This is nothing new, really.
A lot has happened in the past six weeks (gulp, yes, been awhile), and at the same time life has remained very much the same. We are in a peaceful spot right now, and I am grateful for that.
Since the kids decided to sleep in this morning, I decided to take a few minutes and record what our life is like at the moment. Nothing spectacular or ground-breaking, but our life. I am a believer that even the most ordinary lives are extraordinary when you pause to be grateful for every little miracle and tender mercy.
My son is approaching two. He is a ham, a clown, a firecracker. He gives the sweetest hugs--but only on the rare occasions when he slows down for more than two seconds. His latest thing has been to say, "play cars wif me a minute, Mommy?" Who could say no to that? He has an amazing ability to communicate. "Daddy's at work. He's gone. Be home soon." is a lecture I hear often, along with "I don't want to!" and "You see me, Mommy?"
He is not a fan of being bossed around by his sister, yet he gets extremely upset when she decides to play in her room by herself. He has decided he hates wearing a diaper and yesterday we had a three-hour standoff when he refused to wear pants. His sister attributed this to his love of Daniel Tiger and suggested that maybe we can't watch that show anymore.
He is quite the challenge in church--not because he is necessarily naughty, but because he is so very loud. Two weeks ago the speaker was talking about the "Stop It" talk from President Uchtdorf, and Sly, having learned to yell "Stop!" with his Papa the week before, frequently yelled, "STOP!" every time the speaker said it, complete with his pudgy little hand out like a cop directing traffic.
We visited a train museum last week and hauled him upstairs for a look at the gun collection. The museum curator was sitting at a desk putting lotion on his feet. As my daughter, cousin, and I admired the display about our fourth-great-grandfather, Sly was yelling, "STINKY FEET! STINKY FEET!"
He is a climber, a reader, a laugher, a social butterfly, a stubborn cuss, a fan of all things basketball-football-and-soccer, a tease, the epitome of the term "little brother" and the sunshine in my soul. Everyday, even though my body is worn out from chasing him and my nerves are singed from trying to stay one step ahead of him (and thus save his life), I take minute to thank my Heavenly Father for the presence this little boy is in our home. He brings me so much joy and I am so grateful to call him my son.
My daughter is growing up right before my eyes. I am amazed at how much about her has changed, even since preschool ended in May. Slowly but surely she is coming to learn all the basics--the alphabet, counting, shapes--but also things that most adults are still trying to learn: compassion, service, problem-solving, self-discipline. Her body is growing just as fast as her mind--all the shirts I bought for her this past spring are suddenly too short and everyday when she asks to be measured she is a centimeter or two higher. Her beloved hair is still not quite to that coveted Rapunzel-length, but the other day she realized that is because Rapunzel's hair is magic and sadly, hers is not.
We are on a constant roller coaster with her--some days she is so happy and sweet that I really don't want to put her to bed because I have enjoyed her so much. Other days bedtime can not come fast enough, and it is usually on these days that bedtime turns into an all-out, two-hour war that ends in her door being shut and her parents hiding in the basement with the TV turned up so we can attempt to ignore her battle cries.
The other day we were driving home from Box Elder County, surrounded by fields, cows, and the orange glow of the sunset, when she said, "I want to see Jesus." A minute later, she repeated the phrase: "I just want to see Jesus." We told her that was a good desire, and if she could live the commandments, that someday when Jesus comes again she will be able to see him. Her reaction to this was: "It's taking a long time for Jesus to come." I agree, sweetheart.
She has improved so much with her ballet dancing. Her first recital was last month and I will never forget the brilliant smile on her face as the music ended and she realized she had done her very best. She gave us the best wink as she walked off the stage.
Every evening as I put her to bed (before the inevitable "What will we do tomorrow?" conversation), we blow and catch kisses and do a thumb's up-fist-bump, which she has christened a "thumb duck."
She loves her brother and she loves babies. She is my best helper. She tries to be brave and work through her anxieties, and it is a difficult, uphill climb for all of us. She reminds me to slow down for a snuggle and a story, helping me appreciate the sacred moments when they happen and not take her childhood for granted. In truth, she is the gardener and I am the little seed trying to grow. Loving her is not always easy, but that's what makes my immense gratitude and love for her so strong.
Speaking of growing up, let's talk about Scott for a minute. Just a little minute, because he kind of hates the whole "broadcast your relationship" on social media thing. I am constantly amazed by this man that I was blessed to marry. He is so dang smart. His company recently merged and while his coworkers were a little panicked and nervous, he was completely at ease in his outlook, seeing the new company as an opportunity for growth. Every day he comes home and tells me something he wants to learn to improve his skills. He gives 100% to most everything he does. He recently was given a new calling at church, one that is busy and vital to the workings of our congregation. He serves willingly and hasn't let the new demands on his time interfere with his devotion to his family.
Plus, he took me to Texas for eight days and it was amazing.
And me. What about me these days? I am tired. Keeping my body going is a constant battle. I feel like a bowling ball trying to make it to the gutter, but my kids are the bumpers making that impossible, so I roll down the slick lane at a snail's pace until I finally hit a pin or two on the side before dropping out of sight. That is my day in a nutshell.
I feel as if this year I have been able to really exercise my creativity. I've tried things I never though I could do and though I am very much an amateur, just the process of creating helps me to grow. I've had ideas form in my head and actually turn out tangibly with a decent resemblance to the picture I drew in my mind.
I am giving myself more credit for the things I do get done rather than beating myself up for the million things that fall to the wayside. I am learning to prioritize. I am learning to be more grateful. I am striving to be happy and content in my blessings--and as you can tell by this epic epistle about my greatest blessings, I am one fortunate soul indeed.
