Dear Lydia

Thank you for still making me feel like you can't live without me.  I know that is not at all important in the grand plan to train you to be a fantastic human being.  When you bang into the wall because you are throwing us that "I am so important" look, or when you  fall off the chair because you were trying to be big like your brothers and jump off, or when you fall off your step stool when you are trying to do step aerobics with me in the basement, I love it when you cling to me as if I hold the magic to make all things better. 

I know you love your daddy and he is no doubt your vehicle to all that is fun and adventurous.  He loves to tell you stories and teach you how to fix things and there is really nothing more cute than seeing you with your brother's pretend tools trying to fix things.  You remind me daily when things are dropped or broken, like the ceramic soccer ball at the dollar store today, that "its okay mom."  You are absolutely right; it is okay.  Who even buys those tacky things?  Thank you for understanding that mommy is not as easy going as daddy and still loving me.  If it makes you feel any better I was just as disappointed when Rider dropped the garden mirror ball thingy at Town and Country Gardens last year.  You were just a baby and probably don't remember.  I am pretty sure you were the cuteness that got us out of that pickle.  I am slow at learning that it really is okay.  Thank you for teaching me.  I love you more than dollar store tacky things and perfectly organized bookshelves.  

Join the Club

If you are looking for a club to join then look no further.  We have one right here in our very own home.  Rider is currently not a member due to the current "rules."  We are appealing to the president, but he is firm about the rules and as a resident of this home I can't say I blame him.  He has been the unfortunate recipient of the previously mentioned kicking, hitting, punching , and head butting more times than any of us care to remember. 

This week we will be learning the letter W and the number 2 and refining the art of acceptance into big brother's club. 

Courage

There we were smack dab in the center of the noisy YMCA gym.  There were screaming parents, coaches, and pee wee basketball players in all directions.  Against my better judgment I signed up my 3 almost 4 year old for pee wee basketball AND to top it off I volunteered my husband to be the coach.  Their first practice/game was this week.  There was a tiny bit of anxiety swirling around in my already cluttered brain in the weeks leading up to game one.  My concerns were mostly for my husband coaching the 7 little pee wees with nothing more than his fantastic high school basketball career and the title of "daddy" to the youngest pee wee on the team. 

I received a lot of encouragement from veteran pee wee parents and the nice lady from the Y who called to "beg'' us to volunteer to be the coach.  How hard could this be?  My husband chooses to avoid all interpersonal communications or "chit-chat" as he calls it.  Therefore, I am the Public Relations representative in this family.  I knew I didn't know a thing about coaching basketball, but I could be obedient to the meager instructions from the email send by nice YMCA lady.  I called all the parents to introduce myself/my husband-The Coach.  Then I googled coaching Pee Wee basketball and came up with all kinds of strategies.  We could do this!

On the big day all forces were at work against us.  I tried to give my little pee wee a nap knowing that would ensure more cooperation in his big new adventure.  Alas, no nap.  He seemed to be working up to a dooser of a sleep deprived melt down, but I tried to reassure myself that maybe he was past that stage.   He was ready for the big league of YMCA team sports I kept telling myself.  As the clock ticked down I re-read the googled pee-wee basketball drills and said a little prayer.   I told the coach he had to be home by 5 p.m. so we could be there by 5:20 to pick up the team t-shirts and get our game faces on .  I agreed to watch a friends little boy after school who would be picked up by 5 p.m.  No problem!  We could do this. 

Now, it is a whirlwind in my mind.  I remember the clock ticking loudly to 5:15 p.m.  The coach swooped in and loaded the pee wee and his older brother to race to the YMCA.   I made a split second decision and stayed behind with my little after school charge and put in a frantic call to Grammy for a ride since the coach raced away in our only vehicle.  At this point I could feel the blood pumping in my ears, but I remained calm.  My friend did not show up to collect her son, so I threw him in the back seat of grammy's car along with my princess Lydia.  We were off at 6 p.m. sharp.  I could make it for the last 30 min. 

Then the call came in from the COACH.  He said some to the effect that "this is a joke-and we are on our way home."  Yikes!  "Remain calm" I chanted to myself as the blood pumped louder and harder.  At this point it was a scene from I love Lucy as I traded phone calls back and forth with the Coach and the mom whose child I was babysitting.  All this while Grammy was driving around my little three person circus and not complaining even once.  I passed the coach as we were pulling into the YMCA parking lot.  He reluctantly turned around and parked.  I tried to steady my voice as I calmly asked, who is coaching the team?  He assured me that some mom had jumped in to save the day.  She is forever my hero!  My little pee wee with swollen red eyes showed me his new orange t-shirt with the big number 4 on the back and asked me to go play basketball with him.  I quickly and politely shuffled my friends little boy , who at this point thinks he is coming to the Y to shoot some hoops, into his waiting father's truck. 

My stomach was churning as I tried to enthusiastically help my pee wee and the coach out of the van and back into the gym.  I could sense their anxiety, which seemed to be feeding off each other.  I knew the coach would rather paint his toenails pink than coach a pee wee team.  I also knew that my pee wee just wanted to play some basket ball with his family and would be complete overwhelmed with all the noise and chaos of team sports.  I chose this for them and I felt responsible.   

Remember my hero, the mom who saved the day.  Well, she was a genius with my pee wee.  She helped him get over his anxiety and helped pull him from the sidelines.  She made sure he got to have the ball and he even made a shot.  I wish I could have got a picture of his face as he ran back and forth with his team.  He was crying and scowling, but couldn't resist the fun he was starting to have.  The coach is my secret hero in this whole business.  He later shared with me that he was the recipient of the epic meltdown I knew was coming from pee wee.  The coach did his best to face his fears and coach the pee wees, but our little pee wee was screaming and crying and refused to be comforted.  He shared with me that at one point Rider tried to make a shot and another pee wee stole the ball out of his hand.  He said I knew at that point it was over and there was no turning back.  Both coach and pee wee share a dislike for lots of noise and commotion and social situations, especially new ones. 

As I stood there feeling piously mortified my feelings changed to humilty.  I felt humbled by the weakness of two of the loves of my life.  At first I couldn't understand why they couldn't just get over it, whatever it may be, and make the best of things.  I realized that I had shoved them into this situation.  They trusted me enough to follow along with my hair-brain scheme and I felt like I had let them down.  I also felt very proud of each of them for doing the hard things in life.  It made me think of the talk that I mentioned,  Living the Abudant Life by President Thomas S. Monson.  He concludes this talk with  "Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, “I’ll try again tomorrow.”"  To this I say amen and my thoughts exactly.   As for pee wee basket ball, we shall see what the future holds.

A First

I have no real explanation for the time between posts.  I have had plenty to write about, but I seem to get caught up in the day to day stuff and by the time I can sit down to write about an adventure I just don't have the energy to relive it. 

My blog posts are not journal entries anymore, so I really need to dig down deep and start writing rather than just journaling the day to day  ( or month to month) events of my family.  I really need a place now to write what I think and feel.  I don't make New Year's Resolutions.  It has never been my habit, but if I did make one it would be in the department of improving my creative writing.  Sometimes I just can't resist sharing the funny things that happen with my kiddos and I intend to post pictures and little movie clips to my hearts content, but I am making a choice to try to write more what I think and feel. 



We just celebrated our five-year anniversary over the New Year's weekend.  It is a first for us.  Never before have we made an effort to observe our anniversary complete with an overnight babysitter for our kids.  It was a conscious choice on my part to celebrate.  It all started a few weeks ago with the arrival of my January Ensign.  The first article I read was What Happily Married Couples Do by Douglas Brinley.  I read it and reread it and made my husband listen as I read it to him.  It is full of really practical and truthful counsel.  Now on this side of the celebration I am so grateful we did.  I can see the importance good memories and special effort to spend time together.  We made some wonderful memories. 

My parents shared with us a little gift package that my dad had won through his work.  It was good for one night stay at a local hotel, movie tickets (complete with popcorn and drinks), and dinner at Famous Daves. Grammy bravely agreed to keep Rider and Lydia over night ( a first for them and ME).  Austin stayed with Grandma Peggy for lots of cousin time, which he loves most in life.  We had some time before we passed off our kiddos to Grammy, so we decided to check in early and let them swim.  We now know that it would have been enough to just let them ride the elevator a few times, eat the complimentary cookies and jump on the beds.  It was almost better than Christmas for them.  The hotel pool was being remodeled so we trudged across the property to a neighboring hotel that was sharing their pool.  I declined to suit up and left it to my hero husband.  The shallow end was 3 feet, so we spent our time at the jacuzzi walking around the built in benches.  Lydia lost her footing and went backwards under the water.  I was sure she was drowning and jumped in to save her IN MY JEANS AND SWEATER.  The pool party ended at that point.  I pouted like a wet cat all the way back to our hotel.  This didn't dampen the spirits of our little ones.  They got to eat more warm cookies and ride the elevator until it was time to go to Grammys. 

I fought with myself over pouting and ruining our evening and just trying to find the humor.  Thanks to my husband the humor won.  I bought a new "outfit" at Target and we went about our evening.  Dinner was so great and the movie was not terrific, but it was fun to go to a grown up movie.  I had to make little decisions all night long to enjoy the moment with my husband and not miss my babies.  It is evidence to me that I need to allow them time away from me more.  Lydia was fine because she will take my mom in place of me almost always, Rider I was worried about.  I knew his head was dancing with the fun he could be having at the "hotel home."  I couldn't stop worrying about him all night.  I am really a little ashamed to say that I snuck out at 6:30 a.m. and went and picked them up.  My parent's home is just two blocks away from the hotel.  I brought them back to have the great of adventure of eating breakfast at the hotel and watch cartoons while jumping back and forth on the beds.  They were so happy!  My husband, not so happy with me, but he indulged me. 

All this jabber jabber, and what is it that I feel?  I am in a constant state of choosing.  It is that beautiful gift of agency that was given to each person.  There are a million significant and insignificant choices throughout a day.  I feel like I am refining my ability to tune into the "better choice."  I want for my me and my family to have a trail of wonderful choices leading to wonderful memories even when there may be obstacles.   That leads me to my next favorite article Living the Abundant Life by Thomas S. Monson.  I will have to save that for my next (hopefully less than two months) post.

Warm Chocolate Chip Cookies and Wet child is not a good choice!

This should have been our first warning as Lydia began rolling into the water.  She was getting alittle too comfortable.