can remember.

Funny, that even now (if I find myself in Edmonton) I recognize that one government building and remember the field trip that wasn't.

I want my kids to see the world (near and far) so that maybe they will have a memory of a crazy Mother screaming at the honkers. "Okay okay, I know.  I'm pulling over! Stop your honking!" and then dancing with trees and taking food from strangers.  Or perhaps memories of twirly slides that scared them, or their first Disney trip ever, memories of foreign places and different cultures... even better.

When I took my children (all four (!!) of them) on a solo road trip to Utah for Spring Break, I celebrated this  piece of the past that I cherish.

Which included stopping for various children to pee on the side of the road, tossing back snacks like a circus trainer in the lion ring, books on tape, watching the same movie 6 times over, teaching my 5-year old how to vomit in a grocery sack without getting puke all over the car, creative disposal of grocery sacks full of chunky yuck, rest stop run-arounds and stocking up on junk food at c-stores.  Ahhh.  Tradition.

I find joy in showing my children the world (more near than far right now), teaching them (I hope) that there is SO! MUCH! MORE! for them to explore, and that doing so is F to the U to the N.  Granted, a road trip to Utah is hardly showing them much, but it's within our means, I get to see a sister and play with my cute nieces, and it's certainly a start.

We hiked the Y together on Conference Saturday and  made it back to the BYU Creamery just in time to hear the closing prayer of the first session of General Conference.  The very first General Conference prayer to be given by a woman.  Ever. It is ridiculous that it took this long for a woman to pray in that meeting (we all know it's true), but great that it happened (amen and amen).

Onward ever onward!

Inspiration is just a pin away!

Sometimes when I am looking for spiritual inspiration I read my scriptures, or go on a run in the wild wild wilderness, or I try to find a talk from General Conference that I can stomach.  Like this one, or this one.  But not this one.

Mostly, though, when my spirit needs a little lift, I just head on over to my Pinterst Board of quotes.  Since I have an IPhone now, its inspiration at the flick of a finger, in fact, I may as well start calling it "The Iron Rod".   Let me give you a small sampling of the light and knowledge available over there in the land of Pins...

For the infuriating and discouraging notion that we must prove ourselves before we have worth....

 Just in case you find yourself in a bind that sucks....

Pain = growth.  Pure scripture, folks. 

Honestly. If we all just had more sex wouldn't life be so much happier?   According to Pinterest yes, yes it would.  I think we can all bear testimony the truthfulness of this message. 

And here we go, an all purpose pick me up. Rise up!  Be amazing!  Live your dream!

I am patiently waiting for the Q of the 12 to contact me about the cannonization of my lovely Pinterst quote board.  It's only a matter of time.

There is Springtime in my Soul Today

As I typed the title the first version said, "There is Springtime in my Soup Today."

Spring Soup!  What a fortuitous type-o.

Spring Soup

by: Betina Workman

Spring Soup is warmed by the sun.

Different from Fall Soup 

That keeps me inside, cuddling up, hunkering down.

 Spring Soup energizes, enriches, renews.

Spring Soup gets me out... 

Into the yard,

 Into the garden,

 Into the dirt.

It tastes like hope.

And smells like joy.

I'll have three helpings,

Please.

Resurrection of the Mallow

What better time than Easter to resurrect an old tradition.  Homemade marshmallows!

Just as good as a body from the tomb, and so much more tasty (I think, don't know for sure).  I do know that the mallows we made were mmm mmm good.  My friend Kelly actually walked me through the mallow making process as I was a little timid of the chemistry involved... candy making is a rather exact science and I didn't want to blow it.  I only have so much patience for difficult culinary projects, after all.    A+ Kelly.  I think I can do this on my own next year!

My Mom always made us homemade marshmallows.  She would also sneak us chocolate bunnies when my Dad wasn't looking.  Apparently home made marshmallows were in sync with the holiness of the holiday, though, so those were served out in the open for all to enjoy.

My girls loved decorating them (Oakley opted out and then was all bummed when he didn't get to eat a bunch of them.  Sorry dude.  Ya snooze, ya lose).    I found a bag of mint chocolate chips in the freezer and melted them up with a bit of milk,  add a little bit of coconut and, voila!  A nostalgic little confection and a happy memory that I can share with my kids.

Of course, I can't tell them that my Mom was a covert chocolate bunny agent, because around here the Easter Bunny welcome.