Wow.

This little son of ours has been "wow"-ing us. Especially lately. Yesterday he was singing a little tune in a minor key. A little, creepy tune.

"Trust...Me...Trust...Me..."

A few weeks ago we watched Jungle Book. We've seen it once. But this was the tune:

Mr. Snake singing, "Trust in me, Just in me, Close your eyes, and Trust in me."

Yep. That's what Trent was singing. Exactly to the tune.

I felt like my eyes should start turning into hypnotic spirals so that I could seduce him into taking his nap that day.

Later that night while playing he started singing again.

"Lead me. Guide me. Walk sea-side see. Lead me. Guide me. Walk sea-side see."

I think you might know that one.

I plan to go to the sea soon so I can meet his request.

Tim and I have sung that one to him just a handful of times.

Makes me wonder how long he's known these songs and words but hasn't been able to physically voice it until now.

He is talking so well and can name so many pictures in his picture book that I think we've told him the name to only once. It is astounding! We're sure every parent has these moments, but oh what fun it is to have it happen to us. We think he's a little smarty pants.

Invisible Mom

(Author unknown to me.)

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the
way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and
ask me a question.

Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously, not.

No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor,
or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at
all.

I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands,
nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a
clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What
number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30,
please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the
eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude -
but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen
again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a
friend from England ..

Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on
and on about the hotel she stayed in.

I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so
well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a
beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe .

I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her
inscription:

'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are
building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would
discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after
which I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of
their names.

These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see
finished.

They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of
God saw everything.

A legendary story
in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny
bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are
you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be
covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman
replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.

It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte.
I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you
does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no
cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You
are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will
become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life.
It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the
antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As
one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see
finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could
ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to
sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend
he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4
in the morning and bakes homemade pi es, and then she hand bastes a
turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That
would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him
to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his
friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're
doing it right.

And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at
what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world
by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Great Job, MOM!

(This was a forwarded email. A very significant one to me; now a post on my blog.) (My mom is the very best invisible mom out there.)

Blog Bomb

Looks like I've lost access to 300 photos on my blog.

There's a problem.

Before I go around fixing it though, we are getting a new computer this weekend so I might as well make the conversion and then go about fixing it...

Anyway, might be a little bit before we're up and running again.

Love technology. Hate technology.

Wait for it! Next post: Good Times! Timothy's Birthday, Trent's Birthday, Trip to Denver!

Happy 106th Blog Post Listy-list with 123 entries. (I am making my own rules.)

1. We are going out of town this weekend.
2. My Professional Organizer Aunt Marie once advised that one should put on one's schedule a day for "launching" and a day for "landing" before and after every vacation,
3. a day before and a day after where you aren't yet scheduled to be back to your normal life.
4. Smart aunt.
5. I think I need a week for "launching" and two weeks for "landing".
6. My favorite time of day is 1 PM.
7. At 1 PM, I sit in the rocker.
8. I put Hadley on my right knee and Trent on my left knee,
9. and we read stories.
10. Hadley wants to touch the book, and Trent's blanket, and Trent's knee, the whole time.
11. Trent is trying to keep Hadley from touching the book, and his blanket, and his knee, the whole time.
12. I love that we are wrestling and cuddling and looking at the pictures and reading a story. But my favorite part is looking down.
13. I love looking down at the red head at my right and the red head at my left and knowing that Tim and I brought these two little munchkins, our munchkins, into the world.
14. Mine.
15. One in my right arm, one in my left.
16. Yesterday I was kneeling to say my morning prayer.
17. Trent was coloring at the table.
18. After he saw me praying for too many minutes on his watch, he came down in front of me and tried to get on his knees too.
19. Then he folded his arms and bowed his head.
20. On Sunday our bishop told us about something Elder Scott told him in the MTC in Brazil when he was a missionary:
21. Prayer is a shield.
22. When the Nephites and Lamanites were at war, they used shields that covered from their shoulders to their knees.
23. When we are kneeling in prayer, with our heads bowed, that is the only time we are fully protected.
24. Prayer, the shield, covering our bowed head down to our knees.
25. Wow.
26. The other day Trent had been begging me to make dinner for him for at least an hour.
27. I kept putting it off and off and doing what I was doing.
28. When I finally started getting out the pots and pans and making him a meal that he was excited about, he climbed up in his chair, inhaled with excitement like he always does when he is about to get something he wants, exhaled and said, "Good boy Mama."
29. I liked that.
30. I always know I've done something right when I get an exhale and a "good boy mama."
31. I don't like cookie dough.
32. Is there anyone else out there in the world that doesn't like cookie dough?
33. Sometimes I feel all alone.
34. BUT I DO LOVE AVATAR.
35. And if you haven't seen it in 3-D, well then, I just don't think you've seen it.
36. We went to Avatar in 3-D again on the IMAX a few weeks ago.
37. I love Avatar.
38. (I dreamed I lived on Pandora for two weeks after we saw it.)
39. Maybe my favorite time of the day is 8 AM.
40. At 8 AM I am awakened by my kids who are laughing and giggling at each other.
41. Could there really ever be a better alarm?
42. Hadley rolls over in her crib and pulls down the crib bumper to peer at Trent.
43. Trent goes up to the corner of his crib railing closest to Hadley.
44. They look at each other and laugh and laugh.
45. No one can make them laugh like that but each other.
46. When I finally decide to wipe the cobwebs from my eyes and get out of bed, I open their bedroom door and four blue eyes peer over and up at me.
47. I smile and say, "Hi guys!"
48. Then we open the blinds and say, "Good Morning Sun! Happy Morning Everyone!"
49. Now whenever people leave our house Trent says, "Bye Guys!"
50. After getting home from church on Sunday, I pulled off Trent's shoes, then socks.
51. Trent said, "Ah oh!...Piggies!...Cold!..."
52. Constant entertainment.
53. I love that my kids share a room.
54. I love that I feel them so bonded from spending time alone together before and after they sleep.
55. I shared a room with my brother.
56. I loved it,
57. up until the time he painted the window sill with my nail polish,
58. and lied about it.
59. He finally fessed up last year.
60. Last year?
61. Last year.
62. I guess he's not scared of me anymore since we don't live together now.
63. And I want to say I'm not scared of him.
64. But that little cherub-faced boy did go potty in my water cup one night.
65. The next morning when I drank it, and found that it tasted really odd, I asked him if he knew what happened to my water.
66. He knew what happened.
67. He peed in it.
68. He wasn't scared of me.
69. He was proud.
70. Last year when we reminisced, and I got mad about this, again,
71. He was still proud.
72. Guess that's why there has still been no apology.
73. Yes people. I have drunk urine.
74. Curt did it to me.
75. It was Curt.
76. I love my brother Curt.
77. One of my best friends.
78. I remember my Mom and Dad telling me that mom was going to quit her job when I was seven years old.
79. That meant we wouldn't be eating out as much.
80. And we would no longer be going to Grandma's house every Sunday for Sunday dinner in order to save on gas money.
81. I was so used to my favorite corn at Grandma's house, cinnamon rolls to take home on the drive, and a special divided plate so that my food wouldn't touch.
82. Best Grandma.
83. But guess what?
84. Curt became my best friend when we started staying home on Sundays. On Sundays, we weren't allowed to play with friends.
85. After church I would pretend to be a primary chorister.
86. I would pull out my mom's violin's music stand and get out my visual aids.
87. I would live the dream: being old enough to lead the music in Primary.
88. Then I would teach songs and lead music for my imaginary Primary kids.
89. Don't think I would have done that without Sundays at home.
90. Every Sunday afternoon Curt and I would get out the chess board.
91. We would play the game for like an hour until we were inevitably in a fight.
92. Neither of us really knew the official rules.
93. We would argue and argue over who was cheating and who wasn't.
94. If you've ever played games with Curt or I, I guess it's possible you would also say we were slightly competitive.
95. Possible.
96. Not likely.
97. But possible.
98. Mom got tired of the fighting.
99. That first year for Christmas we got a special gift from Santa:
100. The Official Chess Rules Manual.
101. Don't think we ever opened that book.
102. Why would we want to interrupt our weekly ritual.
103. At 4 PM we were allowed to play Nintendo.
104. We had some mean Mario Cart tournaments cause of that.
105. Then at 6 PM it was popcorn and apples for dinner.
106. A tradition that still lives on today.
107. Must be Orville Redenbachers.
108. Ten-foot pole for us if it's not.
109. Air popped.
110. Real butter.
111. Hand-sliced apples.
112. And 60 Minutes on the TV for dad.
113. This is a Day of Rest to me.
114. My favorite day of the week.
115. I guess that's why I now refuse to be scheduled every Sunday for a dinner away from home.
116. I just won't do it.
117. The family bonding opportunity cost is too high for me.
118. Not to mention the Day of Rest thing.
119. I don't think Curt would be my best friend today without our Sundays at home.
120. People really bond when they fight over who is cheating at chess on a weekly basis.
121. How else were we suppose to make it past the "peeing in my cup" and "nail polish" stuff.
122. Thank goodness Mom quit her job.
123. Sundays at home saved us.

Hadley was an angel...

I mean seriously. How could anyone resist this?


And who has to?



Hadley's fortune cookie at Panda Express today said, "People find it difficult to resist your persuasive manner." Yeah. Exactly.



The definition of Snow Bunny right here. I mean come on!


She knows exactly how to travel.


And honestly, she doesn't even need a tiara for us all to tell she's "Your Highness". But thanks for the tiara anyway mom!!!


Trent the Wise Man.


This was a funny moment. Trent had ripped all of the arms off of the nutcrackers at the beginning of the Christmas season. He would gather the eight arms and carry them to us. We called him Ammon. This day he was fitting the arms and the nutcrackers in the Intelligel. Nice.


Christmas Cookies.


Trent made the cookie cutters fit on the dough all by himself!



(This is an art apron my Grandma made for me when I was a young girl. I'm very sentimental. Maybe that explains why I had to hold back tears today when Tim hauled away our dear third child, the Christmas Tree.)


Yep, that's Trent watching the cookies rise in the oven. Just like in the commercials. Livin' the dream here.


In the meantime, Hadley fell asleep.


Then heard the camera click.


All while dad was on the phone saving the world. We try to be productive.



Christmas Eve at my parents house:


The traditional tummy tickles with Grandpa's nose.


Trent had buried Grandpa Calder in the Christmas bears. Grandpa's happy to take any abuse or burial from the grandson. 'Your wish is my command.'


The evidence of sleep deprivation.


Yes, Trent said the word "Awesome" when he opened his Lightning McQueen toy.



Placing his "Trent" ornament.


Hadley's turn. She wasn't quite sure about her gift from the looks of the second picture. Haha. Then all was well.


Ah man, a bunny????


Okay. A bunny.


Traditions.





And now you know the answer. The red hair bestow-er:


The best part about Christmas. Family.



Christmas Day at our house. Can I think of anything I've done that was more fun than this day? Nope. Can't.

Santa came!


And so did his reindeer.






Waking up.



Eating the doll.



"I got cars? Time to line them up in a row and take a look."






The aftermath.


And so sad we don't have any pics at Papa and Nana's Christmas Day!

New Year's Day. Trent blowing his celebration puffer (what is it called?). I mean seriously, try to tell me something cuter than this.