"I get that you are not a cool teacher..."

Today was Seth's final day of high school. As I drove around the parent drop-off/pick-up line to use Seth's lunch period to go to the police station and get him fingerprinted for his FBI background check (they apparently don't want criminals coming to Paraguay), I thought to myself, "How many times have I driven around in a drop-off/pick-up line to leave or gather a child? Surely thousands of times. I distinctly remember the line at Centennial Elementary School in Mt. Vernon, Washington. Isaiah and Eli and I would drop Luke and Shulamith off each morning, and we'd all chant in unison, "Bye, Luke! Bye, Shulamith! We love you!" Isaiah would often remind us, "Someday that will be me." Yes, Isaiah, some day it will be. And one day, it was.

That was one school, one of many, in three states, spanning nearly three decades. Many of those drop-off/pick-up lines are a blur at this point, but not the one at Hillcrest High School. That one is up close and personal, and I fought back tears as I picked Seth up this afternoon. What if this is the last time? No. No. It won't be. He has graduation practice tomorrow and Monday, and Isaiah isn't traveling this week, so Seth won't have a car. Whew.

Breathe. Slowly. You've got this. You will survive his final week of high school. Whom am I trying to convince?

You see, back when Isaiah and Eli and I were driving through that line in Mt. Vernon, Seth was still in heaven waiting for a family, for our family. And I didn't even know it. We had four beautiful children, and I thought we were done. Well, Gerald said we were done, and I believed him. I never wanted to be done. When thoughts of a fifth child first entered my mind, I didn't even know if it would be possible or if Gerald would even consider it. But Seth was meant to be with us. He was a gift sent a full seven years behind the others, and oh how precious!

I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that his high school graduation is in just five days. Shulamith's friend Bridget, who is a professional kindergarten teacher, when asked about whether to send kids with summer birthdays to kindergarten or to hold them another year, making them the oldest in their class rather than the youngest, declares (emphatically!): "Hold them. Make them the oldest. Always. No question. No discussion." Bridget, where were you in 2005, when I was struggling with this decision? I sent Seth. I made him the youngest. Now he's 17 and graduating from high school, with a mission call to Paraguay!

And after this week, I won't ever wait in a drop-off/pick-up line again. And yes, this matters. I can't tell you why, but it does.

Okay, so this doesn't turn into a mushy pile of pathos-dripping goop, let's end on a funny note, shall we?

Seth has the worst case of senior-itis I've ever seen. Ever! And that's even counting Isaiah. Apparently, it's a bit of an epidemic at Hillcrest, with tons of seniors making up NGs (no grade) in classes they didn't happen to attend quite often enough. So today Seth tells me he has an A in his automotive class, rounding out the excellent GPA he's managed to achieve this year, despite his acute case of senior-itis. The question is how did he get an A in automotive? Why did he even take that class? He has zero interest fixing cars. My guess is he needed one more class, and all his other requirements were completed, and his friends were taking automotive. Whatever.

Me: Seth, how did you pull off an A in automotive, when you haven't done anything in that class?

Seth: Well, on the last day, my friend and I went in and got help. The teacher is cool, and he helped us do all the completion projects and then gave us full credit for them. Cuz he's cool like that.

Me: What have you been doing during class, when you should have been completing these projects?

Seth: Well, for the past month, the teacher has let my friend and me go to Burger King during class, and he doesn't mark us absent if we promise to bring him back a Gatorade.

Seth could immediately see the outrage on my face. Wait, no. Throughout. My. Entire. Body. But before I had time to formulate a cohesive response to this atrocity, Seth cut in:

"Mom. Mom. I get it. I get that you are not a cool teacher. But if you were a cool teacher, then that'd be cool."

Suits, Rings, and Other Things: What "frenzy" really means!

In the VIPKID world, there's this thing call the "frenzy." On Sunday evenings at 10:00, Chinese parents are able to view each teacher's upcoming week, find open slots, and book their children's lesson times. So most Sundays, Shulamith texts me to remind me to check my VIPKID schedule and make sure my open slots are exactly the way I want them, prior to the "frenzy."

Only for me, it's not much of a frenzy. I do this job as a side gig, because it's fun and brings in a bit of spending cash. I don't open very many slots; I generally get 4-6 bookings in the frenzy and then maybe pick up a couple more through the week. That's all I want.

But let me tell you about a real frenzy, and it has nothing to do with teaching English to cute Chinese kids. A real frenzy exists when you try to help your senior through his final two weeks of high school, while beginning to prep that same senior for a foreign mission. I've never done this before; my other two missionaries were in college by the time they received their calls. And have I mentioned that they served in the states? Where they didn't need passports, visas, or a bunch of extra vaccines?

For some reason, I feel all this pressure to do everything immediately. He doesn't leave until August 28th, but I have a pressing desire to get all the shopping done. Maybe it's because shopping is such a great stress reducer for me, right up there with blogging and eating. On Wednesday we ordered his suit. When he tried it on, he said it made him "feel like an elder." Haha, to me he looks like a little kid dressing up like an elder. What do you think?

Gerald gave me $65 to use for mission stuff, so today I bought four white shirts, Seth's favorite brand/style from H&M. He already had one, so we now have five of the ten shirts required. When we ordered the suit, we also got a pair of Ecco brand shoes (every missionary's favorite) and a ratchet belt. I also ordered two pairs of golf pants and some waterproof boots from Backcountry, where Gerald's discount is saving us tons of money.

Yep, pretty sure this shopping is what's keeping me focused and distracting me from worrying about him catching some terrible disease or dying of starvation. It also helped that a father of a kid currently serving in the mission posted a bunch of pictures of a recent zone conference. All the missionaries looked super enthusiastic and happy and (most importantly) very non-dead.

So just as I thought my anxiety was easing a bit, Seth received a packet from the church, with information on visa applications and the FBI background check. Ahhhh!

But a few days ago, in the midst of this marvelous frenzy, Shulamith gave me a late Mother's Day present. I've always said that late gifts are the best surprises, and it's absolutely true. Just look at this beautiful ring! It's rose gold and has black lettering with the initials "L, S, I, E, S" for my five children. I can't even tell you how much I love it. You should probably see it in person, but for now, just look here:

Onward. We have senior awards night Thursday, Vocal Ensemble POPs concert Friday, graduation the following Tuesday, and seminary graduation the following Sunday. Frenzy, indeed!

In the meantime, Seth and I will continue trying to learn a little more Spanish each day.

And I'll continue to shop. 

If he really had to, he could walk all the way home.

The instant Seth submitted his mission papers, he declared that he would be my first missionary to serve in a foreign country. Somehow, he knew what I didn't. Luke served in the Oregon Portland Mission, and Eli served in the Arkansas Little Rock Mission. In my mind, my missionaries stay in the states, you know, where there is excellent medical care, clean water, and advanced technology.

So when Seth read the words: "You are assigned to labor in the Paraguay Asuncion Mission," at first I thought I heard incorrectly. Then Shulamith confirmed it: "It's Paraguay. In South America." Simultaneous feelings of excitement and terror filled my body. Seth wanted to serve a foreign mission, and he wanted to learn Spanish. I could see how thrilled he was, and I couldn't help but be thrilled for him. What an incredible opportunity to take the gospel to a place so far from home, to a culture so different.

At the same time, my very own superhero persona was equally present: Anxiety Girl: Able to jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound! What if he gets sick? What if he gets robbed? What if he gets kidnapped, hurt, killed!?!?

Later that night, after the rush died down, Seth went out to dinner with a handful of the 40+ kids who had been in our house earlier to watch him open his call. I was alone, left to consider what had just happened. My 17-year-old son, my last baby, my precious Seth had been called to serve a 2-year mission in Paraguay, all the way in South America! The farthest he has ever been away from home is New York City, and that was just last month for his choir tour.

But Shulamith told me something that made me laugh, and laughter is always, always the best remedy for anxiety, better than therapy, better than medication (okay, I've never tried medication, but I'm sure laughter is better). She was talking to Matt's mom, Dawn, who told her about when her second son (Matt's brother) was called to serve his mission in Ecuador. Dawn said that whenever she began to get nervous about sending him so far away, she would remind herself that if he really had to, he could walk all the way home. No oceans separate Ecuador from Utah.

This is also true for Paraguay. It may be 5,735 miles away, but if he really had to, he could walk all the way home.

This made me laugh and also eased my stress just enough to jump in and begin preparations. Seth logged on to the missionary portal and officially accepted his call. I joined the Facebook group for parents of kids serving in this mission. Reading that page is partly terrifying and partly reassuring but mostly just super informative. I met another mom whose son enters the Mexico MTC the same date as Seth. Yesterday, we went to City Hall and applied for Seth's passport. I began purchasing the clothing he will need: golf pants and long-sleeved white dress shirts (no short sleeves allowed because of mosquitoes and malaria risk). Rain gear. Lots of it. Sturdy, comfortable walking shoes; no cars or bikes in this mission.

Meanwhile, Gerald is trying to speak only Spanish to Seth, who is extremely motivated to learn this language. He hopes to spend lots of time with his good friends from the Spanish ward and maybe even attend their Sunday meetings occasionally. Isaiah told him about a good language app that will help as well.

The next step, once graduation is over in another three weeks, is to get Seth the necessary immunizations, so I don't have to worry about terrible diseases like typhoid and yellow fever. Then repeat: more shopping and more Spanish study.

We've got this, Seth! Obviously. Don't even worry.

The map with everyone's guesses!

Waiting patiently.

Eli and Amanda standing by on Skype.
 

But I had the envelope. What power!

All the excitement and congrats to Seth!

The irony of motherhood

It seems part of the human condition; we want what we can't have. Other people's careers look more exciting, their hobbies more interesting, their lives more appealing. We covet the inaccessible rather than enjoying the beauty right in our path.

Lest I sound utterly cynical on this lovely Mother's Day weekend, let me explain. As a mother, I can tell you that this tendency creates the most perfect irony: When we're with our children day in and day out, we long for that elusive alone time. "If only I had one day, all to myself," we think. "How glorious that would be!"

Then on those rare occasions that we actually get that one day to ourselves, all we talk about are our kids! The irony of motherhood.

The good news is that it's okay. It's perfectly okay. Motherhood is hard. And exhausting. And stressful. It's also wonderful and amazing and perfect. So when we do get a brief respite from the daunting and all-encompassing task, it's no wonder that in no time at all, we find ourselves missing those very people we were so eager to escape.

And so it was yesterday, our fifth annual pre-Mother's Day celebration. Every year since Shulamith has been a mom, the two of us have taken one day near Mother's Day all to ourselves. No husbands. No teenagers. No kids (other than nursing babies). Each year has turned out slightly different from the others, but one pattern is clear. The second we get away from our kids, we miss them. And we talk about them.

Yesterday, we talked about Seth, specifically his upcoming mission. "How can he be old enough to go?" "Wait, he's definitely not old enough. Is he?" We talked about Isaiah and how much we love it when he's around and how excited we are for his trip to South Korea next week. We talked about Eli, how glad we are he married Amanda, and how much fun life is going to be once they move here in July. We talked about Swen and the hilarious stuff he says, and Shulamith reminded me of a couple recent comments that I need to get into his blog. We talked about Kennedy and her spunky, three-year-old personality.

Part of the irony, though, is that even though we miss our kids and can barely think of anything else to talk about, the "day away" is still so glorious. Trust me!  And we made the very most of every waking hour yesterday.

Food was a primary focus, obviously. We are, after all, the Webster women. Breakfast was at Penny Ann's Cafe in Draper, where the wait time was over an hour. And you know what? We didn't even care. Usually we have Shulamith's little kids with us, so even a 10-minute wait is too long. We're all about fast food, drive thru, and take out. We're also super cheap. We eat out a lot, many meals a week, so yeah, we watch prices. Coupons, buy-one-get-one free deals, food apps, etc....all our best friends.

But not yesterday. We got exactly what we wanted with no thought to cost. Just look at this amazing breakfast:

A few hours later, dinner was equally yummy at Outback. Last year Shulamith was pregnant and couldn't eat rare meat. You can be sure steak was the choice this year:

Along with delicious food, our day was filled with "Mommy pampering." This included pedicures:

 

Then we took turns with massages and eyebrow threading, so one of us could chill with Theodore:

And finally, we wandered leisurely through stores, browsing aisles of clothing, makeup, shoes. We didn't even buy much, though we did find a killer deal on hanging shoe racks at The Container Store. We each got one, and they hold 24 pairs of shoes! That won't quite be enough for me (yes, I'm aware, I have a problem), but it's a great start.

After dinner, we came home, so Shulamith could nurse Theodore and give him to Matt. As I walked up to my house, I stopped to check the mail and had the fleeting thought, "Ha, it would be hilarious if Seth's mission call was here; nah, they always come on Wednesdays or Thursdays." And yep, you guessed it:

Right there in our mailbox, as plain as day, was this big letter from the Office of the First Presidency, addressed to Elder Seth Webster Erichsen. Which makes me laugh because, no, he's not an elder yet. He's not even out of high school. He's not even 18! HE'S A BABY!

Seth was at work, and I might have had to sit home all by myself and stare at that dang envelope, the one that will determine where my baby is for the next two years, but fortunately, our Mother's Day celebration wasn't over. I barely had time to send Seth the picture of the call, and Shulamith was ready to head out to the movie theater...

...where we watched the scariest movie ever! Really guys, I'm not even kidding. If you decide to go see A Quiet Place, don't say I didn't warn you. Ahhhhhhh! Where oh where was a nice, funny, romantic comedy? We mommies have faint hearts.

Lots of popcorn, candy, and Diet Coke helped. We survived.

And just like that, our celebration day was complete. This morning our text thread was something like...

Me: Is our day really over?
Shulamith: Don't remind me.  :-(
Me: :-(  :-(  :-(

Still, we had today to celebrate with our children, rather than away from them. And there's the irony of motherhood again. Both are so great. I had three of my five with me for dinner at Mac. Grill (where Seth was working):

And Shulamith had all three of hers:

Happy, happy Mother's Day! More excitement coming tomorrow, as Seth opens his call. And more irony. Because you know that little kid who used to throw giant fits in the middle of the grocery store because I wouldn't let him grab all the coupons out of the coupon dispensers? The one about whom I would sometimes think, "I'd like to send this kid to Siberia!"? Well, the time has come that I'll have to send him somewhere. And just writing those words, I can feel the tears swelling in my eyes.

"But they that wait..."

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint (Isaiah 40:31).

Seth is waiting right now. Patiently. Far more patiently than me. Waiting for a mission call feels sorta new, even though Seth will be my third missionary. Luke was away at college in Walla Walla, Washington when he applied for his mission; I was far enough removed in Billings, Montana that I didn't really think about it until the day he called to say it arrived. Eli was here, but we were told to expect the call in about 2.5 weeks, so when it arrived just 1.5 weeks after his papers were submitted, it felt like a complete surprise. It didn't seem like we had to wait.

This time, though. Goodness! Another difference is that because Seth went to high school here (the other two didn't), and because of the mission age change four years ago, so many of his friends are also awaiting and receiving calls. I think he's been to a half dozen "opening" parties just in the past couple of weeks. He has friends going to Japan, Peru, Columbia, Thailand, The Marshall Islands, The Philippines (3 friends!), Texas, and a couple sticking close in California and Nevada. I'm sure I've forgotten some.

This makes the waiting even harder. Also, in case you didn't know,  he is my baby, my last child and my last missionary. It makes everything harder, including the waiting.

I wait to know where he will go. I wait to know when he will go. All our summer/fall plans are wrapped around these unknowns. Every time we consider something we might do as a family, the question follows: "Will Seth still be here?" We continue to wait.

But do we "wait upon the Lord"? To me, that means trusting his omniscience, his goodness, and his love, knowing that wherever Seth is called will be the perfect place for him, that he will be safe, happy, and protected. That he will be challenged with opportunities to grow in faith and in love for his fellow human beings. That he will develop a spirit of altruism to carry him forward in life, as he one day pursues education, a career; marries, and becomes a father. That he will share the gospel of Jesus Christ, its infinite hope and all-encompassing grace with all who seek.

As a missionary, Seth will surely need the blessings of renewed strength. He will need to mount up with wings, so he may "run and not be weary....and walk, and not faint." He will need strength for those times when he works all day, seeking and inviting, only to feel like no one wants to listen. He will need strength to wait, as he stands in the foyer of a church building, praying for the family that promised to come to church that day. He will need strength to lift and encourage a discouraged companion, and strength to accept that same support when he is the discouraged one.

As a mom, I will need these same blessings. Parting with my last babe....I can't even describe what that feels like. I am a mother right down to my core. It was, and is, my divine destiny. I know little else. I will need strengths to wait on P-days for that email, the highlight of the whole week, and more strength to wait on those occasions when, for whatever reason, it doesn't come. I will need strength not to fall apart when I know he's struggling, and strength not to hug him for two whole years.

And lest you think I have all this figured out, be clear. I don't. I'm pretty much a mess. I've said often that I'm really good at preaching the gospel, teaching the gospel, and writing about the gospel. It's living the gospel that I'm not so good at. True story. To give you an idea of my mental state, Shulamith says she plans to check me into a "home" when Seth leaves. She's already done some research on good ones. She says she's not willing to deal with me in this state of mind, and if you want to come visit me, she will give you the address of the "home" I'm in.

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles." I'm clinging to it. Even from the "home."

May we all.

P.S. Seth thinks the call will arrive in today's mail. Stay tuned.

The false importance of page views: Is social media changing my brain?

When I began this blog in 2009, my goals were simple. First, I needed a place to write. Writing calms my anxious mind better than most anything else. It relaxes me. There must be some sort of endorphin release because it makes me genuinely happy. Second, since I'm an essayist and not a journal writer, I wanted some platform to help me follow the counsel of my church leaders to keep a family record. That's it. Two goals.

That was nine years ago. Back then, I didn't expect many people to read the blog, and honestly, I didn't care. I knew Shulamith and Gerald would read it, maybe some of my sons, probably Lindsey, and possibly my brother and my mom. The point is it didn't matter. It didn't matter because I could meet both goals listed above, even if no one read it.

I now have over 600 posts, and though I hate to admit it, I care very much about page views. I obsess over them. "What? Barely 100 views? And no one even commented? Maybe I should have added a picture. Maybe my title didn't provide sufficient click bait. Maybe I posted at the wrong time of day. Maybe I'm just a bad writer. Maybe nobody likes me."

Yep, I go right there, and I'm not even a teenager! Shulamith has been reading a lot about the adverse effects of social media on youth, thinking about Seth, and also wondering what it will be like when her kids are teens. Should she even give them smart phones? Do we want our kids stressing over how many snap chat followers they have, how many "likes" they got on a certain post, or where their friends are gathered at any given moment? Seth's phone pings relentlessly, with a constant stream of incoming messages. Is it healthy? I'm not sure.

Some research suggests excessive social media actually changes our brains. What is excessive, though? I check Facebook multiple times a day, but I don't really care how many "friends" I have because the majority of them aren't even real friends. I post to Instagram, mostly to generate chat books, and again I don't care how many followers I have. But my blog? Well that's different. That's like my sixth child! I care. I love it when I get a few hundred views on a post, or when someone comments, either directly to the blog or on Facebook. Hardly anything makes me happier than when someone I barely know stops me in the hall at church to tell me she loved a recent entry.

I guess it sort of relates to what I wrote here about talents. I have so very few. When the precious few I do have can make people happy, it makes me happy. I feel like I am serving in some way, even if it isn't baking people cookies or accompanying  a soloist on the piano. Someone likes to read what I write. It's incredibly gratifying.

Still, page views shouldn't affect my self-image or my attitude or my personal peace. Page views have nothing to do with my worth as a human being. I don't have all the answers, but finding a way to internalize this and teach it to our kids has to be a first step. Our individual worth comes from a much higher place than page views on a blog, "likes" on Instagram, or followers on snap chat. Our worth comes from our divine parentage. God does not love us because we are good; God loves us because God is good.

A friend and Methodist pastor once gave a talk about individual worth. In it, he said, "The thing about teenagers is that they have so much potential." But isn't that true of all of us? We have so much potential. God sees that potential, even when we cannot, and none of it is dependent on page views or followers or "likes."

I just watched Seth make a video of himself emptying a can of refried beans into a bowl. How many "likes" will he get when he uploads that video to social media? I don't care. And neither should he.

I am about to upload this blog post. How many page views will it get?

Trying hard not to care.