Call Me, Maybe

Phoebe does not like nicknames. Recently she has started reminding us to only call her by her name. Bryan often makes up funny variations of the kids' names, but Phoebe let us know that she does not approve.

I overheard this conversation today:

Bryan: Come here, Phoebe-ma-lee-be.
Phoebe: Dad, you can't call me that. You can only call me Phoebe. Or sweetheart.

The Punctuation Dilemma

I over think my punctuation. How can I not? Each little comma or period can convey so much information. Returning a text message can be a laborious process for me because I write, then rewrite each reply. Add in that pesky and completely unofficial punctuation: the smiley face, and I simply have too many options.

Tonight I wrote a text to my neighbor. Then I added an exclamation point. Not because I regularly use that particular mark, but because compared with the exclamation-filled message I was replying to, my plain "You're welcome" came off as downright morose.

After rereading the note, I switched the exclamation point for a period and added the peppy punctuation to the concluding sentence. Sometimes I feel disingenuous using exclamation points in my writing. I'm not sure why, because I certainly use them liberally when I'm speaking. I'm so dramatic and expressive in person, but rather understated when I communicate via the written word.

My favorite punctuation remains the ellipses, because it leaves so much to the imagination...

The Rock Rocks Out

As part of his tenure as Rock Star of the week, Peter brought in pictures to decorate a bulletin board outside his classroom. Bryan and I had a meeting with his teacher today, so we were able to see the visual proof of his special week. 

I think it's interesting to see what he deemed important enough to share with his class. 

Rock Star Peter

Peter is the "Rock Star of the Week" for his class. Bryan and I were given the assignment to write a letter about Peter, letting his class know what a great kid he is. Bryan wrote his first. I read through it and then tried hard not to duplicate it. So that I can remember all of the great traits that Peter has right now, I'm posting that letter here.

Peter is awesome. He has a lot of special gifts and talents that have always impressed me. He loves to see people happy and will try hard to make sure everyone is laughing and having fun. Peter is a very good friend. Once Peter was playing at a park and saw another little boy who wasn't playing with anyone, so Peter invited the boy to play and encouraged everyone to include the boy. He tries hard to make others happy.

Peter is very creative. He loves art projects and will often spend hours Imagineering fantastic worlds and build them out of bits of paper and cardboard. He loves to write stories and can remember most of the stories that I've told him. He also builds cool things in Minecraft and Terraria.

He has a great memory - it is nearly photographic. He can absorb information from books like a sponge can water. He loves to share and teach. He is a natural leader, and will often have others following his lead. When he decided he likes something he will focus on it relentlessly. He reads more than anyone I know, and has finished lots of hard books.

Peter is good at basketball and is a fast runner.

Most of all, Peter is my friend.

I love you Peter,

Dad

Peter is awesome. He loves to go on adventures. He has lived in every time zone in the continental United States. He’s visited Seattle, Portland, San Diego, San Francisco, Salt Lake City, Dallas, Chicago, Green Bay, Washington DC, and NYC. Someday he wants to visit Paris and he thinks the Eiffel Tower is really cool. He’s played in the Pacific Ocean in California and in Oregon and has been to Mount Rushmore.

He has a big family. In addition to his mom and dad and brother and two sisters, he has nine uncles, six aunts, four grandparents, and three living great-grandparents. He met his great-great-grandma when he was a baby. Family is important to Peter.

Peter is great at helping with his baby sister. She was born nine days before he turned eight and he works hard to be a good big brother to her. He also comes up with fun, crazy, inventive games to play with his brother and other little sister.

Peter is always moving! When he was a baby we had to swaddle him (a special way to wrap a little baby in a blanket) so he would sleep. Otherwise he would wiggle and keep himself awake. He loves to jump and bounce and run and dance.

Peter eats a lot. He eats more than I do. He eats more than his dad does. Sometimes, he eats more than both of us combined. When he was little he was picky, but he’s not anymore, which I think is great. He’s a good cook. He made a delicious apple pie for Thanksgiving and helped make dinner for our family earlier this week.

Life is never dull with Peter.

I love you Peter!

Mom

Delayed

Sometimes you have the best of intentions to get a project done on time. And then your sweet little baby gets sick with croup and you need to hold her and comfort her instead of finishing your work. And so you miss your deadline. But that's okay, because you spent your time wisely.

My big Christmas gift project is now my big New Year's Eve gift project.

Chef Sophie

As the Gentle Rain From Heaven

You know that project I'm working on? Well, I had to put it on hold for a few days so I could write a talk. I think it went well, and, as such things often go, my topic was one that I benefited from reviewing. Today will be spent making up for lost time. That means Phoebe will probably get to watch movies while I knock out the bulk of my work.

Want to read my talk? I was only given eight minutes, which required lots of edits and judicious quote placement. Here it is:

Mercy

A few weeks ago we had a Laundry Folding Party at our house. I know, it sounds fun, doesn’t it? And really, it’s about as fun as laundry gets. Each person is responsible for folding their own clothes while we watch a movie together as a family. On this particular day we were introducing our kids to The Sound of Music.

The plan was to fold the laundry, then do something fun. The kids needed to finish with their clothes before they could move on to the next activity. The deadline was the end of the movie.

Eight-year-old Peter and four-year-old Phoebe raced through their laundry so they could be done. But six-year-old Cooper doesn’t rush. Ever. He has inherited the pesky practice of procrastination. So while the other two were enjoying the movie, unburdened by a basket of clothes, Cooper was stuck, complaining and dawdling, but not making much of a dent in his pile.

We kept encouraging him. “Come on, Cooper, keep folding.” “Cooper, you really want to finish.” “Cooper, the movie doesn’t have much time left.” I finished folding my laundry, baby Sophie’s laundry, and all the towels and blankets. We were almost to the part of the movie when the Von Trapp family has to sing at the festival. His time was coming to an end, and still he had only worked through half the items in front of him.

I started to get antsy. I sat, watching Cooper slooowly fold his clothes, wondering what else I could possibly do to get him to move faster.

A thought jumped into my head, “Help him fold the clothes.”

No, I reasoned, I can’t. He knew what he had to do and he decided not to do it. The other kids didn’t have help and they finished. It wouldn’t be fair for me to help Cooper. It wouldn’t be just.

Justice is a funny thing. My children often clamor for it for their siblings. They want my treatment of everyone to “fair,” especially when they have been hurt or offended. But when they are the ones that have done the wrong, justice is not what they ask for. Instead, they want mercy. I admit, when I’m in their position, I don’t want justice either, I want mercy.

According to lds.org, “Mercy is the compassionate treatment of a person greater than what is deserved, and it is made possible through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Our Heavenly Father knows our weaknesses and sins. He shows mercy when He forgives us of our sins and helps us return to dwell in His presence.”

In the April 1990 General Conference, President Gordon B. Hinckley, then the first counselor in the First Presidency, spoke about mercy. He said, “How godlike a quality is mercy. It cannot be legislated. It must come from the heart. It must be stirred up from within. It is part of the endowment each of us receives as a son or daughter of God and partaker of a divine birthright.”

Did you catch that last line? I’ll read it again, “It is part of the endowment each of us receives as a son or daughter of God and partaker of a divine birthright.” Mercy is a gift that we receive from Heavenly Father. And it must be stirred up from within. Think about that. Inside each one of us, the tendency to be merciful is lying dormant, waiting to be awakened, waiting to be used.

During his lifetime, Christ taught us to be merciful. Matthew 5:7 says, “Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.” Then again in Luke 6:36, “Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.” The Savior exemplified the principle that he taught. He showed love and mercy and compassion for all, even those that appeared to be undeserving. He made mercy possible by suffering for our sins. His personal sacrifice fulfilled the law of justice and gave us the opportunity to repent and return to live with our Heavenly Father. He gave us the gift of mercy.

Stephen E. Robinson wrote in his book Believing Christ, “It really isn’t fair that one person should suffer for the sins of others. It isn’t fair that some people can commit horrible crimes and then be completely forgiven and cleansed without having to suffer for them. It isn’t fair that those who labor for only an hour will get the same reward as those who labor all day. (See Matt. 20:16.) No, the gospel sometimes isn’t fair, but that is actually part of the good news. It isn’t fair—it’s merciful, and thank God it is so, for no human being can stand acquitted before the demands of absolute justice.”

Back to my laundry dilemma: should I follow that urge to help Cooper. Or should I allow the natural consequences to follow his choices? I stayed on the couch, hesitating. Again the prompting came, “Help him fold the clothes.”

In the same talk I quoted earlier, President Hinckley spoke directly to parents, saying, “Every child, with few possible exceptions, is the product of a home, be it good, bad, or indifferent. As children grow through the years, their lives, in large measure, become an extension and a reflection of family teaching. If there is harshness, abuse, uncontrolled anger, disloyalty, the fruits will be certain and discernible, and in all likelihood they will be repeated in the generation that follows. If, on the other hand, there is forbearance, forgiveness, respect, consideration, kindness, mercy, and compassion, the fruits again will be discernible, and they will be eternally rewarding. They will be positive and sweet and wonderful. And as mercy is given and taught by parents, it will be repeated in the lives and actions of the next generation…

“I plead for an effort among all of us to give greater expression and wider latitude to this instinct which lies within us. I am convinced that there comes a time, possibly many times, within our lives when we might cry out for mercy on the part of others. How can we expect it unless we have been merciful ourselves?”

I slipped off the couch and sat by Cooper. I had folded half a dozen items before he realized what I was doing. With surprise in his voice he asked, “Are you helping me?”

I nodded. I had been afraid he would stop folding altogether, but he didn’t. He folded faster. As the Von Trapps walked through the Alps on our TV, Cooper and I finished his pile of clothes. He qualified for the treat afterward. Justice and mercy had both won.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ both want to give us the gift of mercy. It is available to all. As you think about the birth of the Savior this week, remember that beautiful gift. Share it. Exemplify it. You will be blessed as you bless those around you. I testify that these things are true, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The Big Three

We'll call this one a Friday Flashback. My mom sent me this picture yesterday and it puts a big smile on my face. I think I was four (or nearly four), so I was about the age Phoebe is now. I remember posing for this photo. We set up a little studio at my Grandma Bonnie's house and gave our best smiles.

When my brothers and I were young people thought we were triplets. We're not, but we are close in age and at the time we were close in size. I never wanted for someone to play with because I always had my brothers. Those poor boys had to put up with a very bossy big sister, but they didn't seem to mind too much. Let's be honest, I'm still a bossy big sister. I'm so glad I got spend Thanksgiving with them.

Thank you for the picture Mom!

Update: I've been corrected. Apparently this picture was taken at my Grandma Miriam's house. I must be combining memories because I remember taking pictures at my Grandma Bonnie's house. Oh well, it's a cute picture no matter where it was taken.

Beans and Rice, Mighty Nice

Santa's Elf, Hard at Work

It's almost Christmas, which means I've got a hair-brained-scheme-of-a-gift I'm working on. I've gotten lots of help so far (thank you to those that are reading this that have contributed!), but the final product is up to me. And I need to have it all finished sooner than later. Don't you hate when people are vague? Sometimes Peter and Cooper read over my shoulder when I'm looking at the blog, so I'm not going to get any more specific about the gift.

This project is going to be pretty time intensive during the next week, so you can look forward to some sweet cop-out posts.

And on that note, I'm off to covertly create!