A Day in the Life

"Live a balanced life. Learn some and think some, and draw and paint and sing and dance, and play and work everyday some." --Robert Fulghum

This year, I am trying to better document the everyday, as the title of my blog indicates. I am trying to "cultivate a good life and record it" as my favorite scrapbooking guru says. As I believe that there are no boring lives, only boring people, I feel it necessary to record my not-so-boring life. 

For years, I have wanted to hire a photographer to follow me around all day and snap beautiful photos of me and my family living our daily lives. I can not begin to imagine what it would cost to hire a photographer for 14 hours, so I am left to my own devices. I am doing better and better at photographing those everyday moments, but there is one part of my life that remains elusive to all but myself. It is that time that I spend by myself in my house while my children are at school. These precious hours of the day remain a mystery to my family, for they are completely undocumented...until today. 

Since no one is here to snap photos of me during the day, I must snap photos of myself. Thank heavens for a timer and a tripod. I couldn't be bothered with composition or lighting in these photos. It was feat enough to get myself into the shots without cutting my head off. I chose today to document because I had nowhere to be and nothing in particular to do. I was slightly less productive due to the constant moving around of tripods and setting of timers and sprinting into shots, but only slightly less productive.

I was waiting to do this project until I lost 20 pounds, but considering my love affair with food and my fair-weather-friendship with the gym, the likelihood of this happening is remote. I have learned that life is short, document now. And since this little documentation is 99% for the benefit of my children, I have decided to keep it real. If the pictures contained a woman with coiffed hair and perfectly applied makeup standing in her spotless kitchen, I'm afraid my children would be puzzled. No, this is their real mother. The one they come home to everyday. This is what she really looks like, and this is what a day in her life really looks like. 

After dropping off my last child at school, I allow myself 30 minutes at the computer. Thanks to my remarkable speed reading and skimming capabilities, I can scan over 7 or 8 blogs and facebook in this time. Now that I feel connected to the world, it's time to eat some breakfast.

This is me in my perpetually cluttered kitchen. I would like to say that you will see a picture of me shortly, cleaning this kitchen, but that would be a lie.

This is the breakfast that I have eaten everyday for at least ten years now. I love me a bowl of oatmeal. The almond milk and walnuts are recent additions. Notice that the almond milk is Unsweetened. Notice that there is a large sugar bowl sitting next to that unsweetened almond milk.

While my oatmeal is cooling, I put my eyes in. In a matter of two minutes, I go from 20 x 400 vision to 20 x 20. The joys of modern innovations like contact lenses!

I also make my bed.

Now it is time to eat breakfast. I am refraining from making self-criticising comments at this moment. That is Neil's sweatshirt from his mission I'm wearing. Suomi means Finland in Finnish. Well, it actually means Swamp-Land, but when a Finn says Suomi, he is referring to his country. 

This is the time of year that I realize that it is nearly time for General Conference, and I have yet to finish reading last year's conference addresses. November's Ensign will be my breakfast reading for the next few weeks.

Yes, I keep the sugar bowl readily available as I eat my oatmeal. What is that yellow mug, you ask? Why it's a frosty mug filled with chocolate milk, of course! What else would it be?

Quite often, I finish breakfast, and can't quite put down the Ensign. This morning, a talk by Elder Christofferson was too good to put down, so I adjourned to a comfier chair to finish my reading.

Now it's time for scripture study. My bed offers the space necessary to spread out and study. I am currently switching off between studying the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and the Four Gospels. I am also trying to read the Church History student manual and Jesus the Christ. My goal is to read an hour a day. Sometimes I only get in a half an hour. And plenty of days, these books don't even get cracked, but the goals are there. Today, I managed 45 minutes in the book of Matthew.

I was pleasantly interrupted by a phone call from Neil. He was asking me out on a lunch date. I had intended to go to the gym, but did I mention my love affair with food, as well as with this remarkable man I'm married to? 

"Hello, Gold's Gym? This is your fair-weathered friend speaking. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel our date again! I know, this is two days in a row, but you see I've received a better offer. Perhaps we could reschedule for tomorrow, unless of course, Cafe Rio calls, at which point, I will have to cancel again."

I have a date in 30 minutes, and here I sit all greasy and grody. Time to hop in the shower. It's a good thing that vanity is not one of my weaknesses, and I can get ready in 15 minutes flat.

Neil and I dropped Jessica's cello and wallet off to her at school then enjoyed a delicious lunch at Kneaders. We shared a turkey, bacon, avocado sandwich and I tried the Italian Wedding soup. The soup grew on me...eventually. 

I came home with exactly one hour to scrapbook before the kids started coming home. I am one of the last remaining non-digital scrapbookers in the world. We are a dying breed. Slouching at a computer for all of my memory keeping is not appealing. I found a great new scrapbook product line last year, that has solved my scrapbooking woes. I am 11 years behind on my memory keeping. This means that I only have about 12,000 photos sitting on hard drives waiting to be printed and placed into books for all to enjoy. Gone are the days that I spend two hours on one artistic masterpiece-of-a-layout, containing only two photos. I'm too busy cultivating a good life, and I need to record it in an efficient but visually pleasing way... enter one of my favorite people.

Becky Higgins, that guru I was referring to earlier, came up with a line of product that has enabled me to get hundreds of photos organized into scrapbooks with journaling and everything. It is amazing what I can accomplish in just one hour now. Today, I was working on 2008.

And then my highschooler walked through the door looking as stylish as ever. Since I was all about taking pictures today, I had to grab one of her. I love her unique style! She is just comfortable in her own skin and her own clothes.

And there you have it. That is what I did between the hours of 9:00 am and 2:30 pm. You may have noticed that, aside from making my bed, no housework happened today. Yeh, that's not unusual. A spotless house is not one of my priorities. One or two hours of frenzied cleaning each week tends to be enough to keep the house sanitary and clutter-free enough. Anything more than that seems like a waste of precious time and resources, but that's just me, remember we're keeping it real here. Is this a typical day, you might ask? This tends to be typical at least once or twice a week. Most of the other days, I'm grocery shopping, running to schools for various reasons, and doing my church calling. And there are always those "Super Woman" days, where I feel like I'm doing it all. But I try to get in at least one day like today every week.

I spend the time while the children are away feeding my soul, so that there's plenty of that soul to give to my family the rest of the night and the rest of the week. It is no longer a secret, what I do while Neil and the children are away. Now they know why I stare blankly when they ask me "What did you do today?" I don't quite remember what I did today. All I know is that I somehow feel ready for the mayhem of the evening. Let the chaos begin! 

A Close Brush With the Future

"A mother usually knows when it's time to let her little girl grow up--sometimes she just prefers not to tell her!"

Last week, the young women in our ward participated in a wedding dress fashion show and learned all about the importance of temple marriage. Dresses were donated by moms, leaders, and other ladies  in the ward.

It was fun to travel through time as each girl would come out in a new dress. There were loads of 90's dresses. You know, "Anne of Green Gables" puffed sleeves with an over-abundance of bead work and that lovely bow on the bum. And there were dresses, more simple in nature, from the 21st century. There was even a gorgeous lace dress that had belonged to one girl's grandmother. We leaders were a little nostalgic for our thin firm bodies that once fit into the gowns. 

Each girl paraded down the aisle, indulged in a childish spin or two, then struck a pose at the end of the runway. As they all sat in piles of lace and satin on the floor giggling, some of us leaders got a little uncomfortable, namely us leaders who happened to be mothers of some of these giggly girls. We became overwhelmed with a sense of the imminent passing of time and the inevitable maturing of our little girls. 

Today, the dresses are hanging off their tiny figures. Tomorrow, we will sit back and watch them be fitted for their own dress. Today, this seems like imaginary play, but a few short years will bring wedding day realities for these young women. It was unsettling to imagine my daughter perched on the arm of some boy in a tuxedo, about to embark on that ever important journey of marriage and motherhood. The closeness of such possibilities was overwhelming.

When I think of how young I was when I walked out of those temple doors with my husband, and how old my girls are getting, I can't help but wish for time to slow down a bit. 

The girls wiggled out of the wedding gowns and were once again sitting slouched in their skinny jeans, checking their phones and talking about junior high troubles. We moms breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was close. For a second there I thought I saw my daughter's childhood pass before my eyes. But now she's back. All is right with the world.

Lovely Lucre!

"It's all about the money." -Joseph Jackson

Memorization is extremely difficult for Jonah. This is part of the reason that he hates reading. So much of reading is reciting memorized words. Jonah has no problem with words that make sense phonetically. But those sight words that simply must be memorized just don't click for him. Studying spelling words is always a treat. We are to the point that we pick 10 words out of the list of 30 each week and go over them every night. And every night, he spells them phonetically. A word like empty is a piece of cake. A word like beauty is a nightmare. I try to cut the kid some slack. I certainly don't learn 30 new words a week. The school system is not so sympathetic. We exchange high fives if Jonah gets a 50% on his spelling test.

I suppose I have Neil to blame for this. Neil does not memorize well. He refused to memorize the missionary discussions while in the field. Or should I say, he couldn't memorize them. He knew them. He knew them well. He just couldn't memorize them. When the church came out with the new program for preaching the gospel, I told Neil, "See, you were ahead of your time!"

He had companions who could memorize 100 new Finnish words a day, and he struggled to memorize ten. But at the end of his mission, he had a hard time convincing a Finn that he was American, because his Finnish was so good. 

I say all of this, because in the grand scheme of things, your ability to memorize is really not very important. But try to explain this to any elementary school teacher. As a fourth grader, Jonah is at the height of his memorizing career, and he's floundering. Ask the boy to add up the price of several items in his head and include tax, and he'll have a total for you in 10 seconds. Ask him what 8 x 6 is, and he'll look at you like you have lobsters crawling out of your ears.

I understand that memorizing your times tables is vital. I know that Algebra will be impossible if you can't quickly spit out your math facts. But to get Jonah to sit down and drill times tables closely resembles asking him to undergo an arm amputation without anesthesia. The weeping and wailing is no different.

And then one day I got a brilliant idea. I put an offer on the table. For every set of multiplication facts he could memorize, I would pay him $1.00. This child has been all about money since a very young age. He gets his mind set on some new Lego set, and then he puts a financial plan in place. He runs figures in his head all day. And when he gets his hands on some money, he has a shocking amount of will power. He has no problem not spending a dime of that money until he has reached his goal, at which point, he'll spend $100.00 in one place, and not feel an ounce of regret. And then he begins saving for the next purchase. Just having money brings Jonah great comfort.  That lovely lucre has been his dear friend for these five years or so.

So when I put my offer on the table, he immediately pulled out the flash cards, set the timer on his Ipod and began drilling, and drilling, and drilling. I could hear him at the table, "Oh man! So close! I need to just get 5 seconds faster!" You see, he can memorize. It just takes  more time and more effort for him. 

I know that all of the child psychologists would shake their heads at my poor parenting. After all, a child should learn his math facts simply because it brings him great pleasure to know that 6 x 12 = 72. Knowledge should be reward in and of itself. Blah! Blah! Blah!

To such bologna, I say this. My son knows all of his times tables. No tears were shed by either party in this process. No screaming match ensued at any point during this process. And it cost me a measly $12.00! Oh blessed bribery, how ever would I survive my youngest child without you? Oh lovely lucre, I praise your name. May I always have you at my disposal, so as to lure my headstrong child into future challenging situations.

George Washington is quite a miracle worker in our house, and for that I am grateful. Yes, Jonah feels great satisfaction at the fact that he knows what 11 x 11 is. But his emotions border on the ecstatic when he sees those crisp dollar bills, gathered in his money box, just waiting for a trip to Toys R Us. And I admit, that those feelings of ecstasy are not limited to the child, but reach to a mother who sheds a tear of relief that her son has surmounted one more educational hurdle. Bless you George Washington, bless you.

What I Have Learned

"The timing of death, like the ending of a story, gives a changed meaning to what preceded it." 

-Mary Catherine Bateson

I learned a few things over the last week as we dealt with the death and burial of Neil's mom. I don't know if I remember learning such things upon my dad's death 18 years ago. I was so very young when it all happened and the circumstances were so different. I may have had some of the same thoughts, I suppose I had just forgotten them over time and needed a reminder.

I learned that every breath we are allowed on this earth is a gift from God and at any time he can call us home. We humans get a little over-confident when it comes to our health and our ability to cheat death. We know exactly how much protein and omega 3's we're supposed to get everyday. We know which fruits are high in anti-oxidants. We know which foods to avoid. We know how much of which kinds of exercise we should get. We feel that if we strictly obey all of these laws of health, and faithfully get our mammograms and colonoscopies that there is no reason why we shouldn't live to be well into our 90's.

We would make such boastful comments about Neil's parents. We were confident that they would make the age of 90 no problem. Neil's mom had never been hospitalized. She had never had any health problems. The only medication she was on was a vitamin D pill. Her doctor told her 6 months ago that she was the picture of health. When she was taken so suddenly, we were all confused, even baffled. How could this happen? I think that we forget that God is "...preserving you from day to day, by lending you breath, that ye may live and move and do according to your own will, and even supporting you from one moment to another..." (Mosiah 2:21)

Her probationary period was finished. She had endured well. It was time to come home. And the Lord took her without warning. I am reminded what a blessing it is that she had her health and her mind right up until the very end. I think we would all like to leave this life that way.

I learned the value of a funeral plan. Ruth was always thinking about her family and trying to make their lives easier. We knew she had some sort of funeral plan. We came home from the hospital in a daze and didn't know where to even begin when it came to planning the funeral. Neil's dad was in shock. I told Neil, "I'll bet if you look in Ruth's file drawer under F, you will find the information we need." Sure enough, there it was. She was that organized. 

She had picked out and paid for her plot and her casket, and she had paid for the opening and closing of the grave. The plan had been purchased in 1988 and had collected interest. We were able to pay for flowers and a grave marker with the extra money, and the mortuary still owed Al a check in the end.

She had written a rough obituary as well as suggestions for her funeral. She was still lifting our burdens, even after death. A funeral plan... a gift to those you leave behind.

I was reminded of the value of family. Neil's family is one of Yours, Mine, and Ours. He has 4 living half sisters from his parents' previous marriages. This was the first time in years that all of the family had been together. Why do we wait until death to all gather together? Wouldn't Ruth have loved to see us all together in life? Family relationships are precious. They can be altered in a split-second. They must be cherished here and now, not during some future family tragedy.

I learned the value of sharing the responsibilities as a husband and wife. Ruth took care of all the finances. Al was so overwhelmed at the finances that his initial response was to just sell everything. Now Neil is helping his dad learn how to manage the accounts and pay bills. It wouldn't be so difficult, except that Ruth was very savvy for an 80 year old woman. Al is having to learn how to use the online bill pay and other technology. 

Al knows how to cook oatmeal, pancakes, and hash browns. He's set for breakfast, but dinner is a different story. We will be inviting him over often and sending freezer meals his way. Neil got home from helping his dad last night, and Sabrina responded, "Any luck teaching an old dog new tricks?" It will come, but it will take time. Share in the responsibilities before they are all heaped upon you at once.

I learned that I don't take nearly enough photos. I had always prided myself on my history keeping. When it came time to put a slideshow together, I struggled to find photos of the kids' grandmother. I was so busy trying to snap pictures of my kids, that I forgot to have grandma and grandpa get in the photos. Take lots and lots and lots of pictures. It will be one of the most precious reminders of your loved one.

I learned that the grief of the elderly, upon losing their spouse, is great. My dad died at 42 years old. As I watched my mother bury her husband, after 21 short years of marriage, I couldn't imagine that there was anything in the world so tragic. Neil's parents had not left each other's side since Al retired 23 years ago. They had been together for nearly 50 years. We rarely saw one without the other. They were inseparable. As we sat in the hospital, saying our final good-byes to Ruth, Al was in complete despair. He hugged her and hugged her, as if he could maybe will her spirit back into her body if he hugged her hard enough. He expressed between sobs that we could have no idea the loss he was feeling at that time. At the viewing, he stood right next to her, with his hand on her shoulder, almost as if he wanted to climb right into the casket with her.

I always thought that it would be a little easier to lose your spouse in old age because you would have had so many years together, and you wouldn't be parted for too long. But I have learned that because you have had so many years together, it is like having a part of you severed off when that spouse dies, and you don't want to be without that part of you even for a day.

I learned that it is hard to lose your parent whether they are 40 or 80. I learned that you are never ready. I was reminded that life is precious, that we have no idea how long we have on this earth, and that these are the good ol' days, so now is the time to cherish them.

I Wish...

"When you look at your life, the greatest happinesses are family happinesses." -Dr. Joyce Brothers

Grandma was a remarkable mother. She worked full-time for the first part of her kids' lives. She still had dinner on the table every night. She made bread on Monday and saved some of the dough for soup and scones on Tuesday. She stayed up late into the night doing laundry and sewing clothes for her kids. She canned anything that could be canned. I wish I had spent less time feeling inadequate compared to her and more time feeling grateful that she had raised my husband in such a warm nurturing environment.

Grandma loved, loved, loved her children and would literally do anything to spend time with her kids and grandkids. She never missed a birthday. She never missed a recital or performance. She never missed a Sunday night dinner. She never forgot to call and remind us "Dinner on Sunday". She would even go so far as to climb on the back of a snowmobile, if it meant spending time with her kids. I wish I had cherished her quiet and consistent  presence more.

Grandma did not have an easy life. She left an alcoholic home at 14 years old and supported herself through high school. She endured a difficult marriage for twelve years, saving a bond a paycheck until she was self-sufficient enough to take her daughter and leave the marriage. She took responsibility for her own life. When she was unhappy with her circumstances, she put a plan into place to change her circumstances, then patiently worked through that plan. I wish I had asked more questions about her life and listened more closely to her stories. I wish I had written the stories down when she told them.

She loved Neil's dad. They had a beautiful marriage. They did everything together. They went to work together and came home together. They raised children together. They travelled together. They took organ lessons together. They grocery shopped together. They read the scriptures together. Al helped Ruth color her hair every month. Ruth loved Al's daughters like her own. They raised a blended family with love and respect. I wish I had taken the time to thank Ruth for showing Neil what an ideal marriage looks like, so that he could create one of his own someday.

Grandma was a genuinely happy person. She never complained. We never knew when she was sick. She was never too tired or too ornery for her family. Neil didn't quite know what to do in the beginning years of our marriage when I would have one of my meltdowns. His mom didn't have those. I wish I had followed her example a little more.

Grandma was an amazing homemaker. She cooked delicious meals and had mastered how to make them low cholesterol to bring down Al's numbers. I wish I had gotten more of her recipes. I wish I had asked her to teach me how to can and how to bake bread and how to make Yorkshire Pudding. I wish I had tried again to learn how to crochet and knit under her patient tutelage. I wish I had utilized that sewing machine she bought me a little more. 

I wish I had relished our conversations more. I wish I had invited Grandma over to play games more often. She loved games. I wish I had watched this wonderful woman more closely and learned from her more readily. I wish I had better appreciated all of her little acts of service. I wish I had been a little more aware of what a blessing she was in my life. I wish I had told her how much I loved her before she died. I wish.

The Things I Will Miss

"I love old mothers- mothers with white hair and kindly eyes, and lips grown softly sweet with murmured blessings over sleeping babes."

-Charles S. Ross

We walked into Neil's parents' home after saying goodbye to Ruth at the hospital. There were little reminders of her all over the house, things that would have seemed insignificant in any other instance, but this sad morning reminded us that she had been alive and well just hours before. 

There was the completed crossword puzzle sitting on the arm of the couch. (She did these everyday to keep her mind sharp) There was the sweater she had just finished knitting for herself, folded neatly and all ready to wear. There was the cake sitting on the kitchen counter, leftover from Sunday's dinner, a final remnant of her cooking. And there was the birthday card sitting on the microwave, stamped and filled with money, ready to go out to the mailbox for the great-grandchild's birthday that would end up falling on the day we buried her.

For the past week, thoughts have trickled in one by one, reminding me of the many things I will miss about Grandma.

• I will miss seeing her perched on the end of the couch, knitting needles in hand, keeping busy while watching the news.
• I will miss her roast dinners every Sunday.
• I will miss her wonderful subtle sarcasm.
• I will miss her presence at every one of my kids performances.

• I will miss the homemade cards lovingly issued on my birthday and anniversary.
• I will miss her asking me what I wanted for my special birthday dinner.
• I will miss the beautiful handmade gifts she made for my children.
• I will miss her fudge and divinity at Christmas and her holiday sugar cookies always waiting on the planter box to go home with us.
• I will miss her freezer jam and her canned tomatoes. 

• I will miss her phone calls when Neil was out of town, just checking in to see whether I needed anything.
• I will miss the way she proudly told her friends about her talented grandchildren.
• I will miss our conversations about history and politics. 
• I will miss her BBQs on the 4th of July and her Christmas parties that brought our families together.

• I will miss the way she doted over my kids and whole-heartedly looked forward to their events.
• I will miss her quiet dignity and grace.
• I will miss her willingness to drop anything to help her kids or grandkids.
• I will miss the way she would anxiously turn to the encyclopedia every time she didn't have an answer to a question.
• I will miss her presence at my kids' birthdays.
• I will miss her Christmas breakfast.

I will miss her friendship. She had a perspective that was drawn from years and years of experience. She had wisdom that I lacked. She counseled me on what battles were worth picking, and which were better to let go. She raised children for four decades, and I leaned on her as I struggled through raising my own children. She gave us good parenting advice just two nights before she died, then called Neil the next day and apologized for interfering. That was her way. She cared deeply for her children and wanted to spare us from any heartache, and yet she never wanted to hurt our feelings or meddle. What she didn't realize, is how precious her counsel was to us, and how much we would  miss it when it was no longer available to us.

These are just a few things I will miss. I know that over the coming year, there will be reminder after reminder, of those little things that I loved about Grandma and will desperately miss. I only wish I had cherished them a little more.

Our Beloved Mother and Grandmother

"The death of a righteous individual is both an honorable release and a call to new labors." -Ezra Taft Benson

On February 26, 2013, at about 7:00 in the morning, we received a phone call from Neil's parents' home. We both had a foreboding feeling as we saw the name on the caller ID. It was Neil's dad. He was distressed. He told us that he thought Grandma had had a heart attack. That was all he had time to tell us.

Neil rushed to meet the ambulance at the hospital. Less than an hour later, Neil called to tell me that his dear mother had passed away. One moment, she was getting up to use the restroom, and the next moment, she was on the other side.

She was 80 years old. She had lived life to the fullest up to the very end. She was on a snowmobile just two weeks before. She had taken all of the granddaughters requests for hats that she was going to knit them, just 36 hours before. She had just purchased a new embroidery machine and was ready to begin classes on how to use it. She was anxiously engaged to the very end of her life.

This last week has been a whirlwind that has brought a flood of thoughts and emotions. I will eventually share these thoughts, but today, I just want to celebrate the beautiful life of an extraordinary woman. Her death leaves a large hole in our lives. We love you Grandma Watson, and will miss your sweet presence.