A Thanksgiving Leftover

On the way home from our Thanksgiving weekend Ben treated us to this little serenade. No matter how many times we heard it, how out of tune it may have been, or if the words weren't exactly right, it still brought a smile to my face and reminded me that even after a less than stellar holiday, I am a blessed woman with much to be grateful for.

So tonight before the giving thanks of November ends and we head into the excitement that only the Christmas season can instill, I reflect on the performance of a sweet boy's favorite song and I give thanks.

I give thanks for a little spirit that is drawn to the truth of a particular song that teaches him who he truly is and why he is here.

And the part where he still thinks his parents are "kind and dear" is something to be grateful for too.

Giving Thanks

Cartoon by http://www.guy-sports.com/

As I sit here in my parents family room staring at the unfinished walls in the mismatched pajamas my good husband dressed me in yesterday because I was too weak to dress myself, I find it fitting to be sick here. I am laying on the couch where as a girl I watched "The Sound of Music" while I waited for the virus or infection that had taken up residence in my body to move on. Today it is the same, except today the movie is "Charade".

Cary Grant always has a way of making me feel better. But today Cary's magic doesn't work so well. After all, it is Thanksgiving, and I am sitting in a basement- alone.

It is okay really, when I don't think about what I'm missing; turkey, potatoes & gravy, yams, stuffing, and pie. Really the food has no appeal to me; my tender tummy warns me against it. It is the other things about this holiday that I miss today. 

It is gathering with a large group of family, much too large to fit in anyone's home, but we do so anyway. It is the 50 or so (I lost count a long time ago) grandkids & great-grandkids running around in between all the adult bodies perched anywhere they can comfortably or semi-comfortably fit. It's the plotting of the most efficient routes amid the scattered newspaper ads to aquire the best early morning deals on Black Friday. It is catching up with my sister-in-laws while the men catch glimpses of football through their tryptophan induced slumber.

It is the experience of Thanksgiving I miss. The experience of being together.

But luckily for me, I married into a family where they love to be together and do so every chance they can get. Most holidays, monthly Family Home Evenings, missionary comings and goings, weddings, baptisms, baby blessings, and in a family of 10 children there are a lot of those. So now I can happily look forward to the Christmas season and all the family gatherings that will ensue. I can look forward to the experience of being together again.

And hopefully, by tonight or tomorrow, I can look forward to a plate of leftovers.

Those are some things I can definitely be thankful for.

Predicting the Future

It seems everyone around me is excited for Christmas. Some of my friends are already listening to Christmas music (which I think is a sin, until after Thanksgiving) and one of my friends in Canada even has her tree up.

I am not there yet folks. I am having a hard time wrapping my head around Christmas this year and it's bugging me.  And then the fact that it's bugging me starts to bug me.

Maybe it's because Thanksgiving isn't even over yet; it is still in fact, a week away, and  my children are on their 2nd or 3rd Christmas lists already.
Or
Maybe it's because all my Christmas money is still tied up in a dedicated savings account waiting for its maturity date. That's got to be it... Shopping would definitely make me feel better...
Or
Maybe, it's because I have a cold; my head is foggy and my teeth even hurt, plus being snotty always makes me a little snotty.
Or
Maybe, it's because my hubby's supposed vacation time next week has gotten eaten up by a business trip, yet again...
Or
Maybe, it's because I am stressing over being asked to substitute and teach Relief Society this Sunday.  I haven't been in RS for how many years, let alone ever taught it, so I really hope the ladies in my ward like to play concentration and color pretty pictures to take home because that is the type of teaching I'm used to.

But there is one thing I am enjoying about the upcoming Christmas season; something a mother can never use to early in the year, but works particularly well with Christmas only a month a way- the phrase "Santa's elves are watching."
Even the most whiny, disobedient, and unruly child feels the power of that phrase- especially mine.  Call me evil, I don't care. A mom has to do, what a mom has to do, to get things done and the phrase is it.

So I unveiled the phrase the other day when I could no longer stand looking at the playroom that looked more like a war zone; complete with overturned furniture and all. Dallin and Ben were given their orders- clean the playroom and remember...Santa's elves are watching. They worked, but I didn't get up there to check it out until yesterday and I found it still needed a lot of work.

Dallin stayed home from school since he threw up during the night in his sleep...first off, before I go on, someone please tell me how that is possible?  How can you sleep through vomiting? Anyway, since he was feeling well enough to play soccer in my kitchen, I figured he was well enough to clean. So I herded them up to the playroom along with all of the phrases:

"It won't take that long."

"You'll feel so good once it's done."

 "Daddy will be so surprised to see it clean when he gets home."

 And of course,

"And remember, Santa's elves are watching."

I opened the toy room closet and found this from the previous cleaning attempt...

If Santa's elves are watching, I predict coal in two boy's futures.

Not your mother's church music

Around our house on any given day there is music. This was even truer last week during "Turn Off the T.V. and Get a Life Week". There was a lot of listening going on in the Parke household. Unfortunately, it was mainly of just a few songs- over and over and over and over... My kids really know how to ruin a good song for me. It had gotten so bad that this morning, I told a friend I thought I felt like I was going to gouge my eardrums out if I heard "Fireflies" one more time. But in all honesty, I can't complain too much because when I was able to gain control of the music choices my family most likely had to endure listening to my current favorite song also. So I guess we are even.

As much as we love our contemporary music, on Sunday, they are given the day to rest and we cue up the 'Church Music' playlist. 296 songs and over 20 hours of music takes good care of us on Sunday and most of the time puts us in the right frame of mind fitting for the day. Most of the time...

A few months ago, we came home from church and I began making Sunday dinner. True to form, I turned on my laptop, opened iTunes, clicked on 'Church Music' and hit the play button... and Led Zeppelin's "D'yer Mak'er" started playing. Not exactly the Kenneth Cope or Afterglow type music I was expecting.

I knew I had clicked on the right play list, but I double checked to be sure. Sure enough I had the right playlist, but ‘Church Music’ had been added to by about 100 songs that were definitely not church music. I figured that either my playlists got crossed somehow or church music had really changed in the last week. Anyway, I spent a good hour moving all the non-Sabbath worthy songs and forgot about the incident until about a month ago.

With Benjamin in pre-school he has learned his ABC's and a month ago that was his favorite song. He would sing it over and over and over and over... I was experiencing the same eardrum gouging symptoms I have been having lately. Figuring that distraction was my best line of defense against the never ending ABC song, and since our Primary program was about a week away, I decided to download all the Primary songs we would be singing into a playlist. It was pure genius. We could practice and learn the songs we desperately needed to and hear the ABC’s sung in different keys, tempos, and expressions- as cute as they were, a little less.

When I told Ben what I was planning to do, he sat excitedly waiting for the songs to download. They finished and I clicked play… and “Don’t Tread on Me” by Metallica started playing.

I don’t think I have ever moved as fast as I did right then to stop that song from playing any longer.

Ben was wide eyed and at a loss of what was going on and questioned why I stopped the music. You try explaining to a 5 year old why we can’t sing Metallica songs for the Primary program… It’s not so easy.

So I checked the playlist and sure enough it had happened again; non Primary songs had been moved into the Primary playlist. I was getting a little miffed at iTunes about now, but you know what, it sure made me take a good look at and think about the music I have downloaded. Still, I had no idea what was going on with iTunes or why this kept happening.

But I have a theory.

I will tell you, but only….if you promise not to laugh.

My computer is possessed.

Back in high school I had this boyfriend who listened to the above mentioned group that begins with a ‘M’ and ends in ‘etallica’ and after spending much time with this boy, I grew to like a few of their songs. These songs just happen to be those which I downloaded, right before this iTunes music switching happened.

Call me paranoid, but now these songs sit unchecked as not to be played in one of my 'less active' iTunes playlists.

Just for the record, I would just like to report that the Primary program ended with out any strains of Metallica from the mouth of my son, but don't worry he had plenty of other irreverent and embarrassing behavior to frustrate me with.

So in the end, since I am now a mother and must be forced to grow up and cast off my bad habits, I guess that some things really should stay back in the glory days of high school… right along with old boyfriends.

Feedback

In August, during the training for my 10K I hit a wall.  I didn't know what was wrong with me. Normally, I wake up at the same time every day, whether I want to or not, and I don't have a difficult time getting the bed off my back. But I found myself sleeping in and pulling myself from under the covers terribly difficult. I was tired and felt like I dragged most of the day accomplishing very little.

My runs were even worse.  I was supposed to be building up my mileage to make it through the upcoming race, but found myself barely making it through 2 & 3 mile long runs. My legs acted like they had no clue what I was trying to make them do and my stamina had decided to take a vacation.

I was frustrated.

I decided the time had come for me to do something I had been putting off all summer. I went on e-Bay and ordered a Garmin running watch with GPS. I had been wanting one, but figured by running the trail with markers and using a stopwatch I could get away without spending the money and still time myself just fine.

I was wrong.

My new toy arrived and on my first run using it I couldn't believe how I ever got along without it. Running would never be the same. With just a glance at my wrist I could instantly see my pace,  know exactly just how much further I had to go to reach my desired distance, and see exactly how long I had been running. It made all the difference. Why?

Because it was feedback.

I knew exactly how my performance was. It helped me realize I was doing better than I thought I had been and it gave me that boost to make it through those hard weeks when all I wanted to do was quit.

A few weeks ago, I experienced a change that caused me to question my performance in a different aspect of my life. Change is not always bad; sometimes it is very good and sometimes it just is. This change was a mixture of the three.

I had been serving in our Primary Presidency for what would be 3 years in March.  I was privileged to have served with some wonderful women I greatly admired and had learned a great deal from.  We had a great time serving together and had become good friends as a result. Now we were being split up and sent in all different directions with new callings.

As well as being fun, those years had been trying too. We all endured pregnancy and had babies in that time which presented a little more juggling, stress, and chaos. We had husbands who frequently traveled for work or needed to be away for other reasons leaving complete responsibility of our homes and children on our shoulders along with the various other duties we had to fulfill. There were times I'm sure we wondered if it was really worth it, if we were making any difference to the children we taught and yes, there were days we just wanted to quit.

Needless to say, we started feeling a little burnt out.

Then the news came that soon we would all be released. The dam of emotion broke; sadness & relief worry & wonder. At first, I was more relieved than sad. Life was crazy; I was struggling and felt like a change was the prescribed remedy. But as the day got closer to our release the worry and wonder took over. 

A small part of me wondered; was it just a time thing that we were being released now? Why not wait until the first of the year or when our 3 years were up? A bigger part of me worried; was I being released because I had become so burnt out that my performance wasn't what the Lord needed it to be or was it simply  because a wise and omnipotent Father saw a child's need for a rest? 

The next Sunday in church I received part of my answer.  The new presidency invited us to join them and the Primary chidren for the last 10 minutes of closing exercises where they presented us with 'Thank You' cards signed by all the children. As I stood in the front of that Primary Room receiving my card  in front of all my little friends, I felt completely out of place and like I no longer belonged there. 

You would think this experience would make me sad, but it didn't. It was feedback.

I realized it was time. I had my turn and now it was time for someone else to share their testimonies with my friends and to grow from the experience of serving them. My stewardship no longer belonged there; it was time for me to progress elsewhere.

The rest of my answer came a few days later when one of those sweet Primary girls showed up on my doorstep with her mother holding a plate of cookies she and her Primary teacher had baked (3 different kinds- Wow!) and a homemade 'Thank You' card. The cookies were delicious (esp. for breakfast) and the individual gesture was greatly appreciated. In fact, it made all the difference to me.

It was that boost to help me through the tough days where I still struggle. 

It was feedback. 
 
It made me glad I hadn't quit and gave me hope that maybe my performance had been enough after all.

Rumor Control

This post is just a disclaimer that my last post was in NO WAY an announcement of things to come in 9 months time. In fact, I gave a few of my baby things away Tuesday with only an tinge of sadness & regret. I have a race to run in May and it would be extremly hard to do so being 7 or so months pregnant.  So sorry, no babies from this factory again anytime soon, if ever.

The cravings as far as I can figure, are just my body's way of wanting to add to my own figure. You know like an animal fattening up for protection against the cold. That or the weight I have lost is trying really hard to find me again...

BTW- I forgot to list Oreos, french toast with peanut butter and maple syrup, creme brulee, and hot almond punch...sigh.

Comfort

My mother's famous crepes with peach syrup.

Warm cinnamon rolls iced with cream cheese frosting,

meatloaf, scones dripping with honey butter, bacon,

gooey chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven, mashed potatoes and gravy, pecan pie, McDonald's Cheeseburgers, German pancakes, pot stickers, crepes with peach syrup, pumpkin pie, crisp bean burritos, hot chocolate pudding over vanilla ice cream, carrot cake, hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream, coconut cream pie, caramel apples, fettuccini alfredo.

Just my latest cravings...and how I know that old man winter is sitting on my doorstep waiting to coat my world in a blanket of white.

Bring it on old man.