We had hot dogs for dinner tonight--all beef, Zach's favorite. Something about the hot dogs reminded the kids about little smokies and they started getting reminiscent. Here's what Tim said:
"Christmas is the best time of the year, because we get to eat all those special foods that are so expensive. Like little smokies and Baby Bells." Long pause while he contemplates how lovely it would be if only Christmas were coming this week.
"Mom, all I want for Christmas is a whole pack of little smokies just for myself."
Zach: "I want a whole pack of bacon!"
Tim: "Oh, yeah. A whole pack of bacon. And some bear meat."
He had such a terrific week this week--reverent in Primary last week, working hard at school all week, finally checked out Harry Potter 4 from the school library (our home copy is MIA. The regular librarian wouldn't let him take a copy out from the school library because she thought it "would take him too long to read it." With typical Timmy determination, he kept sneaking back into the library until at last Mrs. Vanderpol, the aide, was manning the check out counter, and, as he confided," Y'know, mom, she doesn't pay too good attention, so..." big grin.) On Saturday he played an unbelievably heads up game of soccer.
Then today in primary, inexplicably, HE WAS TERRIBLE!!! He blurted out answers, sang random songs while he was supposed to be quiet, was quiet when he should have been singing, terrorized a little five year old in the row just ahead of him, tried to bribe Isaac (who according to his parents was just as inexplicably having the most reverent and attentive primary of his life) into using a livestrong band to flip his neighbor, hid behind the chalkboard when he failed to get a match in the memory game, and I have no idea what else after he left sharing time!!! Arghh.
Uncle Nigel (baby Nigel insists that Nigel is HIS name and if we want to refer to that other guy, we better use his WHOLE name which starts with an Uncle) taught the boys, all four of them, to play goal line stand. As they were dragging and whacking each other all over the living room he also informed them that once, in the course of the game, Uncle Scott dragged Uncle Stu down the stairs. Good hustle, Stu. Way to hang in there. I'm pondering whether or not the services of a full time ref are in the budget. Do you think Porter could be trained to do it?
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Looking Sideways at the World
Everyone is at church right now, and I am sitting here looking at the computer at an angle. My body has, for mysterious reasons, frozen into this position and if I move at all I feel acute pain. This happens to me about once every year or so, though more frequently since I thought unkind thoughts about a friend whose long running and vividly recounted struggles with back pain began to irritate me. If what I often thought of her is also true of me, I am suffering today from unresolved anger issues and instead of ranting about my aching back, I should be sucking it up and leading the music in primary.
Instead, I have just spent an unexpectedly pleasant 20 minutes being surprised that almost everyone (Tamsin! Colin! The Wackers! Kersten!) posted this week. Please note: I also love Nigel and Scott's regular and very enjoyable posts. I love the blogs. I love reading about people's lives and thoughts. And so, I will stay here in my weirdly contorted position and blog aimlessly about my life. Feel free to read or not and know that this is the only way I can think of to say THANK YOU for posting.
Fall weather is here in Bellingham. Slightly chilly, grey, rainy. It decended almost exactly with the start of school. The schedule marches on. Tom is teaching seminary. ("Yes, Tom, this is an assignment. Please take it. Your family will be blessed.") Thank goodness. Teaching seminary has already (over the course of the first four days) turned out to be an incredible blessing in itself. We've also been blessed--Tom at work, me at home.
Something I still find surprising is that over the last six months or so, bedtimes have gone from tough to easy. Tom is not usually around to help me get the guys in bed, but I just don't care anymore. Weird. This week I had a great bed time moment--with Tim of course. It's really poignant and spiritual, so I feel a little funny sharing it, but Cecily asked me, "Do you ALWAYS have to be funny on your blog?" I think the answer is no, so here goes.
I played the piano at my little student Sophie's baptism. As I was getting ready to leave (Zach was babysitting), I told the kids where I was going and Tim said, "Hey! That's my friend! I want to go to her baptism!" What can you say to that?
Well, he had to sit by himself while I played, so I don't really know what he was doing or thinking during the service, but that night after prayers as he was lying in bed and I was tucking him in, he said (with utter Tim sincerity), "Mom, I want to preach the gospel at school, but I just don't feel ready."
Images of Tim standing on a soapbox during recess immediately came to mind. I gently tried to suggest that the best way to preach the gospel AT SCHOOL is by example, with chances to follow up on a friend-by-friend basis as we invite kids to our home and get to know their families.
"But Mom," he said, "I have to get started now. Because grown ups are pretty set up in their religion and it's not easy for them to change. But kids it's easier to try new things and make a change. So I have to tell them while they're young. I wonder if I could take some Book of Mormons in my backpack?"
We talked for a while about that, and I explained that our stake president encouraged us to open our homes and invite our friends and their families to just be with us. He promised us that when our friends felt the spirit as they were around us, they would want to know what we had that brought the spirit into our lives. I explained that this was how the Stake President was converted. Tim was delighted by the idea that the Stake President was a convert to the church. "That just shows that your friend you know could be getting ready to be something big like the Stake President!"
As we talked, I realized that perhaps Tim had felt the spirit at the baptism (it was a wonderful baptism) and that he was perhaps feeling that bursting full feeling that leads us all to want to share the gospel. I asked him if he had felt the Holy Ghost at the baptism. He looked thoughtful and said, "No. I don't think so. I didn't hear anything." I was getting ready to explain more when suddenly his eyes grew big and he said excitedly, "Mom! I get it! The Holy Ghost is a feeling!! I always thought he was like a ghost that floated up behind you and said, 'Tiiiiiiiiiim.... You need to doooooo something....' But he gives you a FEELING! I felt the Holy Ghost, Mom!" He sighed and laid back on his pillow with shining eyes. "Oh mom," he said, "I wish *I* could get baptised tomorrow. I want to be baptised and get the Holy Ghost right away."
Last week I was asked to give a talk in Sacrament Meeting about building testimonies at home. I said lots of stuff that seemed relevant at the time, but I suppose that the real answer is that we have to do what we should--read our scriptures, pray, serve faithfully wherever and whenever we're called--and the testimony building experiences are just gifts, blessings from the Lord.
Well, I'm going to try a different position now--lying down, standing up, something. I hope Tom is doing well in singing time. Isn't he a terrific husband? Still YM president, seminary teacher too, and now...Primary Chorister? He's the best.
Instead, I have just spent an unexpectedly pleasant 20 minutes being surprised that almost everyone (Tamsin! Colin! The Wackers! Kersten!) posted this week. Please note: I also love Nigel and Scott's regular and very enjoyable posts. I love the blogs. I love reading about people's lives and thoughts. And so, I will stay here in my weirdly contorted position and blog aimlessly about my life. Feel free to read or not and know that this is the only way I can think of to say THANK YOU for posting.
Fall weather is here in Bellingham. Slightly chilly, grey, rainy. It decended almost exactly with the start of school. The schedule marches on. Tom is teaching seminary. ("Yes, Tom, this is an assignment. Please take it. Your family will be blessed.") Thank goodness. Teaching seminary has already (over the course of the first four days) turned out to be an incredible blessing in itself. We've also been blessed--Tom at work, me at home.
Something I still find surprising is that over the last six months or so, bedtimes have gone from tough to easy. Tom is not usually around to help me get the guys in bed, but I just don't care anymore. Weird. This week I had a great bed time moment--with Tim of course. It's really poignant and spiritual, so I feel a little funny sharing it, but Cecily asked me, "Do you ALWAYS have to be funny on your blog?" I think the answer is no, so here goes.
I played the piano at my little student Sophie's baptism. As I was getting ready to leave (Zach was babysitting), I told the kids where I was going and Tim said, "Hey! That's my friend! I want to go to her baptism!" What can you say to that?
Well, he had to sit by himself while I played, so I don't really know what he was doing or thinking during the service, but that night after prayers as he was lying in bed and I was tucking him in, he said (with utter Tim sincerity), "Mom, I want to preach the gospel at school, but I just don't feel ready."
Images of Tim standing on a soapbox during recess immediately came to mind. I gently tried to suggest that the best way to preach the gospel AT SCHOOL is by example, with chances to follow up on a friend-by-friend basis as we invite kids to our home and get to know their families.
"But Mom," he said, "I have to get started now. Because grown ups are pretty set up in their religion and it's not easy for them to change. But kids it's easier to try new things and make a change. So I have to tell them while they're young. I wonder if I could take some Book of Mormons in my backpack?"
We talked for a while about that, and I explained that our stake president encouraged us to open our homes and invite our friends and their families to just be with us. He promised us that when our friends felt the spirit as they were around us, they would want to know what we had that brought the spirit into our lives. I explained that this was how the Stake President was converted. Tim was delighted by the idea that the Stake President was a convert to the church. "That just shows that your friend you know could be getting ready to be something big like the Stake President!"
As we talked, I realized that perhaps Tim had felt the spirit at the baptism (it was a wonderful baptism) and that he was perhaps feeling that bursting full feeling that leads us all to want to share the gospel. I asked him if he had felt the Holy Ghost at the baptism. He looked thoughtful and said, "No. I don't think so. I didn't hear anything." I was getting ready to explain more when suddenly his eyes grew big and he said excitedly, "Mom! I get it! The Holy Ghost is a feeling!! I always thought he was like a ghost that floated up behind you and said, 'Tiiiiiiiiiim.... You need to doooooo something....' But he gives you a FEELING! I felt the Holy Ghost, Mom!" He sighed and laid back on his pillow with shining eyes. "Oh mom," he said, "I wish *I* could get baptised tomorrow. I want to be baptised and get the Holy Ghost right away."
Last week I was asked to give a talk in Sacrament Meeting about building testimonies at home. I said lots of stuff that seemed relevant at the time, but I suppose that the real answer is that we have to do what we should--read our scriptures, pray, serve faithfully wherever and whenever we're called--and the testimony building experiences are just gifts, blessings from the Lord.
Well, I'm going to try a different position now--lying down, standing up, something. I hope Tom is doing well in singing time. Isn't he a terrific husband? Still YM president, seminary teacher too, and now...Primary Chorister? He's the best.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
How Tom Sabotaged Alex's First Day of School
Yesterday was the first day of school. Hooray! The best part about it is new everything--new school supplies, new teachers, new clothes, new shoes--anything is possible, ANYTHING! This is the year Tim will learn to form his letters. Zach will be challenged and will rise to that challenge! Alex...
Well, okay. New teacher this year for Alex but the rest of his pristine new day was destroyed by Dad.
The kids were ready for school at about 5 am yesterday morning and did a lot of standing around with their backpacks on. Tom had resolved to stick around for the "delivery to classrooms" moment, and so all the boys eventually found themselves standing out on the driveway with nothing to do. "Hey, Alex," said Tom, "Show me how you take that jump on your scooter."
"Oh, sure, Dad," responded Alex, tossing the backpack aside and grabbing the scooter.
Now, as we all know, when something leaves the physical posession of any male, it is instantly forgotten and will not be remembered until needed again. This leads to comments which infuriate mothers everywhere, such as, "My coat? Did I wear a coat?" Anyway, although you will not forget about the backpack, Alex and Tom instantly did.
About a half an hour later, Tom got tired of waiting and decided to kiss the boys at the door of the house rather than the door of the classroom. He took off for work, not noticing the slight bu-bump made by his rear tire running over the backpack.
I picked up the backpack and gave it to Alex as we left for school.
Cut to 5 seconds after the dropoff at the classroom door. Alex races back out, yells for me, and holds up his lunchbag, now reduced to about half an inch thickness and oozing smashed peach. I went into the classroom to help him out, and... Well, let's just say that Alex's school supplies were no longer pristine and new. They did not promise a fresh new start. They were, in fact, sticky and covered with peach.
How Alex recovered and went on to have a great first day is another story. The only thing I know for sure is that this experience will have absolutely no effect on where he chooses to deposit his backpack.
Well, okay. New teacher this year for Alex but the rest of his pristine new day was destroyed by Dad.
The kids were ready for school at about 5 am yesterday morning and did a lot of standing around with their backpacks on. Tom had resolved to stick around for the "delivery to classrooms" moment, and so all the boys eventually found themselves standing out on the driveway with nothing to do. "Hey, Alex," said Tom, "Show me how you take that jump on your scooter."
"Oh, sure, Dad," responded Alex, tossing the backpack aside and grabbing the scooter.
Now, as we all know, when something leaves the physical posession of any male, it is instantly forgotten and will not be remembered until needed again. This leads to comments which infuriate mothers everywhere, such as, "My coat? Did I wear a coat?" Anyway, although you will not forget about the backpack, Alex and Tom instantly did.
About a half an hour later, Tom got tired of waiting and decided to kiss the boys at the door of the house rather than the door of the classroom. He took off for work, not noticing the slight bu-bump made by his rear tire running over the backpack.
I picked up the backpack and gave it to Alex as we left for school.
Cut to 5 seconds after the dropoff at the classroom door. Alex races back out, yells for me, and holds up his lunchbag, now reduced to about half an inch thickness and oozing smashed peach. I went into the classroom to help him out, and... Well, let's just say that Alex's school supplies were no longer pristine and new. They did not promise a fresh new start. They were, in fact, sticky and covered with peach.
How Alex recovered and went on to have a great first day is another story. The only thing I know for sure is that this experience will have absolutely no effect on where he chooses to deposit his backpack.
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