Cute kids, I tell ya!

Mowing

It's not that I'm ungrateful for the help, or not perfectly pleased that he is willing to offer on his own accord. It's just that - is it really necessary for him to mow in the same corner and at the exact same moment?

THE MONSTERS IN OUR CLOSETS

There's a common thread among mothers that binds us together in an unusual way, but no one has the energy or bravery to talk about. Therefore, it remains silent. The problem is that we don't quite know how to deal with the magnitude of it. Furthermore, I don't think we want to admit to ourselves that it needs to be dealt with at all - and perhaps rightly so. But it's often the question itself that haunts us at nights. And it remains a question because we don't want others to be aware of the monsters we are hiding in our closets. It would require us to take action. Therefore, we are downward spiraling as we put on our smiles and walk out the door. It's easier to pretend, for our sakes and the sakes of others, that we have no need of addressing the issue. Well, I courageously bring up the subject today so that we mothers can unite. Let's stand together with elbows locked and look this demon in the face. We can be strong in numbers. We can come up with a solution. We can release ourselves from it's grasp.

With that intro, I'd like share a scene from my 8th grade Math class. There was a certain boy in this class that was always dressed in slacks and a button up shirt with hair combed to the side (a salesperson type look - unusual for the 8th grade. All he needed was a briefcase). This boy frequently called me "mormon" with a little dramatic scowl. It was either that or my full name "Amy Benedict," in a very formal way with exaggerated enunciation and a hint of disdain (although I felt we were forming a strange sort of friendship through our exchanges). He knew my values and didn't like that I had to be so "honest" because he sat behind me and I was often the person that graded his paper. One time, as he passed his paper to me, he also offered "this shiny quarter if you will be nice." (In other words, I will pay you to cheat for me). No brainer. Easy. "No" was my automatic reply with a light scoff and roll of the eyes. I like honesty. (I also like a good laugh and was grateful that he provided me with one almost daily). I believe that honesty is the best policy and I make a concious effort to live by that rule. I can't say with certainty that I've never distorted the truth (I will admit that I have justified a fib at least once in the old "do I look fat?" scenerio by convincing myself that I didn't ask to be put in this awkward situation). However, I don't feel I've ever had a problem with honesty.......until becoming a mother. You see, the previous cheating example shows how easy it was before to know what was honest or not.

*Now enters the Monster - stage right*. It's not usually as easy to tell right from wrong when the monsters arrive. The beast comes in many different forms and we mothers commonly deal with multiple beasts at the same time. It can seem daunting at best. So how do we deal with this problem in an honest way? Never before has honesty been so vague to me. It's just not a black and white issue anymore. To illustrate, I will introduce my first little monster - one that particularly haunts me simply because it's form doesn't happen to be one of the more pleasant ones - and it gathers hair and dust......and lint.



No, this is not gum. It's a big wad of silly puddy. How does silly puddy haunt you in your sleep, you ask? Well, it was left at my home by one of my piano students after a group lesson. Now, is it my responsibility, in order to remain honest, to return it to him? I know, I know, What's the big deal - give it to him at his next lesson, you say. Well, you're right.....it's not a big deal......not until you add his comrades:




This, my friends, represents all the stufF we mothers have accumulated in our homes that make us dishonest women. Let's unite and free eachother from guilt. I feel that returning everything could become my new full-time job. I've found more items since taking this picture including a Scooby Doo shirt that somehow wound up in our suitcase after a family get together??? As I've thought about the issue of honesty and returning these items that are not mine, I have discovered that these little monsters could be divided into different categories associated with differing degrees of honesty (if that's possible).



First of all, the above is proof that all of us deal with this issue, This was given to me in a sack of my items that were returned to me. Only, this....whatever it is.....is not mine. My only clue: "Lil'Bratz". I believe this is my niece, Madison's. Sorry Maddy! I'm not quite sure if this one should be my responsibility - but I will try to remember to pack it in the car along with all the other stuff we need to pack next time we see you.

The following items were liberated from their proper locations by my children. These should definitely be returned, seeing as though we actually stole them. Although a part of me wonders whether the train table at McKenzie's old gymnastics place will really miss a car without wheels or a complete frame. Nevertheless, I guess that would be up to them to decide. The red knife was stolen from nursery, of all places. Unfortunately, since then, our stakes have been realigned; We've gotten a new ward building and new nursery toys, and I'm afraid that wondering the halls of some random church building with a bewildered look and a knife, as I peak through classroom windows in search of a home for this thing, may not fare well. The panties? Well, accidents happen. But, I'm sure all of you go prepared with an extra pair when you're away from home - for just incase (that'd be for McKenzie, not me).



I think I know where these items belong but am not positive. Not only that, but I'm not sure if they were given to my children to keep. There's nothing like returning a gift in an old holey Wal-Mart bag that was originally given with love.



On the other hand, I have absolutely no idea where these items came from. The red pull-back car has been with us for so long, I'm not sure I could part with it anyway. Nevertheless, if you see an item that is yours, let me know and I will find a way to pry it from my children's little fingers.



Finally, items that were left at our home by their rightful owners. These are the monsters that really get me. Does it need to be my responsibility to return items that people didn't keep track of themselves? I have enough trouble keeping track of my own things, let alone everyone else's. O.k., yes, Elonna, you said we could keep the red fire-truck. But, in my mind, it still belongs to you. As for the sock, I am awaiting the return of its twin. I'm pretty sure I've seen it and it's companion at different times but never together. One of these days, I'll catch them in the same vicinity when they least expect it. Yes, Lyndi, we will return your cat. How can we keep something that is so obviously worn with love. O.k., let's face it, if I know who's it is, I can't just D.I. it or throw it away or keep it. Actually, I did get up the guts to throw away two socks that I couldn't find mates to that didn't belong to us. Unfortunately, when McKenzie saw them on the top of the garbage stack, there was an immediate, "Hey, those are Julia's socks! Why did you throw away Julia's socks? WaaAaaaaah!" She freed them from their doom. I hope that I will eventually return this stuff to their original owners.



That is......except for these dandies. Ethan LOVES these shoes. We may even throw honesty to the wind with these babies.



P.S. Kristie, thank you for letting McKenzie Have? Borrow? this Mickey Mouse cup for her car ride over Thanksgiving break......I'm just not quite sure whether you wanted it back or whether it's disposable or whether you wanted her to pass it down to her posterity as a family heirloom.



Maybe we mothers around the world could make a pact that we don't have to worry about the items that we, ourselves, wouldn't miss if we happened to lose them. Elisa, that doesn't include the free flimsy plastic containers that I used for formula and left at your house over a year ago. I hope you're meticulously saving those for me in a special corner of your kitchen because I want those back. Kidding!!!

Family Home Evening

Last night for Family Home Evening, we talked about who the new prophet was and then we took turns "being the prophet" and "listening to the prophet" by playing that picture game where you describe to someone how to draw a simple picture without telling them what it is and then we compared pictures. I know, a little far-fetched, but it was fun. I was impressed that McKenzie actually had such a great time with it. Here are the pictures we dictated and drew:

Exibit 1 shows the picture that Jason dictated to McKenzie and the picture that McKenzie drew.

Exibit 2 shows what I dictated to Jason (obviously he added his own embellishments).

Then Jason and McKenzie drew their own pictures to dictate to me, since I had drawn the prepared ones.

This is Jason's picture dictated to me......oooooooooh, how sweeeeet!

Finally, Here is the picture McKenzie drew. I was so curious how she would explain this to me. As she did, I quickly started writing down her instructions inbetween following them. Here they are:

1. Draw a circle

2. Now draw an O in the circle

3. Then draw a man eating a cookie - 'cuz that's a cookie

4. Now do a curved line

5. Then do a dot

6. Now do a bunch of dots

7. Then do a circle
8. Now draw some squares

9. Now do more circles

10. Then do a circle-line (?)

Then she said, in a very encouraging tone, "O.k., now that looks like a lollipop, that's great! Now do a rainbow in the lollipop. That's all! It's going to be perfect. Yours looks great!

This is what I drew - which wouldn't be so embarrassing if I didn't have full artistic license to draw the man who was eating the cookie the way I wanted to.

After drawing my man, I said "How Embarrassing" Jason responded, very matter-of-fact, "Self-Portrait with donut." Thanks for the vote of confidence, Love of my Life.

Well, at least Mckenzie appreciated it, I thought. But I thought too soon. When all was said and done, she asked "Is that a horse? 'Cuz that looks like a horse". I assured her it was a man. "Well, is that a girl? Because it has that hair." No it's a man. It's a man, o.k., people? Not me, not a horse. I followed specific instruction to draw a man, and that is precisely what I did.

This is especially embarrassing because my Mom is an artist. She taught art lessons while I was growing up and painted many oil paintings. She was the Manager of the Spori Art Building at BYU-Idaho last year. She took an art class and whipped out the following portrait in class in less than 2 hours (a little hard to see 'cuz of the glare - go to her blog www.benedicthome.blogspot.com to see more of her art sometime). I guess I could give myself a little credit - my Horse-Man probably only took a little over 5 minutes.

Needless to say, next time I visit my mom, it wouldn't hurt to join my neices as they strap on aprons, roll up their sleeves, and pull chairs up to easles. It's about time I take advantage of a free art class or two.

Friends

I watch my friend's children every other Wednesday. She watches mine the other Wednesdays. This means we each get 2 1/2 hours 2 times a month to run errands or do whatever we want. Nice. We are also swapping kids every other weekend for dates. This means Jason and I get a date twice a month. Wonderful. And all of our children see eachother twice a week. Awesome. They love being together (at least I can speak for McKenzie). It works out great because they are all the same ages (within a few months) and they generally play really well together. It also works out great because they are all the opposite gender from the coordinating child that is the same age. I can see three arranged marriages in our future so we don't have to worry about that anymore. Phew! No, but really, how fun to have good friends! (I can't speak for Asher. He doesn't seem so sure in the following picture).

Sliding down the stairs. On your mark, get set, go! (the tape is because I'm getting ready to paint - not a permanent fixture). By the way, have you ever tried "sliding" down the stairs as an adult? It really hurts. In fact, it's not really sliding at all. It's "bump, bump, bump" all the way down. I know, should have known. It was just so much fun as a child. How does it not hurt their bumpers?

And of course, like with any good friends, these kids go WAY back - at least since last summer.

This makes me so excited for summer! We were snowed in today. Church was canceled. The snow was out of control. I saw our neighbors across the street pull out of their driveway and get stuck right at the bottom.