This weekend Mark was baptized. It was a nice day with beautiful weather, lots of family and friends, talks by Daniel and Timothy, music by Paige and me, and cooking. Baptism days are always busy, but I tried really hard this last time to relax, even if it meant that the tent with bunting never got set up, my hair was not curled, and we didn’t get a proper family picture with all of the cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who gathered. I think I got everyone photographed at dinner but three.
My sweetest memory of the day was when Richard had Mark in the font, ready for the ordinance, and Richard looked up at me. That exchange was simple, but sealed the moment. The work and joys of parenting, gospel preparation, and the new phase we are entering came into focus in a look, but none of those details of parenting were there; it mostly felt like love and joy.
Memories:
1. Tim asked me to come.
2. We spent just as much time in the gift shop as the exhibits. Tim hoped to talk me into buying an electronic bug that could climb upwards through a tunnel.
3. The boys have discovered food. They kept going back for more. After three orders of fast food I realized that we were running late to get to the fountains before the busses arrived.
4. They weigh 89, 79, and 69 pounds on earth. On a neutron star, they would each weigh about 400 billion pounds. On the moon they would weigh in the teens.
5. Girls flirted with Timothy. Help us.
6. These boys were good company, polite, and obedient.
7. Tim said thank you as I walked away and that made it all worth it…even the motion sickness from the IMAX movie.
8. Timothy’s knees, elbow, and hands are scabby from a bad fall on a scout hike last night. I asked one of the boys if they had seen Tim’s wounds and he said, “Unfortunately, yes.”
Timothy has a unique way of turning my heart. Can I ever explore all the reasons I love this boy?
“Pink Note: The Novelette” James McNeill Whistler, 1884
Only three more Wednesdays until school gets out. Each Wednesday I don’t have carpool or volunteer responsibilities at the school. It’s a day for “myself” but I usually spend it cleaning the house, and rarely move beyond cleaning to creative projects.
I’m not good at having a day to myself. I feel guilty if I indulge in a day of reading; I don’t enjoy shopping; I have less creativity when I have too much silence. Cleaning and other maintenance work is what gets me though each Wednesday.
The other night I found the list of house projects I was going to accomplish during the school year. I was going to paint the whole house, decorate every room, and landscape the yard. Ha! I sheepishly checked off the handful of projects I had completed and resolved to check off more things in the coming weeks after school gets out.
I work much better when the family is around. They would probably say that it’s because I enlist them to help me. And they would be right, but they might not realize how a house full of my little people enlivens me.
“Mom, can you bring me fast food and eat with me at school for my birthday?”Boys in second grade are both predictable and surprising, silly and charming. Happy friends.
Mark was born in the desert 8 years ago and longs to return there. His early and idealized memories include playing in fine, dusty dirt, chasing lizards when they tried to sun themselves on the fence, and catching toads when it rained.
He has always thought of himself as one of the big kids and has followed them everywhere. He’s well-traveled in museums, parks, baseball games, and dance and music performances.
He is my only child who ever wanted to snuggle in my lap.
His birthday wish list included only Legos and a watch. (Easy!)
Remember when he was 4 and wanted to be called “Zoomer-Smasher-Dune Buggy?”
Remember when he was 3 and he wore that sombrero all over Nogales, Mexico?
Little memories of my redhead dash across my thoughts today. Little boy body dressed in a Superman cape, chasing brothers up the street… Little studious boy with his own desk in the corner of the home school room, working on math problems… Little boy jumping around on his base during the baseball game because he can’t hold still… Little boy with a closet full of red shirts…sweet baby in the crib, making a nest of blankets and stuffed animals… little boy driving around the grassy field in his jeep playing hard rock music on the radio… little boy snickering under the covers as he reads Calvin and Hobbes books at bedtime…
I can’t imagine life without our Mark, Markie-boy, Marco Polo.
Being a parent means that your hopes and thoughts fly along beside your children wherever they go.
Daily departure time wishes, hugs, and prayers are important because they give the kids a glimpse into our hearts. My Evangelical Christian friends use the phrase “covered in prayer” which I think is beautiful, and describes my belief that prayer is a gift from God to bring protection, comfort, and power to His children. So, we send them off each day with our best wishes, covered in prayer.
Memories of the second grade field trip:
Mark and Tommy were my buddies.
Mark enjoyed the life flight, surgery, and x-ray simulators at the children’s museum.
We ate outside near the fountains. I packed a blue Gatorade in his lunch, which made him very happy.
We ditched the library tour and read comics instead:).
I have been thinking about my changing role as a mother. The memories of babies’ days belong to parents. These bundled-up, nestled memories of our babies have become a treasure to me. I’ve written before that I consider these memories a gift that is uniquely mine. No one else will ever know exactly how it felt to be the mother of baby Paige, Daniel, Timothy, and Mark.
The middle years are full of shared memories. We can have dinnertime conversations remembering these times together. These are the playground years, the dance lesson and baseball years. I have loved these years, too. 2009 was a very special year because I realized that my children were all old enough to have adventures together and we did! We traveled over Arizona, exploring, learning, dancing, reading, and playing.This is my last year with two children in elementary school. These are such fun years!
The high school and middle school years have now arrived, where much of my children’s lives is a mystery to me. I don’t see them in their classes or how they interact with friends at lunch and I am not part of their recreation or social life. There are fun things about these years, too, such as Prom invitations, fun with friends, driving, and bigger achievements. I mourn the loss of time together, but I know it is good that they are growing independent and strong.
I invested that effort in their early years to help them to achieve this independence. I trusted that a good start would help them to be strong later. I never doubted the value of my role in their lives when they are young. Now that they are older and my role is less prominent, there is more insecurity. Did I teach them enough? Did I smother them? Are my questions about their school day enough to maintain a relationship? Did I just embarrass them in front of their friends?
As I move to a different place in the universe of my teenagers’ lives, I welcome assurances of the continuing worth of my role in their lives. Literature is a good comfort to me, as I can find these written words accessible whenever I need them. Several authors have become my midnight friends when the world is asleep and I need a conversation. Such questions as, “Do my little efforts really make a difference?” and “Is my work still a great work even though it’s backstage?” are important questions to me.
I finished Middlemarch last night. There are many themes that I enjoyed, but the reason I read the book was to study its heroine, Dorothea. A few of the last passages of the book meant a lot to me in my current thoughts.
Many who knew her, thought it a pity that so substantive and rare a creature should have been absorbed into the life of another, and be only known in a certain circle as a wife and mother. But no one stated exactly what else that was in her power she ought rather to have done.
and…
Her finely touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were not widely visible. Her full nature…spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life.
I’m not sad about the changes in my mothering. I am just going through a period of adjustment. If I focus on the principle of “incalculably diffusive influence,” I feel much more centered as I navigate these new roads from the concrete acts of mothering to the intangible. It’s a shift in ownership of memories. The baby time is mine, the middle years are shared. Their later years are increasingly their own, but a parent’s influence is forever.
When I read a book on the Kindle I don’t know how long it is when I begin because there aren’t page numbers, just “locations,” which I have never paid attention to. Last night after another evening of reading and making no progress, I looked up how many pages Middlemarch has: nearly 900. What a perfect metaphor for life right now. It’s hard to see the end as we slog through these last weeks of school.
I realized last night that I’m living in the Burnout Place. It’s an optional stop on the road, but I have set up camp there and I’m having a hard time packing up and leaving.
Today I’m taking time to remind myself that baseball season and the last month of school will not last forever. I am going to be patient and perhaps buy a few more meals by take-out in the next few weeks without guilt or apology. I am not going to dwell on negative words of others and remember that I am not the solution to every problem. I’m probably not the solution to ANY problem. I don’t have to be awesome! I just need to love this little family and feed them. My mascot for the month is Dory from Finding Nemo.
“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…”
Did you know that I don’t actually know how to swim? It’s a good thing that I am just living in the land of metaphor this morning.
Today was a big day for the boys. Mark tried out being a catcher for the first time. He said it wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be. I’m pretty sure the color of the gear played a big part in his desire to be a catcher.
The fifth grade classes were recognized for their work in a program run by the police department today in an assembly with parents invited. Timothy really liked the police officer who taught him for 13 weeks. Timothy gave up all media for one week to fulfill one of the requirements in the class. He was told that if he did it, there would be an amazing prize at graduation. He received a water bottle. Um, I don’t know how he felt, but I was so disappointed!It was a day of cheering for the boys. Hooray!
I have been looking forward to this week for a long time. It’s Spring Break and the kids are home with me. Hooray!
It’s also Easter week. To celebrate, each day I am focusing on something specific to be a better disciple of Christ. I’m focusing on personal religious practices, missionary efforts, and service. When I first started thinking of what I could do each day, the ideas were pretty basic, but now that I have this focus on trying to be a better disciple, I find that the day is full of unexpected and interesting opportunities and there is a spirit of adventure in the search and in the acts.
This weekend Mark was baptized. It was a nice day with beautiful weather, lots of family and friends, talks by Daniel and Timothy, music by Paige and me, and cooking. Baptism days are always busy, but I tried really hard this last time to relax, even if it meant that the tent with bunting never got set up, my hair was not curled, and we didn’t get a proper family picture with all of the cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who gathered. I think I got everyone photographed at dinner but three.
