Some things are hard to watch...

Some things are hard for me to watch.  I'm not just talking about really hard things, like the loss of life, or health, or station.  I'm talking about other less hard things, put yet personal--personal in that they open the door to envy, hate, regret, malice, fear, frustration, and other non-Christian thoughts.  Like someone I love having the success that I want for me, or my children/family--that I don't have.  Or seeing someone enjoy a comfort or luxury that is not mine.  The latest: technology that can preserve children's memories that came out after our children were not infants, and then also at a time when we couldn't afford it, like digital cams--or better yet, iPhone 4s.  Is it petty?  Perhaps.  What about watching others take incredible vacations, buy fun family toys, have rewarding and well compensated careers, or recreate in exciting ways.  (I know I definitely have a money hang-up.)  What I can't dwell on is the emotions that these observations illicit.  When envy rears it's ugly head, I pray that I can love this person and celebrate their successes as I hope they would mine.  And take a moment to reflect on my blessings--there are many.  And also trust God, and the process of life, that all things testify of Him and all things are for good.  And no one will die from the things I envy--yet someone(s) life my be ruined (especially my own) by my inability to let go of feelings that don't bring peace to my life.

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I let go, and let God.  In the mantra, nothing is hard to watch.

The Dance and Routine of Life

How does Jesus see us?  How can I see others the way Jesus sees them?  With patience and forgiveness I suppose--and a generous dose of grace and love.

Today was the quietest, smoothest running morning in ages.  I recognize that this is busy time of life, that it will continue to get busier and more complicated, but for one moment this morning (and now in reflection during this short lunch break), I'm able to reflect that I trust the process of life and I praise the name of Jesus Christ who makes peace and heaven on Earth possible.

When life disappoints, children scream, family make confusing choices, and apathy begins to creep in I have found peace in the routine and lessons of life.

I told my dad that we are in the "Groundhog Day" of life--a recognition of the movie not the holiday.  It's Groundhog Day because Monday-Friday we have the same routine, papers need filing, homework needs to be done, prayers need to be said, meals need to be made, laundry needs to be cleaned, toilets need to be scrubbed, scriptures need to be read:  the same discussions, the same challenges.  Saturday the same lawn needs mowing, the same Zumba class needs attending, and church lessons need preparing, and some vacuuming and dusting as well.  But as the routine becomes routine, it moves into the background and into the foreground moves teaching moments, smiles, ah-ha moments, accomplishments, overcoming tough situations, learning to make and keep peace, to control thoughts/emotions/impulses, to seek for peace through Christ's infinite atonement.

And in the routine of daily life, I look across the room and my amazing husband and observe the precious dance that we've created over the course of (almost) 12 years.  When we seamlessly move between parenting, cleaning, cooking, and loving (and forgiving).  Where one stops the other takes over.  Each of us giving more than 100% and stopping during precious quiet moments to steal a kiss, say thank you, and tell the other how much in love we are.

In these precious moments, I think... I can do this routine for another 10 years.  In the next 10 years, the kids will be gone and we will move on to the next stage of life.  A stage of celebration: celebrating that the stress didn't kill our marriage, nor did it kill a child (or us, for that matter!).  

What I hope is that no one observes the dance we've created over 12 (not always easy) years and wonders why their life/marriage doesn't work like ours--like I did when I looked and peaceful couples (much more seasoned at life than I) when we were young marrieds.  Trust in the process, and look to Christ for peace in the process.

This life is incredibly short, and I'm grateful for routine and quiet moments to reflect and learn how to love others as Jesus does.  And to love life, because it is in this life that Jesus gave us that I am learning to be more like Him.

Small wins

Today at the YMCA, three kids plus a friend.  Before we left the car, we reviewed our objectives: get to shower to rinse off and get to class.  And our new mantra: Say it 'till you do it! (Wherein the kids repeat the instruction until the task is completed.) They all hop out saying, "Rinse off and class. Rinse off and class..." but then I remember, we need to grab goggles and towels.  "STOP!" "Grab your goggles and towels, goggles and towels, goggles and towels and stand next to the car." They instantly change their chant: Goggles and towels, goggles and towels....  (Success!) Standing next to the car we review: Rinse off and get to class!  (Oh yeah, they nearly had forgotten.)  So mother goose with her goslings, we traipse into the YMCA and all the while I'm focused too.  That means: no reading signs, no reading posters, no looking for familiar faces, seeing who's in the group aerobic room... JUST GET TO THE SHOWER!

Success!  Rinsed and in the water by 3 minutes after--not bad!

Our other success this week: Grace didn't come find me to share that Milo had declared that he peed in the water--like last lesson.  When I went to verify with Milo (on Monday) he said, in defense, "Only a little bit Mom!"  I turned to Grace, "Well, all the more reason to swim with your mouth closed."  She tightened her lips and nodded her head.  Don't worry, I did assure her that they put chemicals in the water because they plan on people having accidents.  Her eyes got big for a second, but she seemed rather reassured.

Self-Discovery: A whole family of ADD

I was sitting at the kitchen table this evening, attempting homework with Milo--Grace and Grant were busying themselves with drawing 3D images of cubes, triangular prisms, cylinders, and spheres--when the noise over-took me. I stopped talking, leaned back in my chair and just observed... My conclusion: I should blog about this. So instead of trying to quiet the noise--and not having my favorite co-coach (Jason) around to incite the fear of the wrath of Dad in my children--I got up and went to my room, pulled out earplugs (for both Milo and me), came back to the kitchen, inserted the ear plugs, and went back to work.

As Milo attempted to count by 20's, and Grace and Grant continued their intricate drawings (with Grace's verbose, yet wise, instruction). Mind you, Milo is going through eye therapy that will take him through age 9 (he's barely 7). Atrophying drops or patching over the strong eye (20/50 without glasses--20/20 with) to strengthen the muscles of the weak eye (20/150 WITH glasses--without: blind). We've been haphazardly attempting this therapy for 2 years, when the last time I was at the eye doctor's she flipped through the chart and looked me in the eye and said, "It's been two years with basically no improvement. Either do this, or quit." Nothing like MAJOR maternal guilt inflicted by a medical professional, no less. "But," I protested, "He broke his leg, and I think he's an at-risk reader, he's got food allergies, and ADHD, and now we want to put him in a classroom where he can't see the board? The patches stick to his long eyelashes!" Again, staring me in the eye: "It's a week of his entire educational career. Just do it." Fine. Even that was three weeks ago. So, Jason finally put his foot down and said, "Forget the patching--we're going for the drops." So Milo came home today after school (having had the drops this morning), where he told me that he used the strong side of his glasses to read some test with his good eye (holding his glasses sideways across his face) because the teacher told him, "the score will follow him through all of his school career." Really? I mean, really?

How bad could that eye be? Well, we sat down to do reading and he picked up his paper sideways and upside-down, all the while fidgeting and telling me stories of a strange and unusual nature: The new girl who swears, his teacher who is going a way for a while, when can he have a play date with friends, can he watch a show on TV, did I know about his discovery that he can make into an invention?

Finally I state, "STOP! Focus! Why can't you read this?"

Milo, "I can't Mom."

Me, "Where's the magnifying glass?"

Grant, "I know!"

2 minutes later Milo is reading through his bad eye (good eye atrophy dropped and patched with a cloth, dress-up, pirate patch) with a bumblebee magnifying glass that is probably 30-40X strength. This trooper, Milo, reads, and writes through this magnifying glass, through one eye, pausing occasionally to stand, sit, and get distracted by silly bands and the price of beans in China. He kept singing parts of "Must be Santa..." randomly. At one point I told him to put his pencil down and we sang 3 verses of that song, hopefully to indulge the impulse and allow his brain to move on--like a skip in a record.

On to math. Dot-to-dot counting by 10's. Holding his magnifying glass, I use my fingers to point from one number to another, while he draws his lines and I ask him to read the numbers. He becomes exasperated that the dot he thinks he should connect is not the right number... finally he finishes: the penguin. He's proud of his work!

We have to pause: Grant and Milo are told to do 10 push-ups, and then have a race to the fence and back in the back-yard. While they race, I get 2 bean bags. They come back in, 10 more push-ups. Then I have Milo stand on one foot and throw me a beanbag with the opposite hand, five times, then switch. Then have him throw me two across his body. This is some variation of some dyslexic trick I heard once--I'm sure I'm off-base, but we needed SOMETHING to reengage his brain for the next page of work.

Turn the page over, we have to count by 20's to 1,000. He's lost, he wants to count by 10's, he doesn't get it. So we get a paper out and he counts by 2's to 100. I transcribe as he dictates, he watches my writing--through the magnifying glass. I ask him, "What happens if we add zeros? Watch Milo... 2 becomes 20, 4 becomes 40..." I got until 200 in this manner. Milo declares, "I get it!!" His face beams, my heart relaxes. As I add zeros he transcribes into his worksheet, while reading the numbers as he goes. He gets to 1,000! No one could have contained the pride at our kitchen table! We pause for a clip-up, and discuss his accomplishment.

Me: Milo, you did it! How do you feel?

Milo: I feel good Mom! Really good.

Me: I'm SOOOO proud of you Milo! This was really tough work and you worked hard at it, even with one eye! You have a great brain Milo! You can do tough things Milo! I am so very proud of you!

Milo (beaming): Thanks Mom. (big hugs around)

Milo leaves and I sigh with relief but can't help to smile. We did it.

* * * * *

I love my kids, they teach me so much! Today I learned a little bit more about life with a family of ADD. Mind you, while Grace and Grant were working, Grant was also practicing his letters and his name (which I put him to doing while I helped Milo, because why not? We're all at the table?). So Grant wanted feedback and encouragement. During that time Grace came home with enthusiasm and stories about the playdate she had returned to, but when she saw Grant writing and Milo doing homework in his three-ring-binder study carrel, she wanted to be part of it, and started the 3D drawings. While I'm working with Milo, I can't help but observe the amazing 3D drawings! I'm drawn to them, but force redirection for myself to Milo. Bouncing between Milo and Grant, I'm grateful that Grace has brought this enthusiastic drawing to the table. Grant stops seeking my reinforcement for letter writing and I can focus on Milo. Except in the gaps between my instruction/encouragement my brain wanders: what for dinner? when will I have time to complete my business work? did Jason get to IF safely? did I get a babysitter tonight? Is that meeting at someone's house or the church? did we call Grandma to wish her happy birthday--no, we can't forget! And I need to make those calls tonight, don't forget those emails too. With each thought, I redirect myself to the task at hand: Milo.

When it is all over, I am filled with gratitude as they run outside to play. I'm grateful for a new awareness of ADD in my life and my family. I'm smiling now as I think about us leaving from the YMCA Monday. Jason's on the phone, I'm in my head thinking about undone things and things yet to be done, while Milo finds someone interesting to talk to, Grace slowly walks down the hall because she's reading the posters on the wall, and Grant goes down another hall because there's a table display that's interesting. I walk out the door and I turn around and Jason's barely behind me and no one is behind him. We both turn around to observe our kids engaged in every possible thing--besides leaving! A week ago I would have given a lecture about how we should leave, what the proper way to exit the building is: follow directions, stay close to Mom and Dad, don't wander off. Instead: I laugh out loud and comment to Jason, "This is what it's like to get a whole family with ADD out of a building." It's not good or bad, it's what is. And I'm becoming more likely to embrace it, instead of resist it.

Now, I say ADD prematurely. Jason, Milo, and I are headed to a doctor's office in November for official diagnoses (a Dr. recommended by the school counselor). ADD is not laziness, or curable through routine or habits or working harder. It is a biological disorder of the prefrontal cortex. I all but know Jason, Milo and I have it. Perhaps Grace and Grant. ADD is also a spectrum disorder. I believe most of us fall on the spectrum at some point. As Dr. Hallowell says, we live in an ADD society. Regardless, this label, in and of itself, is a cure for me. It is an explanation for a lifetime of distraction, frustration, depression, longing, dissatisfaction, procrastination, and massive disorganization combined with ingenuity, brilliance, and a constant flow of ideas.

I am excited for the peace that enters my heart having an awareness that I'm not lazy, crazy, or stupid. That actually no one in our family is! We require routines, habits, structure, practice, modeling of appropriate behavior, checklists, schedules, calendars, reminders, and many other tools and tricks to keep us in a direction where we can live and enjoy life, achieve our goals, and love ourselves in the process!

The Passing of an Icon: Gramma Freda

I just received a call from my mom that Grandma Freda just passed away, nearly a month away from her 92nd birthday.  I want to reflect for a moment on Grandma and what she meant to me and what her passing teaches me at this moment in time.

Grandma spent summers with us, and we with her.  My mom was getting Montessori certified in California and later completing a Masters' degree and Grandma Freda came to help.  She stayed through the summer, taking us to garage sales, arts and crafts and swimming lessons, walking behind us while we rode our Big Wheels and Strawberry Shortcake training wheel bicycle.  Taking us on all sorts of culturally sophisticated adventures, from Toronto to the Finger Lakes.  And we shared the journey, with Victorian picnics in the "tree house", talent shows, and plays.  She walked me to kindergarten.  She would return to California at some point after school began.  She sat and read stories to us, introduced us to her "stories" (soap operas), ironed sheets, wore great perfume, was the only one I knew to wear a corset into her 80's, always have an offer of aspergum (apsrin in gum form), and soothed her corns and bunions with Dr. Scholls and lambs wool.  

She and I had many long talks.  She talked me through tough times in high school, difficult choices in college and early marriage.  She celebrated my wedding with me and held my new baby Gracie at 6 months.  She never was short on wisdom, and never short on wit!  She had a great sense of humor, enjoyed a good political conversation, and "never wanted to say anything" but always had plenty to say about it!  She loved the music in our home, she loved the academic achievements and every time I met one of her friends when I went to visit her it seemed her friends knew me as if I was one of their own because Grandma told stories, shared pictures, and boasted of our achievements and accomplishments.  She was one of my number one fans and quick to forgive when things got crazy and I forgot to be the conscientious Thank-You note sender that she always hoped I would be.  Sorry Grandma.  If I have guilt, it is that.  I know you forgive me.

Grandma weathered an earthquake with me at my Aunt Sue's house.  Summer of '92 I think.  When I tried to fall asleep that night she hummed to me and ran her fingers through my hair as she had done when I was a baby.  Grandma was always humming.  

Grandma was the quintessential grandma.  Cards for Easter and Halloween!  Advent calendars at Christmas and separate Christmas packages!  She even sent a gift for my bridal shower and my wedding!  I didn't even know people could do that.  She would send matching dresses for the three of us girls maybe once or twice a year.  She stopped when our age stopped being a predictor of our dress size.  We loved the Lilian Vernon catalog amazements that came in the mail. Armchair shopping she called it.

Grandma memories: Benji dogs on the couch, humming birds, alstromeria plant, MIK (more in the kitchen), Jumbles, 14 tooth brushes, chocolate chip cookies (that she wouldn't even eat!), her place in Laguna Hills, Christmas and Thanksgiving trips in college, my 22nd birthday with Grandma, her cool soft skin, Oil of Olay, Jean Nate perfume, music from The War Years, dancing, Old Town San Diego, red cabbage, German pancakes.

She was an example to me of etiquette, proper carriage, and finest hostessing.  She never pumped her own gas, never wore jeans.  All of her pants ("slacks") had sewn creases down the front.  Never wore sneakers, the closest she got were her white Hush Puppies.  At her dinner table, never a jar or container--only serving bowls and trays.  Warmed plates were a must.  Desert at every meal.  But not too much or too late--you don't want the "golly-wobbles"--what she termed the nightmares from over-eating late at night.  And heaven forbid, you might grow "healthy" or "solid"--her term for anyone over 99 lbs.  

Grandma never had a job after she was married but she always dressed in buttoned suits, both pant and dress suits.  She was the smartest dresser!  Although she volunteered for many causes, at the hospital and for her church, she kept a tight social calendar--always going to see a show, and traveling often when she still could.  She enjoyed a great board game, or Yatzhee or Scrabble or Tile Rummee, and taught me to play solitaire clock style.

Grandma was perfect at her greeting cards, thoughtful, kind and like clock-work.  Although I have some aversion to remembering cards and significant life milestones like birthdays and anniversaries, she never failed.  And not a holiday or birthday passed where I received a card and it meant the world to me that she continued to remember me in that way.

Grandma always "thanked the Lord" and was quick to "count her blessings."  She recognized God's hand in all things and never failed to say her prayers and keep her faith.  She loved her family.  Oh she loved us all.  One woman, two daughters, five grand children, eight great-grand children (nine, did she know?).  We were her life. Single for 37 years, she is now with her husband again. I bless their reunion with the peace that only the presence of God can bring.

I will miss her.  Her passing flashes me between kindergarten, junior high, graduation, college, marriage, and early motherhood.  I am reflecting on how quickly it all passes.  How fast babies become children, who become adults, who become mothers, and mothers to grandmothers, to great-grandmothers.  I also am reflecting on how I feel and I think of how my children feel about my mother, and about me.  How they identify their life experience around me, my habits, my actions, my comments, my advice.  Grandma Freda blessed the lives of many because she cared, she loved, and she made a point out of expressing her care. 

This life is but a brief moment and the eternal path of our existence.  My wish is that I can be on purpose in my demonstration of love and care.  Be a consistent beacon of wisdom for my posterity, and be at peace with myself and God.  There's a word here I'm looking for that I can't place.  It's a word that describes the stability of the cycles, or the seasons of life.  If you think of it tell me.  I've always craved that predictability of the seasons--of life cycles--and with her passing, I want to carry that in her honor.

Here's to the memory of Freda Martha Moch Colley, b. June 18th, 1917; d. May 7th, 2009.

May her legacy live through her posterity.

I love you Gramma.

My new MAC!

So I got a new Mac Book and I'm SO excited!  I now have 3000 family photos and I can easily move them around and do so much fun stuff with!  So I'll post a couple teasers in here of some of my favorite photos.

Also, we celebrated St. Patrick's Day with a green eggs, green waffles, and green milk!  It was actually kinda challenging to eat those green eggs!  I now have empathy for Dr. Seuss' character.

Milo and the Bear Hunt

Milo was SO excited when Uncle Jon went on a bear hunt! His favorite school art is drawing pictures of Dad shooting a bear--although Jason has never been hunting since we've been married. This is Milo and J&M house and the infamous bear skin.