In Over my Head

I finally finished the header for July today. Not that it takes all that much time to sit down and put a Photoshop collage together. I just haven’t been around. And when I am around, I spend most of my time packing, unpacking and playing with the boys. I do love playing with my boys. We haven’t had enough unstructured playtime lately, and I think it’s taken a toll on us all—especially Atrain. He has had an accident every day for the past four days: strange. Particularly the one where he was standing on his scooter in the kitchen and all of the sudden his scooter was rolling in urine. Ew.

And then there’s been an increase of fits, a needy “I can’t do it by myself” attitude toward things he used to be excited to do alone, whining and whining and whining and odd baby-like behavior (steeling Jdog’s binki and curling up in his crib). Hum. I think Atrain is a little off kilter. Perhaps all of the coming and going and subsequent motivating, begging then insisting has made him feel a little out of control. And, I’m at a loss. I feel like I’m a first-time carriage driver trying to rein in a steed that’s galloping toward a cliff.

Maybe that’s a little bit of an overstatement, but I do feel rather unprepared and incapable of doing the simplest things—hence the upside down boots in the header. I feel like I’m in over my head. Why is it so hard to tell my three year old that we can’t just mimic baby J’s loud screams during sacrament meeting at church? Correcting him today only amplified the problem. Perhaps he needs more positive reinforcement, and more one on one time with momma to remind him how much I love my big boy.

I read the “You are Speical” book with him tonight. Then we read it again, and again. I want my kids to grow up knowing that I love them no matter what happens, and for who they are, no matter what they do or don’t do. Obviously, bad choices mean bad consequences, but I never want my discipline and/or encouragement to be so overbearing that they question my love and admiration. So I’m going to set a special emphasis on my unconditional love for my boys this week and forever. Moroni 7 46-47 is the best reminder, “…if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail—but charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.”

Teen Talk

When the husband and I were in high school we stole many a late-night hour from the bedtime tyrants (the parents) as we talked to each other in hushed conversations on the telephone. I even lied to Wonderboy (the husband), telling him that the second phone line at our household only rang in the basement. It didn’t. But he never would have called me that late if he had known that either of my parents could have picked up the other end of the line.

So, often after my magical dates with Wonderboy he would hold my hand all the way to my doorstep, hug me—a long one if I was lucky—and then tell me he planned to call. I rushed inside, checked in with the parental units, then flew like a phoenix on fire to my bedroom where I stood vigilantly by my phone, waiting for the “incoming call” light to blink. If I knew Wonderboy planned on calling, I always caught the call long before the phone even thought of ratting out our midnight conversations.

Now I’m the bedtime tyrant. But, I’m still steeling away many a late-night hour in hushed conversations with the one I love. After a few hours, it’s not that we even have that much to say anymore. It’s just the thrill of hearing his tired voice on the other end of the line tell me how much he loves me, how much he wishes I were with him, and how much he wants to see our sleeping sons. I feel like a teenager again—except that we never said the big “L” word, we whispered so that we wouldn’t wake our parents (not our boys), and Wonderboy isn’t just a few miles away. He’s in Texas.

Even though the husband is 1,500 miles from our home, I do feel like our frequent phone conversations have improved the quality of our communication. Odd, I know, but it’s easy to become complacent and take the company of the one you love for granted. I’m not distracted by the dishes and the laundry and the many miscellaneous messes piling up around me. He’s not allowing his attention to be split by email, research and catalogues of online sports stories.

I discussed this phenomenon with the husband and he agrees, but he also thinks that being in the same room with the one you love is worth a thousand words. I say that thousands of words are worth thousands of words. Of course, our time together can never really be replaced by phones or video-chats or text messages or letters. But I love listening to his undistracted, uninhibited thoughts. I remember how it feels to soak in every sweet sentence. I adore the way he laughs at my clever, flirty attempts to catch his attention. And I love hearing him do the same.

Even though it’s hard to be apart, in some ways I feel like the distance is helping us grow a little closer together. The husband even sat down to read, “Five Love Languages” the other day. Now I want to read it too. I don’t want this to last forever, but I’m thankful for the reminder that deep down inside of me is still the smitten teenage girl who stands watchfully by her phone, waiting for the moment that Wonderboy will call.

One Dozen Surprises

I’m not really sure if I like Valentines Day. Romance is mostly romantic when an unexpected gift or moment (planned by your partner) reveals how much he or she has been thinking about you…how excited he or she has been to surprise you with something they’ve been planning for weeks. Part of me is annoyed by V-day’s contrived expectation of obligatory romance. Another large part of me wonders all day long if the husband will “surprise” me with something sweet and special. I did end up liking this Valentines Day, but not because the husband surprised me with a dozen roses. The day gave me one dozen (mostly) sweet surprises instead:

Surprise #1: 50% off lowest marked clearance price at Smiths’ Market Place. I scored a couple of inexpensive jackets for the boys for Easter—a holiday I definitely like.

Surprise #2: The mechanic said that our car would only cost $230 to get it repaired rather than $750…I always had an itchy feeling that Big O was taking advantage of my mechanical ignorance.

Surprise #3: The custodial staff came by my apartment today to do my Spring Cleaning. Even though this surprise was planned, (they offer this service free-of-charge once every year to on-campus apartments) it never ceases to amaze me how incredible it feels to have someone else clean the bathroom for me.

Surprise #4: A couple of Atrain’s friends are allergic to peanut butter. I wish I would have packed a bigger variety of Valentines, rather than relying solely on the good-ole Reeses hearts to hand out to his neighbor friends. At least Atrain enjoyed devouring the left-overs.

Surprise #5: Atrain was deeply disappointed when the husband and I decided to get our chicken nachos via take-out from our favorite restaurant. He really wanted to go in.

Surprise #6: The Chick-fil-A that existed on our GPS by Fashion Place mall is now a jewelry store.

Surprise #7: There are too many McDonalds restaurants without play places. We drove by three of them on our quest for a family-friendly Valentines dining experience. Atrain knows how to say, “Let’s look a little harder.” I never thought I’d be so happy to see the golden arches on 2100 South.

Surprise #8: Jdog loves watching Atrain run like a crazy man around Mickey D’s.

Surprise #9: Little boys with long pony tails make great playmates.

Surprise #10: Atrain can hear me through the maze of plastic tunnels when I yell at him to come eat his happy meal.

Surprise #11: The husband did think about buying me a bouquet of flowers on his way home from the hospital, but decided against it because of the ridiculous price tag. On our student budget, I was just happy to hear that he thought about it.

Surprise #12: Cold, slightly rubbery chicken nachos still taste wonderful when eating them with the one you love.

Every Sunday

1.16.11

Every Sunday the hubby and I have the same conversation. It morphs here and there, incorporating bits and pieces of new information and experience, but we mostly reiterate thoughts and ideas we have always expressed about our careers and choices and the direction of our family. I love this conversation. Without explicitly making a list, we reaffirm our goals. Without a planned presentation, we share our love for our God. And, without breaking out the yearbook, I’m reminded of the young man I fell in love with a decade ago and the reasons he stole my heart.