Just Take Some Time

We were at Chick-fil-A last week.  I really don't like the place because it screws up environmental print, but that has nothing to do with my post.  Despite my misgivings about product or marketing or how parents use the play area as a daycare center, that place *always* has the nicest workers.

There was a lady employee working each table to ask if she could take trash, get refills, or whatever.   She, well, bothered most people because they had to pull themselves from their phones or conversations to respond to her.  She did talk longer than is typically acceptable in our tech driven age of the "2 second HI" and her jokes were corny.  And, maybe, she repeated the joke to a table a couple of times.

None of that really matters as she was doing a great job, being courteous, caring, and trying to connect.

There was a group of adults that spanned a good portion of the tables, some supporters of a girls' softball team.  And these adults were older than I am.  Like grandmas and mothers in their late 40s, early 50s.

And, instead of responding to the employee's overtures of connection, they made fun of her.  They mimicked her, rolled their eyes at her, got up and walked away while she was in mid-sentence . . . and all this in front of their kids.

I was shocked, even felt like throwing up, as I saw all this going on . . . I felt like I was transported to some awful lunch hour in middle school.

She is someone's daughter.  Could be someone's sister or mom.  She *is* someone.  Not a nuisance, but someone.

Just take a couple of seconds, or maybe minutes for this lady, and say hi.

And children watch how people treat one another. 

I wish they didn't feel like they might be in such a hurry.  I wish that they put away the cell phone.  Have an open mind about interacting with other people.  They could make the difference for someone else having an awesome experience that shapes him or her . . . or be the influence that pulls that person in the opposite direction.

A couple of years ago, I was chaperoning a church dance.  There was a popular girl there . . . and she was asked by a not-so-popular guy to dance.  She did.  YAY!  As they were dancing the slow dance, she held her cell phone behind his head and texted the entire time, bored.  BOO! 

We need to teach our children to take the time to be nice, even to the not-so-popular.  Show them how to talk to people that are different than they are.  Teach them the value of interacting with other people.

We, as parents and stewards of younger generations, have to put more effort in doing this than those that raised kids in other generations.  Technology takes priority over most things these days.

In graduate school, I had the pleasure to work with someone that knew everyone.  I mean everyone.  As we would walk from building to building from appointment to appointment, he could talk to everyone and knew whose aunt was sick, who had a son that was playing baseball, and who needed an extra compliment that day.  We had arrived on campus on the same day . . . and, yet, he had become a part of the lives of so many people.  He cared about people.  I had the pleasure of meeting his parents a couple of years later and found the reason why . . . his parents cared about people.  When you walked into their home, you became another family member.  And, although, I do believe that there are personality traits where being a "people person" is part of what you are naturally born with . . . this family was more than that.  They put active energy in connecting with others.  They take the time.

I have no "people person" acumen to brag about . . . I am a shy person.  I have to put constant effort in social situations.  I get busy.  So, last week's visit to that chicken place was a meaningful reminder for me.

I am making a more concerted effort to:  Just Take Some Time.

Lady Employee:  Know how to get rid of varnish?
Me:  Um, no?
Lady Employee:  Take out the "r".
Me:  (a moment to figure it out)  HAHAHAHAHA!

And, bless me, that joke is still giving me the giggles.

WHY?

Today, I will borrow a question preschoolers every where use:

WHY?

Eager to hear answers, especially funny ones.

And, I've already heard,"Why Not?"

That is all.

Late Night Mommy Things

I saw my mom staying up late to sew dresses for her daughters.

I stay up late to learn how to draw a recognizable McQueen and Mater. 

(which is worth more than any of my cool dragon drawing skills right now)

It is when the boys are in bed that I am able to fold the clothes and procrastinate putting them away for a couple of hours. 

It is when the boys are in bed that do my office work, catch up on my email, watch my new episode of White Collar or Bones, and work on my lessons. 

It is when the boys are in bed that I get to eat more than 1/2 an inch of my York Peppermint Pattie.  My boys love it when I share.

It is when the boys are in bed that I am able to attempt a phone call. 

It is when the boys are in bed that I am able to actually sweep and mop and have it make a difference.

It is when the boys are in bed that I can think of all the things I should be doing that require no interruptions, like cleaning the office or my closet or the garage or the pantry; but I would rather be just sitting and doing nothing without interruptions.

Tonight, I am putting the finishing touches on our game board that I made for our road trip.  The boys are going to love it!

And the funny thing, I miss the boys when they are in bed.  I don't miss the fighting, though.

A Reminder To Myself

iHola Crayola!  This is been a bit of a day.

This is a reminder to myself: 

No matter how much someone else doesn't follow through or disappoints, there are others out there who will follow through and even surprise you with their efforts in going above and beyond.

Don't get frustrated, just wait.

Don't let the others bring you down.

Someone will be there to play catch. So, go ahead, play ball.

Some More Weird

Black playdough . . . seriously?

Because even I had a hard time thinking past shaping poop shapes with it.

And, don't you eventually get brown/black by the end of the playdough set's life because all the colors are mixed together?

Being Schooled By My Four Year Old

One of the things I have come to realize is that some of the most powerful teachers aren't the ones that share specific information but the ones that provide a space for thought and then ask a hard question or make a comment that forces you to stop and pause.  They create a spot for you to make a connection for yourself if you take advantage of the opportunity.
------------------------------------------

We had the fun of a plumber in the house all morning.  The fun of a stressed mom.

"Why are you standing with your arms crossed?" Evy asked while I was waiting for the plumber to give me the news from the leak test . . . kids recognize what is going on.  He recognized my nervousness.

"Mom, are you having a hard time?"  Evy asked as we were in the car running an errand later.  I had just placed my head in my hand as if to contain my running thoughts, as we were waiting at a red light.  He notices.

I was adamant that this "leak" wasn't going to throw a wrench in what I had planned for the day.  I was taking a Cinco de Mayo celebration dinner to my sister's house.  We were going to eat, play with the kids, and then the Sjolseths were going to have baths with hot water and dress for bed before we left.  And, we did all that.  Those boys are so gentle with their baby cousin.

This evening, after a very, uh, full day, I was putting the boys to bed.

Merritt went first.  All day he had been a pretty good listener.  This evening I said,"Time for bed.  Let's go upstairs."  And he went upstairs and turned off lights and went straight for his room.  When I said,"We need to say prayer," he slid out of bed, kneeled, and folded his arms . . . and kept his arms folded and his body still the ENTIRE time.  What a growing boy!

When it was Evy's turn, I felt strongly that I needed to be more direct, again, about how and why we should say personal prayers than I had been in the past couple of weeks.

Even though it was after 9:30 (sooo late), I took the time to describe to Evy what a personal prayer was, what we say and ask for during a prayer, and we took several minutes for Evy to say his own prayer.

After his prayer, I told him that I knew that personal prayer works.  That for a long time, his dad and I had prayed for Evy to come to our family.  That we said lots and lots of prayers because we wanted Evy to come to our family.

"You did."  His eyes were full of tears.

"Yes, we did.  We knew we needed you."  Tears rolled down his face and mine, and he grabbed me for a hug.


I don't have the articulation necessary to describe the sweet Spirit that was in the room as I was prompted to tell him how much I love him, how much his dad loves him, and how much our Heavenly Father loves him.

He wanted to know how Heavenly Father helped bring him to our family.  I told him how we found a good doctor to help my body "be ready for a baby to grow."  I told him how Heavenly Father helped my body stay healthy until Evy's body was ready to be part of this world.

"And then I came out of you?"

"Yes!"

As he was overcome with emotion, I gave him a hug.  He mumbled something . . . and I tried to clarify, but he wasn't ready to share.  I could tell he just didn't know how to share what he was feeling and so I reminded him that he could always talk to us and that we loved him.

Then I told him about Farkle the Funny Star who tells funny jokes, funny stories, and likes to make funny sounds.

-----------------------------------------
Tonight, Evy provided a teaching moment.  He had the courage to ask questions and to clarify.

He makes me wonder why it is so hard for adults to recognize need in another when he, as a four year old boy, recognizes it just fine.

He provided a space for me to feel full of gratitude for the blessing of children in my life.  He helped me remember what it was like before he was in our family and after he joined us.  He very willingly showed his love for me.  The pure simplicity of a child's love is an awesome blessing to witness.

Being a mom is hard, but having the desire to be a mom and not have that blessing actualized in this life is harder.

I appreciate that Evy could recognize the time for thoughtfulness and listened to what I was saying; he is four after all.

I love my boys.  And, even though I have a pond of water sitting underneath my foundation that is heating my kitchen and laundry room flooring, the important things are in their proper place.  I am a blessed woman.

In Review

This marks my 6th year of blogging.

In a week or so, I'll hit the 1,000th post.

It, overall, has been a positive experience.

I blog now mainly about daily life and our boys.

I have blogged about infertility struggles and a couple of opinionated rants.

I try and keep politics out of this blog.  I don't think the place for that is here.

I don't blog about everything in my life.  Some stuff just isn't for the masses.

I will never put adds on this blog.  That is not the purpose for my writing.

I enjoy writing.  I always have.  Someday, if I write enough and make space for reflection and critique on that writing, I may even develop a knack for it.  Someday.

Blogging is an intersection for journaling and scrapbooking for me.  I was always a journal-er and somewhat of a scrapbook-er.  It is nice that I can combine my penchant for wordiness with pictures.

Sometimes I agonize over word choice.  Sometimes I am lucky that posts have fewer than 3 misspelled words.  (blogger spellcheck has a few more versions to go before being sufficient for my needs)

The nice thing about having several posts archived to read is that I get to reflect on how my thinking has changed, and also hasn't changed.  I see how much I have grown, how my kids have changed, and how most things do turn out for the better.

I think I'll keep doing it a little while longer.

A Milestone Has Passed

Two years ago, on February 8th, we moved back to Texas.

I will forever remember that date.

I can say that it was the most stressful time of my life.

I appreciate where I am today.

I appreciate my "old" friends and am glad that distance hasn't dimished many of those friendships.

I appreciate being close to family.

I am good.

Honk

One of the interesting cultural things about Texas is that people really don't honk their horns here.  (not like most cities I've lived in, particularly ones on the East Coast)

Although I have heard more honking this time around living in Texas than I did the last time that I lived in Texas (7 years ago), it really doesn't happen.

If you honk, in some sense, you offend the driver and the driver's family and the driver's extended family and the driver's friends.  Like, you just don't honk.  (Unless you are the man I live with who will forever be an East Coast driver.)

So, I ramble on about this because of something that happened on Veteran's Day last week.

I was at a light (second in line), and the driver in front of me exited her vehicle and ran around to the back to close her hatch door.  Typically, this doesn't take much time.  However, this driver had a severe limp and her movement was extremely protracted and slow.  She wasn't sauntering as if walking through the park; you could tell she really was trying to move quickly and close a door that probably was ajar.

Of course while she is doing this, the light turns green.  And, somewhere in the line (must have been at least two cars back), someone really laid down on the horn.  And, it scared the tardy driver, which caused her to stumble, which, by the way, resulted in taking even longer to get back into her car.

My guess is that the "honker" here had no idea what was keeping up the line.  And, I would imagine, in the "honker's" impatience, the best way to get the cars moving would be to show that "HEY!  I'm *WAITING*!!"

Now, one could argue that tardy driver should have waited to find a better place to stop and fix the door. Maybe.  The light was the last stopping point before we all had to merge onto a toll road.  So, maybe not.

But, what I keep thinking about are situations where we make judgements and then take actions without really finding the facts of the matter. 

Are we as patient at the customer service counter as we really could be even though the attendant is a little snarky?

Do we allow that rude driver more latitude even though we think he/she is being extremely reckless?

A friend of mine used to "excuse" less than polite behavior that she came across with,"I just bet his wife is in the hospital and he is having a tough time with it."

We really just don't know what that other person is experiencing.

We don't know what the person struggles with on a daily basis.

We don't know what bad news was just shared.

I've been thinking about that tardy driver quite a bit this week.  I've been thinking about my own propensities for "honking."  It has been a great reminder that: as much as I might think I know about a person or situation, I really can't know it all.  In my little mind, I keep thinking about "Hold the Honk."

( . . . and what if all honking horns were replaced with old fashioned bicycle bells?  what if we replaced our propensity to honk with an urge to compliment or maybe try to crack a joke, instead? . . . i guess I should learn some jokes if I want to try that one.)

Sometimes, I'm Left Without Words

A store right by my fave Target:

Whimsy Wall: First Strokes

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson

The guy at Home Depot ended up having to match the color paint by eye and it was amazing! 

I began the journey, clad in my navy cotton painting pants and my t-shirt that says (get ready to groan) "Baroque (adj):  When you are out of Monet."  Sadly, I giggle at it, still.

I have a deeper respect for those that paint murals, especially those that paint on brick.  Holy Crayola did I struggle with the orange peel texture! 

I am painting this is in Four Phases.  Looks like I've got Phase One started.  The lighting was too dark because it is raining today; so, I'll have to eyeball it when there is sun streaming through the skylight above it.

I took the picture while the paint was still wet so you get some sense.  The color will darken as it dries (don't have a heart attack yet, Erik, I love you!).

Though I have a marginal talent for it, I love to paint. My nana is an artist and an art teacher, and her home always smelled of crayons and clay.  My mom is a pretty good artist herself.  Now, we'll see if my raw, untrained talent can actually bring fruition to the plans ahead. 

I had an EXCELLENT time doing this.  Experimenting with different brushes and different strokes trying to get the paint on the awkward texture just right.  Remembering how my physics teacher could draw a perfect circle in two seconds.

And, I figured out what part Everett should paint . . . cause who can *watch* someone paint, we all should get right in there, too.

Whimsy Wall: The Beginning

I've begun.  You can't see the sketch of the background images 'cause it is in pencil.

The colors in competition.  It will mostly be monochromatic. 

Can't you see it now?

Blessed

I've got quite a bit going on here at the Sjolseth House.  The upside is that I should, very soon, have time to work on the mural.  Just gotta remember to get some paint.

I am blessed.

I am blessed with two bright, fun loving boys.

I am blessed with a husband who loves me and isn't shy about agreeing or disagreeing with me.  (I actually learn a lot from him when I listen.)

I am blessed to have a happy home.

I am blessed to have a backyard.

I am blessed to have family that love me.

I am blessed to have friends, no matter how far they are from me, who listen and care.

I am blessed to have 8, yes-eight, bell peppers growing out of the plants that were killed.

I am blessed.

For Our Own Good?

In our faith, the LDS church, we have standards that we live by . . . and time and time again, I have seen the benefits of living those standards.  Many people think that they are too restrictive.  I've had some people tell me that I must enjoy being told what to do in order to abide by a set of standards.  In all, I know that living by these standards are for my own good.  I am happier, healthier, and more productive by following these guidelines.

On my mind right now:  I've been witness to how destructive a tool technology can be.  Technology in itself isn't the issue; it is the way it used and by what person, for what purpose.  I've seen how harmful it is for those who never "turn off" the technology.  They get no peace, they are up at night answering text messages when they should be sleeping.  And, the need to be careful with technology goes the same for adults and children.

I often think of how I will respond to technology when my kids are older--what are the right guidelines, how to best enforce limits and encourage appropriate use.  A long time ago, the raging battle in my mind was "Video games vs No video games."  Things are different now; the blessing of technology is in many, many more forms.  The lines of what the world and sometimes even the neighbors view as appropriate vs inappropriate are blurry at best.  I admire parents who are already navigating the waters and teaching their children how to reasonably use technology and safeguard themselves from the problems that can arise with thoughtless use.

Right now, the most my kids know is that mom checks her email on the computer and that there are "shows" (movies, tv shows).   Ah, to be 3 and 1.  I love those little boys.

I've Been Thinking

In my personal studies, I came across this and I've been pondering the extent of the truthfulness in it all week:

“It is no easy task to be good. For in everything it is no easy task to find the middle. … Anyone can get angry—that is easy—or give or spend money; but to do this to the right person, to the right extent, at the right time, with the right motive, and in the right way, that is not for everyone, nor is it easy; wherefore goodness is both rare and laudable and noble. (“Man and Man: The Social Philosophers,” The World’s Great Thinkers, vol. II, ed. Saxe Cummins and Robert N. Linscott, New York: Random House, 1947, p. 352a.)

Faith--When I Don't Get It

from Popular Mechanics

You know sometimes you feel prompted or pushed to do something when you don't get why?  In my old age, I now try not to intellectualize or apply logic to it (that skill comes from my special government training--that's a joke, people).

Tonight I had several of those moments.  A prompting to read a story at church when we were really out of time.  A prompting to ask a seemingly odd question.

There are times when the reasons behind those promptings come to light.  And, I savor those moments, I hoard the details in my mind trying to analyze each piece.  Other times, I have to just have faith that what I just did made a difference somehow.

Elder Richard G. Scott once said:  That prompting is a personal message from the Lord to you. Remember that message. Follow it now for your happiness.

An example of what I mean may be inconsequential to you . . . but, it was huge for me.

Last November, we were set to travel to the Fair City of Austin (sigh)--conference for Erik and the boys and I were going to attend a family adoption ceremony, and as I was packing up the car, I felt prompted to bring both sets of keys with us. Now, this, to me, is almost tantamount to stupid.  What if I misplaced both of them while we were traveling, we'd have no back-up.  I brushed it off the first time the thought came to me.  The second time, though, I gave up the logic in it and just grabbed the spare set from the key ring.

In Waco, we stopped over to see my sister (and eat a delicious meal).  When I went to the car to get the necessary supplies to get the kids ready for bed and our drive to Austin, the trunk wouldn't pop open.  It wouldn't move . . . just a "whirrrrrrrr" grinding sound that turned my stomach sour.  I gave up on the trunk release button and tried the keys.  no. go.

What if all of our stuff, including Erik's work stuff was stuck in the trunk of the car?  It was late.  No real extra funds for a pop-a-lock, especially since it looked like we would need one every time we wanted in the trunk (can we say "gotta get the stroller?").  I was already feeling under the weather and was pushing myself so that we could attend the adoption and celebrate with family. 

But, wait, what if I tried the spare car key set?

You can guess what happened, the trunk opened without complaint with the spare set and I was happily off to put Merritt and Evy in some footsie pajamas.

Would there have been serious injury or insult if I didn't bring that set of keys?  Maybe, maybe not.  Did God really care about my mental, emotional, and financial status enough to help me bring the extra set.  Yes, He did.  (I also truly believe there is a special place in His heart for sleep deprived parents.--just my own thought)


Elder Richard G. Scott shared more on the subject "To Acquire Spiritual Guidance":
In that environment, strong impressions began to flow to me again. I wrote them down. The message included specific counsel on how to become more effective as an instrument in the hands of the Lord. I received such an outpouring of impressions that were so personal that I felt it was not appropriate to record them in the midst of a Sunday School class. I sought a more private location, where I continued to write the feelings that flooded into my mind and heart as faithfully as possible. After each powerful impression was recorded, I pondered the feelings I had received to determine if I had accurately expressed them in writing. As a result, I made a few minor changes to what had been written. Then I studied their meaning and application in my own life.



Subsequently I prayed, reviewing with the Lord what I thought I had been taught by the Spirit. When a feeling of peace came, I thanked Him for the guidance given. I was then impressed to ask, “Was there yet more to be given?” I received further impressions, and the process of writing down the impressions, pondering, and praying for confirmation was repeated. Again I was prompted to ask, “Is there more I should know?” And there was. When that last, most sacred experience was concluded, I had received some of the most precious, specific, personal direction one could hope to obtain in this life. Had I not responded to the first impressions and recorded them, I would not have received the last, most precious guidance.


What I have described is not an isolated experience. It embodies several true principles regarding communication from the Lord to His children here on earth. I believe that you can leave the most precious, personal direction of the Spirit unheard because you do not respond to, record, and apply the first promptings that come to you.


Impressions of the Spirit can come in response to urgent prayer or unsolicited when needed. Sometimes the Lord reveals truth to you when you are not actively seeking it, such as when you are in danger and do not know it. However, the Lord will not force you to learn. You must exercise your agency to authorize the Spirit to teach you. As you make this a practice in your life, you will be more perceptive to the feelings that come with spiritual guidance. Then, when that guidance comes, sometimes when you least expect it, you will recognize it more easily.

I love glass--stained glass, painted glass, clear glass, stuff made of glass.

Shortly after we were married, Erik introduced the tradition of gifting a stained glass star for each wedding anniversary.  He ordered them from a shop in Rhode Island, which at the time was the only supplier we knew had them.  He stopped buying them after eight because in the picture window where they hung, it was kind of getting "old lady-ish." 

Now, they hang in our skylight (very close to my whimsy project wall), and I've been thinking all year that there is more room.  That if we added the additional six stars this anniversary season to again be equal to one start per year of marriage, that it wouldn't look to "old lay-ish"--but then again, Erik would have to hang the stars.

And, I nearly fainted when he was hanging the original eight, because it is REALLY far from the floor.  Like I couldn't watch.  I had to close my eyes when I handed him supplies.

So, I'll go with less is more.  And, besides, Erik is going to have to hang a couple hooks for the whimsy project.  Whoo-hooo!

Back to School

I spent the day back in a high school today.  My brother-in-law starts his teaching career this year.  And, I was invited to help him set up his classroom.

I had a great time spending the day in his classroom, his school, going through the teacher nerd process of setting up a classroom, meeting other teacher nerds working hard to prepare for the students, checking books from the bookroom, thinking through the first days of school, and mentally high-fiving the fact that I *don't* have to get up early to teach someone else's children.  I get to teach my kids.

As I got up this morning at 6:30, I remembered that not that long ago, that would have been the time I was at the metro station.  I was happy to not be at the metro station at 6:30 this morning.

Even though I thoroughly enjoy being a teacher nerd: striving to reach the hard to reach student, managing the complexities that the job brings, and hoarding those crumbs of progress you see on a daily basis, I am happy being a mother nerd. 

And, the greatest invention for teachers, sticky-tack.  Take that you concrete wall! 

Amen!

Today was spectacular.  I bought new running shoes without running around after my little ones.  I ate a magnificent lunch with a cherished friend.  Evy and I talked deeply about things like piggy banks, friends, visiting relatives who are invisible and visiting "p-tend," and the general world of Curious George.  Merritt woke up happy from his nap.

And, then I became sick, gut clenching, head throbbing yuck.  Had to cancel icecream with an old high school friend and her kids.  But, my stomach just growled.  Maybe I can end my 14 hour fast from food?  Even with the sick, I really enjoyed today. 

[Evy went to the grocery store with Dad wearing a bug pj shirt, tiger pj shorts, and blue Mardi Gras beads all while clutching a limegreen (decorated with polka dots) coin purse for his "pennies and quarters."  Erik dubbed him "The Little Banker" today.]

A terribly ordinary day . . .

Today is fairly ordinary. 

I chased Merritt around while going to two visiting teaching appointments.  Evy played with their kids.  Some crying, lots of chasing, not much sitting or talking, attempted to listen between Merritt chasing, much exhaustion, but the opportunity to reach out to others happened.  (And nothing was broken.)  [yeah, I am switching to evening visiting teaching . . . it is either that or bring a 6 paneled gate with me along to my visits]

We went through Evy's cars to find some to donate to the church nursery.  He doesn't have many cars, but he was quick to donate those that he plays with hardly ever.  What a giving child.

I'm very tired after wrangling Merritt in others' homes this morning.  At the same time, no one is sick.  We have enough to eat (even if we are running out of bread).  Both of our cars are working.

Evy just came in to give me a hug and kiss.  We are going to do puzzles together.

I've got YW tonight. The kitchen is cluttered, and I hope my dinner menu is actualized.

It just doesn't get better than a day like today.  Today is just an ordinary day and I am enjoying it.