Reminiscing

I am currently putting stamps on our Christmas cards, and I was reminded that we used to actually have to lick each stamp. There are little things like that I don't want to forget.

Do you remember the card catalog at the library? I loved finding the cards and books and then getting them stamped by the librarian at the desk. I miss the stamping and don't like the long receipt you get instead now. I always thought it was fun to see who checked out the book before you and how long ago it was.

Remember rotary phones? They were annoying but cool at the same time. My parents had a flesh-colored one. Classic.

Apple IIe?

Printer paper with the edges you had to tear off?

And how about the wonderful sets of Encyclopedia Brittanica and World Book Encyclopedia? It was so empowering looking through my parents' encyclopedia thinking that I could learn "all there was to know" about kangaroos, or electricity, or World War II. Now with Google and the Internet, the sheer amount of information--not to mention whether it is legitimate or not--is overwhelming.

What about you? What do you remember/miss? Or don't miss?

Recent happenings

So I forget that we have actually done stuff around here until I finally upload my camera pics to the computer.

Is it bad if the quantity of photos you take influences your self-esteem?

 Clara's music teacher held a concert at Barnes and Noble one evening to showcase the songs they've been singing.

I was pretty nervous for Clara--lots of noises, lots of kids, lots of stuff going on. She did so well. She sat there quietly, shook her instrument at the right time, and sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" so sincerely with the rest of the group.

 Clara just finished a free 12-week (?) long course at James Madison University called Project Climb. The senior PE majors take a class where they have to come up with a lesson plan each week for their individual special needs child to help them work on certain skills.

Clara's mentor, Cally, was wonderful for her. She was just the type of person Clara works well with--laid-back, positive, and creative.

 It was hard to take decent pictures in the gym lighting, but they worked on hopping, kicking, throwing, dribbling a ball, and working together with other kids. It was once a week for an hour and I'm glad we took the opportunity.

 As a goodbye present, Cally gave Clara a Disney princess beauty kit. Clara was very intrigued by the press-on nails.

She wasn't thrilled and immediately took them all off.

So then I put them on instead. Apparently I have hands the size of a child's. I kept them on long enough to show Michael when he got home--of course he didn't like them (neither did I!), but I'd always secretly wanted to try those things.


Now back to working on Christmas choir preparations.

Thoughts from a Monday

1. Having to wash our shower means having a shower to wash. It also means we are clean since we use it on occasion.

2. Furniture to dust means we have places to sit and a house to put the furniture in.

3. Feeling overwhelmed about church callings means I am worthy to serve, however imperfectly.

4. Lamenting my disused singing voice means I have a voice to strengthen.

5. Stressing about church choir Christmas music means that a wonderful season is on its way.

6. First grade homework struggles means that my child is (hopefully) learning and growing.

7. An "N" for "needs improvement" for handwriting on a recent progress report means that her handwriting can be counted as such. The fact that Clara wrote the above is nothing short of wonderful and amazing, compared to where she has been. She is making a lot of progress.

(I'm hoping Clara's first sentence wasn't a statement of fact.)

Lesson learned

Clara's school put on a fundraiser a week ago. It reminded me of the "Walk-A-Thon" I did when I was in elementary school, except hers was called the "Fundrun." The premise is the same: get people to pledge money for each lap you run/walk.

I bet you know where this is going.

Since Clara is not a big runner, I asked her how many laps she thought she'd run (fifteen laps is a mile). She told me she'd do six laps, and I thought that was a reasonable goal, so we pledged three dollars a lap. (Quite honestly, I imagined her petering out after the first one. I even talked with the physical therapist at the school to see if she could walk with Clara because I was afraid she would refuse to participate at all without someone next to her.)

The parents were encouraged to come and cheer their kids on, so I dutifully arrived at the school, only to discover that they had moved the run inside the gym because of inclement weather. Picture a child with autism in a loud, echoing, gymnasium filled with one hundred first graders yelling their enthusiasm, a dude in a red cape ("Mr. Awesome" was his name), and pounding, pumping music. I watched Clara at the back, covering her ears. I was impressed that she was managing her discomfort--she didn't remove herself from the situation, but instead stayed and handled it.

The countdown is done and the kids start running. They circle around and around the gym, running through a red inflatable tunnel, and then stopping to get their t-shirts marked off for each lap. She keeps going. And going. And going. She walks sometimes, but she doesn't quit.

Lap 13 or so was a "parent lap," and you can bet I made sure that we took our sweet time getting her t-shirt marked off, letting her give a high-five to Mr. Awesome, etc. Nice and slow.

At lap 18, another teacher (who was trying to be helpful but wasn't at all) freaked her out by grabbing her wrist to direct her somewhere. She started crying, and we walked off the track to take a breather. After getting a drink at the water fountain and resting, she was done.

Eighteen laps. Sure, most of the kids did the maximum (36 laps), but the fact that she did so many was, well, awesome. Her PE teacher, Mrs. Trick, was amazed. Another teacher told me that Clara had stopped to help someone who had fallen which almost made me cry.

Clara was so proud of that t-shirt with the eighteen marks on the back. And even though I had to laugh at my naivete, fifty-one dollars was totally worth seeing my child run her heart out and feel proud of her effort.


Next time, though, I'm sticking with a flat donation.

Halloween: a limerick

There once was a girl on Halloween
Trick-or-treating she had never been
With the weather so cold
And the goodies untold
A happy night was foreseen.

So out in the night the girl went
Her ladybug skirt like a tent
Smiling with perfect grace
At each homeowner's face
With lots of candy home she was sent.

Her mom ate the chocolate with ease
While the child was strangely appeased
With Nerds and with Skittles
(So annoyingly little)
Overall, a night worth the bee's knees.

A little piece of heaven

Since we believe that family relationships perpetuate beyond the grave, we think it's pretty important to strengthen those relationships.

For our marriage, that means a yearly getaway.

We spent a night at Fort Lewis Lodge, a charming 3200-acre property dating back to the 1700s. We were in the middle of nowhere, which was fine by us. (Of course, the fact that we didn't have cell phone coverage made me a bit nervous since Hyrum and Clara were hanging out by themselves at home. We came home to a happy girl and a vacuumed house. I shouldn't have worried.)

Besides the beautiful scenery (and the company), we especially enjoyed the amazing breakfasts and dinners at the lodge, cooked from scratch by the owner and his wife for the forty or so guests each day. 

 

It is located close to Warm Springs, VA, home to the Jefferson Pools (Thomas Jefferson would come to bathe in these). You probably can't see the steam rising from the stream, but it was very warm. We contemplated paying the $17 to soak in the pools ourselves but then decided to postpone that for another trip.

Since we didn't check in to our room until 3:00pm, we enjoyed a very leisurely drive through the Alleghenies, stopping to take pictures and admire the colors.

We also felt no shame in taking pictures of a couple of houses that we really liked. We've got to keep adding to that "idea" book, right?

"What are you looking at? The grass really is greener over here, okay?"

 The drive in to breakfast at the lodge the next morning: snow!

We stayed at the Riverside House, which is still on the lodge property but a mile or two down the road.

A birds-eye view of the lodge.

When you see a telephone booth in the middle of a teeny town in the middle of nowhere, you get the urge to try it out.

 "Can you believe this dinosaur still works?!"

I'm all alone.

Oh wait! There's my favorite person in the world. Turns out I'm never alone.

Getaways remind you of that.

A new definition of morality?

{Caveat lector}

Picture this. Two families are sitting around their dinner table eating lasagna hot from the oven. There is some warm bread on the table and a green salad. The families are both enjoying themselves, talking, sharing, and passing food around.

 (image from Pioneer Woman)

Then you learn that Family A has made their lasagna from local grass-fed beef. The pasta is whole wheat and organic and the bread is homemade. The salad was purchased from the farmer's market (since their own garden is now out of season).

Family B's lasagna is from the freezer section. It is full of sodium. The pasta is white and the bread contains partially hydrogenated oils, aka trans fats. The salad is from a bag and is mostly iceburg lettuce.

Which family is more righteous?

I have been struck lately by the moral tone that our eating choices--as well as our environmental choices--have adopted. I have read books about eating well, eating local, going "green," etc. I even sometimes use reusable bags at the grocery store. Oh, and I take my recycling to the recycling center since we don't have curbside pickup. I try to use whole grain pasta and I try to eat and serve vegetables.

(Google pic)

Whoopdeedoo.

In our time, our daily mundane choices--what we eat, buy, wear, and cook their food in--have suddenly taken on the supposed importance of personal salvation.

I can't speak for God (obviously), but it is fairly obvious that He does want us to take care of the beautiful bodies He's given us. Both the scriptures and modern-day revelation has taught us this. I know He wants our vessels to be strong enough, healthy enough, and free from harmful substances so He can use us as instruments in His hands to do His work.

But does He care whether our lasagna was homemade or store-bought? Does He judge us if we eat ice cream without entirely natural ingredients? Or if we eat it at all? Does He care if we use Lysol or if we make our own disinfectant with tea tree oil and Borax? Are we less worthy if we don't use cloth diapers?

{NOT THAT any of those things are bad in and of themselves, mind you.}

I can't say for sure. But what I do know is that what He is most concerned about is the state of our hearts.

If Satan can use a trendy fixation on eating well and saving the environment (both good things in and of themselves) to make us judge each other, think we are better than others, and spend more time, thought, and energy on those things than on, say, being with and serving others, studying the scriptures, praying, and pondering, then he is winning.

Food and the environment are like money and the Internet. They are amoral, meaning they contain no inherent righteousness or wickedness. However, our actions, thoughts, and words--all of which are influenced by amoral things--are a matter of eternal significance.

Nowadays, it seems that eating processed food and buying styrofoam cups is a true, honest-to-goodness sin. But having sex before marriage? Having sex outside of marriage? Looking at a pornographic website? "Nah. You should be free to express yourself and do whatever makes you happy."

Whatever that is supposed to mean.

In fact, just this week I was browsing through a copy of one of those body and soul "wellness" magazines at the gym. One of the readers had written in, giving advice to a younger version of herself about what she should do when she grew up. It said to this effect: "There is no right or wrong; only right and left."

Talk about insidious.

I am reminded of Jesus' teachings in Matthew 15:11 "Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man."

I imagine the Lord is pleased and grateful when we try to take care of His earth and of our bodies, but I think it's helpful to remember that the main goal of this life is to prepare to meet Him again, and I don't think it matters whether our last mortal meal was a bag of Doritos or a salad of Swiss Chard. But I'm pretty sure it does matter--in fact, it truly is a life or death matter--what is coming out of our mouths, how we are acting toward others, how we are using the blessings He's given us, and the condition of our hearts.

If I die of a heart attack because I recklessly push aside my doctor's advice to eat better, that would be sad.

 (image)

But if I die of a heart attack having done my best to follow Ezekiel's words . . .

And I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh:

. . . then hopefully my heart will be in pretty good shape.


Just food for thought, anyway. What are your thoughts?

Family photo op attempts

Family pictures.

The drama.

The irony is that it is so important to us to make our family pictures look happy and beautiful, but the stress and anxiety that goes into them seems to make everyone on edge.

We were going to spend a pretty penny and have someone take some pics of us. Fortunately, we wisely forewent that expense and had my dad take some of us while they were here.

We haven't had any done since Clara was four, and the wall above our couch is begging to be filled. I hadn't realized how much Clara had changed since the picture above was taken in 2009.

 It's pretty incredible that I gave birth to a teenager only a few short months ago.

I can't believe I've been married to this hunk over nine years now. (Wait a minute. Didn't I just give birth to a sixteen-year-old?)

 Hyrum has gained twenty pounds since he's been here and he's working on five more before Christmas. He is nearly as tall as Michael (6 ft 2) and is not thrilled (but doesn't really care that much) with the pic we're sending out for Christmas (not shown) where he looks significantly shorter than Michael. But we had to take the best one. No family photo is perfect.

They might be sixteen years apart, but you know that two guys are brothers when they start throwing the fake punches. 

A day with grandparents

While my parents were here, they kindly watched Clara for a day (Hyrum had a basketball tournament) while Michael and I went to the Washington D.C. LDS temple. It was wonderful to be in the temple, and Clara sure had a blast with Nana and Bapa. First stop of the day was the Harrisonburg Children's Museum, then the library, then the park, and an ice cream cone on the way home. A very blessed girl.

 The stage and makeup area is one of Clara's favorite places. Getting to apply your own makeup? Sweet.

 I think it is hilarious that my parents dressed up. Not only did they dress up, but they apparently asked a stranger to take a picture of them on stage.

 I love that they would do that.

 Quite frankly I am too insecure to get dressed up and act on the stage of a children's museum.

But at least I know my limitations.

 Clara loves squeezing glue. It hits some sort of sensory button for her.

 Bapa seemed to enjoy making his own creation as well.

 Inside the play house, complete with a dog (and dog bed), washer and dryer, and of course child-height counters with play food.

Driving the ambulance. Note my dad in the background.

My parents just put their application papers in to leave for two years on a mission for our church. They have been planning on this for a long time, and I am so proud of them. They won't know for a while where they'll be headed, but already our family has been blessed by their faith and determination to serve the Lord. I'll keep you posted!

Life or death

I love being around people who don't take themselves too seriously. The people who can laugh, put things in perspective, aren't worried about what other people think, are self-deprecating and self-forgiving--these people inspire and rejuvenate me.

Unfortunately, I am not one of those people.

I take nearly everything too seriously, especially when it comes to my kiddo.

First grade has been hard for Clara. Hard for me. There have been days when she has been removed from the classroom because she's being too silly or defiant or disruptive. It breaks my heart and makes me cry.

Yesterday she came home with another not-so-stellar report, and her morning before school had been less than desirable. I was discouraged. I sat in near silence at the kitchen table by Clara as she worked on her homework. She asked why I had been crying. I told her I was sad because of the things her teacher had written about some of the bad choices she'd made.

Clara looked at me with beautiful, brown, sad eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

She isn't purposefully trying to mess up the whole class (who is composed of 12 kids who all need extra help, so you can imagine how one child with Aspergers and ADD, combined with other kids with ADHD and learning challenges, etc., creates a challenging learning environment). I know she doesn't think, "Today I'm going to make bad choices. Bwah ha ha ha!" She is still learning how to self-regulate and gain the skills that most at her age attained long ago. She is trying. She is making gains, as my indefatigably hopeful and confident husband reminds me. (Can't think about what I would do without him.)

As we continued to sit at the table, my heart became calmer and I felt more peace.

After her homework was done, we blew bubbles outside. Then we made banana pudding together for Family Home Evening, taking turns stirring. My heart was feeling more love and more hope again.


Then a few minutes later Clara said, "Fart fart chicken butt!" She laughed hysterically. (Thank you, boys in her class.)

I told her in a very firm voice, "Clara! We do NOT say those words in this house" (and then told her the consequence of doing so again). "We do not say the "f" word or the "b-u" word."

Clara responded, "And we don't say the "c-h" word either. Right, Mama?"

"C-h word? What's that?"

"Chicken."

"No, we can say that word," I replied, smiling.

{What Clara came out of her room wearing for school a few weeks ago}

You've probably heard this quote by Sarah Breathnach, but it speaks to me:

Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend...when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present--love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and personal pursuits that bring us pleasure--the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on earth.

First grade is a phase. Elementary school is only a season. If I take things too seriously, I will miss the joy and absolute hilarity of it all.

Apple-picking

We took my parents to Carter Mountain Apple Orchard in Charlottesville. The orchard sold some amazing apple cider (which, ironically, wasn't made from its own apples), and we also sampled some apple cider donuts. They didn't taste like apple cider to me, so I am thinking they were made for dunking in apple cider.

The orchard was way up in the mountains, which made for beautiful views, but it was kind of tricky lugging the apple wagon up and down inclines.

We met my dear friend, Joy, there, with her two adorable kiddos. Theo was happy as a clam (who on earth made up that idiom?) chomping on an apple in his backpack.

 We actually got a picture with Clara smiling and looking at the camera! Will miracles never cease? Nope, they won't.

 Clara kissing her Bapa on the mouth. I remember my grandpa (Poppy) wanting to kiss me on the mouth--even as a college student--and I would do my utmost to politely turn my cheek, but he sure was persistent.

{Do your kids kiss you on the mouth? I love it when she gives me sugar, but I try not to let Clara kiss me on the mouth. Just feels funny.}

"Inside every man there is a little boy, and inside every little girl there is a woman." Seems pretty accurate to me.

We just can't help it

I am convinced that everyone thinks they were cute when they were little.

 I think it is our inner voice reminding us that we are each pretty special.

My rock-awesome Care Bear cake, decorated by my dad. I have to admit--Care Bears weird me out now. But man, I loved them when I was three.

So if you're feeling down, just go look at some pics of yourself when you were a little kid. It'll cheer you up.

Of course, if you want to laugh, go look at photos from when you were a teenager. I will have to find those another time.

Sweet memories

My parents came last weekend. It was a wonderful visit--Clara was excited about it for days (weeks?) in advance (her teachers knew it, too).

As usual, my thoughtful mom came bearing gifts.

Clara about peed in her pants she was so excited about this American Girl nightgown.

It reminded me of the matching nightgowns that my mom made for me and my American Girl doll, Samantha, twenty years ago.

Clara got a Kirsten doll from an older lady in Augusta, but she isn't really into AG which is fine by me. She does like looking at the catalogs, though. I remember that was one of my favorite parts, too. Most of the accessories were way too expensive, so my mom would sew dresses and painted her furniture. I loved it. Even though the company has expanded dramatically (not exactly in ways I like, but as I'm not a principal stockholder apparently I have no say in the matter), I still secretly wish I could be have an American Girl doll.

I might need to unpack Samantha when I go back to Atlanta for Christmas and reminisce about our good times together.

Mennonite Fall Festival

We took our visitors to a Mennonite festival last Saturday. I loved it--low-key, cheap (so many of these places are so pricey!), and very interesting. We enjoyed a little bit of everything:

 Corn-hole throwing,

 Intense competition,

Apple cider-pressing,

 Pumpkin painting,

 Cousin posing,

 Washboard scrubbing (Clara didn't want to stop (!)),

 Homemade ice cream eating,

 Family picture-taking,

 Forced smiling at the camera,

Uncle Hyrum loving,

Maybe a little too much Uncle Hyrum loving.