Tuesday Musings #6

Here's Claire's first blog topic. I think she likes to keep things interesting and challenging, which is one of the reasons I like her so much. That being said, I groaned inwardly when I first read it. She even altered it a bit when I complained (alright, so all my groaning did not remain inward). It took a little more preparation than Tuesday Musings has in the past. I researched on the internet, I agonized, I learned what iambic pentameter is. All in all, to quote P.G. Wodehouse, I could identify with Bertie Wooster when he said, about a writing assignment, "A deuce of a job it had been, taxing the physique to the utmost. I don't wonder now that all these author blokes have bald heads and faces like birds who have suffered."

Welcome to blog boot camp! No more of this free verse. This week I want a sonnet about one of the worst messes one or all of your children made.

So, here we go -

Michael is my darling son, and is three.
He loves to play with dirty, messy things.
He wants to play in mud and run scot-free.
When to a bath his feet I try to bring.

He likes his play dough, so maybe I'll sing,
Of fewer baths, less mess and cleaner rooms.
But life is not so good; it kind of stinks.
Play dough, indeed, is made to foster gloom.

He takes it out and thinks it might go, "Vroom!"
If thrown at baby, door or painted wall.
It's smeared on tables, chairs and very soon,
It's stuck to shoes, a chicken and a doll.

Whereas, before, my dirt was hard to find,
Dough stuff shows up for now and for all time.

P. S. I can hear some of you already complaining about how that is not a gross enough, bad enough mess, and all of you who were thinking that are invited over to clean it up off of everything next time Stan and I try to get something done and stop paying attention to Mr. Play Dough! You know who you are.

Tuesday Musings #5

What were your feeling or thoughts when you held your child/children for the first time?

All my labors were different. I was induced once, had oxygen once, had an epidural once, went without painkillers lots of times, almost gave birth in an elevator, used a birthing ball, impressed my doctor, annoyed another doctor, went ahead without any doctor, argued with lots of nurses and cooperated with even more, had stitches, didn't need stitches, got bored, cried with pain, cried with love and made it through the whole thing seven times.

On the other hand, right after giving birth was always the same - I had a big cheesy smile on my face and couldn't wait to hold the baby. Even more than looking at them (although that was fun, too) I wanted to hold them in my arms.

I'll never forget a friend telling me how after she had a stillborn baby (that they never gave her to hold), her arms hurt. They hurt badly enough that she went to see a doctor about it. The pain finally went away after she had her next baby. I could understand where she was coming from because I love to hold my babies from the moment they get here and it always drove me crazy when the nurses whisked them away. So, my first thought was always, "Gimme, gimme, gimme!"

Tuesday Musings #2, Part B

I was so excited to get a response to my letter, but I was disappointed when I read it. I was a bit consoled when I noticed that it came from a whole different state than I mailed it to, but it is still a form letter, even if someone had to send it up the east coast for someone else to send a response.


The problem with form letters is that they don't answer any questions, so in addition to my original search for a crocheted hammock pattern, now I have more questions running through my head and keeping me awake at night. Who do you think the "appropriate management" would be? Do you think their specialists would really be happy to serve me if I called between 8 AM and 5 PM EST? Could they help me or would it just be an exercise in futility to call and listen to muzak on hold? I'm pretty sure I'll never know...

Tuesday Musings #4

Where did you grow up/live up until the present?

I was born in Colorado and lived in New York (Long Island), Connecticut, New Hampshire (Manchester and then Bedford), New York again (Staten Island), Utah (college), California (Upland), Virginia, Utah again, and California again. I guess you could say I've moved a lot (which I enjoy), but done so with little creativity, as there are multiple repeats on the list. It is also sadly lacking in a place like Borneo, Mozambique or Lapland.

What is your earliest memory and how old were you?

I don't know how old I was, but I think it was in Connecticut (see, you move around a lot as a kid and you remember your life as places rather than ages) and I remember jumping on the foam pads that my brother and I slept on, throwing stuffed animals at each other.

Did you play piano or musical instrument at all or sports in high school or were you the studious type?

None of the above. I guess I took piano lessons for a few years, which I will be forever grateful for because of the basic knowledge of music I gleaned from them, but I don't know if I was ever proficient enough to say I played.

No, I went to ART school. The only sport available was basketball because the school was in midtown Manhattan - no track for us, although it is a shame. When I remember how fast we all were at dodging taxis, I think there was some unrealized talent lurking in the student body.

I was actually so anti-P.E. that I volunteered in the library all four years of H.S. just so that I didn't need to go play basketball in the basement of the school. Somehow I don't think it is as easy to get out of these days.

I was on the math team and was the best student in the entire school, even doing better than the boys a year or two older than I was, but before you get too impressed, remember, this was an ART school, so the math ability was not the cream of the crop.

Is there anything that you did that you think your parents didn't know about?

When I didn't want to go to school, I sometimes put the thermometer in the toaster to try and convince my mom I had a fever. I had to be really careful to let it cool down a bit first, or she'd think I was dead with a temperature of 118 degrees F.

In honor of Mother's Day...tell us something that you learned from your mother that you practice today and/or something that they did that you wish that you had started to do with your family or life.

It's funny, I was just thinking about this last week. My mom used to read aloud to all of us seven kids at bedtime. Even though I was old enough to read to myself (by more than a couple years), I enjoyed listening to her reading to us. It was a different experience than reading alone.

So, I was thinking maybe I'd try to read aloud at night to the kids this summer, while things are a bit less intense (one can hope). Do any of you readers of impeccable taste who visit our blog (you know those two things go together) have suggestions for a book to read aloud to children ranging in age from soon-to be-fifteen to three and a half?

Remember wishes can come true!

Tuesday Musings #3

It has been said by many that there are specific and profound moments/decisions in your life that change you. They leave deep and indelible impressions and you are never the same again, whether for better or worse. Write about one of these moments in your life, how it changed you, and whether you consider yourself a better or worse person for it.

I think one of the blessings of trials are the lessons we can learn from them.

After Stan and I got married, we wanted to have a baby soon, and having Summer less than a year later was really good for us and our relationship. I was content with one child, at least for the time being, but as the months past, I felt it was my duty to have another baby. I had a strong testimony of bringing children into the world, but that was the extent of my motivation. Out of duty, we were expecting another baby twenty two months after Summer was born. I wasn't excited or content. In my mind, we were doing the right thing, but heart wasn't in the right place; I was resentful and grumpy.

Well, I miscarried. I was surprised at how sad I was. Something I had resented and felt burdened by was taken from me and all of a sudden I wanted that possibility of a child back. My second question for the doctor after, "Why?" was, "When can we try again?"

It's another story how I came to know this, but I do know that that miscarriage was just a first try at Rachel. I will be forever grateful that she was still able to come to our family (she is such a joy) and for the lessons I learned. One of the most important ones was that children may be hard work and a lot of responsibility, our bodies may go through a lot to get them here and we may lose a lot of sleep between midnight feedings and freshman honors English essays, but the blessings far outweigh the difficulties. Each child is such a miracle and such a blessing.

I don't like to say I am a better person for this experience because I still have so far to go. I need to remember these grateful feelings on afternoons like I had today when dinner burns while I'm changing a stinky diaper and it all goes downhill from there, but even in the thick of it all, I wouldn't change a thing (except that diaper - again!).