to Davyn at 6

Now you're six. And your six times six mother is baffled when she reaches to hold the boy who used to fit so nicely on her lap. Chubby limbs that once rounded comfortably into my curves now sprawl widely - legs spilling over the edges and sharp elbows poking into my sides. The body is suddenly foreign, yes, but when my eyes reach your face, you're still my Baby D. And I suspect that you always will be. Sparkling eyes, lightly freckled nose, a ready smile.

When, at three, you were stumbling through books with a fervor, Grandma Cyndee bought you one titled “Born to Read.” I read it to you often, and you soon read it to me. But this year I've discovered that it needs a sequel - “Born for School”. Because I think you were. Kindergarten is the wonderland of all your daydreams.

After the long weekend in January, I whispered to you on Tuesday morning that I wished you could stay home just one more day. You diplomatically declared, “I like being with you mom, but I really like to go to school.” Of course, I'm glad that is the case. And I try not to begrudge being ousted as your first choice.

Still, it's shocking to discover how quickly the life of your second child can float away. With Aidan I swear that time moved much more slowly.

I need to push the pause button and hold on to you for an extra five minutes every day. But, you have homework to do, sports to play, lego structures to design, pictures to draw, a room to organize.

You continually astound me.

With your quirky sense of humor.

Your eager mind.

Your stubborn streak (which really shouldn't surprise because I've got my full 6 times 6 version of that).

Your innate friendliness (which does surprise because Mom and Dad have to work to reach outward while you naturally want to greet and love everyone you encounter).

Your budding testimony.

Months ago, I was talking to you and Aidan about the Holy Ghost. I can't remember if it was a prepared lesson or impromptu conversation, but I do remember your subsequent consternation. And how you confessed, in confusion, that you had never felt the spirit. I explained the warmth, the love, the joy, and you thoughtfully replied, “I think I did feel it one time at a baptism.”

Two weeks ago you taught Family Home Evening. Lehi was given the Liahona as a guide in the wilderness. It worked when his family was righteous and did not work when their minds were muddled with sin. I remember the sparkle in your eyes as you taught. You closed with your testimony, then took your seat at my side while Dad finished conducting for the night. After the last amen, you whispered to me in excitement, “I felt the Holy Ghost tonight when I was teaching. I know I really felt it.”

The tender spirit that already filled me that night multiplied (six times six, at least, I'm sure). All the complex book learning in the world can't replace the wonder of a simple knowledge of the gospel. You are learning that, as well.

With your ever-growing mind & heart, you continually teach Me. I've always said that you were sent to calm me. Motherhood did not come easily to this stubborn, high-strung girl. Six years ago today, I held you for the first time and – it sounds corny to say, but it's absolutely true – years of built up tension magically melted away. For two days, only you and I existed. Perfect therapy. And (though very far from perfect) I've been a better person ever since.  You have definitely blessed my world.

 

Happy Birthday, my Davyn!

life in my world

I came home with a fresh haircut last week.  Jim examined me when I walked in the door and then presented his opinion:  "you look like a Russian villian."  Do you agree?

Life in my world is Busy.  As in, I look back to when I "used to" say I was Busy and laugh.  Heartily.  Because I had no clue.  Now the To-Do list runs a mile long, and any downtime is indulged in at great expense.  There is no room for hobbies.  For lunch with the ladies.  For reading.  For writing.  Only essentials, and sometimes even those slip. 

But here's the paradox:  There is far less *Me* time in my life, but I don't think I've ever been happier.

It started in the fall, when I was last-minute hired to teach two high school English classes.  Teaching is always a time-sucker (if you want to be properly prepared), but this was a new curriculum for me and I hadn't even read some of the books since 9th grade English with Mrs. Bird.  About two months into school, with my head barely above water, I was called to be Primary President.  And this is my formal shout out to those who have served in this calling.  I have been in two different presidencies as counselor, but I had NO idea how different it is to be president.  There's a weight and a keep-you-up-late worry AND a wake-you-up-early-to-get-more-done JOY that come with the call.  

With these two simultaneous changes, life is obviously not the same.

I miss my friend time that has had to slip.  A pile of bedside books is screaming to be read. I want to record more of our daily happenings on this blog.  My "some day" project pile is ever-growing.  BUT - and here's where we get to the paradox - Despite the Busy (and *maybe* because of..), my life is Blessed.

Jim and I have become more of a Team than ever.  He does the laundry.  He also gets the boys off to school solo two mornings a week, stays with Azure on Wednesdays, gives me time and space to study, and generally keeps everything running as I rush between church meetings and school gradings. 

Just as I used to say "I'm busy", I used to think we had a good marriage.  But now it is so. much. better.  More teamwork equals more awareness (of personal sacrifices), more appreciation (for gaps being filled), more attention (to the other's needs).  Just the other day Jim mused aloud, "We don't fight anymore."  I laughingly said it's because we're too tired.  But there's more to it than that.  We're too busy to become wrapped up in Selfishness and time together seems too valuable for Pettiness.

This is a stage of life, and - like all stages - it will pass.  But when my time frees up some day, I hope to bring these lessons into the new stage...and keep that ever-selfish "ME" at bay. 

my girl

It almost sounds like an oxymoron. 

Because "my boys" is all I'm used to saying..

I left the house at 6 this morning.  And when I got home at 2 in the afternoon the Miss was napping.  Deeply.  I missed her.  Deeply.  At {finally} 4 p.m. she awoke, just when the boys were heading out for basketball.  So the two of us were left to ourselves.

And we went on a walk.  Which she adores. 

It was dusk. 

And I looked up to this:

And down to this:

Then up again. 

Then down again.

Times twenty.

Dizzied between the two perfect views, I realized it was a moment to Remember. I may not have time to blog beautifully in this busy season of life, but I can't let these Perfections pass without a nod.

perfect chaos.

I picked up my phone and snapped this picture while I was elbow deep in icings and food color last Friday.  Five fat flies were buzzing through the house by the time Jim got home, but the open door policy of the late afternoon was a worthwhile Bliss.  The boys ran to & fro, while the girl watched in delight, while the mom piped and Enjoyed.

Lately I feel like my life is pretty near perfect. 

I have zero free time, a DVR full of unviewed shows, a stack of unread books, and a mess of laundry to be done.  Every morning we patch Aidan's pants, dig for matching socks, and sweep more cereal crumbs to the floor.  But every morning we also pray, hug, kiss and hold. 

It's the only kind of perfection I expect to attain. 

Someday the house will be spotless.  Someday I'll get to my book pile.  Much of the chaos will vanish, but I can't imagine life will feel quite so crazily perfect without these Three.  These are definitely years to Enjoy.

why I love my husband

There are hundreds of reasons. 

But this one has stood out to me most lately: 

He is a phenomenal dad.

I was irretrievably smitten when I married the man. But I do remember having moments of lucidity during the courting.  And in those moments I'd always worry about just that - Jim as a dad.  He didn't like children much and expressed no interest in having any of his own.

But this was one area where I have been most surprised and most grateful. 

He spends time and energy with each of these lucky three.  And he teaches them.  

On Monday he taught us a simplified lesson on Jacob 5, which is anything but simple.  It was a chapter we had only skimmed over in our morning scripture study, and he wanted his boys to understand more.  So he came home from work fully prepared with handouts and enthusiasm.  Of course, the boys didn't understand the allegory fully, but they did understand that it was important to their dad.  And the lesson ended with Aidan saying, "that was really interesting". 

That night when Davyn knelt with me to pray, he said, "Bless us all so we can be good fruits." 

Amen.

Coming from the branch of my Jim, they have a good chance of being just that.