Green Hat Day for Lark

Sunday  March 19, 1995                Lark is 2 1/2

Lark, I just took some pictures of you wearing a green hat with a flower.

Here is a pronunciation guide:

wa-wash   =   washcloth

wap          =   lap

hungie       =   hungry (while grabbing throat)

yook         =   look

fra-fry       =   french fry

kickers     =   stickers (which you had applied to the page and then colored over in blue, yellow, and pink).

Lark Takes Charge...

January 6, 2001                Lark is 8 years old and this is my last entry in the new journal she received at Christmas.

Dear Lark,

You just told me that you want to write in this journal.  You told me this is YOUR journal.  You told me your writing is getting better.

I understand from what you said that you prefer I don't write in here to you.

So I won't anymore.            Love, Mom

Lark filled the next four pages with entries.  She wrote in green and purple and blue and red ink.  Every sentence had a new color.  The next-to-last entry in the journal was made by her twelve-year-old sister, Trina.  Trina wrote...

Hey! Why did you tell mom not to write in here?  Oh well.  I'll say what you told me I could say: everyone pay attention.  It's Saturday the 9th of February 2002, so that means it's 2-9-2002.  Okay.  You have it back now, Trina. 

On October 7, 2002   Lark (age 9 now) made her last entry.

I had a asemebele. 

Perhaps someday she'll pick this journal up again and make entries in it for a child of her own.

Pay Attention

I gave Lark a journal the Christmas she was 8 years old.  This entry was made a week latter.

January 1st, 2001

Dear Lark,

Last night you didn't feel well.  In fact, I stayed up all night cleaning up after you.  I was so glad I had your room clean so you could make it to the bathroom faster.

You loved visiting your cousin Bill on Saturday and seeing your Uncle Bill be baptised Friday night.

You gave Bill a tip on home-schooling.  You told hime to "pay attention."

You helped undecorate the Christmas tree today.  You also starred in a play with your sisters (performed for Dad and I).  It was "Goldilocks and the Three Bears."  We got your performance on video.

Long Division Troubles

Tuesday January 7, 2003                 Lark is 10 years old.

Dear Lark,

Your newer journal must be downstairs so I am writing you here.  You are in the 4th grade now.  You love your teacher, Mr. Judd, and you love learning.  You called me at work this evening.  You were frustrated because you were stumped by your "long division" homework.  You had 20 problems to do and you had done only one. 

I offered to pay you a nickel for each problem you had done by the time I came home.  You refused.  You asked me if I had been tempted to use a calculator when I was your age.  I said we didn't have calculators when I was your age.

You were helping take care of Julia and she wanted to watch a movie.  Daddy was asleep and so was Jasmine (as she was sick today).  Trina was babysitting and Margret was at the library with me.

Confidence and Competence at age Five...

Sunday, August 2, 1998                 Lark is 5 (nearly 6) years old.  Trina is 8 years old.

Dear Lark,

Today you gave a talk in Primary.  You and Trina wrote it and drew pictures for it while I was at work at the library.  I wrote the last page for you so it would fit the theme "the scriptures help me to know the importance of keeping covenants."  You memorized the talk and delivered it confidently.  Your teacher, Br. Steele, told me that in class you are perfect--just the right mix of participating but also behaving.

...and to an older, more grown-up Lark I make a sincere apology that I let your entire 4th year and nearly your entire 5th year slip by without making any entries for you in this journal.  I peeked ahead and found I made only two more entries in this journal.  The rest is filled with scribbles and drawings you made at who-knows-what age.  At some point you began filling every line on the page with scribbles and I know you were thinking that you were recording your thoughts and experiences.  However, they are in the language of childhood and there is no rosetta stone to help us translate them.  I love you.

On October 8, 2002 (four years later -- Lark being 10 years old now)

Dear Lark,   You read through this journal this evening while I was at work.  Now I've read through it (after tucking you in at 10:30 p.m.).  We are both so glad we kept what moments of your young years that have been written here.    Love, Mom

Life lessons from a Three-year-old

Wednesday    August 28, 1996                 Lark is 3 years old (nearly 4!)

Dear Lark,

You are nearly 4 years old!  On Monday you came to work with me at the Springville Library.  We are moving everything out of the way so the walls and ceilings can be painted and so new carpet can be laid.  Daddy came too to volunteer his help. 

You played with the toys in my new office.  You found a little baggie with circles cut out of red, yellow, and green felt.  You lined them up on the floor and then walked along them toe-heel-toe-heel while counting.  Then you found a toy rake and pretended they were leaves to rake up. 

You figured out how to pronounce the word "garbage" today.  You told me your toy Barney told you how to say it.  While you were playing you told me to "pretend I am your Mom."

G'pa Williams came to our house on Sunday for dinner.  He accidently knocked over his glass and spilled his juice and broke his glass.  You told him that when you spill your drink you are supposed to say, "I'm having a bad day."  When we all laughed you said, "Well, it's true."

Lilark

Sunday July 14, 1996              Lark is 3 years old.

This notation in Lark's journal was made by her dad.  (Do all men write in all caps?)

As I went upstairs to help you change clothes after Jasmine, Margret, Trina and you had played flower fairies with the dress-ups, you sat on the floor to play and I tried a narration of the Miss Muppet rhyme.

"Little Miss Lark sat in the dark eating a milky way.
Along came a spider..."

As I walked my hand up to you, you slapped my hand and said, "I killed it".
I finished the rhyme with "right away".

Love, Dad

Your mom's journal entry to you on this same day follows...

Dear Lark,

You and your sisters played "Flower Fairies" with the dress-ups this afternoon.  You were the "Lilark Fairy" (lilacs).  Your favorite color is purple so that was a very appropriat choice for you.

Love, Mom

Lark's Alphabet

Friday, May 24, 1996             Lark is 3 years and 9 months old

f      is for fackers (crackers)

y      is for yike (bike), yap (lap), yiving room (living room), and yegs (legs)

j      is for jarbur (garbage)

g      is for gog (dog) and gool (school)

i       is for ing (eating)

k      is for kurkey (turkey--as it appears when you take the lid off a new tub of soft margarine)

l       is for lolo (yellow)

Keeping Journals for Your Children...

Sunday November 19, 1995                Lark is 3 years and 2 1/2 months old

Dear Lark,

When you saw me writing in your sisters' journals you brought me yours and told me to write in it. 

As you can see-- (by all the scribbles and markings in it) you love "writing" in it yourself.

Love, Mom

On the back of this page (I only write on one side on the page because in some of my journals which I kept before I was married the ink bled through) in my mom's handwriting (your g'ma) is written...

Noone goes in
Noone goes out
Someone to wish on a star'

I was wondering if she was writing what you told her to write.  The entry is undated.  The next dated entry is May 24, 1996 (which will be tomorrow's post).  As you can see, six months elapsed from the entry I made on this day (today's post).  The next post after the one in May is the bottom half of the same page made in July 1996 by your dad. 

Even very infrequent entries are better than no entries.  These little snippets of your life are so precious to us.  Had we known how quickly you were growing up we would have been more diligent.

Very Brave

Wednesday, August 30, 1995                Two days before Lark's 3rd birthday...

Dear Lark,

You have been sick for four days now.  You've had a fever, runny stool, vomiting, sleeping a lot, low energy.  You are very brave about it and hardly complain.  You hardly eat or drink and I am worried about you.

Love, Mom

Feep

Wednesday   August 9, 1995              Lark is 2 years old (nearly 3)

Lark,

You were the first girl awake.  When I walked into your room you said "Good morning."  Then you said, "Trina feep." (meaning Trina is still asleep).

You were the only one to go with me to the doctor.  You were great company and snuggled onto my lap reassuringly.

I call you my "Angel Child".

Love, Mom

Pink Plastic Tool

August 5, 1995                  Lark is 2 (nearly 3) years old

Lark,

You were keeping me company (sort of) while I was getting ready for work.  You were playing with a little pink plastic pretend hairblower.  I was thinking how adorable and feminine you were.  Then I heard you referring to the blowdryer as a gun.

(Considering you have no brothers and your dad has no guns and we never talk about guns and we don't watch violent films, this came as quite a surprise!)

A Pink Balloon & Big Shoes

July 26, 1995                  Lark is 2 years old (nearly 3)

Dear Lark,

I am being late for work because I want to write in yours and Trina's journals.  I would have last night but you were both still awake.  So....

I am thinking of an evening in late June.  Your big sisters (except Trina) were spending the week at the Mitchells.  Trina was off somewhere playing or napping. 

You had a long pink balloon we had purchased that afternoon.  You were wearing a pair of Trina's shoes.  You wanted to be watched.  So I sat on the step and watched as you made your way past Don's house and then the next house and then around the corner.  You disappeared from sight as you passed the giant blue spruce on the corner.  Then you appeared again, looking to see if I was watching.  Then you turned and returned to me.  You repeated this little march numerous times, frequently checking to see if I was watching.  You were so proud of the pink balloon, of wearing Trina's shoes, of venturing off alone, and so happy for my undivided attention to your courage, your adventure, your maturity.

My heart swelled.  I felt so in love with you.  You filled me with happiness and completeness.  You with your blond curls, your overlarge shoes, your pink balloon nearly as large as you, your pride in yourself, your joy bubbling forth in giggles.

Then a rose thorn burst your balloon.  You were devastated.  You came to me and I wrapped you in a lap embrace.

After awhile you rallied and got on with your life.

"Me muscles", "Purple Apples", and "Picture You"

Wednesday    July 19, 1995        Lark is 2 1/2 years old

Dear Lark,

You are so cute.  In about six weeks you will be three.

Tonight you lifted a bicycle pump over your head with one arm and you said, "me muscles".

A little later you raided the fridge for blueberries and you said, "purple apples".

You are drawing on a paper as I write and you are saying, "This big eye, my doll face, my doll beautiful, picture mouth, here's nose, that big ears."  You give it to me saying, "picture you".  Meaning "Hear's a picture for you."

You know this is your journal.

(Lark later scribbled lots of blue strokes in the space at the bottom of the page.  She also put small scribbles of blue, yellow, and pink over my entry.  This is her way of making a journal entry).

Tantrum Thoughts

Sunday       February 12, 1995                       Lark is 2 1/2 years old.

Dear Lark,

I am nursing you as I write this.  You have not been feeling well for the past several hours.

One evening last week you had nursed yourself to sleep in our bed.  Daddy had moved you to your bed and you woke up.  You were very upset about being moved.  But if we came and got you we would be rewarding your tantrum.  So we lay and listened to you cry in your bed.  Finally you got out of your bed and then continued your fit in our doorway.  I was waiting for you to come to me on your own.  Finally Daddy called you and you crawled back in with us.

I was thinking how at some future day you might find yourself in a situation that was making you unhappy.  You might be a bit unclear as to how you happened to be in that situation -- or you might know.  You might "throw a spiritual tantrum."  But you must remember that sometimes Heavenly Father waits for us to come to Him.  He may call in some way (like Daddy did) through the scriptures or a prophet or a person.  But you must draw near to Him yourself to be comforted and helped.

You are watching me write this and I wonder if someday an older you will be helped by this experience and insight.

You can be very loving and I enjoy holding you.  I enjoy your laugh -- your glee.

Love, Mom

Sunday    November 21, 2010           Lark is 18 years old.

Dear Lark,

You have been such a strength to me through the years.  It is funny that I wrote that little message to you when you were just two.  In fact it has been ME, not you, who has had the spiritual tantrums.  Well, to be honest, I've had many tantrums of all sorts.  And I have had to call on the Lord to help me.  You have often reminded me to do this.  You are all sweetness and light to me.  The Lord has figuratively taken me into his arms and comforted me, instructed me, guided me, forgiven me, healed me, and loved me. 

Julia's first journal

January 1st, 2001  Julia is 3 1/2 years old.

Dear Julia,

You are so wonderful.  We watched a movie last night about two missionaries finding a family to teach and baptise.  After it was over we talked about Uncle Bill being baptised last Friday night.  Then you said Dad baptised Lark the same way.  You noticed, understood, and made those connections on your own!

We've been busy cleaning house.  While we've been doing that you squeezed out about 1/3 cup of glue.  Luckily Lark saw you and luckily it was in a plastic container we could throw away.  You also rubber stamped your arm with a red-ink Christmas tree stamp.

You will hardly eat anything but candy and chocolate.  You are very adept at finding anyone's chocolate.  You do like eating meat and drinking a commercially-made sweet carrot juice.

Daddy ran a bath for you tonight (you insisted).  He observed that you washed yourself all over with your new scrubbie.  While he was doing that I was putting away yours and Lark's laundry.  I remarked that it was time to go to bed and you said you didn't want to.  I said if you went to bed now I would tuck you in.  You got right under the covers for that.  Then you said we needed to read the scriptures.  So we all gathered in your room, chatted about the upcoming week and read scriptures and had family prayer.  By then you were asleep.

(On these journal pages I traced Julia's hands.  I drew an arrow to her right hand thumb with the note "Julia sucks this thumb".  On the first page of this journal Julia made a journal entry in her own three-year-old cursive writing.
Between this date and October 2002 she made twelve more pages of various attempts at cursive writing.  She traced around her hands seven times.  She made twenty pages of drawings.)

I made a second entry in this journal on October 8, 2002.  Julia was 4 1/2 years old.

Dear Julia,

Sometimes I read to myself at night before going to sleep.  Since Daddy works at night you sometimes join me.  While I am reading you draw in this journal.  I confess I haven't paid much attention to how much you've drawn or what you've drawn.  I now wish I had so I could interview you about each picture, write your comments, and put your age and the date. 

Love, Mom

Beneath this entry Julia printed "I like being me.  Julia"

On the next page Julia wrote I I I I I ! ! ! ! ! i i i i  i and then filled every line on this and the facing page tracing each line.

On the next page (alas, undated) she wrote possibly her first story.  Here it is:

Hello.  My name is Magic.  I am in a world of cats.  And here's how it began.  Mom woke me up today with a loud meow.  Mom said, "Get up.  Today is your special day."  She was right.  I went to my friend's house.  Thunder and Lightning. 

(Thunder is the name of Trina's cat and Lightning is the name of Lark's cat).

There are no more entries in this journal.

Happiness Machine

Monday, November 1, 2010     Julia is thirteen years old.

Yesterday began at 29 degrees--cold enough to coat windshields with ice with an attitude.  By afternoon the sun banished any hint of autumn chill.  On my lunch hour from work I invited my teenage daughter to join me on a late after-noon walk.  She readily agreed, so we set off together on our usual route.

We walk a block out of our little neighborhood to the main road.  We are on the outskirts of town so after walking past several homes with large yards we come to large barns surrounded by heavy farm equipment.  We pass a small corral which is home to two horses and sometimes some goats.  The road becomes a small incline.  There are no sidewalks here.  We pass a large ditch which always has water in it.  We cross a busier access road.  This is our favorite part of the walk. 

Julia stopped us here and said that her happiness machine would include this moment.  To the east we could see uphill in the distance past acres of fields the neighborhood where we lived the previous three years and the temple just to the north.  The sky was blue with little white cotton-puff clouds hovering about.  We turned and looked west where very far off are low mountain ranges.  We listened to the stillness, and then to a solitary car passing.  We noticed the delicate breeze.  We absorbed the autumn colors and textures -- the various trees that line the road, converging in the distance.  There is a round silo with a funnel-like roof that is a perfect contrast to the many bales of hay stack behind it.

An Unwelcome Diaper Change

Wednesday February 8, 1995     Lark is two years old.

Dear Lark,

You're quite upset with me. 

I've been home for lunch this hour.  You played with two icecubes a few moments.  Then you wanted something else and I couldn't understant what.

I noticed you're still wearing your clothes from yesterday and your diaper from last night.  You didn't want to change.  I slipped your diaper off.  After crying on your bed a few minutes you brought me a clean diaper.  You like to apply your own vaseline and powder, so I let you.  You want to fasten the diaper too, but I did that while you were putting the lid on the vaseline (which you also insisted on doing).  I asked if you'd like to choose something to wear.  You didn't.  I left you crying and now you've stopped. 

Two is hard for you.

You have crawled into my bed under my covers and fallen asleep.

Butterhorn Rolls, Happiness Machines, & Growing Feet

Monday July 15, 1996   Laura is 12 years old.  Jasmine is 11 years old.  Margret is 9 years old.  We now live in the small town where I work.  Steve has not found work.  He provides on-site massage to all his clients in Salt Lake on Wednesdays.   My parents sold their home in Colorado to move to Utah.  While they were looking for a home they shared our small 1500 sq. ft. home with us.  Steve and my dad both took small parts in a community theatre production of Our Town by Thornton Wilder.

Dear Laura,

I hope you finish writing about your teachers on the previous page (of this journal).

Summer is going by so fast!  Soon you will be going to camp!

We got new shoes this week and you wear size 9!  I can't believe it!  I wear size 9 1/2 so maybe we'll be sharing shoes.  Jasmine and Margret wear size 7.

You make delicious rolls for the family to eat.  The recipe is "Butterhorn Rolls" from the Taste of Home magazine.

You have been babysitting your sisters quite a lot since G'ma and G'pa  moved out.  We appreciate you so much!

Love, Mom

P.S.  We have been reading aloud Dandelion Wine.  A man in the story builds a happiness machine.  What would YOU put in a "happiness" machine?

Very Responsible

Sunday November 19, 1995   Laura is 11 years old.  We are very near selling our house.  We have had to replace the shingles.  In this case Steve had to scrape off with a shovel about five layers of shingles and then put on a fresh layer.  He did this all by himself--noone offered to help and we couldn't afford to pay anyone.  My sister and her husband loaned us their small pick-up for me to use in my 45 mile-each-way commute to my new job.  We couldn't afford to repair or replace the transmission in our van and overnight our debt-to-income ratio (a term which was foreign to me up til now) made it impossible to buy another vehicle.  During this time we came up with homemade Halloween costumes and pulled off a birthday party for Trina on a very low budget.  Our apple tree produced its one and only bumper crop so we survived on apple meals and garden produce that others shared with us.  Here is a short letter I wrote to Laura...

Dear Laura,

Thank you for taking care of our Creative Memories booth at the David Gourley Craft Fair on Saturday.  You did a great job--handing out nearly 100 fliers.  You were there eight hours!  I had to work at the library in Springville.

Daddy needed to load the rest of the old shingles into the Gibson's truck and take the load to the dump.

You were very responsible.  Thank you.

Love, Mom

Space Shuttle & Apples

Wednesday, September 27, 1995   Laura is 11.  We have our home for sale.  I am now working 45 miles away from home.   The transmission on our van is bad (will only drive in first gear) so I am driving in first gear.  We have very little money as my new job pays about half of what I was earning.  The girls are basically on their own to get ready for school, get to school, come home from school, and take care of themselves after school til I get home later in the evening. 

Here is a letter I wrote to Laura in her journal:

Dear Laura,

This evening you watched the space shuttle ride piggy back on a 747 into the Salt Lake International Airport.  Awesome!

We had fun preparing apples from our tree to put into homemade pies on Sunday.  You were enjoying listening to the recorded book Having Our Say by the Delaney Sisters.

Having Our Say: The Delany Sisters' First 100 Years by Sarah L. Delany


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


My family enjoyed listening to this book and learning from these remarkable women.

Letter to Eleven-year-old Laura

Monday, August 28, 1995   Laura is 11 years old.

Dear Laura,

Congratulations on presenting a wonderful lesson to your class on the atonement yesterday.  You prepared visual aides, volunteered to teach it, and involved the class in discussion.  You are amazing.

Now, as for your first day of school...

It' was great!  You loved it!  You have Mr. Erickson.  He talks a lot but he seems cool.  He talked about wehn he was in school.

You still have Derek, Tyler, Brian, Jordan, Janielle, and Harold to annoy you.  Yuck!

You sat by a new girl.  She moved here from Nevada, you think.  Her name is Amy.  You talked and hung out at recess.  A friend!

Prayer Works

Sunday, Aug. 20, 1995   Laura is 11 years old.

Dear Laura,

Last night I was looking for my Suncay School lesson materials.  I had the house all clean and organized and I had spent several hours last Sunday preparing for this week.  I was looking for several books and my notes.  Daddy and I looked everywhere several times, including out in the car.  In addition to my manuals there were two library books.  I could see myself having to pay for them.  I didn't want to stand in front of the adult Gospel Doctrine class looking unprepared when I HAD prepared!

For some reason I could not bring myself to pray about finding them.  I let my pride rule and I handed Daddy the scriptures and said he could teach the lesson -- I was staying home-- even though it was my turn to teach.  (We alternate weeks).

You tried to help and offered some suggestions.  Then you went to bed.

I decided to look again.  I took Daddy's briefcases out of the closet and looked inside them this time.  Not there.  Then I noticed a bag in the closet.  There they all were!

I reviewed my lesson and successfully presented it today.

The Relief Society lesson was on prayer.  I thought to myself that I should have prayed about my dilemma last night.  It might have saved me some time and frustration.

After church we were talking about this and you told me you had prayed I would find them.  I asked when you prayed and you said, "About a minute before you found them."

Thank you Laura!  I am convinced I found them because of YOUR PRAYER.  I had given up.  Your faith, concern, and prayer helped me.  Thank you so much. 

Love, Mom

Persuasive Powers

Wednesday, August  9, 1995   Laura is 11 years old.

Dear Laura,

I was noticing today what a beautiful girl you are.

I have been pleased that you've been showing more interest in your piano lessons.  Daily practice is making a big difference.

You are generally positive and pleasant to be around.  You help make our home a haven.

Remember how influential you are just from your positive actions.  Positive actions go further than force and anger.  Remember the story about the sun and the wind in persuading the man to take off his coat.  The wind tried force.  The sun tried warmth.  Who won?

Love, Mom

An Alphabet of Birthday Gifts

We brainstormed presents for Laura's 11th birthday--one for each letter of the alphabet, and wrote them on a chalkboard.

A is for Album pages              (for her Creative Memories album, of course!)
B is for Bows                           (on presents & for your hair)
C is for Cake                         (7 less-mess cakes & and Angel Food cake)                        
D is for Dancing                     (pending)
E is for Exceptional Talent      (drawing faces, legos & other 3-d crafts, piano, kindness,                                funny words like 'bubblegum', 'p-nut butter', and 'jellybeans' for swear words)
F is for Funny Fantasy           (chalk pictures)
G is for Garden                     (saw the play "The Secret Garden"
H is for Happy B-day            (sung 5 ways!)
I is for Icecream                    (rainbow sherbet
J is for Jasmine & jewelry      (photo with both of you & Karen gave you a jewelry box w treasures)
K is for Kitten                       (in the garage!)
L is for Lark & lip gloss         (photo with both of you & lip gloss from Karen)
M is for Margret  & Markers (photo with both of you & Markers from Karen)
N is for New Shoes               (rainbow colored tennis shoes)
O is for Origami                    (Why Dogs Hate Cats--story & origami puppet)
P is for Paint & Post-its          (Paint! --the book & post-its from Karen)
Q is for Quilt Square             (squares cut from fabric and ready to sew)
R is for Reada Book             (photo with both of you)
S is for Silliness & Stickers    (plenty of that with you and your sisters)
T is for Trina and Treasure    (photo with both of you & choc. gold coins)
U is for Unbelievable Rainbows   (Margret's game & your shoes)
V is for Velveteen                 (pending)
W is for Wacky Hands         (Mom's-- with which she gave you a home perm--a first for both of us)
X is for xxxx's & ooooo's     (lots)
Y is for Yippee-yr-yea         (vocal cheers from all)
Z is for Zippity-do-dah         (vocal cheers from all)

Journal Letters

Journals can often be found in stores for a very reasonable price.  They make good gifts.  My girls each had their own private journals.  I also provided journals in which I could write them notes or letters.  Yesterday I stumbled across a journal Laura had kept when she was ten or eleven years old.   To illustrate how this worked I will transcribe a few entries here.

Dear Diary
Today I had a great all exsept for some several bunches of miserable moments. First of all we made inventation

Dear Laura
I promise not to "correct" your spelling in your journal again.  You're wonderful.  love, Mom

Dear Journal,
What a day! Frist we had a Valentine's day praty, and then a dog bite.  The party was great!! Why the dog bit me I have no idea.  I was just riding my bike and this white dog walked across the road and grabbed my ancale with its teeth!  Luckaly the dog snagged my sock and couldn't hang on.  I rode home as fast as I could crying all the way.  I washed it with some liquid soap.  Then I took a quick bath and then my dad took me to the doctors.  I got eight stiches on top and one long on underneath.  Can you imagon?  I loved the party.  We got our idea for the party from my American Girl catalog.  I invited Amy, April, Alisa, Angilina, and Cassie.  It was fun.

Dear Laura,
You have been very brave through the ordeal of the dog bite.  Were you remembering the song frrom The Sound of Music, "When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad--I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad." ?

Just One Day

Thursday, July 18, 1996 7 a.m.

Laura-12, Jasmine-11, Margret-9, Trina-6, Lark-3

Steve has a small role in a community theatre production of Thornton Wilder's Our Town. In the play the lead, Emily, dies delivering her 2nd child. As she enters the graveyard she is missing life and wants to go back to live one day. Just one day. Her cemetary companions try to dissuade her. It's too hard, they say. The living don't appreciate what they have and focus too much on unimportant things.

If I were in Emily's place and were to select one insignificant day to relive and chose yesterday, this is what I would live...

I got up between 6 & 7 a.m. Ate two bowls of cereal. Got ready for work. Read a snatch of magazine article. Sat down in the older girl's room on the end of Laura's bed and listened while Steve read aloud a chapter from our core book. Then I read aloud a chapter from Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine. The one where they haul out the area rugs for their semi-annual cleaning.

Arrived at work at a reasonable time--between 8 and 9 a.m after picking up 12 dozen cookies from Ream for today's Summer Reading Program party. ($61.77 or 43 cents a cookie!)  Went outside to spray paint a "time capsule" box gold for today's program. Continued preparations for the program. It went well. The late afternoon was spent winding down, cleaning up, etc. til it was 5:30 in no time and time to go home to my neglected children.

Steve had been working in Salt Lake all day. My dad came over and was with the girls part of the day--made sure they had lunch. When I got home (driving the car the Mitchells have loaned us) the girls were upstairs watching a video. I had cookies for them but was dismayed when I saw the table still dirty from their lunch. (I had gone without lunch--ate three cookies).

So I called the girls down--to unload and load the dishwasher. (They each have assigned categories of dishes to do--they like this arrangement). Laura vacuumed. Jasmine swept and mopped. I wiped the table and counters and began supper preparations.

Laura was wearing filthy clothes she'd worn yesterday. Trina was still in her pajamas. Their hair was in need of a brush. Before long everything was in order--including the girls. There was some balking but generally done good-naturedly and willingly.

I made cookies but overbaked the first batch. We had a possibly good meal--buttered noodles with toasted almonds, freezer vegetables with parsnips added. No meat. Icecream with burnt cookies.

I hustled the girls to clean the upstairs somewhat.

I went outdoors to pull weeds. It had rained during the day and the ground was the perfect softness for weeding. The evening was pleasant but late. Soon all the girls were outside with me. I assigned rows and Trina was to pick up our weeds. Lark just occupied herself. Soon all daylight was gone and we worked by yard-light. Then I pulled all the weeds skirting the patio while Trina, Lark, and Jasmine "painted" mud portraits on the bricks.

They went indoors.

I stood alone in the yard in the dark, feeling the balmy evining--listening to the distant sound of an ethnic flute being played  at an International Folk Dance performance some blocks away. I thought how wonderful it had been working with the girls, enjoying and enhancing our little plot. I thought, "Life doesn't get any better." I walked to the front yard, wound up the hose, and came indoors.

The girls were scattered about the house.

Jasmine was on the couch looking at a catalog. Trina was filling the tub upstairs for her and Lark. Margret was on my bed reading a novel amidst a mountain of stuffed animals and dolls. Laura was in her room. I gave them each a task to complete "before Daddy gets home, to surprise him".

Margret was to put away the toys that were collected on my bed. ("Trina got them out!" she protested.) But she did it. Jasmine emptied the pile on the t.v. room rocking chair. Laura put the hangers and shoes away in the closet. I showered and sat down to read a chapter in my current novel.

By now I began to worry about Steve. I expected him home at 10:30 and it was 11 p.m. To my joy the van pulled into the driveway. He was home! Safe!

With Steve home and the girls all in the living room I read aloud another chapter from Dandelion Wine. Lark and Trina fell asleep. We carried them up to bed. The big girls went right to bed. I finished the chapter in my novel while Steve massaged my feet. Ahhhh. He needed to be gone by 7 a.m. in the morning to help with a church welfare canning project so we went right to bed. By now it was midnight.

And so the day went. Exquisite.

And today has begun--Steve is gone already. I was up by 7 a.m.--began a load in the washer, mopped the kitchen floor and wrote this entry while waiting for it to dry. I'll finish the floor now and get on with another day.

Open Your Eyes to See

Wednesday, August 30, 1995 10:30 p.m.
Laura-11, Jasmine-10, Margret-8, Trina-5, Lark-nearly 3

Laura, Jasmine, and Margret are asleep--but only for a half hour.

Margret lost a tooth and tells me I'm the tooth fairy--that Jasmine told her.

It is hot. Jasmine and Margret took off their nightgowns and sleeping bag coverlet and are wearing only their panties and are covered with a sheet.

Trina is wearing "Barney" slippers. She bit her tongue while having a "midnight" snack. She has a washcloth in her mouth and is "still" for the first time in hours. Earlier she removed the couch cushions and jumping.

Steve is just finishing his work at Marco's and should be on his way home.

As I was tidying up the kitchen I recalled the near-blood-drawing feud the girls had earlier over some scraps of used aluminum foil. Margret was smoothing out one crumpled piece to turn it into a scroll. Jasmine tore two circle to make eyes. Laura helped Margret. All seems to have ended peacefully. They are creating art for the PTA Reflections Contest. I am impressed with their ideas. Margret was going to write the theme "Open Your Eyes to See" in Etruscan letters on her scroll. Jasmine drew a face labeled with the theme and used foil eyes.

As I go about my kitchen cleaning I put the following words to the tune of "This is the dawning of the age of aquarius" only I change the words to "the age of the garbage dump". You see, the girls had pulled several items from the garbage--some outdoor treasures Trina had gathered that are beginning to rot, and some papers. Sigh. I have a hard enough time disposing of items that most people readily identify as garbage--grocery bags, boxes, jars, milk bottle lids, book covers... My girls educate me on recycling when I finally steel myself to de-junking. They don't know my generation gave birth to "recycling". But I've grown somewhat cynical about it.

Trina is asleep now and Lark is calling me. Steve should be home in a few minutes.

Centering Time

August 16, 1995 Laura-11, Jasmine-10, Margret-8, Trina-5, Lark-nearly 3

It's midnight. I am on leave from work "recovering" from a lazer treatment. I am using this time to "center" as a mom and sift through a decade or more of "stuff" as we prepare to move.

Steve is dozing in the reclining chair. Trina is asleep on the couch next to me. Lark is having a bowl of "brown cereal". The older girls are playing store up in Laura's room.

Steve hollers, "You girls need to settle down up there."

I am enjoying this "centering" time. Time to be at home. Time to be aware of my girls. Time to "drop everything" without hesitation when asked to
"come see" or
"help me".

I have thrown out a lot of clutter, given some stuff away, but most is organized in labeled boxes in a storage unit. I feel much more fee and relaxed minus walls full of junk and supplies for projects. I like having all those books packed away not begging for time to be read.

Lark observed me writing so got her journal and is coloring in it.

Sadly, Steve and I both suffer from the syndrome that causes one to believe that if a thing exists it should be used: boards, boxes, paper, crates, office furniture...

Homework Reward

Tuesday May 9, 1995 Jasmine is 10

Last night Jasmine wept out her frustration of having what she feared is a "learning disability." She has difficulty tuning out noises and distractions. I had challenged her yesterday morning to make a goal to complete her homework every day this week and reward herself. She had finished her homework so I asked her what her reward to herself would be.

She replied, "Spending time with you."

At the Table...

Saturday September 10, 1994 Jasmine-9, Margret-7, Trina-4, Lark-2

Dear Reader, no doubt you will be frustrated with me. You will think of lots of better solutions, as I am too at this writing. Where was "The Kid Whisperer" or "Super Nanny" when I was raising my children?

I hear in my mind my sister saying, "When there's a power struggle, everyone loses."

p.s. You can tell I'm a library manager by the things I say. My poor kids.

"At dinner we each took a turn saying how we were the same as Lark or different than Lark. Jasmine said she was more daring than Lark. So we talked about "daring". We decided that actually both Lark AND Jasmine were daring--only in different ways.

Then Trina was tipping her chair. She ignored being asked to stop. I asked if we had a family rule about chair tipping.
"No," she said.
"YES!" said all her big sisters.
"Why?" I asked.
Then I lectured on Risk Management. Example:
"What do we do to reduce the risk of a house fire? bla bla bla.
Then I said,
"If we tip our chairs we risk smashed toes. Do you like having your toe smashed Trina?"
So then Trina talked about wearing shoes but still side stepped the chair issue.
Margret began playing the recorder and we reminded her that we had said yesterday she was welsome to play it outside. She ignored that and I whispered to Steve,
"See what I mean about power struggles?"
Then I asked Margret if she cares how I feel. She nodded. I said,
"It would make me happy if you would put the recorder away during dinner." And she did! Then she wanted a second helping of dessert.
"No."
"Okay. Can I have the rest of the pink lemonade?"
I asked if anyone else wanted some. They all did.
"There's not enough for everyone. Is it okay with everyone if Margret drinks the rest?"
"No."
"Okay. Can I have some milk?"
"Margret, if you'd eaten a helping of leftovers like the rest of us did you wouldn't be hungry now. There's a correlation to eating dinner and being satisfied."
In the end she got a glass of milk but so did everyone else.

I took the three older girls to City Rep's "The Prince of Peace" this evening."

When the Dog Bites, When the Bee Stings

Monday, Sept. 13, 1993 Laura is 9 years old. Lark is 1 year old (barely).

At Laura's piano lesson review she played the song "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music. The phrase "When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling bad" fit her perfectly today. The dog had attempted to bite her while they were playing and while crawling across my bedroom carpet after Lark she crawled over a bee which of course stung her for it!

Despite all that, the girls and Steve had the living room all picked up and the table cleared and dishes done when I got home from work. It had been a particularly bad day at work for me so I was very grateful for this.

Motherhood is "bisgusting"

Monday, September 13, 1993 Trina is 3, Lark is barely 1

Trina snuggled right in next to me as I nursed Lark this afternoon.

"Someday you'll be a mother," I remarked to Trina. "What do you think of that?"

She removed her finger from her mouth and replied, "Bisgusting."

My surprised response was, "Why is it disgusting to be a mother?"

She explained that she doesn't want to have to wear glasses all the time.

I told her she may not have to wear glasses. Then she wanted to know if she would have to be blind.

Safe from Wolves

Wednesday, September 1st, 1993 Lark's 1st birthday -- I take a day off work -- Laura is 9 Jasmine is 8 Margret is 6 Trina is 3

It's 10:30 p.m. and I have a staff meeting to conduct in the morning. I have classical music playing on the stereo but it has no effect on Trina and Lark who are frollicking on my bed where I would prefer to be sleeping at this moment. We've just got the other girls to bed.

I tried taking photos of all Lark's activities today, missed some though.

This morning at 10:30 Lark was fussy so I resigned myself to taking a walk with her rather than try to finish addressing postcards to my scrapbook business customers. I decided to take Trina and Lark to the park to collect pine-cones to make into Christmas crafts. Lark fell asleep in the stroller on the way. On the way back home Trina complained that her legs were hurting. I wanted to get home so we could really relax rather than make numerous rest stops. She clung to a fence. I lightly slapped her hand. She cried. I squatted down to her level and put my arms around her. Then, (I can't believe I did this), I told her if she were a little pioneer girl acting like this she would be left behind for the wolves. We managed to get home.

We live in a quiet, secluded cul-de-sac. Lark was asleep in the stroller so I told Trina to sit on the step and watch her while I ran to the bathroom. The washer and dryer are in the downstairs bathroom so I rotated the laundry before returning to bring the girls in. I couldn't have been gone even five minutes.

In the meantime Trina had actually lifted the stroller with Lark in it up the two steps and over the threshold into the house! She told me she "Didn't want the bees and wolves to get to Lark." Of course Lark was awake by now. It served me right. I had to laugh. Annoyed, I scolded Trina but I told her I knew she meant well. It was my fault.

I didn't get Lark to sleep again til 2:30. Then I read to Trina til 3:00 and I was so tired I had to lay down. The big girls would be home from school in a half hour. That rascal Trina wasn't about to nap. In fact, she trimmed her hair while I was dozing. I swatted her bottom once and she lay down and was instantly asleep. This was just minutes before the big girls came trooping in.

Margret wanted to play at Melissa's. Jasmine went in the back yard to play with the dog. Laura briefed me about the fund-raiser sales drive-- candy again.

Now it was time to fix dinner and the cake and so the evening went. Steve got home at about 4:30. I got my business postcards mailed. I'm so glad I took the day off work. It's nice to focus on my family without the distraction and interupption of work. We helped the girls with homework, talked with them, coached them.

Back to School

Monday, August 30, 1993 Laura is 9, Jasmine is 8, Margret is 6, Trina is 3, and Lark is 11 months

My, how peaceful it is -- but not for long. Oh, Autumn Days, I do so love them. My two babies (Trina & Lark) are napping and my big girls are all at school. My husband is at work. I think to myself, "These are the happiest days of my life--all filled up with the needs of my children."

When I'm faced with a chunk of time I think, "What do I do first?" Read? Scrapbook? Sew? Craft? Tend to my poor neglected yard? Mend? Cook?

This afternoon I mended because baby Lark played contentedly in this room while I worked. And also possibly because I mended a dress just this morning for Jasmine to wear to the first day of school.

Here's how the morning went...

All the girls were so excited today. They woke at 6 a.m., got up, dressed, and ran out to feed the dog.

Laura was hoping to wear the t-shirt dress which she embroidered last spring but I hadn't finished sewing it. She was a good sport about the change in plans.

Jasmine had laid out a pink shorts outfit but changed her mind this chill morning. When I got up she was wearing pants which were stained and torn at the knees and tennis shoes totally ragged from much wear. I sewed some buttons on a dress in mending and she wore that.

Margret wore a hand-me-down dress from one of my co-worker's daughters.

Yesterday we were busy to late in the evening moving furniture and belongings around in the girls' downstairs bedrooms.

Back to the moment... Lark only slept a few minutes. Trina has slept for two and a half hours.

Later... 10:45 p.m.

The girls are all in bed (except Lark who slept an hour and a half this evening). Steve is at work again. Lark is fussing. Must stop.

A Day Off

Friday, August 6, 1993 Laura is 9, Jasmine is 8, Margret is 6, Trina is 3, Lark is 11 months

Today is my day off. I indulged in sleeping in. I got up with Steve at 7, made a quick bathroom stop, got a drink, rotated the laundry, and nursed the baby. He gave Lark her madicine and soothed her back to sleep before leaving for his first appointment.



Several hours later I begin resurfacing to consciousness. Lark is awake. I pick her up to nurse her again and Margret joins us. She sings us each a song of her own spontaneous composition featuring our names and what we mean to her.

I put Lark down on the floor and begin reading a book I am enjoying (Mama Makes Up Her Mind by Bailey White). I am nearly finished and it was due two days ago so I want to finish before beginning the activities of the day. (I don't).

Pretty soon Margret returns, announcing she and Jasmine are going over to Nikki's to begin a club. I seize the moment to "teach responsibility" (e.g. get them to do their chores), so I ask...

"Is your bed made?"
"Yes."
"Are your dirty clothes in the laundry?"
"Yes."
"Is your floor completely picked up?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to inspect."

They scamper off. Delay tactic #1 works. They return.

"Have you eaten your breakfast?"

They scamper off. Delay tactic #2 works. They return.

"Is the living room picked up?"
Collective "groan".
"One of you stack all the flat objects and the other one pile everything else into a box."
By some miracle they negotiate these instructions quickly and without too much grumbling or fighting.

As they leave for Nikki's I suggest to Margret that she not take her purse. I notice she takes it.

Laying there reading in the quiet of the morning with only the muted sounds of cartoon watching downstairs my ears perk to the distinct sound of a dribbling faucet. Did someone turn on the outside tap? I set aside my book and get out of bed to step across the room and look out the window. I push aside the curtains and see only the glare of the morning sun as it filters through the screen of branches and leaves of the giant locust in front of our northeast facing room. Then I glance down at the floor in my room. There on our shag green carpet is little Trina, curled by our bed under a "blankie".

"Hmmm," I wonder. I nudge her a little with my foot. A darker wetter spot on my carpet is revealed. The mystery of the dribbling faucet sound is solved.

I get up and get Trina up and going. Trina wants "broken bread in a bowl sprinkled with pink milk powder and soaked with milk" for breakfast. I prefer a bowl of Life cereal topped with cornflakes. Lark gets some riced rice which is more a finger dexterity exercise than a meal for her. I thumb through a magazine over breakfast.

Lark is fussy so I take her back upstairs and nurse her while reading. Laura and Trina are playing at dressing up. Laura is sporting a wrist wrap of white mesh. Trina informs me, "It is for getting married."

I lose myself in my book but must resurface each time I hear Trina squal to determine if it's serious or not. Laura and Trina are having a shouting match. Trina comes crying to me, saying that "Laura is calling me names." Trina now has the white mesh and is wearing it as a veil. She tells me, "Laura is playing the game wrong."

I notice Lark has dozed so I again set aside my book to take a shower and dress. Trina shadows me. In the bathroom she announces, "your bottom jiggles." I think to myself, "Thanks a lot for shattering my illusion of youth and sveltness." She tries to make off with my deoderant because it is in a yellow container which for Trina means it must belong to her. I fear I will never find it again.

Laura has donned a wide-brimmed floppy red dress-up hat and an ankle length white skirt of gathered tiers, each tier marked by a strip of bias tape in the primary colors and green (a yard-sale find). Trina is in a patchwork Cinderella dress-up (which I actually made and wore in my high school days).

I am now, finally, dressed--wearing a yellow "beefy-t" and jeans, my hair pulled back and up. No make-up today. The wanderers have returned. They are all coloring, using Laura's markers (after some tips on negotiating from me). Lark is awake from a coughing fit. I will pick her up as I finish this.

Pandie Isn't On a Mission Anymore!

Monday July 26, 1993 Laura is 9, Jasmine is 8 Trina is 3 1/2 Lark is 10 months

The house is nearly completely clean! (Just need to sort through my desk & the art projects closet). It occurs to me that I am the same age now that my mom was when I was in 7th grade and we moved to Salinas. Weird.

Steve read aloud to the girls from the scriptures before he went back to work at 9 p.m. and then I read aloud to them from an OZ book (my favorite books when I was in the fourth grade). Lark fell asleep on my lap and Trina was soon asleep beside me (no nap today)so I put Lark in her crib and took Trina to her bed and was just settling down to enjoy a quiet minute when Jasmine marched up from her room to tell me she wanted her (stuffed)panda so I told her to get it.

"It's in Laura's room," she told me. (Laura was in her room reading).

"Go get it," I told Jasmine.

I overheard Jasmine announce to Laura, "Pandie isn't on a mission any more!"

I had to laugh. Leave it to Laura to find a way to get all the dolls and stuffed animals into her bedroom. (We had attended a church meeting yesterday where a co-worker was speaking about missionary work.)

Help Yourself

Thursday, July 22nd, 1993 Laura is 9, Trina is 3 1/2

When I came home from work at noon I noticed Trina laboriously hauling a stepstool up the stairs. I didn't pay much attention to her at that moment but a few minutes later while I was stirring lunch Laura hollered that Trina was about to empty the contents of the medicine basket onto the floor. Steve stopped making papersack "Native American" costumes for the girls to wear in a neighborhood "Pioneer Day" parade and exchanged a look with me.

"She wants a band-aid," I said. "Will you get one for her, Laura?"

Later, when Trina needed some more bandaids she told me how to apply them.

Ten Years of Marriage--Looking on the Bright Side...

Thursday, June 17, 1993 12:45 a.m. (actually June 18, sigh)

Has it really been a year since I've written in this journal?

Just minutes ago I laid baby Lark (9 months old now) into her crib and tucked Trina (now 3 1/2) in. Then (as long as I was up) I put the last load of laundry into the dryer so as not to have to re-wash it in the morning. Then I thought I may as well take out the diaper garbage, only to find the dumpster was still out in the circle needing to be brought back up into the driveway. That done, I thought I'd finish up the dishes before turning in. And while doing that I thought I'd look for this journal.

Steve and I have been trading turns being ill. It was my turn yesterday (flu). Goodness, I threw up twice which was more than I'd done in all five pregnancies combined!. Today was Steve's turn (cold and sore throat). That's how he was last year on our anniversary! Does marriage make us sick? (That's a joke).

Laura (age nine) wanted us to have a "romantic" day. She brought us breakfast in bed on a cookie tray. The menu was fruit salad, 7-up (a treat reserved for sick days), and hot chocolate. She was wearing red shorts, her "Teachers Have Class" t-shirt, and a red bow in her hair. She wanted to fix all our meals today but I assured her I could manage lunch (mashed potatoes and gravy which we call "volcanoes" and fresh vegetables). Margret (age six) helped make supper (hot dogs and leftover macaroni-tuna salad which Steve made yesterday, and cookies).

The girls felt bad that Steve and I weren't doing anything "special". I insisted it was okay and that we would when we both felt better.

Here is what being ill relieved us of at work:
The magician that was scheduled to perform at the library as a summer reading program feature cancelled due to illness so...
Bob and Laurie managed the crowd of 270 children with the "sidewalk petroglyph" chalk art program I had planned.
Luckily this was the first week since May that I didn't have any Creative Memories classes scheduled, so I didn't have to cancel any.
Luckily Steve only missed one massage client appointment.
Luckily were were ill on different days so we could cover for each other.

Time wishes I would make:
Time to read the mountain of books I have checked out (over 100 today, 1/3rd of which are overdue in the past three days). I "test drive" picture books and readers on my own children.
Time to catch up on photograph album scrapbooks.
Time to catch up on mending and sewing projects and make dolls and dollclothes for my girls' enjoyment.
Time to learn how to use my new serger (have my third lesson tomorrow and am supposed to have a t-shirt pattern cut out and ready to assemble).

So, what can I say about today other than having accomplished four loads of laundry, bathing and washing hair of four of my five daughters and making two simple meals with minimal clean up? Not much.

Laura had her second art class at the Visual Art Institute. Steve left with her at 9:30 a.m. and returned at noon, during which time he wrote out invoices. I was at home waiting for Lark to go down for a nap so I could shower. She finally slept at 1:00 p.m. at which time the girls were at peril of death if they woke her before I finished my shower. (I had indulged in sleeping in because Lark had slept with us all last night which means I didn't sleep well).

We have begun our ambitious venture of summer "home-schooling" which we are calling The Family Learning Connection. If we're successful this summer I am considering keeping Laura and Jasmine home in the fall. At this point I feel only 50% successful which is not enough. It has been eye-opening though to see how fully we've shrugged off the responsibility of teaching to both the public school and the Sunday school.

Steve and I agree that this ten years has gone by so much faster than the twenty preceeding years and how happy we are. We are still struggling financially and I suppose that is a blessing too.

As for the girls -- today they mostly watched television and played out in the yard--fairly typical. Lark ate a cookie today (I know, "shame on me") but she seems to be okay.

Our Ninth Anniversary--"A Day in the Life of..."

Wednesday, June 17th, 1992

It is 11:30 p.m. and here is our "Day In the Life of..."

I am about 28 weeks pregnant with our fifth child. I worked today from 8:30 to 4:30 with no time for lunch. I had breakfast this morning with Jasmine and Margret. (Margret had a hysterical fit yesterday when I ate breakfast without her).

Steve is more or less unemployed these days. His project for today was clearing out the downstairs hall closet and setting up a computer desk there. It looks very nice. He did several massages yesterday and was paid $200 this week (by two clients) so was able to make a loan payment today.

Laura seemed happy toaday. She is eight years old and has bouts of silliness and seriousness. She washed the supper dishes. Her gift to us was half of a purse-size band-aid dispenser.

Jasmine, seven, wanted desperately to be part of our anniversary celebration. She wished we could have gone to Lagoon today using the church discount tickets. She was even a little clingy. She had been coloring a cardboard box lid with markers all week and wrapped it and wrote a gift tag. She said the lid was "to take to work."

Margret, five, wanted to give us more than a kiss and a hug. She wanted to be my twin. Laura helped her select two pansies from the front yard to pluck and give to Steve and I.

Trina, two and a half, is still a diaper girl who wants us to give her a bottle (though we don't) and sleeps with us most of most nights. Stubborn and independent, she spilt most of a large container of chocolate drink mix powder today trying to fix herself a glass of chocolate milk.

Steve's mom watched the girls while we went to a movie. We saw "Hook" at the dollar theatre (a perfect choice), and ate leftovers when we got home. Plus a pint of Baskin Robbins ice cream.

Of Bedtime Hymns and Stories and Rainbow-land

March 11, 1992 Wednesday
Laura is 7, Jasmine is 6, Margret is 4, and Trina is 1.

Recently I've been taking the hymn book up to the girls' room at bedtime and singing them a hymn or two (all verses). I suppose one advantage to having them all in one room is that they can enjoy a bedtime story and / or song while snug in their own beds -- and I only have to go through it once!

There seem to be so little opportunity to sing hymns in church anymore. I want my children to know them and feel their message and comfort as I do. My sister Dawna tells me that her husband Ed is doing this too.

I wanted the light to be dim for the girls last night so I thought I'd try telling the girls a story rather than reading one. I have little or no confidence in myself as a storyteller so I began hesitantly. To my suprise and the girls' delight a story did spill out. I began...

"Once upon a time there were three little girls."

Laura broke in, "Oh, I know this story. It's about us."

"I mean," I continued, "once upon a time there were three little boys. They lived in a far-off city named Wichitatina. Their names were Lauren, Jasper, and Mark."

Laura broke in again (noticing the similarity of the boys' names to hers and her sisters and pointed to the crib),asking "What about their baby brother?"

"They didn't have one," I explained.

I proceeded to tell what the brothers liked to play (drawing on my memories of a childhood friend of mine, Kenny W.). Then, looking at the chaos on the bedroom floor I explained how the boys liked to be outside mostly but when they came inside they liked to dump all their toys in the middle of their room and pretend it was the unnavigable ocean floor. Their mother didn't like this and told them that someday there might be an ocean earthquake and all their toys would fall into the middle of the earth and be lost forever. But the boys never believed her.

"The boys wished they could have a pet cow and they would call her Gertrude. She would crop their lawn for them so they'd never have to mow. She would eat apples off their tree and give them milk. They would ride her and climb off her back onto their swingset lookout which they called The Eagles Nest. They'd pretend the lookout was a ship."

I proceeded to tell their sea adventures.

"There was a little problem because both Jasper and Lauren thought they ought to be captain and they argued about this a lot and poor Mark was always first mate--never captain. One day they were going on about this and in such a heated dispute that only little Mark noticed the funny green color in the sky and the hush that came over the landscape. Then he heard a strange buzzing sound that soon became a roar like a train rushing past. By now the older boys were watching and listening."

"The boys knew that tornadoes often came to Wichitatina and if they ever saw one they wanted to hop on their bikes and peddle to Dorothy's house so they could catch a ride to Oz. Their mother always said this wouldn't be a good idea and that she would miss them terribly but they assured her time was different in Oz. They could be in Oz years and years and here it would be just long enough to blink your eyes. Their mother was not convinced."

"As it happened, the boys found themselves right in the center of the tornado which had set down from the sky right on their eagle's nest."

Then I told about their ride in the tornado and that the tornado set them down right at the end of the rainbow inside the pot of gold.

"They got to play in the gold as if it were a ballbath just like in the cartoons of Uncle Scrooge's money vat. They knew they could never carry that big heavy pot of gold home. Come to think of it they didn't know how they would get home. After awhile they actually got tired of playing in the gold so they climbed out to have a look around."

"They were in the most beautiful fantastic land they had ever imagined. There were lots of little ponds-- and they were all different. Each pond had a little sign telling what it was for. Some were for drinking water, or for drinking rootbeer, or made of icecream to scoop out and eat. Some were for swimming and some were bubblebaths with water slides. And the trees and bushes and flowers were just as marvelous. They hung with food or toys or flowers."

"There was just one problem. There was no one else around to play with or even to talk to."

Then I told how all the inhabitants of the land were shy of strangers and had hidden and how the boys eventually found them and made friends and about all the adventures they had there--each boy having found a unicorn friend to ride and each unicorn was a different pastel color.

"One night on one of their adventures they found themselves in the center of a forest when they suddenly caught view of a fairy clearing. They hushed to a whisper, not wanting to be discovered or to disturb the fairy festivities. Their stillness paid off when they saw the king leprechaun who unbeknownst to them was their benefactor who had sent the tornado to bring them to the land at the end of the rainbow."

"When one of the unicorns snorted the leprechaun king looked in their direction and they found themselves looking eye to eye. The spell was broken and they must now ride the rainbow home. At dawn's first light they climbed into their swingset Eagle's Nest and faster than they could count to 25 they slid up and over the rainbow back into their own yard and the pot of gold followed them."

"They were glad to be home and when they told their mother of their adventures she suggested they use the gold to make a children's park modeled after the Rainbow-land so other children could take part in the wonder of it all."

Traditions

A friend of mine is giving a workshop on family traditions. She called me for ideas. So, while fixing supper I've been tossing some thoughts about in my mind.

What motivates the creation of a tradition?

Traditions seem to spring up around personal and family values. Our family values discussion of ideas, stories, and family history. My sisters and I created a family newsletter we called The Leafy Alternative. I began a newsletter about raising our family. I call it The Family Messenger. My father introduced his daughters to "Table Topic Dinner Discussions". He would read excerpts from magazine and newspaper articles and ask us questions.

My husband and I began our own version of discussions. They began as "car talks" or "couch talks". These began innocently. While driving home from church we would review behavior -- what was appropriate and what wasn't. My mom would play "practice church" with her girls. So I tried it with our girls. We "practiced" sitting still on the couch for the length of the church service. The girls might have felt like hostages at first. However, they could hear and smell a meal being prepared while they waited and their Dad would visit with them. "What did you talk about in your class today?" This often led to lively and interesting discussions for us all. I would chime in from the kitchen. We credit these "talks" as the beginning of our on-going family conversations and discussions--loved by all!

Families that value music create traditions involving singing or playing instruments. The "instruments" played in my home while growing up were the radio and the record player. We spent many happy hours singing along with Joan Baez and other folk singers.

My absolutely favorite tradition is reading aloud. When I was of college age living at home between semesters I recall reading aloud the Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander to my two youngest sisters, with whom I temporarily shared a bedroom. Then I would sing a hymn to them before we went to sleep.

Holidays are tradition magnets. At birthdays we always sing, "For she's a jolly good fellow" and give three cheers, "hip-hip-hooray!". I joke that our family tradition is "holiday birthdays".

The Awful Wedded Husband

November 10, 1991 Sunday Jasmine is 6 years old and Margret is 4 years old.

I overheard Jasmine and Margret playing wedding this afternoon. Jasmine must have been the minister. I heard her say, "Do you awful wedding husband take this awful awful wedding wife...". I had to chuckle, thinking that often that description might be a good choice.

I Have to Tell You Something Mom

November 10, 1991 Sunday Margret is about 4 1/2 years old

This afternoon coming home from church I wondered aloud if Margret's enthusiasm for singing were more a burden than a joy. Steve suggested she learn the words. Then Margret said, "I have to tell you something Mom." (That's how she prefaces nearly everything she says to me). "They sing so fast I can't catch up with them." I had to laugh.

Last week I was told she contributed in Junior Sunday School. They were telling the children about Mary and Joseph. Margret piped up, "I know a song about Mary!" Then she sang, "Mary Had a Little Lamb" for the entire Jr. Sunday School congregation.

Little Baby, You Know Why You Were Born

Summer, 1991, Taylorsville cul-de-sac living

Trina is 18 months old. Jasmine is 6 years old.

Shortly before Trina was born I was asked to take over the position of manager of the medium-sized library where I had been working as the children's librarian. Until she was one this required just 30 hours a week of my time. By now I am working full time.

Trina is such a delight these days (as she ever has been). She likes putting on other people's shoes. She's tidy and will try to put things away. She said "purple" yesterday but her first word was "Mama" and then "Laura". I can fix her hair in two curly little pigtails now. She knows her body parts and will point to them on cue. She likes lap and clapping games like "How big is Trina--SO big!" and "How much do we love Trina--SO much!"

Steve and I team-teach course 12 in Sunday School now. We're doing Old Testament stories. I got out my ancient "Old Testament Stories" record album that I listened to with my sisters when we were growing up. There's a song on it that begins, "Moses, Little Moses, Little Baby You Know Why You Were Born" and then proceeds to outline Moses's role in freeing the children of Israel.

Jasmine likes me to sing that as her lullabye. I change the word "Moses" for her name and make up words about her -- whatever comes to mind at the moment. It goes something like this: "Jasmine, Little Jasmine, Little baby, you know why you were born... to make your mom and daddy glad, give some hugs and sing your songs. We're so glad that you are here--you know why you were born!"

Of Ants, Flowerlands, and Toileting Transitions

While watching Jasmine and Margret play at a park during Laura's art class and Trina was sleeping I snuck an opportunity to record some observations. It is the summer of 1991 and we are living in Taylorsville.

Earlier this spring the girls saw an ant in the kitchen. I dread ants in the kitchen so I carried on a bit about it and we all made sure it was executed for crossing over into enemy territory.

(No doubt my aversion to ants in the kitchen stemmed from our first home which was composed of cinderblocks placed on a cement slab. When food fell on the floor it was a mad dash between me, my two toddlers, and the resident ants to see who would get to it first.)

Later that day unbeknownst to me Jasmine got out a green marker and drew a big ant on the outside of the front door and wrote a big sign: NO ANTS. I told her not to do it again since ants can't read but I didn't wash it off til the rain had faded it quite a bit anyway.

Jasmine talks a lot about Flowerland where she claims she was born since her birthday is in May (April showers bring May flowers) and her name is Jasmine (an aromatic flower). She says you have to get there by riding a butterfly and if I want anything she'll bring it for me. Then she started wanting me to call her Flower and she even told her teacher.

Margret, not wanting to be left out, has discovered Roseland.

I have introduced Trina to the toilet this month (she's 18 months old) and she thinks it's a lark. Whenever she needs a diaper change we say "TOILET!" enthusiastically and march upstairs and let her position her step stool and then she sits and we all cheer and clap. On three occasions she has even wet into the toilet. I can't tell if this is intentional on her part or coincidental.

Pretend Trick-or-Treating

June 24, 1991
Monday
Salt Lake City, UT

I've driven across town to take Laura to an art class and while she's there brought Jasmine and Margret to a park. I'm watching them from the car where I sit with the door open feeling the sweet breeze and listening to bird twitters while Trina sleeps in her car seat.

I was thinking last night I ought to write but it was 1 a.m. when I went to bed. I used to keep up on kid quotes and events with a weekly generic letter but haven't done so since before Christmas and probably not since my job became full-time in September.

I spent some enjoyable moments with my girls last evening. (Steve was at work). They decided to play trick-or-treat. They got all dressed up and came pretend knocking at a pretend door at the edge of the kitchen where I was working. I had to ask them who they were for Halloween and then I dropped a handy trinket in their bag.

After three times I thought I'd make it more interesting for me by pretending I was a character in a fairy tale. First I pretended to be the witch in Hansel & Gretel. Laura didn't like this because it deviated from her script. She adjusted the game so SHE answered a door and gave "treats" at the top of the stairs. Jasmine was Sleeping Beauty carrying a doll she called a dwarf. Margret was Dorothy carrying a stuffed dog she called Toto. I gave "treats" downstairs.

I became one of the 3 Pigs--("You're not a wolf are you? I've just had a terrible time with a wolf."). Next I was Rapunzel--("I don't have a door and my granny has cut off my hair so I can't help you up and poked out my eyes so I can't see you but I'll drop you each a hanky I've stitched myself."). I became the ogre's wife from Jack and the Beanstalk--("Don't mind my husband mumbling in his sleep.").

Goldilocks was fun to do--("Look at this house I found with nobody in it and there were 3 bowls of icecream on the table that said 'eat me' and the big bowl was so hard it nearly bent the spoon and the middle-size bowl was like soup--yuk, and the little bowl was perfect so I ate it and then I came in here and sat of this big couch but it was hard and boring so I sat in that big soft chair but that was boring too so I sat in this neat little rocking chair & rockety rocked so hard I pretended it was a rocket blasting off for the moon but instead it just boke to pieces. I was just heading upstairs when you knocked. Wanna come? Oh, by the way, do you know who lives here? 3 Bears! Well, let's go--it's probably just beds upstairs anyway and I'm not tired.").

When I was Old MacDonald Toto the dog said "Bow-wow-wow" and the dwarf said, "Hi, how-are-ya?".

I became Snow White's wicked step-mother--("My what a pretty little girl you are. I hate pretty girls. I want to be the prettiest. Here, take this bright comb and put it in your long flowing hair. Oh my, another pretty little girl. I hate pretty girls. Here, come close. Let me have a close look at you. You remind me a lot of my little step-daughter who I ordered killed by my huntsman. What a dreadful memory seeing you brings to mind. Here, have a bite of this apple."). At this point I instructed Margret, who was Dorothy, to throw some pretend water on me and then I proceeded to squeel and squal and jerk and contrort lengthily as I melted.

What fun we all had.

I checked out a recording of bagpipes because Laura wondered what they sounded like and we all had a jolly time dancing and spinning and marching.

Mind Pictures

I write a letter to each of my children the day they are born or soon after. In the letters I talk about the pregnancy, where their dad and I were employed, and how wonderful it is to have them here. I may talk about how we chose their name, the delivery, and other observations. In my letter to Trina, our 4th little girl, I wrote about her sisters. Here is an exerpt.

November 22, 1989 Taylorsville, UT

Some "mind pictures" I've made in these few weeks of not working while waiting for you are of precious moments with your sisters.

I had worked right up to Trina's due date and then she presented herself eleven days late! My mother and father had come to help, stayed a week, and returned home.

I have a mind picture of Laura making up verses to "Old MacDonald had a Thanksgiving".

I noticed Jasmine and Margret dancing as a couple to nursery tunes on their toy record player.

I caught Margret dancing with her little Raggedy Ann alone in her sunlit bedroom as the radio played softly.

Just before I left the house this morning I woke Laura up. (Jasmine and Margret were already up and dressed and had eaten breakfast). Laura was to go to school at 9:05 for a combined morning and afternoon kindergarten Thanksgiving feast. She put her arms around me and said, "Mom, do me a favor?" I asked what she would like and she said, "Come home safely." What a treasure my girls are.

Of Umbrellas & Pancake Turners, Sandboxes & Showers, A Plugged Toilet, and Abandoned Chewing Gum

A month following the birth of baby girl #3 I traveled to my mother's home for help through this transition from two to three children. My sister Gwen was recently returned from Peace Corps service in Sierra Leon, Africa and her friend Bill was visiting following a world tour. Another sister, Tara, was home from college. My mother had been looking for employment for many months. As soon as I arrived with my three little ones she was offered a job. So here I was, frantically child-proofing a house, cleaning, preparing meals for eight, and thinking, "I thought this was supposed to be a vacation for me!" I would be returning to work 30 hours a week with a 45 minute commute in another month so this time was very precious to me. Of course I enjoyed visiting my family and all hands were on deck to help out.

Let the reader not be alarmed at the rapid arrival of my children. I was thirty years old when I married and all my life had wanted nothing more than to be a wife and mother. I hoped to eventually be a mother to at least six children, as I had happily grown up the oldest of six children.

May 21, 1987 Laura is 3yrs, 2mo. Jasmine will be 2yrs in nine days. Margret is just over 1 month. It is Thursday in Grand Junction, CO.

It's been raining. Laura is parading around the cul-de-sac with an umbrella. Jasmine is tagging along banging two of Mom's pancake turners together. Rain won't stop their parade.

Now Laura has taken the turners to dig in the rocks and Jasmine is trying to make off with the umbrella.

The girls' favorite toy is Mom & Dad's shower. Even over the sandbox (whose charm seems to have completely worn off). They run in and out--banging the door, squeeling, screaming, laughing. WHAT is the attraction? The echo? The small space? The magnetic door?

Jasmine managed to flush my post-partum squeeze bottle dow the toilet (with Laura's help???). Of course it was a Friday night so we had to wait 'til Monday morning to call a plumber. Six extra people in the house (Bill, Gwenda, me, Tara, the girls) all having to march through Mom and Dad's bedroom every time we needed to use their toilet. Cost: $45 to remove it. The plumber said he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it.

Laura found a rock-hard wad of gum in the neighbor's driveway. She wanted to wash it off and chew it. I persuaded her to "plant" it to see if it would grow a gum tree, bush, or flower instead.

I wonder if I sang her the song, "Kookabura sits in the old gum tree" to help my argument?

Of Strollers and "Shingle Sandwiches" & Sorting Laundry

Laura: April 21, 1986 age 2yrs21days

Mama put me and my sister Jasmine in the stroller built for two and took us on a long walk in the pleasant sunshine. We walked clear to the bank and then to the Pic-N-Save store and looked around. I wanted to ride in a store cart so Mom put me in the cart and Jasmine in the seat and the stroller up on top the cart. I felt like I was in a cage but I didn't mind because Mama gave me things to hold. Most of them we put back. On the way home we passed the library. We stopped so Mama could hold Jasmine who was getting tired and Mama forgot her bottle. I saw my very first street cleaner. It was big and orange and noisy and its brushes made dust. I explored the bushes with all the confidence of the immortals and set off toward home. Mama shouted and caught up with me when I got to the parking lot.

At home Jasmine went right to bed but not me. I would rather be outside than in bed. While Mama planted flowers in front of the house I kept quite busy. I found an old shingle. I put an iris leaf on the shingle and folded the shingle over it. Mom wondered if it was a bed for the leaf or a shingle & leaf sandwich.

Before going to bed I helped Mama fold the laundry. She had already sorted and folded it and was relaxing with a magazine. While she wasn't looking I tried on all the clothes in the basket--even if most of them were Jasmine's. Two dresses, a pinafore, and two pairs of pants--all at once! Mama helped me pull them off. Then she insisted we both go to bed.

August Full Moon & Diaper Dilemma

August 19, 1986 Laura is age 2yrs4mo

Last night there was a hot August full moon. The entire family converged at home at nearly 10 p.m.--Daddy from his work at Loveridge Machine Shop and Mama, me and Jasmine from Great Aunt Coral's house where we were tended while Mama was at work at the Whitmore Library. Jasmine and I had slept all evening so going to bed was out of the question. Mama got the idea to drag the beanbag chairs to the front yard and watch the moon. This especially delighted Jasmine. Daddy had mowed the lawn earlier so there was plenty of fresh cut grass. Alas, the moon had become lost behind a heavy cloud blanket but it still seemed almost as bright as broad day. Jasmine and I ran about the yard and played piggy-back on Daddy. This lasted nearly til midnight, at which time the grownups became party-poops.

So when I woke up at 7:30 this morning how was I to know Jasmine had already been entertaining my parents since 6? I didn't mind when Mama changed Jasmine's stinky diaper but when she came after me it was a different story. My diaper is MY diaper--part and particle to me. There are times when I simply do not want to part with it. Besides, I hadn't had sufficient opportunity to play, frolic, eat, and be hugged before this item of business. I protested. Mama swatted me which we both know never has a positive effect. In the process, Mama splashed some water on my night-shirt. I complained that I was "soaking wet" so Mama took my shirt off. By now I felt invaded, insulted, rejected, and down-right angry. I bawled. Mama gathered me up, gave me my shirt back, and soon all was forgotten.

Not the greatest beginning for a day but matters improved. I spent nearly the whole morning with Daddy. I went with him when he took his car to Midas to be worked on and inspected. He brought me home in the stroller. When we arrived at home I had no intention of coming in 'till he took me around the block at least once.

After lunch Daddy went to work and Jasmine and I put our shoes on so we could go into the yard.

Of Chocolate Chips, Caps, Cushions, and Kitchen Chairs

Monday, April 28, 1986 Laura is age 2yrs28days

I showed Dad where Mom hides the chocolate chips in the refrigerator. Mom wasn't home but my Aunt Natasha saw me spit out at least fifteen chips so I could chew the rest that were in my mouth.

Aside from Mom-- (I hid the chips in a large yogurt container at the back of the bottom shelf of the fridge. Since I was the only one who liked yogurt I figured they were safe there--which was true for several months).

At the Church Breakfast on Saturday morning I found an orange knit cap and a winter coat I wanted to wear. It didn't matter to me that they belonged to Mark Powell and he is a year older and bigger than me. I was willing to fight for them. Dad intervened and Mark got them. Then I wanted to play basketball with the big boys.

Dad stayed home with Jasmine and me on Sunday while Mom taught her lesson and sang in the choir. We both have colds and hoarse voices. Natasha came to tend us at 3:30 so Dad could get to work at the t.v. station. Natasha told Mom that I was upset when she tried to put the couch cushions back on and tidy up. Then Natasha explained to me that we were picking up so the house would look nice for mama. That satisfied me and I quit being upset.

Sunday night after Jasmine was in bed I practiced my mothering skills on a kitchen chair. I had it turned over on its back in the living room. I powdered it and I put my kitty-tennis shoes on its legs and gently kissed each shoe.

This morning my mom found me exercising with the television aerobics show.

From Baby to Bride

Is it time to relenquish my child's baby book now that she is married?

I pulled the book out to turn it over to her and thumbed through the pages for the first time in years. There are so many treasures inside! Thank goodness for scanners and digital scrapbooking. (My program of choice is the Creative Memories "Memory Manager" and "Storybook Maker"). I am going to make myself a book and give her the original (maybe by Christmas?).

Visit my Creative Memories Consultant site at www.mycmsite.com/sites/vivianm

By far my favorite parts of the book are the journal entries I made "for" her and her drawings which I had labeled at the time. When my scanner is cooperating with my computer I will scan these in. I actually used a typewriter in those days!