Paige

Our little Pip has had lots of firsts lately. The first day of kindergarten came and went. That picture of Paige and Jeff holding hands makes me a little teary. It's one of those pictures that will always make me remember just how I felt in that moment. She looked so small standing next to her daddy. Small but confident. Ready. That's my girl. And we survived that first day. And all the others since.

This Fall was also Paige's first soccer season. They are so fun to watch. They run around the field and trip over each other and chase that ball up and down. And Paige gets mad if things don't go her way. She's got a little mean streak in her and she's not above a little elbow jab now and then. It makes me laugh. Is that wrong?

And in the midst of it all, she lost her first tooth. It had been loose for weeks. And then we went to the dentist and he told her it had to come out or he would have to pull it himself. She wasn't crazy about that idea. So she wiggled and wiggled. And while I was at work one night, she and Brooks were wrestling, Brooks sat on her face, and out came her tooth. Thank goodness for little brothers.

And last but not least, Paige had her first science fair. She did it on lung capacity. I love the little red lungs she drew on the bottom left of her poster. She did not love the science fair. When I arrived, 5 minutes after it started, she was ready to leave. It was boring. And long. And she did not like answering questions. So I guess we can check scientist off the list. After the science fair her class had a little program where the kids sang songs. She was still the loudest and the most animated. I guess we'll keep Broadway on the list. Her only complaint was that she was stuck between two boys. And one of them was Abe. He tried to kiss her at recess the first week of school. And she still hasn't forgiven him. He tells me this every week when I am doing centers. "Paige's mom," he says. "Paige isn't nice to me." I tell him I am sorry. Which I am. I promise him I will talk to that stinker of a girl and tell her to be nicer. And I do. "Be nice," I say. "I am nice," she says. "To everyone," I say, "even the boys." "I am nice to Harry," she says. "Good," I say. "But I'm still not going to marry him." I smile. I told her months ago that I decided that she should marry Harry. Because he is nice and chill. And Paige is not. They would be perfect for each other. She says that Harry is just her friend, not her husband. And I say that's ok too. And then she tells me she still will not be nice to Abe. Because he tried to kiss her. "Just don't be mean," I say. And she smiles.

And that is what our little girly has been up to. First days, first tooth fairy, arranged marriages. You know, living the dream.

M&M Cookies



If it were up to me, I would choose cinnamon rolls any day of the week. But they are rather time consuming. And then there are all those calories. And I can never stop at just one. So, they don't happen as often as they used to. Cookies, on the other hand, are a staple in the Blackmun household. And it works out nicely for all of us. I can usually stop at one and nobody else can so they are gone before I know it. Easy to make, comparatively few calories (for me) and gone in a flash. These are our favorites. Enjoy!

Red's Ultimate M&M Cookies

 

1 cup (2 sticks) of butter, softened. Don't use margarine, they will not taste as good.

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 12-ounce package (1 3/4 cups) M&M's chocolate mini baking bits (or mini M&M's, the baking ones are hard to find)

 

Preheat oven to 350. In a large bowl, cream butter and sugars until light and fluffy; beat in egg and vanilla. In medium bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt; blend into creamed mixture. Stir in M&M's. Drop by heaping spoonful about 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 10-13 minutes, or until edges are lightly browned and centers are still soft. (I would stick to 10 minutes) Do not over bake. Cool one minute on cookie sheet, cool completely on wire racks. Makes about 3 dozen 3 inch cookies. (Usually less!)

Pinewood Derby

 The Pinewood Derby was a big deal at our house this year. It was Jeffrey's last and Owen's first and Jeff was determined that they were going to do well. I smiled. And he went to work. This was serious, stress-inducing business. I didn't understand. It was a wooden car, one night, what was the big deal? The night before when Owen's wheel broke and Jeff panicked, I asked him why he cared so much about this. The boys would be ok, win or lose, these were life lessons they needed to learn. And he said he knew that. But that there were going to be plenty of times in life where they would lose, and wouldn't it be nice if they could look back at this and remember it as one of the times that they won. I teared up a little. And I understood. He was right. Sometimes these little things ARE the big things. The ones that stay with you. Especially for a 10 year old and 8 year old boy. Who won first and third place. And for a 35 year old dad, who wanted his boys to have that memory.

Party Time

Falling a little behind with the blog of late. Fall is such a busy time. And this is always one of the things that goes by the wayside. So I will play some catch up and start with Owen and a whole bunch of pictures.

Owen turned eight in September. His birthday always falls on Labor day weekend which is not a great time for a birthday party. So we put it off until later in the month. And then sometimes it gets later and later and that party never happens. This year I promised it would. And it did. We rented a  big bounce house and had a pinata and cake and lots of presents. Owen had fun. And we discovered eight year old boys are too big for bounce houses. They start to punch and kick. And some of them cry. Until we corral them to the backyard where they are supposed to beat the crap out of a pinata. And they do. And then they punch and kick again as they dive for the last jolly rancher on the ground. More crying. And Jeff and I realize that Owen is normal. It is a welcome realization. Eight year old boys are loud and rough and emotional. Just like Owen. We are glad when the last doorbell rings and the house is quiet. For a minute or two.

And then the house is filled again. We take advantage of the bounce house and invite our pals over to eat and play. The kids are nicer together than the boys were. And once the bounce house is gone, they head into the hot tub. There is not much water left when they are done. But they have fun. And we eat lots of good food. And roast marshmallows in our fireplace. Until it is dark and our friends leave. And we all go to bed happy and tired.

Baptized

Yesterday my Owen was baptized. The first picture is the best. That is just about how he felt that day. I'm not sure if it was all the attention, or if he was nervous, but he was kind of a little cranky the whole day. Nothing like being able to capture the mood in a picture, right? He got a little better as the day went on. And I had to keep reminding myself how special this day was, so that I could remember all the good things about it too. Not just a grouchy little boy. So I did. 

 I hope when he looks back, this is what he remembers too.

 

This is what I remember.

I remember sitting behind Jeff and Owen as the talks were being given.

I remember looking at my husband with his arm around our son.

They looked so perfect sitting there, like they just fit together.

I remember watching them walk into the water.

Owen's nervous smile and Jeff's hand on his shoulder.

I remember all the little children sitting in front of the font, giggling.

I remember watching all these men we love put their hands on Owen's head.

I remember the sound of Jeff's voice as he gave Owen the Holy Ghost.

I remember the promises that were given.

I remember feeling so proud of these two boys of mine.

I remember looking around that room, filled with people we love.

And I was glad that Owen would know they loved him too.

I remember standing to get a picture with our little family.

And feeling so happy.

I hope Owen remembers it too.

All those warm feelings. All the love.

The happiness that lingered in our home.

I hope those are the memories that stay.

Besties

Paige and I were driving home from McDonald's tonight with our super nutritious dinner of chicken nuggets and french fries. It was a McDonald's kind of day. And the kids don't mind at all. Paige likes to talk to me in the car. Non-stop. I like it. She says such funny things. Today she was telling me about kindergarten and how good she is at math and that her friend Kaci has a dog and that she is in the monkey bar club at school and that her wiggly tooth is even wigglier and... The list went on a for a few minutes. Such happy things. She ended it with, "And you didn't want me to go to kindergarten. Isn't that just silly!"
E-"I didn't want you to go because you are my best girlfriend and I knew how much I would miss you when you were gone," I said.
P-"Yes, but you still have Brooks and he can be your best boyfriend, right."
E-"Right," I agreed.
P-"Who is your other best boyfriend?"
E-"Daddy."
P-Who else?"
E-"Owen and Jeffrey."
P-"Who else?"
E-"Grandpa."
P-"And Uncle Mike, right?"
E-"Well,  he was one of my best friends, but he's gone now."
P-"He might be gone, but he's still in your heart. He can never leave your heart no matter what Mom."
E-"Your right, Paigey. He's still in my heart. You're one smart kindergartner, girly."
P-"I know."
I thought about that conversation of ours. How insightful this little five year old girl can be. And it made me really glad that she is one of my best friends. And that my brother still is too. Even from far away.

It made me think of this quote I have on my bathroom mirror by Elder Ballard.
"Our family-centered perspective should make latter-day saints strive to be the best parents in the world. It should give us enormous respect for our children, who truly are our spiritual siblings, and it should cause us to devote whatever time is necessary to strengthen our families." I love that idea, that these children of mine are my spiritual siblings. Days like today I can see that, see how far ahead of me they really are, how much they understand. Lucky to have so many besties under one roof. Super lucky.

Cougar Kick-off

This is one of my favorite things about fall. Come football season, we head down south and spend one awesome evening reveling in all things BYU. This year was the best so far. All 4 of the kids won something, even little Brew. They raced around the track, did football drills, played volleyball, took a couple shots on the soccer goal. They were in heaven. And Jeff and I sat back and watched, chasing them around that field. And it seemed crazy to me. That ten years ago we were there. Just the two of us. And ten years later we are here. Just the six of us. I love going back to these places, year after year, that help me remember all the happy stuff in between.

Back to school

The first day of school. Second grade for Owen and fifth grade for Jeffrey. These pictures make me smile. I remember being pregnant with Owen. I was sure he was a girl, sure of it. And then we went to the ultrasound and I cried when we found out that baby of ours was a boy. And now, almost 8 years later, I look at this picture and I am so, so glad that baby wasn't a girl. So glad these two have each other, to play with and fight with and walk to school with. When they have their arms around each other, looking like they actually kind of like being brothers, it makes me happy.

Red Confetti

Do you ever feel like your heart is being torn to pieces? Red confetti tossed about, blowing in the wind? It is how I am feeling right now. Wide awake with worry and love and hope all mixed together. It's the mothering kind of worry, the kind that tears at you little by little until you can't sleep at night. These children of mine are the reason. And since it is all running in circles in my mind, I will try to set it straight here so I can have some peace.

I will start with the littlest. How I love that boy. He is all the things a little boy should be wrapped up into squishy piece of perfect. I know this, I know how lucky I am. And last week he scared me to death. We were having the idyllic summer day at our friends ranch. One last hurrah before school began. We made our way to the swimming hole and the kids were in heaven, all of them. Brooks and Paige had life jackets and bobbed about. Jeffrey strapped on his goggles and swam until his lips turned blue. Owen took over a canoe and flirted with the girls. And I watched, relaxed, chatting with my friends. Until I turned and Brooks was gone. Gone. How long had it been? Five minutes? It could have been more. Or less. Who really knew? But in those minutes I began to panic. I had taken his life jacket off, he was done swimming. And he wasn't really a wanderer. I called his name, louder and louder. I could hear the panic building in my own voice. My friends ran around looking, yelling. Owen heard and came running. Where do you even start? I prayed. Hard. And then someone yelled that they had found him. Had I really been holding my breath all those minutes? Could I finally breathe?He had followed two other boys along a trail. And then he was there again, and I squeezed him tight and wanted to cry, but I didn't. It sounds entirely dramatic, I know. But is scared me silly. Or straight. Whichever is worse. And it stayed with me for days after. I kissed him and hugged him and kissed him some more. All the kids, really. Because things like that, even 5 minute things, make you appreciate the perfection in your life.

Then there is that Paigey girl. What else is there to say about her that hasn't been said. It is beginning to be ridiculous, this loss that I feel. She is not getting married, she is going to kindergarten. Kindergarten! And yet, I know that we will be different after this. And I love us right now. And a little more of that red confetti starts to blow.

And then my Owen. Anything with Owen tears at my heart. And today was a doozie. It is the reason I am sitting at my computer at 3 in the morning trying to straighten out some of those circles in my head. Today was his first soccer game of the season. A new season and a new team and new coaches. All of which cause this boy of mine some major anxiety. He loves soccer and he can play well when his head doesn't get in the way. And today it did. He has played on the same team for the last two years. They were good. They won all their games. And today he played on a new team and they did not win. He does not have friends on this team to make him comfortable or a coach who understands him. It is all new. And it scares him. Their best player was out of town, they had no subs. They were playing against his best friend's team. All of it together was just too much for him to handle. He couldn't catch his breath. He got pushed and he pushed back. The coaches told him to stop, not to use his body, he is too big. He had heard this his entire life. Being big can be hard sometimes. And he started to cry. Right there on the field. My big, little 7 year old started to cry. Right before a ball hit him in the face. And then he really cried and couldn't stop. Big, gasping sobs. I felt like crying too. Because I knew how frustrated he was. How embarrassed he felt. And I wanted to make it all go away. I wanted to take him off that field and pretend like none of it had happened. I wanted that burning in my chest to go away because I knew that it was burning even hotter in his chest. But none of that happened. It did not go away. He sat and sobbed. People stared. His coaches told him they needed him on the field. And he went back in, tears streaming down his face. And my heart broke for him. Broke.

I know I will look back at this someday (tomorrow? next week?) and realize what a good life lesson he is learning through all of this. I can even remember a post I wrote last season about what a great teacher soccer is for these boys of mine. Bah. Do not believe my past self or my future self if I somehow wax poetic over this incident later on. I am full of it.

Now onto Jeffrey. This one is a work in progress. Something I never thought this boy of mine would have to deal with. Jeffrey has always been the friendliest, most talkative, nicest, happiest, funnest... He made friends everywhere we went. At church, at the grocery store, at the playground, at the pool. It was easy for him. And then he grew up. And those friends were not so easy to come by. His best friend next door moved last month. The kids at church make fun of him. School is hit and miss. And he is lonely. My heart aches for him. I remember being ten. When all of the sudden some kids were cool and other kids were not and it seemed very, very important who you were friends with. I am not even sure that Jeffrey cares about the cool part. He just wants a friend. Someone to eat lunch with. Someone to play Lego's with after school. Someone that is nice to him. He thinks it is him. That maybe his hearing aids are weird. Or that he talks too much. Or that he is annoying. Just writing this, knowing that he thinks it, makes me hurt inside. So I keep hoping. Hoping that some boy will move in next door. Or down the street. Or in his class. The perfect boy to be friends with my boy. Someone who loves to play soccer and build Lego's and ride his bike around the lake. Someone who will see how really cool my Jeffrey is and want to be his friend. That is what I want, what I pray for every single night. With my eyes scrunched tight so Heavenly Father will know how much I want it. That much.

So that is it. That is the red confetti. Moms do this. I know. But moms also do this part. They worry and think and worry until somehow it all works itself out. Because of the worry. And I am just waiting for the working out part to happen. With my eyes scrunched really tight.

You is kind, You is smart, You is important

I had to give a talk in church last week. I love preparing talks because I learn all kinds of things about myself. Things that make my life better. And I remember things that helped me to learn those lessons. And that is such fun. To look back and remember. So here it is, for my momma who remembers it all too.

“You is kind, You is smart, You is important.”

Kathryn Stockett’s novel, “The Help,” focuses on the lives of three women during the tumultuous Civil Rights movement. One of those women, Aibileen, is a maid for a young white family with two children. Miss Leefolt is too distracted with her social obligations to care for her children and is often neglectful and mean to 4 year old Mae Mobley. Aibileen becomes a surrogate mother to the little girl and makes it her mission to help the girl feel loved and important. She reminds her every day of who she is. As circumstances arise and Aibileen is fired one of the most touching parts of the novel occurs as she says goodbye to Mae Mobley. Aibileen says, “Baby girl, I need you to remember everything I told you. Do you remember what I told you? About what you are? I look deep into her rich brown eyes and she look into mine. Law, she got old-soul eyes, like she done lived a thousand years. And I swear I see, down inside, the woman she gone grow up to be. A flash from the future. She is tall and straight. She is proud…And she is remembering the words I put in her head. Remembering as a full-grown woman. And then she say it, just like I need her to. You is kind, she say, you is smart. You is important.”

You is Kind

You is kind. You is smart. You is important. Those are good lessons. The kind of lessons I imagine our Heavenly Father tried to instill in us before we came to earth. Elder Bednar said, “The overarching purpose of Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness is to provide His spirit children with opportunities to learn. One of the first things we need to learn is who we are. A loving Heavenly Father puts people and experiences in our lives to help us learn who we are when we are likely to forget on our own.

When I was in third grade I had a teacher I adored. Her name was Ms. Avina and she was tall and graceful and lovely. I had two best friends that year, Kate and Sheree. We ate lunch together, played tether ball at recess together, played with our cabbage patch kids after school together. Whatever we did, we did it together. Until one day, when I came to school and Kate and Sheree wouldn’t talk to me anymore. They would not sit with me at lunch. They would not play with me at recess or after school. I had no idea what I had done. And my little 8 year old heart was broken. Ms. Avina saw my broken heart. And she invited me to sit with her during lunch and recess in our classroom. I am sure she had other things to do, work that could have been done while she spent time with me. But instead we talked and I cried and she comforted that broken heart of mine. For two weeks my friends did not speak to me. And for two weeks my angel teacher let me sit with her. I do not remember our conversations. But I do remember how she made me feel. She taught me what it was to be kind.

Our Heavenly Father sent us here to learn who we are. We may learn kindness from a third grade teacher. Or love from a mother or father. Or humility from a mission companion. Or compassion from a child. But there is always more to be learned. He wants us to uncover that latent knowledge inside each of us of our divine birthright. To recognize our potential as his sons and daughters. We sing the words of our primary song, “I am a child of God.” Those words are true. That is who we are.

President Gordon B. Hinckley said,

Over fifty years ago while serving in England as a missionary, I went to the London Central YMCA. I suppose that old building has long since gone, but I can never forget the words that faced visitors in the foyer each time they entered. They were the words of Solomon: “With all thy getting get understanding” (Proverbs 4:7).
Understanding of what? Understanding of ourselves, of the purposes of life, of our relationship to God who is our Father, of the great divinely given principles that for centuries have provided the sinew of man’s real progress! He wants us to understand who we are.

You is Smart

Heavenly Father sent us here to gain the understanding that we need in order to return to him and eventually become like him. In order to be like him we need to gain knowledge through both spiritual and secular education. A good education is essential because education opens doors that otherwise would remain closed. President Hinckley said, “Education is the key to opportunity.” All of us have natural abilities and amazing potential within us, and education helps bring out and refine those capacities that will allow us to become our best self. Education is one of the “small and simple things,” that makes a huge difference in what we will be able to do in our lives. President Hinckley compared education to a switch point on a railroad.

He said,” Many years ago I worked for a railroad. I was in charge of what is called head-end traffic. One morning I received a call from my counterpart in Newark, New Jersey. He said, “Train number such-and-such has arrived, but it has no baggage car. Somewhere, 300 passengers have lost their baggage, and they are mad.”
 
I went immediately to work to find out where it may have gone. I found it had been properly loaded and properly trained in Oakland, California. It had been moved to St. Louis. But some thoughtless switchman in the St. Louis yards moved a small piece of steel just three inches, a switch point, then pulled the lever to uncouple the car. We discovered that a baggage car that belonged in Newark, New Jersey, was in fact in New Orleans, Louisiana—1,500 miles from its destination. Just the three-inch movement of the switch in the St. Louis yard by a careless employee had started it on the wrong track, and the distance from its true destination increased dramatically. That is the way it is with our lives. At the switch point between tracks, the distance is small-just a few inches. But over time, the tracks lead to dramatically different places. Education is one of the switch points of life. It helps us to unlock our potential and become our best selves.

When I was a senior in college I came to such a switch point in my life. I was newly married, to a younger man, who still had two years left until graduation. After some contemplation, graduate school seemed like the best option for my future and I began to prepare and apply to graduate programs. I was accepted to BYU. At the time I was taking a literature class from a professor who did not seem to share my enthusiasm over my acceptance. And after writing an apparently dismal paper, this professor wrote me a letter. It was not a kind letter. He told me that he did not think I was prepared for the rigors of grad school. That I was not disciplined enough. That I would not fit into that competitive environment. I was discouraged, to say the least. All the insecurities of my youth began to haunt me. I thought he might be right. I doubted my abilities.

And then I got mad. I loved to learn. I loved to read. I loved to write. And I became determined to succeed in grad school, just to spite this teacher. It was a difficult road I had ahead of me. I would have two babies, teach two classes a semester, all while taking a full load of classes and writing my thesis. This was a demanding, exhausting, exhilarating time in my life. A time where I discovered that I was talented and smart and capable. The day that I graduated was one of the best days of my life. I remember that feeling. The rewards of that education have carried with me since then. One of the most fulfilling aspects of my life is that of being a teacher. That opportunity came directly from the education I received as a graduate student. The one my teacher didn’t believe I was qualified for. He was wrong.

 You is Important

Sister Mary N. Cook, 1^st counselor in YW presidency told this story. “When I was a young woman, I borrowed skis that were way too long and boots that were way too big, and a friend taught me to ski! We went on a beautiful spring day filled with bright sun, perfect snow, and cloudless, blue skies. Anxiety about the steep slopes gave way to delight as I learned. And though I tumbled quite a few times on those long skis, I got up and I kept trying. I came to love the sport!

I soon found out, however, that not all ski days and weather conditions were that ideal. On days with overcast skies, we skied in a condition called “flat light.” Flat light occurs when the light from the sun is diffused by the clouds. Looking ahead at the white snow, you find that your depth perception vanishes, and it is difficult to judge the steepness of the slope or see the moguls and bumps on the hill.

Some of you may be looking forward to your future as I looked at that steep ski slope. You may feel at times that you are living in flat light, unable to see what lies ahead of you. Learning by faith will give you confidence and will help you navigate your way through times of uncertainty.”

In the 25th chapter of Matthew, the parable of the ten virgins teaches us that spiritual preparation is vital and must be achieved individually. You will recall that all ten virgins were invited to escort the bridegroom into the wedding feast, but only the five wise virgins were prepared with oil in their lamps.

“And the foolish said unto the wise, Give us of your oil; for our lamps are gone out.

“But the wise answered, saying, Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you: but go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves.

“And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came; and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage: and the door was shut.”13

You may think it selfish that the five wise virgins did not share their oil, but it was impossible. Preparation must be acquired individually, as we learn drop by drop who we are and what we are capable of becoming. In my patriarchal blessing it says. “Realize who you are. You are a daughter of God the Father.” I received this blessing when I was a 15 year old girl and that line has guided me throughout my life. I know who I am. I am a daughter of God. Sometimes I forget and I need someone to remind me of this. I still can see my third grade teacher and her kind eyes. I remember the way I felt as I received my diploma on graduation day. We are each an important part of Heavenly Father’s plan. He has a work for us to do. As we seek to learn, we uncover our talents, we broaden our abilities, we become more capable of serving in the lords kingdom. We remember who we are.

You is kind. You is smart. You is important.

Loving my girl.

It is precisely 12:24 a.m. and I should be sleeping because I have to get up in the morning and get the boys off to school. It is true. Summer is over and I must drag myself out of bed and make lunches and sign planners and hurry two boys out the door. Next week those two boys will be joined by their little sister. Have I told you how the thought of this makes my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach. Well, it does. Drop, I tell you. I feel this way every time. I cried with Jeffrey, big, fat tears rolling down my cheeks as he walked away from me. He didn't even look back. I though it would be easier with Owen. Three years of pre-school was too much. He was ready. And I still cried. Smaller tears this time, more self control. But still, there were tears. And he looked back and gave me a little half wave. And my heart dropped a little further. But thinking of Paige. Seriously. I have already cried big tears and little tears over this first day. And it is not even here yet. I just love this little girl of mine. I love that she is little. That she still wants piggies in her hair. I love how she does cartwheels everywhere and how she cuddles me every morning. There is just so much to love. Maybe it's because she is my only girl. And I am still the center of her world right now. And we are so close, the way only mommies and daughters can be. Whatever it is, Tuesday is looming. And summer is over. And I need a tissue.

4th of July