Singing a New Song

Today I was released as the Stake Music Chair (except it has some newfangled title which I can't remember--never mind. It ought to be "chair" since chairs figure large in the calling). This calling (that I didn't want) was the conduit for so many blessings in my life and today it was just a little sad saying goodbye.

The drive from my house to the Stake Center takes 12.5 minutes. I have driven it coming home from 6 am Stake Council meetings, praying fervently for all 12.5 minutes that somehow the children had awakened and gotten themselves ready for church since Tom was already at WARD council meeting and I needed to load up and get to our building in time to play the organ for a sacrament meeting that was starting right away. That particular experience was too painful to blog. I have driven it while overcome with the spirit, driven it while overcome with gratitude, driven it in apprehension and exhilaration, while filled with chagrin, amusement, and exhaustion. I have driven it--often--while listening to the combined BYU choirs singing "Redeemer of Israel" (I can definitely carry the alto part while driving). I have driven it at 6 am Easter morning while praying that somehow the members of the Stake would wake up and get themselves to the sunrise service--and I have realized, in a way deeper than words, that though they might not, even if we had prepared only for the Lord and for ourselves, the preparation was justified, and sanctified. I have driven it while practicing something I intended to say, while singing something I needed to (somehow) play, while weeping over musical beauty I hadn't imagined could exist among a little group of rank amateurs, myself included.

And I drove it again today, 12.5 minutes home from Stake Conference, singing along with the BYU choirs and realizing, incredibly, that this whole experience, this four years of what I often considered challenging service, was really, in fact, for me. I was the one all along. These four years were not my gift to the Lord. They were the Lord's gift to me.

Explosive

Nigel finally learned how to blow his nose. It was just one of those things I could never get him to understand. I've done everything--jumped up and down, involved supernatural animals (Be like a dragon! Blow up the kleenex!), the neighbors (Blast me all the way to Jackie's house!), the brothers, myself (this is a little like smelling dirty clothes--you forget what a bad idea it is until after you have emphatically blown mucous all over your face). Every method worked once or twice, but then lost its effectiveness before the cold was gone. He just didn't like the feeling of blowing his nose, and he couldn't or wouldn't do it consistently.

It was one of life's minor frustrations--the downside to my lovely o/c child who washes his own hands, wipes up spills on the floor, and changes out of dirty shirts. I was getting ready to train him on the bulb aspirator when a miracle happened.

Seen the TV show "Mythbusters" yet? It's pop science on steroids. The hosts set out to bust age old myths and urban legends using a combination of fast-talking entertainment-world smarts and uber-handyman building skills.

They're not scientists, but they think they are. They know all. They doubt the veracity of everyone's assumptions but their own, which can make the two of them a little hard to take. For me. Not for my boys. The boys love, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this show. Mostly because of the explosives.

If Jamie and Adam (we're on a first name basis) can work it in, and they usually can, most myths will at some time or another require explosive force to be used. One day Nigel was watching the show while J & A were attempting to bust the myth that you can paint with explosives. I still think you might be able to, but they couldn't build a contraption to get it done (therefore proving that no one can). The myth busting required a lot of big bangs. A few hours later, I found myself holding a kleenex to Nigel's nose. "Blast me," I suggested automatically.

"Uh, wif explosuvs?" he asked in astonishment. "Like dhe myfbusters?"

My eyes lit up. "YES! YES! LIKE EXPLOSIVES!" I yelled.

"Fire in dhe hole!" he yelled back cheerfully. And blew his nose.

It's been more than a week, but the novelty hasn't worn off. He blows his nose regularly and explosively. No questions asked.

And I...well, the boys were out in the snowy back yard today (another topic, 8 missed days of school, summer starts July 6 now) doing a "science experiment" involving diet coke and mentos. Thanks to the popularity of this explosive experiment with all boys everywhere, the manufacturer of Mentos has doubled--DOUBLED--its US sales. Diet coke and mentos are the new black powder. Let me tell you, boys do not have to be urged to science when it involves explosions. It's one of those things I just don't get--the joy, the thrill, the power of the blast. It leaves me mostly thinking about cleaning up the mess. But I've decided that the side effects are worth it. Clean noses forever! Fire in the hole!

Elementary

It has snowed again in Bellingham--a scant three inches, but enough to cancel school. Our final day for the year is now in July. Bummer.

Yesterday morning there was just a skiff of snow and thankfully school was held as usual. My kids with difficulty found adequate snow gear and got themselves out to the bus stop at the end of the driveway in good time. About four minutes later, however, Alex came bursting into the house yelling something about Tim's footwear at the top of his lungs. I raced out of the house and got to Tim just as the bus came over the top of the hill (this is referred to as "seeing the bus in its full splendor" in the ritualized and super-competitive points game the boys play every morning).

Tim was wearing aqua sox (black, women's size 8) over bare feet to combat the snow. I dragged him into the house, him wailing all the way about missing the bus. After I'd calmed him down some, he explained that one of his every day shoes had a hole and the snow was getting in. I asked if the water shoes were working better.

"Worked fine for me," he said defiantly.

I asked if he had ever seen ANOTHER child at school wearing aqua sox. He admitted that he had not. I asked him why he thought he hadn't. He replied with a remark denigrating parents, their knowledge, and their open-mindedness. I asked what might prompt parents to ban the aqua sox in cold weather.

He replied, "Mom, if you're going somewhere with this, could you please just take us there, because I don't have any idea what you're trying to say."

We've discovered with Tim that either he's thought too much about something (the aqua sox) or not enough (the day after I switched some dresser drawers around, he came down dressed in Nigel's clothes. He hadn't noticed a problem.)

And then there are the pure Timmy world moments, like last week when he came upstairs to discover that I had popped open a tube of ready made biscuits just a moment before. We almost never have popping tubes, so he was extremely disappointed. He stood holding the empty tube for a few minutes, and finally said, "Mom, why do they make these things, anyway? To entertain tired old ladies?"

I guess I know what I am!

We are rich with joy. Christmas was packed full of it. We especially loved having all 22 Mumfords (plus three dogs!) who could make it here for New Years Eve. That was a great celebration. Everyone left on New Years Day at almost the same time. Within ten minutes, I walked into my room and discovered Nigel thoroughly asleep on my bed. He slept for five hours!

It was a great way to start 2007.