A Musing Mother 6

The best strategy is to include a photo of the Taylor Clan right here, like one I might send out for Christmas cards. But that would be operating under the assumption that I had Christmas cards made  this year. Or that I actually organized a photo shoot. Which I did, by the way. It was last night. We missed it. One of the Taylor Clan is in San Francisco at the BYU Bowl game. She left Christmas day in the early evening to be a part of the festivities. I believe this is her first opportunity to see San Francisco. I hope she's having a blast. Marching band has been a great segue for her to see other cities and parts of the country. I met up with my children's jr. high counselor at Wal-Mart a couple of days before Christmas. He's a young father and was herding cats  three small children. I caught him up on what the kids are doing. I got to Alyssa and told him she'd be leaving on Christmas to be a part of the college band in San Francisco. He thought that was abominable and

I'm ruining the surprise right now. For Christmas this year, I am giving my husband the gift of a clean house. One might muse that perhaps I should be giving that gift every day of the year. That is a partial plan. But the truth is that the only day we really get to clean is on Saturdays. Saturdays have so many other things to do on them like basketball games, football games, Costco and grocery store trips, etc., etc. When we take a weekend trip to the cabin or someplace else, the house cleaning is skipped for that week. My dad told me that he never saw his mother clean the house. She just kept it clean. She always had a clean house when I went to her home. I've also heard if you clean as you go, you don't have to clean so hard. I just cleaned as I walked from the front door to the kitchen sink. I took a detour to the living room and picked up three pillows, one blanket, hung up two backpacks in the entryway then continued eastward. I stopped to snatch up one quarter, a Q-t

It's really cold. My Mormon Assault Vehicle (minivan) has had to have the battery jumped five times in the past two weeks. This morning was another of those mornings. It was running when Scott was ready to take Jaxon to school. He went to start his own car again and it wouldn't turn over. He took Jaxon to school in my MAV. He returned to find the battery cables on his car were loose from jumping my car so often. We were both running late for work because of the battery issues. Got an email from a colleague. His house is flooded. Took time to text him back. Finally left for work. I was already 8 minutes late. My work is two miles from my house, almost a straight shot from home. I pulled over as a police car passed me. Then another. Then a fire truck with lights blazing. Then another. Called Scott to make sure he was okay. He hadn't seen anything but hoped it wasn't at the elementary school. I flipped around and retraced my path. I was overtaken by two more fire trucks. I

My 13 year old son is proudly flaunting his growth spurt. I am startled daily by his testosterone-laden voice, alarmed that we have an intruder.  Tonight I stood at the counter, doodling as he lamented that in 14 hours, he would be scarred. For life. His innocence (dramatic pause for effect) . .  Lost. Forever. I continued doodling while he expressed how tragic the rest of his existence would be unless I revoked my signature on the permission form. Finally, my doodling complete, I held up my finished product and announced, "Son, I respect you so much that I've drawn a diagram so you won't be so tragically scarred tomorrow." I held it up for him to see. He clutched his eyes, screamed something about being blinded and ran to his room. I do pity the boy. I was just doodling t's and q's.

Writing on my blog is like coming home. I opened the page, saw my moniker, and my entire being sighed and released all kinds of tension. Where in the world have I been hiding? I've forgotten to prioritize based on what's really important. I've allowed others' expectations dictate how I've been spending my time. Not important people. Not people that can ever be satisfied. People who are miserable and validate themselves in nonconstructive ways. I fell into a hole. It's been all about work. I kept believing things would ease up, it would get easier, better, or whatever. But for reasons I couldn't understand, I gave my all and then stretched further than I could and still could not satisfy or please. I had a particularly clarifying moment in the past week. I had a huge project that was originally assigned to two people. Somehow it was whittled down to just me. I've spent hour upon hour upon hour hammering the details, arranging, organizing, and getting thin