Perfectly Imperfect

My dad teaches an early-morning scripture study class to a group of high-schoolers in my hometown. When we visited a couple of weekends ago, he mentioned that he needed a completed piece of needlework for an object lesson that he was going to use in one of his lessons, where he could show these teenagers the front AND the back.

He didn't explain the symbolism, but there was no need. Everyone judges the front of the stitchery, noting the beauty, complexity, deciding if they like it or not, often commenting, "I could never do something like that." Maybe even feeling jealous that another person has the talents & skills necessary to complete such a work of art.

Rarely is the back side given a second thought.

The back is usually a mess. There are knots everywhere, intentionally placed so the stitches hold fast. In some places, there are large, clumpy, accidental knots of thread, bunched together in unattractive 'oops'es. Where the front may have delicate French knots or ordered stitches, the back is riddled with seemingly random lines stretching from here to somewhere inexplicable. And the stitches behind the lettering only vaguely resemble the inspiring words on the front.

The front would not be near as presentable if the back was not so imperfect.

We're all like that, though. Every single one of us has knots, 'oops'es and scars that we hide from others. They're past experiences, lessons learned, lessons still being learned, struggles that mold us and form us and make us into better versions of us. The problem comes when we see the back of our own tapestry in all its funkiness and compare it to the beautiful, finished front of everyone else's.

I had an oddball thought as I was driving down the freeway this afternoon. What if we all wore t-shirts that showed our struggles?
--Doesn't feel loved.
--Scared of job loss.
--Molested as a teenager.
--Not good enough.
--Afraid of doctor's test results.
--Marriage on the rocks.

What if we decided that our knots, scars and missed stitches are okay? What would happen if I wore a shirt that said, "Worried about money; Concerned that I'm screwing up my kids instead of teaching them right; Keep forgetting to put my husband first in my life."? Okay, it'd have to be a dress, but you get the point.

Would we think less of each other? Would the world be a better place because everyone just gets it out there & doesn't have to struggle alone? Would it be way more pessimistic and we'd all just concentrate on our woes instead of being grateful for our blessings? (There would be some benefits, because it would be easier to protect ourselves from criminals and the like.) But how would it all work out? Would we run to others to alleviate their pains and uplift them? Would be reach out to strangers to help bouy them up and lift their droopy souls?

Would we forget our own woes as we love & serve & help others?

Of course it's a fantastical idea, unrealistic in many ways. I just wish that there wasn't such a negative social stigma to seeing a therapist or being on an antidepressant or...being imperfect! I don't know a single person on the earth today who's perfect.

There's only been one, and it's good to remember sometimes that He loves me, knots and all.

Umm...

Do you see it?

I had this super-mega bottle of bubble solution for months before I noticed it.

Gotta' love the power of the brain. And someone on staff who reads English.

Prayer & Pom Poms

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Don't care who ya' are, ya' do, and I am no exception. Interestingly, some of the strengths that I really admire in other people just happen to be the things that I absolutely, completely, positively suck at.

Prayer is one of those things.

Not that I don't pray. I do it all the time. "Thanks for the green light. I really needed that, I'm almost out of gas." "Please help me find the van key because it's the only microchipped one we have." "Thank you for watching over Cora because she just woke up from a nap and pulled a penny out of her mouth." That sort of thing. Lots and lots of thoughts, emotions and requests sent heavenward.

It's the prayer prayer that I'm terrible at. Like the consistently-get-down-on-my-knees-pour-out-my-soul-leave-my-burdens-at-His-feet-and-let-Him-fill-me-back-up prayer. All too often I feel like my relationship with my Heavenly Father is like the dear friend I see very occasionally for a couple hours of good catching up, but otherwise just touch bases through facebook.

Nothing to be proud of. And I'm not.

Last weekend as I watched and listened to His word for me, I was lovingly nudged back to Him, and reminded that He wasn't the one who got lazy. So I've been thinking of ways to keep myself motivated and on track. I think I've found what will work for me until it becomes a habit:



Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's a reward jar. I figured if the kids can get stickers for using a potty, peanuts for quiet mornings or raffle tickets for positive behavior, I can work toward filling my own jar! To make it attainable, I'm using craft pom poms first, then beans later. (And yes, siblings of mine, that IS the smallest and last-remaining of the glass set of canisters that Mom had on her counter for years. I kept it. I have no idea why, but I did. And now it has a purpose.) It was a bit tricky coming up with a reward, because I can get a donut or quarter or new headband whenever I want. It's one of the glories of being a grown up. After a bit of thought, I decided that my reward would be a record of progress.

So this morning as I let my fingernail top-coat dry, I very carefully wrote my State of Being: where I am in all aspects of my life...physical, relationship, financial, spiritual, etc. (And then I prayed, earning me that first big, sparkly puffball. Not remotely coincidentally, the kids & I had one of the best house-cleaning days we've ever had for the most part. I was full of praise and patience, Lee didn't have a single time-out today & he behaved better than his older siblings!) When my retro jar is full of colorful puffiness, I'll record my State of Being at that time, and again when it's full of beans.

I look forward to looking back and seeing the distinct differences in pretty much all areas of my life, because this one thing touches everything in large and small ways. That will be such a great reward. So wish me luck.

Bag that. Just keep me in your prayers. You'll be in mine.

Kitchen Milestone

Waffles are an art.

Well, they are for my husband. When I make them, I make pretty much the same batter as I would for pancakes, but a little thinner & just throw it in the waffle iron. Riah, however, takes the time to separate the egg whites, beat them into a beautiful, soft-peaky froth and fold them gently into the rest of the batter. The work is worth it, because he makes the best waffles ever! They're light, fluffy, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Warm, butter, syrupy heaven.

The Waffle Master has taken on a young padawan, and today she passed her first Waffle Test.

Very often when the children are hungry and ask that eternal question, "What's for lunch?" we respond, "What are you making?" Another derivation is, "Can we have _____?" Typically we answer, "Sure! You makin' it?" They usually just react with mild exasperation or maybe to insist, "Mom! I don't know how! I'm not big enough!" (Our children will either grow to be incredibly sarcastic or able to not take themselves too seriously. I hope it's the latter.)

Today, however, when Abby reminded me that we had recently promised waffles in the near future and I countered with the "You doin' it?" question, she very matter-of-factly and responsibly replied, "Yes."

And she did.

She wanted no help, not even when Alex begged to crack the eggs. It was hard for me not to volunteer help or give tips. I stayed out of the kitchen so as not to interfere. (She did need a little help, as the recipe mix needed tripling, and multiplying fractions isn't something that this 4th grader has mastered yet. But other than that, she was good!) She measured, she beat, she mixed dry and wet in separate bowls, she cooked...she did everything! (She used a mix, not the from-scratch recipe that her dad does...that'll come in time.) Besides the occasional sandwich, she's never taken on a beginning-to-end kitchen project before.

She was quite proud of herself, and so are we.

And the other munchkins liked them, too.

Cora's was half eaten during the prayer.

I Yam what I Yam and that's all that I Yam.

I am...logical.
I am...pragmatic.
I am...creative.
I am not...Shauna.
I am...funny.
I am...witty.
I am not...the life of the party.
I am...young and vital.
I am not...the reflection in the mirror. Who IS that???
I am...accepting.
I am...forgiving.
I am...confident.
I am...insecure.
I am...34.
I am not...pushing middle-aged.
I am...frugal.
I am not...flamboyant.
I am...God-fearing.
I am not...God-fearing enough.
I am...smarter than your average bear.
I am...smarter than your average 34yo MWF.
I am not...a genius. But don't tell the kids.
I am...a party planner.
I am not...Aubrey.
I am...organized.
I am not...CDO (OCD, but put in alphabetical order, the way it should be).
I am...a mother.
I am...a daughter.
I am...a wife.
I am...a sister.
I am...an aunt.
I am...a friend.
I am...a Princess, as my Father is a King.
I am not...perfect.
I am...loved.

TYVM--Warning!! Yuck factor below...

I'm linking up to Kmama's blog, via Rachel's blog. Never done it before, so let's hope it works!



Thank You Very Much is a fun way to administer a bit of sarcastic self-therapy.


My Dearest Cora,

For not throwing a fit when I removed your sister's underwear out of your hands while I was sorting dirty clothes and being satisfied with the little princess pair that I pulled out of your own drawer...

...Thank You Very Much.


For waiting until I was out of the room to remove the rest of your clothes, including your diaper...

...Thank You Very Much.


For fussing nervously to alert me that your way was blocked and you couldn't get your naked self down from your sister's bunkbed...

...Thank You Very Much.


For pausing on the second rung up the ladder to attend to a certain natural process, leaving a ginormous pile of it on the ladder, unknowingly barricading yourself on Abby's bed...

...Thank You Very Much.


For leaving little poo spots all over the mattress and bedding (including big fluffy comforter) that I just washed...

...Thank You Very Much.


For putting your perfectly clean diaper in the garbage as you nakified yourself...

...Thank You Very Much.


For doing it again in the hallway mere hours later...

...NO Thank You Very Much!!!

What do YOU do in the summertime?

There is a song that I sang as a child at church. I could never remember all the words, because there are so many, and not necessarily linked together in any manner other than rhyming. It lists things that you do in the summertime, and it's a cute song. I've often wished that I knew the lyrics better so I could sing them at will.

A few weeks ago, our Primary music leader, Shauna, made the comment, "I wish someone would come up with new words to this song." That set my wheels a-turnin, and as soon as we got in the car, I challenged my kiddos to think of things that we do in the summertime. I set them to rhyme, emailed them to Shauna, and the next Sunday, guess what we all sang?

Oh, What Do You Do In The Summertime, AbbyAlexLee-style:

The pictures that she came up were amazing, of course, because it was Shauna.


Oh, what do you do in the summertime, when all the world is green?
Do you walk in the park? Stay up after dark?
Pick blackberries for a pie?
Is that what you do? So do I.

Lots of syllables in this one--gotta' sing it fast!

Put the emphasis on 'on.'

(In Primary, she prefaced the song by explaining that she'd been sitting up front, watching Lee launch from his seat and belly flop spread-eagled on the floor again and again. She wondered what he was doing (besides being a squirmy 4yo boy), but when we sent her the lyrics about the Blue Angels, she knew--he was being a Blue Angel! The kids thought it was cool that everyone was singing a song that we created from our own family's experiences, and Lee absolutely lit up when the part about the Blue Angels--his contribution--came up.

I love Shauna.