ITS FATHERS DAY!!!!


In honor of Fathers Day I have decided that I would share with
you some of my most favorite memories of mine from the father of my kids- trust
me they are good ones…


When Logan was about 17 months old, Kevin and I were
both teaching a primary class. To clarify: I was teaching the class and Kevin
was on baby Logan duty. On this particular day Logan had a sour tummy and “so
did Kevin” So they stayed home and I went to primary to teach. This was to be
Kevin’s first time watching him solo for more than 30 minutes. I gave him very
detailed help aids: don’t leave him alone in the kitchen, don’t let him in the
bathroom at all, only give him a, b or c for a snack, put on Lilo & Stitch
if all else fails. We had just found out a few days before this Sunday that
Logan was allergic to milk and the poor dude had a very raw bum from milk he was
given before we knew. I was of to primary and all things were fine until
something warm and smelly hit that raw bum. Daddy had to change his first diaper
ever. SOLO. He claims that he remembers me saying that leaving the diaper off
for a little bit helps with the sting on the bum and so he did not ‘holster the
weapon’ and just let the baby boy run around commando. He then broke rule #1 and
let Logan into the kitchen without supervision. Logan found a glass jar and
proceeded to bang it on the floor because it made a really cool sound. Kevin
just figured that as long as he could hear Logan banging the jar on the floor
that all was good and he…I don’t know, watched TV I guess. Then, things got
quiet.   Kevin
called for the offender of the quiet and got no response. He then sought after
him and walked into the kitchen where he found Logan full of assumed peanut
butter.  He was certain that it was
peanut butter because a) it looked to be that consistency and color and b) Logan
was trying to eat it. . He grabbed the boy and surveyed the floor looking for
the source of the peanut butter. No source but he noticed that his arm, where
the boy’s bottom was planted, was also full of peanut butter. Ah, ha!! Source
found! And it was not peanut butter. Enter Kevin freaking out. Logan was covered
in ‘peanut butter’ and now so was Kevin!  Logan had it all over his hands, legs
and face and was trying to share his ‘peanut butter’with Kevin. He took the
smeared baby into the tub, which was empty, and plopped him into it, then turned
on the water. I, never having thought 
that Kevin would need to bathe the boy, left out a very important detail
that Logan was very afraid of the water as it filled the tub. Logan was
screaming and gripping onto whatever part of Kevin he could get a hold of to try
to get out of the tub, all the while smearing ‘peanut butter’ all over him.  Kevin washed him off the best and
fastest he could  and then bundled
him up in a towel and brought him in to diaper the naughty source of the peanut
butter. On the way into the bedroom, he stepped right next to where the dogs
water bowl was and got his socks all wet, but his main concern was diapering the
bottom. Once the task was done he removed his socks, looked at them and saw that
it was not water that the dog had spilled but actually a pile of peanut butter
and Kevin had just successfully tracked it all over the carpet.  Discouraged
at the day’s events, Kevin looked at the clock hoping that I would be home at
any minute to rescue him from this catastrophe. Only 30 minutes had passed. He
decided that he could not take it anymore and strapped Logan into his car seat
and drove around for the remaining  90 minutes. Kevin didn’t babysit Logan
again until after he was potty trained. And he still won’t eat peanut
butter.


 


My favorite story with Anderson isn’t a funny one, but a really
cute one. When Anderson was just 18 months old, in the dead of winter, we had 2
dogs. Both dogs were fed outside because Anderson had an obsession with the dog
food and I had just plain had enough.  The local birds really enjoyed this and
Anderson LOVED the birds. We had a little wooden box that was about 2 feet tall,
the perfect height for Anderson to climb on and watch the birds out the window
for hours each morning as they would come and sample the dog food left on the
  porch.  One Saturday morning Kevin
got to see how much Anderson loved watching the birds and was shocked at how
long he would just stand on the box and stare and giggle at the birds. Later
that day Kevin decided that he needed to run an errand and left for a little
bit. When he came home he was accompanied with a bird cage that had in it a blue
and gray parakeet. He had taken it upon himself to provide his Anderson with a
“Burt” as Anderson called them, of his own. From that day on Anderson would take
his morning shift at the window seal, watching the Burts out the window and then
  when the Burts were done with their breakfast he would run into the living room
 and spend another few hours
watching his Burt.  


I don’t know if I really have a favorite story with
Kevin and Kenaley, but there is a thing that is my favorite. 
Kenaley is a very spoiled little thing- I know, you already knew that.
And she has this way about her that makes everyone around her adore her and make
them bow to her every command.  She
has this down to perfection with her dad. I think that all it really takes is
the sweet way that she smiles and says “da-da!”whenever she sees him and it
doesn’t matter what he is doing he will drop it and give her a big huge hug and
follow her chubby little finger to whatever it is pointing at.  It
doesn’t matter if it is his food or a marker or candy or outside. Daddy will
deliver for that little princess. It’s the look that she gives him and in return
the pride that is in Kevin’s face about the delightful little princess that
belongs to him that is my favorite thing with them.


 So,
there you go. Some of my favorite memories from my kid’s
dad.


Happy Fathers Day to my awesomely fantastic husband who is more
than I could ever ask for for my kids. Thanks for all that you do and all that
you are for us!!!!

I have  a confession  to tell you: I have not cleaned my house for 2 weeks.  What I mean by that is I haven’t scrubbed the toilets or the floors or  dusted or done windows- you know the once a week chore that everyone dreads. It’s picked up- well mostly, and the dishes are done daily and the garbages did manage to make it out; I just haven’t found the motivation to scrub the house down. I think it’s time; you can tell because when I walk across my kitchen floor I have to forcibly lift my feet to continue on my path because of all the sticky everywhere. And the bathroom  mirror (the boys bathroom mirror- the girls bathroom is always clean) is looking more like fogged glass than a mirror. I stopped using their bathroom  a week ago- boys cannot aim; even full grown ones. 
 
Tomorrow is going to be the day. 

I think.

I hope. 

I dunno. Maybe I will lose motivation in my sleep tonight and it will be another week.  

If that is the case then I may have to get a hotel until I find  the motivation. Its getting unlivable. 

Oh, I know! I will lock myself in my room- because my  room  is clean- and that’s where the girls bathroom is so I will be in a clean environment there. 
 
But then there is the food problem….kitchen is the messiest room in the house right now. I really should not be allowed to cook in that room until it has had a thorough once over.  

Alright so take out for a week, and we should be good, right?? 


Then there is that whole Disneyland/Husband get away that I am saving for and take out for a week would kill that.


What to do….what to do….


I think it wouldn’t be such a huge motivational problem except that kids and husband are home way more often lately and they bring with them a certain mess that is ever present. Immediately after cleaning  my entire house it is inevitable that someone will cause some kind of disastrous mess that will undo a whole days work. It’s as though there is a magnetic attraction to a clean floor and spills, and a picked up living room and a new toy ‘set-up’(which is kid talk for I am going to drag out every toy I have
and take about an hour arranging them, then walk away and leave the mess for someone to clean up.)


Plus, there is this thing about me that I like to clean my house before I get in the shower for the day- who wants to get scrubbed toilet in their freshly shampooed hair, right? And the boys in the house who are supposed to help with the cleaning of the house never want to clean in the morning. The spouse is the worst complainer.
   
I am very quickly loosing motivation to get this house clean tomorrow. 

Blogging, bow making, scrapbooking, bracelet making, cooking-  okay- basically anything is sounding better than cleaning the
house.


It’s not going to happen. We are make it to 3
weeks.

Yesterday I went to a baptism of a girl that is in my  primary. She was the only one in my ward that was being baptized that day and so she got to pick out everything that she wanted to do for her baptism. The speakers, the songs, who said the prayers, who played the piano. It was to be her very own, very special baptism. She picked her oldest sister to give a talk on baptism who did a great job and made a great visual on washing a penny in water or vinegar and salt.  Then her dad filled in for what I can only guess was a relative that couldn’t make it for a talk on the Holy Ghost. This is the point where Kenaley found her super  sonic scream and we quickly exited the room to try to save what ear drums we could. I’m sure it was great because her dad is a great guy.  Then this very excited girl was brought to the font where she was baptized by her dad and then after a little break was blessed with the Holy Ghost to be her companion. Testimonies were said, then a song sung and I was closing with Prayer- an honor that I am always happy (but nervous) to do.

It was a great day. The sweet little girl was so cheerful and pleased with her marvelous day, and you could see it with the ear to ear smile on her face.

I was deeply touched by the baptism too. But not for any reason that you would think. 

I will start with a little pre- story.

 The first week that I was called to be Primary President, I nicknamed this little girl’s 11 year old sister “Mini-Voice” She is the most beautiful soft spoken girl that I have ever or will ever meet. She is painfully shy and doesn’t even usually like to come up and help during singing or sharing time. But this girl is so brilliant and beautiful and has this remarkable spirit that follows her. I am not sure where the shyness comes from but it is ever present. Mini-voice is so quiet, that one day when she was asked to give a talk in primary (not sure who or how she was convinced to do such a thing)  even with the microphone on, it was impossible to hear her sweet voice. But she did it and her talk was great- exactly the kind of talk that we hope for every week. 

Few weeks followed and Mini-Voice’s mom informed me at a church activity that she was taking piano lessons and was just starting to learn hymns. She asked me if maybe Mini-Voice could play the reverence music when the junior primary leaves for class. I was so excited to let her shine in her very talented way and excitedly said she would be greatly appreciated to do such a thing. In the weeks that followed, I forgot about the  request until my fantastic  chorister reminded me, just before the junior kids were to leave. Stupidly, I invited Mini-Voice to come up and play if she would like to in front of the entire primary. She declined while turning five shades of red. I think I ruined the opportunity for her because then everyone knew and she was embarrassed. 

Her mom later asked me if she could possibly play the reverence music for her sister’s upcoming baptism and that is when I informed her that it was to be her sister’s very own baptism and Mini-Voice could play the piano for the entire baptism if she wanted to.  Mini-voice was standing with her mom and her countenance went  beautiful shy girl to happy beautiful shy girl.   I was so happy that she would have an opportunity to show off her talent, something that she was clearly proud of, and what a special day to share it- her younger sister’s baptism. What a great thing to be able to share with your sister.

The day came, I saw Mini-Voice in the hall just before the baptism and she looked like the same  happy, beautiful, shy girl that was told  she could play at her sisters baptism. I was excited for her and excited for her sister, and nervous about my restless 1 year old accompanying me. And the prayer that I was to say at the close of the baptism. 

She started playing while people were coming in, and she was doing remarkable. I was envisioning a future primary pianist.  Because primary only takes the best piano player- do you have any idea how fast they request to sing ‘head shoulders knees and toes’?  Only the best  can keep up with such demanding kids. Bishop started the meeting and Mini-Voice was on the spot. 
‘The  Fourth Article Of Faith’ was the song that was chosen. It was going great. She was playing, we were singing. 

Then all the sudden, there was no more playing, just singing.  The song was finished  and the prayer was said. Then Mini-Voice emerged from behind the  piano. Tearful and red. Visibly disappointed. My heart sank and tears filled my eyes for my sweet Mini-Voice.  I was so excited for her and she was so excited for her. But something- a missed beat or fumbled note- nothing that I noticed- had shattered this sweet girl’s confidence.  She hid in the shoulder of her mom for the duration of the talks and then hid in the bathroom, missing her sister’s baptism. She finally came out for the confirmation but hid in the back row in the loving shadow of her mom.

I felt so devastated for her. Not that the song was unaccompanied, but because this talent that she was so excited to share  was now wavering on embarrassment. 

Not sure if it was intentional or not, but a very seasoned piano player that was attending the  baptism, filled in for the closing song and while she was playing the first little bit of the song, started off in the wrong octave- a very noticeable  thing. I was grateful for this. It was almost as though it was to show Mini-Voice that even a very  seasoned player can get fingers and keys misplaced. 



I prayed, and then I felt very inspired to go and let  Mini-Voice know how proud I was of her. I snuck to the back row and put my arm around her and told her that she did great and even  Sister-Seasoned-Piano-Player fumbled a little  bit. I was proud of her. She cried even more and wouldn’t even lift her head from her shielding  hands. I had clearly made it worse.


It must come with the calling of Primary President that any and all of the kids that are in your primary become yours and you get that motherly love and protective instinct to kiss all the ouchies away. I get teary and huggy to any of the sweet spirits that are sad in my primary room and feel the need to let everyone of those kids know how special they are to me. I feel that way, but
little Mini-Voice just wanted the whole thing to go away, and I didn’t. Darn Primary/Motherly instinct…ouchy was still there and even worse now.


I left the church and returned home to the chaotic yard sale that was at my house.


But it was on my mind all day. My shattered Mini-Voices fragile confidence. Kept thinking of any possible thing that I could do that would help her. Cookies? A note?  A visit? Nothing.


 Thought about it as I was getting ready for church this morning. Still no answer.


Then I got to church and felt very inspired that I should bear my testimony about the courage that she showed. I felt like this was
the answer for her. But I second guessed myself that it would be bringing it up again and the few ward members that were there and witnessed it would then be multiplied by everyone in the congregation knowing. Plus, there were these three children of my own that had the inability to sit still and remain quiet and my husband was absent for the day.  And I have this problem of having my mouth moving faster than my brain does and often times when I feel intimidated by something- mainly speaking in public- I tend to make no sense and end up embarrassing myself.   I talked myself out of it and the feeling passed and the meeting ended. 
 

 I failed to act on the Spirit that was clearly telling me that Mini-Voice needed me to overcome my fears and speak up.


I am not a shy person (yeah, I know that is a –‘the sky is blue’ statement.) but Mini-Voice is. She overcame her fear. She had the
courage to play in front of a room of people when she had only been playing for a short time.  I was not even courageous enough to stand and talk. She was like a Nephi. Doing the hard stuff and having faith that she could do it. She showed up. She did great. Then it got to be too much and the shyness overcame the courage.

I cannot take back the fact that I was not courageous for Mini-Voice today at church. I let my shyness overcome my courage too, but normally my courage far outweighs my shyness.  I wish that I had acted on it and I know that if I had I could have been a vessel for my Heavenly Father and The Spirit would have directed me to say exactly what Mini-Voice needed to hear. 

All I can think to say now is that Mini-Voice has FAR more courage than I ever will. I can only hope that one day I can be more like she is. Courageous and brilliant and beautiful.  

Mini-Voice you are what I strive to be. There is more courage in you than I have in my pinky finger. I am proud of you and the enormous courage that you show. I really hope that you will continue to be courageous and one day when you are playing at Carnegie Hall, you will look back at yesterday and be thankful that you showed the courage to play the piano for your sister. 


You. Did. Fantastic.