Old and Wise

A few days ago I overheard Peter say to Phoebe, "Now that I'm older, I'm starting to understand everything."

Yes, hubris is alive and well at our house.

Called to Serve

When we were in Washington, Bryan and I both served in the Primary. At first we team taught the oldest group of kids, the ones that were transitioning to Young Men and Young Women. We loved it. We had a wonderful time teaching together. We should be used to that, but most of our team teaching at home is really team wrangling, so it was fun to be with kids who listened most of the time.

Then our assignments changed. I taught the class of kids getting baptized. Bryan, along with two other men, taught the Sunbeams, the youngest class in Primary. Phoebe was in his class. Most Sundays they had ten three and four year-olds. Even with three teachers, it was exhausting. 

A few months after moving here we were both asked to be in Primary again. This time Bryan taught the oldest group of boys and I was the Sunbeam teacher. And I was Phoebe's teacher. I would hold Sophie during the second hour of church while Bryan was teaching, then I would pass her to him during the third hour so I could teach my active class.

At the end of the year our assignments changed again. Bryan now has girls and boys in his class, but they're still older kids. I'm now in charge of the music for Primary! This calling is one that I've always wanted. It's my dream calling. When the member of the Bishopric asked me if I would serve in this capacity I actually said, "Oh yay!"

I took over the first week of the new year. It's gone well so far. I've spent hours pouring over lds.org and Pinterest and Sugardoodle looking at what I need to do and what others have done. I have two file boxes of supplies from the last ten years of Primary music in this ward. And since I've always wanted this calling I've been storing away ideas in case I ever got to serve in this capacity.

Given all of that preparation, it was surprising when I had a total brain block this past week. Each time I tried to plan the music for Sunday I couldn't think of anything to do. A good idea would enter my mind and then quickly exit. I finally settled for a fine, but rather mundane activity. And while I know mundane is occasionally acceptable, it is never my goal. I continued to brainstorm when a quiet reassurance came into my mind. "Don't worry about it, You will be fine." I packed my bag on Saturday night to ensure I didn't forget anything the next morning.

Sunday, as I was reminding the kids that they needed to finish eating breakfast so they could get their church clothes on, I noticed my phone was blinking. I picked it up to see if it was anything important. I had two emails, with three more to follow in quick succession, all notifying me that due to the frozen rain that was falling and the ice-skating-rink-like condition of the roads, church was canceled for the day.

I was indeed fine. And now I have another week to plan something slightly more creative.

Mi Familia

We loved having my mom and dad and Grandma Bonnie come visit us. As I was looking through the pictures of Peter's birthday, I realized I had forgotten to post two of my favorite shots from their visit.

These two spent a lot of time snuggling together in the rocking chair during the visit.

Grandpa Marc, Nana Cris, and four of their six grandkids. Sophie was not happy about being in this picture. She was tired and wanted to nurse and go to sleep, but that just wasn't happening. Moments before she had been crying big, sad tears. We all sang Happy Birthday to her long enough to get the pictures, then I swooped her away to take care of her.

Thank you for coming all the way across the country to see us. You're welcome anytime!

Question Two

Lucky you, mine is the one birthday I name on the blog, which means I can answer the second personal history question. I know, you're all relieved.

When and where were you born?  Describe your home, your neighborhood, and the town you grew up in.

I was born at 4:44 in the morning of Friday June 27, 1980 in the bedroom of my parents tiny apartment in Perry, Utah. There were cherry trees behind the building. The apartment was attached to the back of a diner that was famous for their delicious pies. That apartment is now a dining room. I went back to the diner as an adult and thought about walking into the dining room, standing amongst the people while they ate, and announcing, “I was born right here!” But I didn’t. We moved to California when I was six months old.

When I was five and a half years old my family moved from our apartment in Garden Grove, California to a modest home in north San Diego county. My parents still live in that house. It has a huge backyard and when I was a kid we had a swing set and a tether ball, then later a trampoline. The house itself wasn’t large, but we all fit. When we first moved in, I got the room that had two pink walls and two walls covered in Strawberry Shortcake paper. I guess that combination automatically made it the girl room. The carpet was shaggy and golden. When I was twelve I got tired of that carpet so one day I moved all my furniture out of my room and then ripped up the carpet. The problem was, I hadn’t asked my mom before I did it. She found out about my project when I was done. I was afraid she would be mad, but instead she asked me to pull the carpet out of her room too.

Our neighborhood was full of houses that looked very much like ours. There were a few kids to play with, but not many, and none that were my age. We lived on a cul-de-sac and, when I finally figured out how to ride my bike at the old age of ten (yes, really) I liked to ride my bike in front of my house.

I always thought it was funny that I grew up in a town where people vacationed. The sight of palm trees and eucalyptus trees makes me nostalgic for home. Even though we lived a few miles from the Pacific Ocean, we rarely went to the beach when I was little. When I was a teenager we would go and walk on the beach as a family in the evenings, but I assume that it was easier to take older kids to the beach than small kids. There is a heavy military presence in our town, lots of my classmates and friends had at least one parent serving in the military. In my hometown flip flops and shorts are the norm, most people surf or boogie-board, and everyone knows where to find the best Mexican food. The weather there is so sunny and temperate and beautiful that I've been ruined for weather anywhere else.

Peter's Epiphany

Peter had a major realization last week. I asked if he would write about it for the blog. He said he would dictate his story to me while I typed. Here it is, in his words.

One night I had a bad dream. It was about a tornado. After I had the dream I was scared of the wind and sounds that sounded like the wind. I would freak out and say, "Mommy, I'm scared! Is that a tornado?" A few days later, I realized that the day before I had the dream my brother had been really naughty. Then I thought, "Maybe it was contention that caused my bad dream." After that, I tried to get everybody in my family to stop contention from coming and be obedient instead. After that, I tried to be as obedient as I could and my mom said that there has been a different feeling in our house.

Since that day Peter has been a different boy. For several years he has been prone to argue and talk back. And by prone, I mean he fought with us almost everyday of his life since he was four. This has been a huge source of contention in our home and family, and it has gotten him in trouble many many times at school and church. Bryan and I were pretty much at the end of our rope and didn't know what else to do to stop the arguing. When Peter discovered the link between contention and bad dreams (which I believe is quite real), he went from being an antagonist to a peacemaker. And it's true, the feeling in our home is drastically different and such a wonderful and refreshing change.

It's only been a few days, and I have no idea if it will last, but I really hope it does.

Movie Night Snuggling

Nine!

During the Christmas break Peter turned nine. It was kind of a low-key celebration due to the illness many of us had experienced just a few days prior, but I think he still had a good day. 

I put up the traditional streamers (and then forgot to take a picture, so you'll just have to believe me) and made sure all the presents were wrapped and ready the night before. Instead of a cake, we ate a decadent brunch of double-chocolate pancakes. Our fun activity was seeing Big Hero 6 as a family, which Peter totally loved. Then we enjoyed eating out with my parents and Grandma (it was their last night in town). Poor Peter had to wait aaaaallll day before he could finally open his presents.

Legos and Scrabble won the day. He got to stay up late that night and tried out his new Scrabble game against Nana Cris. The next two days he was completely consumed with building Legos, which made for a very happy Peter.

I forgot about his birthday interview until a few days later, but I'm fairly confident that his answers are still viable. As a nine-year-old here are Peter's favorites:

FAVORITE FOOD: cheese pizza

FAVORITE ANIMAL: cheetah

FAVORITE CANDY: Milky Way

FAVORITE BOOK: Percy Jackson Lightening Thief

FAVORITE COLOR: red

FAVORITE SHOW: Good Eats

FAVORITE MOVIE: Big Hero 6
FAVORITE SONG: Eidelwiess
FAVORITE BOARD GAME: Clue

FAVORITE CARD GAME: Uno
FAVORITE VIDEO GAME: Minecraft
FAVORITE THING TO DO: Play Minecraft
FAVORITE MEMORY FROM BEING 8: Me teaching Sophie how to crawl
FAVORITE PLACE: Where ever you are (That sound you hear? That's my heart melting.)
FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL: Computers

FRIENDS: Quinten, Grant, Kaigen, Oscar, Cooper, Phoebe, Sophie, Mom, Dad

Happy birthday Peter!

Question One

One of my good friends invited me (and several others, I assume) to write a personal history this year. This history consists of fifty-two questions, one for each week of the year. She emails the questions out to those participating and it is up to the individual to decide how and where they want to answer. I think this is a marvelous way to break down the seemingly daunting task of writing one's own history.

I'll be posting some of these questions here. I probably won't share all of them, but maybe I will, I haven't really decided yet. For this week I will share, at least part of my answer. Since I don't include middle or last names here on the blog, I'm only going to answer this question for my first name.

What is your full name?  Why did your parents give you that name?

I remember my mom telling me she always liked the name Margot. It means pearl; I was named after the parable from the New Testament about the man who sells all he has so he can buy one precious pearl of great price. I credit my strong sense of self worth, at least in part, to knowing that I was named after something of so much value. My dad's name is Marc, and, according to nameberry.com, that is the French variation of Mark. My name is spelled the French way as well. The silent t at the end of Margot is important to me. My name doesn't look complete without it.

Heat Wave

It's a balmy 9 degrees outside right now. That's up from the 4 degree weather we had last night when I went to sleep. Both of those numbers don't take the wind chill into account. It was so cold this morning that the beginning of school was delayed by ninety minutes, because it was dangerous for all those little fingers and noses and ears to be outside.

Our heater has been on almost constantly and it can't get the main floor of our house warmer than 67 degrees. That might be warm enough for some of you, but for this continuously-cold-California girl, that's uncomfortable. I've been rocking my big warm sweatshirt and faux UGGs all day.

And on that note, I'm going to go burrow under my blankets.

Sugar and Spice

We discovered that Sophie really likes gingerbread cookies. The one she is enjoying in the picture is sweetened with honey and molasses. They weren't particularly sweet, but they were nice and crunchy.