Before the Fall

After I got home from work today, Grace and I did some crayon drawings. I asked her to help me draw a horse.

Me: "What does a horse have, Gracie?"

Grace: "A tail, ears, a head, and a body... [long, thoughtful pause.]  ... Why did the horse get a body, Mommy? ...  Did he follow Jesus's commandments?"

It was one of those moments. My guts were bursting with pride and motherly satisfaction.

And then Grace cocked her head, carefully assessing my artwork. 

"Mommy. Is that a horse? It looks like a pig. Whatever it is, it's funny lookin'."

The Saddest Part About Working

Is missing each other.

Nothing Good

...ever comes from playing outside on a Sunday. We have lots of multi-generational examples proving that only injuries occur following Sunday play. So we can add an incident from last Sunday to that list:

Grace insisted on a band-aid, and we spent the rest of the evening making cookies. All better.

A Lot Going On

Sometimes motherhood is stressful. And kind of embarrassing. Like today. When a member of our stake presidency came to set Jay apart for his mission and Grace let him in. She was stark naked. Really set the mood for the evening.

I'm sure I'll laugh about it. Eventually.

I know this because today I found some pictures from last June. The month we were so overwhelmed that we both forgot our anniversary. But still I took pictures. Because a lot happened. And I knew I would laugh someday. And this week, I did.

My children. sort of clothed. Shredding newspaper.

Oh, and Brad. Feeling overwhelmed over all the work required on our house. Hoping I will be cleaning up the mess. Which I did. It took me a week. There was a lot of newspaper.

Very happy. Maybe they should have been hamsters. Hmm. Missed opportunity there.

Really excited about shredded newspaper.

The toys were packed. They would have been excited playing with dirt. And, in fact, they were. That, and food they scavenged.

That is a package of Gerber Sweet Potatoes. And that is our only couch. And Claire. Naked.

And that is Cran-Applesauce with Cocoa Puffs. And new grout. And Claire. Naked.

And that is Great Value's version of Nestle Quik. And Claire. Naked. Apparently we packed the clothes with the toys.

And based on these observations from our household in the month of June, we learn that my children are hungry, bored, naked, and in need of attention.

But deeply loved. And very funny.

Reality Check.

After three days of trial, I know what is most important. 2, 3, and 7. And maybe I'll add moisturize. Because my hands are cracked and bleeding.

Also, yesterday I lamented to Grace, "You're getting so big!" 

She replied, "But mom, I have to be a grown up!"

I am not friends with Reality.

I Resolve

in no particular order, to:

1. Learn conversational Spanish. Enough to understand my mother's housekeeper since nobody else does. 
2. Have personal scripture study 15 minutes per day during waking hours. Because scriptures do not help you when you are sleeping on them.
3. Put our house on the market. This will mean a lot of work for us. But you will get the before-and-after pictures. Lucky you.
4. Sacrifice More. Because I am selfish.
5. Say "just a minute" only twice per day. 
6. Spend more time on the floor with the girls. 15 minutes a day.
7. Leave work by 4:30 every day. I start at 7:30. And I usually stay too late.
8. Obey that voice that tells me to do good things. Even when they're awkward. Like picking up trash that I didn't litter. Or asking overwhelmed-looking strangers if they need help.
9. To eat sweets on Sunday. And not any other day. [Because apparently cold-sores feed on sugar. And especially chocolate. Which means I will be eating about half of my habitual diet from now on.]
10. To get muscles in my calves and arms. Because Brad has affectionately dubbed my current body type "tree-trunk-with-four-twigs-sticking-out." And I would prefer to be well-proportioned. Preferably while slimming down the "trunk" portion.

And that is enough. Because I am busy.

Happy 2009!

"I have never been kissed at the onset of the new year," I remarked as my family played Turbo Scrabble while watching the non-live Ball Drop in Times Square. 

Brad turned to me with loving eyes that finally rested on the leprosy-like-lesion covering half my lip. He shook his head kindly and said, "I don't think this is your year, honey."

Cold Sores. They are the devil.