Showered with Love; Blessed from On High

Date: August 3, 2012. Time: 4:00 p.m. Destination: Salt Lake City International Airport. We had thoroughly cleaned the house, purchased a truckload of groceries, taken hot showers and deep breaths. We had prepared ourselves for 48 hours of all kinds of crazy. And we weren't disappointed. It was the weekend of Swen's baby shower and blessing!

My mom arrived at the airport on schedule; in no time we were back home, and she set about to cooking. She deviled eggs, marinated chicken wings, mixed meatball sauce, and rolled cream cheese into sliced pecans. We mostly watched. Why ruin a perfectly good shower buffet by trying to help? Saturday, after breakfast at Mimi's, we came back home and waited for our guests to arrive. We joked that perhaps it would be only the four of us to eat all this food: my mom, Matt's mom, Shulamith, and I. People don't tend to RSVP anymore, and we don't have any really good friends here, so we didn't know quite what to expect.

But I guess if you feed them, they'll come, because one by one the guests arrived, about 15 of them. Fun times! My two favorite guests (Am I allowed to say that? Of course I am. This is MY blog!) were my best friend Celeste, and our oldest friend---okay not technically "oldest"---in fact, she was the youngest one there, but I mean the guest Shulamith and I have known the longest, Amy. Celeste lives in Texas now (heavy, heavy sigh), but she was here last week for her youngest sister's wedding. I was skeptical that she'd be able to break away from the wedding festivities and her entire family to come to our shower, but she did. Thank you, Celeste. I love you. Here she is holding Swen, with her sweet Noelle and my mom in the background.

And Amy came too! Amy is a friend from way back in our Mt. Vernon days. She and Shulamith were sort of raised together, and she's the closest thing Shulamith ever had to a sister. It was so lovely to spend time with her. Here she is holding Swen, with Celeste and Noelle looking on.

Of course the best part of any baby shower are the presents, and ours was no exception. Shulamith received the most adorable gifts. Oh my goodness! Darling clothes, fun toys, and even a "Joanne" quilt! Whoa baby! This kid rocked it at his shower. Here are a few examples:

We veteran moms were awed by the latest baby technology: bowls that can't spill!

Then it was time for dessert, Costco cake, Shulamith's favorite.

Even Swen liked the idea of that, even though he only got to taste it in a fairly diluted form. Here he is with Grandma Claudette looking at his cake.

And just like that, it was over, the first installment of our crazy weekend. We all fell into bed. Lying there in the dark, I commented to Gerald, "It really was a perfect day, but seriously, I don't know if I'm ready for yet another---even BIGGER--- party tomorrow." But ready or not....

....tomorrow came. It was the day of Swen's blessing. We arrived at church at 9:00. I had only my mom and Isaiah seated with me. Gerald was blessing the Sacrament because we have so few Aaronic Priesthood that they always need grown-ups to help, and Seth was passing the Sacrament. As a brand new Deacon, Seth also had the honor of holding the microphone for Matt, who gave his son a beautiful blessing. Matt has a much larger family than we do. Even though many of them were not able to attend, the ones present still filled two entire center pews. When the meeting ended, everyone came to our house for brunch. Pretty sure we've never had 28 people in this house all at the same time, but it worked out just fine. It didn't even feel particularly crowded.

Here is a photo of the Webster-Monson Family, with Swen wearing his blessing outfit:

By the time it was all over, we were once again two very tired girls. Shulamith was smart enough to change out of church clothes right away; I was not as smart.

And then we did what any self-respecting women would do in order to relax after a crazy weekend:

Pedicures!!! So you're not left wondering, the green toes are mine, the purple toes are Shulamith's, and the brownish toes are Grandma's.

And Isaiah and Swen did what any self-respecting men would do in order to relax after a crazy weekend:

And there you have it. Well, except one more thing. I want to give credit to the person responsible for the majority of these pictures. Not only is Matt's mom a gourmet cook and master gardener, she's also a photographer! Thanks, Dawn. To put a face to a name, here she is with Baby Swen:

Showered with love, blessed from on high, welcome to Earth, Swen!

Heirloom: A Fairy Tale Come True

Once upon a time, a little girl grew up and wanted to get married. When she found her handsome young man, she began to shop for her wedding gown. She desired something elegant, but not showy; feminine, but not ruffly; modest, but not grandmotherly. She searched high and low, until finally she found it: her dream wedding gown!

As the years passed, she and her husband were blessed with five wonderful children, four sons and one daughter. Over time, the daughter grew up until the day arrived that she, herself, was in need of a wedding gown. Luckily, her mother had preserved her gown in an air-sealed package, hoping it would last, just in case she ever had a daughter who wanted to wear it. The two of them ever so carefully opened the sealed package, wondering what to expect. To their delight, they found the gown still beautiful. The daughter loved everything about it except the sleeves, so they had those altered right away, and she now had her own dream wedding gown!

A couple years later, she was expecting her first baby. The mother and daughter decided that the gown, though lovely, might not hold up another 20+ years, and since they both have zero sewing skills, they asked the mother of the original bride to take the satin from the gown and use it to sew a blessing outfit for the little boy, who was not yet born. And she did.

Two months after his birth, wearing the outfit made from the wedding gown both moms wore, the baby boy was blessed by his father.

And this is our heirloom, a fairy tale come true.

Baby Showers, Blessing Brunches, and 5,000,000 Essays

As I sit here this morning, in my very clean house, I reflect upon the weekend ahead. Why am I up an hour earlier than my alarm? Oh, you know. You know how it is when you have so much scheduled for the day that you wake earlier than you need to, but your mind simply won't go back to sleep? Yeah, I knew you'd get it. This afternoon we're hosting Shulamith's baby shower, rescheduled from two months ago because of Swen's early arrival. Tomorrow morning is his blessing, followed by a brunch also here at our house. Would I normally schedule two huge events in the same weekend? No, I wouldn't. But in this case, we wanted to make it so Swen's grandma from Portland could be here for both events. She flew in yesterday afternoon and will be here until Sunday evening.

Her timing couldn't be better. Of course it's great that she can attend both the shower and the blessing, but my motives are far less gracious. I am so grateful she is here to cook. I love opening our home to friends. I love hosting parties and gatherings. I'm a socialite for sure. However, the thing about humans is that wherever they go, they always want to eat. Let's face it; food is central to all social events.This always makes me super nervous because as you know, food preparation is not my strongest area. To explain this more directly (because no creature on earth is as direct as an 11-year-old boy), let me relay a conversation I had with Seth about a year ago:

Me: Seth! Why won't you eat anything I cook?

Seth: Because you're a terrible cook.

Enough said.

My mother, on the other hand, is an excellent cook, and she loves doing it. Loves it. When I told her about the shower, she immediately began planning the menu. Within days, she sent me the shopping order, which Shulamith and I gladly filled yesterday before she arrived. She'll be serving cocktail meatballs, spicy chicken wings, layered bean dip, deviled eggs, and a cranberry pecan cheese ball with crackers. And I don't have to cook one single thing. Woo! Not that I could cook any of those things anyway because I couldn't. This very fortunate turn of events has virtually eliminated my stress. I'm able to sit here, relax, and blog. How lovely!

As for tomorrow's brunch, Matt's mom Dawn is bringing half the food for that. The other half I'm mostly buying from Costco: meat and cheese trays for sandwiches. My mom will make a potato salad, and Dawn is bringing a spinach/strawberry salad, chips, and fresh watermelon. Ice-cream sundaes for dessert. We're set. It will be a great day! Well, except for the 5,000,000 (give or take a million) essays that sit here in front of me on the floor. Even though I teach only very part time, it's the end of the semester, and that means final essays from every one of my students. I know. I know. I should have taught P.E. What was I thinking?

I'm trying not to be too overwhelmed because stress doesn't accomplish anything, and these essays need to be returned to students on Wednesday, the last day of the semester, regardless of how much I worry. Onward. After the blessing and brunch tomorrow, my mom will go to the airport around 5:00. Let the grading begin! I will have Sunday evening, Monday afternoon and evening, and all day Tuesday to grade. It's not beyond hope that I'll get done, right?

Baby showers, blessing brunches, and 5,000,000 essays! Wish me luck.

Though It Was Nearly 100 Degrees Outside, He STILL Wore It!

Isn't it lovely when heirlooms can be passed through generations in families? They encourage us to pause for a beat from our overly-busy lives to reflect on our heritage and those who came before and on whose shoulders we will forever stand. They allow us to feel connected to our past as we reach with hope to the future. In this photo, Swen is wearing a light blue snuggly, the very same one I wore home from the hospital when I was born. My brother, Tom, also wore it home from the hospital when he was born two years later. All five of my children wore it at least once, depending on their sizes during the colder season. So of course, Shulamith and I couldn't wait to put it on Swen.

But since he was under 5 lbs. the day we brought him home, we had to wait a bit. It would have drowned him! Today, she pulled it out, and I put it on him. Look! It fits perfectly. The only problem is the temperature was in the high 90's today, so there was really no need for him to wear anything this warm. We left it on him only a few minutes, long enough to take this picture, and so we could say he wore it. There is something so solid and so reassuring in tradition.

Just now, as I was typing this and Shulamith was nursing little Swen to sleep, I showed her the picture once again. She said, "And Swen's babies will wear it too." I hope so. I really hope so.

Though it was nearly 100 degrees outside, he still wore it.

First Quilting, Now Gardening. Have I Lost My Mind?

I would like to share with you yet another thing I totally suck at. I mean just when you thought there couldn't possibly be anything else, let me reassure you. I have zero talent for gardening. As I said in my last post, I'd prefer to go to prison. Keep in mind, with the exception of two short stints in houses, I was basically raised in apartments (Read: No Gardening). My mom really likes to move, and I suppose it was easier for my parents to move from place to place when they didn't have to worry about selling and buying homes. The first two homes Gerald and I owned (Mt. Vernon and Billings) had small, manageable yards, well fairly manageable. Gerald hates all yard work and couldn't care less what the yard looks like, so it's always been just I dealing with it. While neither yard looked wonderful, both were small enough that, with minimal effort, I could make them sort of acceptable.

Until we moved here. Yikes! These former owners were seriously into gardening. They planted all kinds of cra....stuff. The one and only thing I appreciate is the huge raspberry bush along the side of the house because I love fresh raspberries. The peach tree, strawberry plants, roses, daisies, other foliage I don't recognize, and relentless weeds all mixed in.....not so much. And the very worst thing about this yard is this ridiculous island garden right in the front. Whose bright idea was that? Surely they could have just planted grass that I could mow. But no, instead there's this large, curvy, circular island thing with a peach tree, another tree of some sort, a patch of daisies, and millions of weeds.

At least that's how it used to look. Right up until this past weekend. I wish I had taken a "before" picture, so you could see it, but I didn't think to do that, so you'll have to use your imagination. Okay, are you imagining? Now multiply whatever you are thinking by 100, and maybe you'll have an idea how bad it was. Shulamith and I were determined to do something about it before this coming weekend when we're hosting her baby shower (two months late) and a brunch following Swen's blessing the next day. So we enlisted the help of the only master gardeners we know, Matt's parents Dawn and Todd. Dawn explained all the stuff I needed to buy: Two different bottles of chemicals--Ground Clear and Round Up; plastic border that goes around the inside of the island; yards of mesh liner to keep weeds from coming back; and bark for over the top. Got it! But not only did Dawn explain what to do; she also spent a good two hours helping us dig up weeds in 100 degree heat! No one, not even Dawn, could possibly enjoy this, but she did it anyway.

The following day, Shulamith and I spent hours digging up the remaining weeds. We were two tired girls.

 

At that point, it was time to put the plastic barrier around the perimeter of the island and cut and lay the mesh weed blocker. Finally, we could pour the bark, and Shulamith could use her creative talent (of which I have none!) to place the large rocks back on top of it all. And here is the finished product:

Was this worth it? I'm not sure I can answer that question, at least not unequivocally either way. It was so hard and so not fun. Perhaps the better question is "First quilting, now gardening. Have I lost my mind?"

Would I Choose Prison?

Today, for the first time in two months, I worked in my yard. Why so long, you might ask? Two reasons. First, I really hate yard work. Like really hate it. Ooh....which reminds me of a story. As you may or may not know, in our church we have a lay clergy. That means no one is paid to do anything, so members must share the work to keep the church functioning. One of those shared tasks is speaking in Sacrament Meeting. Other churches, I believe, call this "preaching" or giving the "sermon" or "homily." We call it "giving a talk," and everyone gets his or her turn eventually. For the record, it's my absolute favorite thing we do in our church. I am in a tiny minority, however. It seems most people don't like to speak in front of others. But I really do love it.

Anyway, last week in church, our neighbor, Gus (who lives directly across the street from us), gave a talk in Sacrament Meeting. Now you should know something about Gus. He LOVES yard work. And he loves his yard. And, consequently, it is positively beautiful. It seriously looks like a yard right out a gardening magazine. In Gus's talk, he taught about the need to nurture our faith and testimonies with constant care, just as one must provide constant and loving care for one's yard in order to have a good result. As an introduction, he explained how much he loves to work in his yard: "If I had the choice to spend an entire week either working in my yard or going on vacation, I would choose to work in my yard." Okay, this made me laugh. Right there in Sacrament Meeting, where I was trying to be all quiet and reverent, all I could think of was "If I had the choice to spend an entire week either working in my yard or going to prison.....uh, prison might look pretty good." The painfully sad situation for people like Gus is that he does hours upon hours of work to create this exquisite yard, and I reap all the benefits. I get to gaze out my front room window at this lovely work of art, while poor Gus must look across the street at our disaster! Totally unfair.

Moving on, the second reason I haven't worked in my yard in two months is because of Baby Swen's surprise arrival a month early. Before that, I really was trying. I was. About a week before Swen was born, the Monsons (Matt's parents) came over and spent a whole evening working on my yard. They weed-whacked, they pruned, they dug, they trimmed. They are just incredible. They are so good at this stuff, and as a result, their yard looks very much like Gus's. Why did they come and spend all that time and effort on my behalf? We joked that it must be because Mathew lives here, and they couldn't stand the thought of their son living in a house with such a crappy yard. But I don't think that's it. I think they did it because they are that type of people, naturally generous and giving. Anyway, the yard was on its way to looking better by that point; I thought I had this beast under control. And then Swen came along, and priorities shifted.

As you know, Swen was born early because Shulamith developed a life-threatening condition called HELLP Syndrome. Even after Swen was delivered by emergency C-section, she was still very sick. And even four days later when we came home from the hospital, she was weak. Her platelets had not yet recovered, and she was terribly anemic. Just walking up the stairs from her apartment to our house made her dizzy. Add this to the fact that she brought home a preemie who weighed not even quite five pounds, and you can see how she needed lots of help. You can be sure that yard work was the furthest thing from my mind during those early weeks. And the weeds grew and grew.

Fortunately, she is all better now. She once again has color in her face. She has energy. We even went back to the gym this week. Swen is growing even faster than my weeds, and he even slept four hours in a row last night! Woo hoo! So today, even in the nearly 100 degree heat, I figured I'd better get out and face that nasty yard once again. The weekend of Shulamith's rescheduled baby shower and Swen's blessing is in just two weeks. The pressure is on. After mowing and watering, I pulled all the weeds from the front of the house and the parking strip. I still need to weed out the island garden and prune the daisies there, but I definitely made progress. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you have 16 essays that need to be graded sitting on your living room floor. Ahh, but that's another story. For another day.

Happy weed-whacking, everyone!

Birthdays at Taco Bell and Parenting Philolosphies

Last Monday was Gerald's birthday. So what did we do? We all met at Taco Bell for lunch before Gerald headed to work. Okay, just so you know, we did have a birthday dinner, with cake, etc. the day before, but he kept telling us that wasn't his birthday, so we thought maybe he wanted some sort of recognition on Monday (his actual birthday) as well? Generally, he doesn't like his birthday to be celebrated at all, so that was a bit confusing, but what could we do? And why Taco Bell, you might ask. That's a long story. Suffice it to say that Mathew loves Taco Bell and thinks it's the absolute best place to celebrate birthdays, and Gerald and Seth both like it too, so that's where we went. But I issued this warning to all: Don't ever take me to Taco Bell for my birthday. Not ever.

As we ate our double-decker tacos (Isaiah, Seth, and Shulamith), bean burritos (Gerald), fresco-style chicken soft tacos (Am I always dieting???), and cheesy gordita crunch with cheesy fiesta potatoes (Matt), somehow the conversation turned philosophical, particularly to the subject of parenting. I have no idea why this happened, but for some reason, Gerald and I found ourselves discussing our parenting beliefs, how they differ from most other parents', and why they are the best fit for us. That's the most important part: "for us." We would never try to force our beliefs on others or offer unsolicited advice; unless someone wants to know, we'll keep our opinions to ourselves. Through the years, though, people have asked, some because they were seeking actual suggestions for parenting their own children and others just out of idle curiosity. In either case, I thought this might be a good forum in which to present our ideas, because reading here is totally voluntary. If you're not interested in parenting philosophies, feel free to skip this particular post. I will write something totally different next time. I promise!

Though we never discussed it before we got married (Bad idea! Couples should discuss these things before they marry; we just didn't), both Gerald and I fell naturally into a philosophy I call "gentle" or "non-punitive" parenting. By that I mean our goal was to take a gentle approach and never to engage in any sort of punishing. We tried to be the "guides on the side," allowing our children, as soon as they were able, to decide most things for themselves, while providing lots of encouragement along the way. I remember hearing someone admonishing parents to "choose your battles" and thinking to myself, "but I don't want any battles." Is that possible? Is it possible to simply get along with one's kids, without a lot of conflict and contention? We believe it is.

Our theory is this. When they're too young to understand danger, it's our job to keep them safe. When they're too young to understand the value of material things, it's our job to keep valuables out of reach. As they grow and mature both physically and cognitively, they become able to take on more and more responsibility for themselves and for their choices, and we let them. In most cases, we found that they knew far better than we what was best for them. Kids are smart. If you let them run their own lives, it just might surprise you what a great job they do.

We let them eat when they were hungry and sleep when they were tired. We didn't tell them what to eat, how to dress, how to style their hair, or when to go to bed. With regard to food, we offered a variety of nutritious choices along with plenty of treats, and we let them choose for themselves. Ultimately, we have two kids who will eat almost anything, two who are somewhat picky, and one who is the pickiest eater on the planet. I suspect this is exactly what we would have ended up with had we tried to legislate their eating; we just bypassed all the hassle. And encouraging them to choose their own clothing, dress themselves, and style their hair however they like? I can't see any possible downside to this.

Then there's the bedtime issue. That's the one people tend to be most shocked by, well along with no curfews for teenagers. The thing is kids' sleep needs vary greatly, just like those of adults. Three of our kids take after Gerald and barely need any sleep at all. This was true even when they were little. I remember Luke staying up until 10:00 or even 11:00 p.m. in early elementary school, and waking well rested and ready each morning without an alarm. It was the same with Eli, and it's the same with Seth. In contrast, Shulamith and Isaiah are like me; we need lots and lots of sleep. I sleep 9 - 10 hours daily. When Isaiah was in elementary school, he decided that he needed to be in bed by 9:00 sharp, no matter what. And he was. OCD like his mom, missing that self-imposed deadline by even a couple minutes made him anxious. I remember him telling me in all seriousness that he would never be able to have children. Why not, I asked. "Because I could get a kid like Eli who stays up late, and I wouldn't be able to go to bed at 9:00."

So what about discipline? Don't all kids need discipline? It depends on how you use the word. As a noun, I love the word. It comes from the same root as "disciple," meaning to teach, to guide, to lead, and best of all, to serve! We tried to model self-discipline for our kids and to be good examples of positive behavior, and we hoped they would watch and follow. But used as a verb, the word "discipline" often means the same or close to the same as punishment. That is never a good idea. Even if it were effective, I wouldn't be a fan of the concept, but the truth is, it isn't. All punishment does is make people sneaky. They learn how to do exactly what they want to do without getting caught. They modify their behavior in the presence of the punisher, but once outside his presence, they tend to become all the more rebellious because they resent the whole situation. Punishment breeds resentment, and it teaches nothing. And that resentment can last a really long time. Ask any adult who was punished as a child by being forced to scrub floors to lift a finger to scrub a floor as an adult. No way! Floor scrubbing = punishment. Punishment = resentment. End of story.

As you might guess, we took a lot of flak for our methods, especially early on when are kids were very young. I remember one person telling me my children would never be able to function in school because we didn't discipline them at home. They would never sit still or follow directions because we didn't give them rules and consequences. If we didn't change our plan, by the time they reached middle and high school, they would probably be involved in drugs or in trouble with the law. Yes, someone actually said these things to me. But one by one, our kids entered the public school system, and one by one, they excelled. They were happy, well-adjusted students, who enjoyed school. They did their homework with no prodding from us. They made friends. Their teachers loved them. The older four continued through high school and graduated. We had not one single issue with a teacher or administrator.

Our two oldest kids attended private universities and graduated with honors. The oldest is working on his PhD. Our middle kid is half way through a computer science degree and works 30 hours a week to help us pay his tuition and expenses. Our fourth child successfully completed one semester of college and is now serving a full time mission for our church. I suppose the jury is still out on Seth since he's not yet a teenager, but I have no reason to believe he will be any different. I'm his mom so not at all objective, but he is really one of the nicest boys I know.

I should probably mention that Gerald always says we have "easy kids." He's right. They lived before they came to earth and brought with them their own unique personalities. And yes, they have been easy to raise. But I also believe that had we chosen to micromanage their lives and taken a punitive, authoritarian approach, they would have been a lot harder. In fact, I'm sure of it. Gentle, non-punitive parenting does not ruin kids. If it did, surely the odds are that at least one of ours would be ruined by now. Instead, I believe it strengthens and empowers kids to be their very best, because they know that there are two people 100% on their side, always, and forever. And those two people are their parents.

I know our parenting philosophy is not for everyone. There are many ways to raise children well. But for us, this was, and is, the best fit. One more thing. If you're looking for a cheap place to celebrate a birthday and one whose environment elicits great philosophical discussion, may I suggest Taco Bell!