thank you notes

I made Abby write a thank you note to her teacher, then she caught the bug and wanted to write thank you notes to all her friends. She also wrote one to Sam, and to her Dad. She then said to me, "I want to write you a thank you note, but I don't know what for..."

Is that when I laugh or cry?

(I've chosen fatigue/fighting bitterness. Are you for real? You can't think of anything to thank me for? And trying not to read anything into it past a seven-year old.)

sad face

Abby came out of her last day of school in major tears. Her favorite aide is retiring, and she was devastated. She cried most of the way home. I love that she feels so deeply.

listening

While I was trying to get Sunday dinner together, a rough time, Sam instructed me to hold still so he could listen. We both stood very still for a few minutes; he cupped his hand around his ear, listening.

"I did hear the Spirit." he announced.

What does one say next? "Oh!" I replied. "What did it say?"

He had to think about that a long time. He did a lot of this thinking while also trying to talk. Adults can barely do this. He did  not succeed. I finally  pieced together his message.

Apparently, the Spirit told him that the cars we had recently bought at the store, that were rewards for nights that he stayed in his bed all night, were actually not rewards, and he could have them right now. "They are not for sleeps." he claimed.

"Really?" I challenged. "Because I think the Spirit told you that you should listen to your mom and daddy, and that when you sleep through the night it makes them so happy, and these trucks are for sleeps."

"Yeah. He did say that." he admitted.


But you know what? That was the turning point of years of his poor sleeping. And he's slept through the night almost every night since. So maybe it was the Spirit. But you can't blame a boy for trying. And I was grateful to hear that he was listening in Sharing Time.

February

This is the month where we, meaning me and my children, develop skills. Failure is not an option this month, at least, I hope not.

My mom (and her friend) wrote a set of piano books 25 years ago that still sell. I help in the distribution. We are desperately in need (I think) of a new website. I am going to do that this month, including learning how to do that.

E is going to start piano lessons again, and progress.

A is going to work on reading, and practice every day.

S is going to learn to use the potty, and be diaper free (while awake) by the end of the month.

Do you see why overall failure is not an option? Daily setbacks, here we come.

month 1

I wanted to spend some serious time organizing my house in January. I spent some. I wanted to do some home improvement projects that would require me to remember some "handy" skills I used to have. I hung one picture. I wanted to do some deep cleaning. I did none.

I intended to just do two or three tasks a week. Never did I do more than one. Some weeks were less.

In other words, January was a failure in terms of "accomplishing" goals.

One of the reasons I failed was that midway through the month, I stopped believing in my goal. I wondered if my goal wasn't set because the world says I should declutter and be clean, and maybe that wasn't what the Lord wanted me to be focusing on right now. I spent some time considering what I should be focusing on.

I spent a lot of time wondering if I would ever feel normal again, and what feeling normal was. For me, for a long time, I've had a general sense that I'm pretty much a doing a mediocre job on everything, except that assessment value is probably just in my head, and I guess I'm doing okay - trust me, it's a hard head space to live in.

I spent a lot of the month facing my lifelong weaknesses: a tendency to procrastinate any thing that lacks a deadline (cleaning anyone?), often hiding in a book (oh, so virtuous is reading) to avoid other less pleasant tasks (like phone calls or parenting), and not prioritizing cleaning up (who saw my room growing up? oh yeah, no one, because my parents ignored the mess if I kept the door closed).

And I spent a lot of the last week considering where to go in February, what goals to set, and how to improve. Because I want to be mindfully better at the end of the year.

admidst the chaos

Any one who has visited my house in the last 8 years knows that it is often a mess. I cannot keep on top of it, and if you ask my parents, I couldn't do it as a teenager either.

It was a particularly... I mean, a regularly messy house two Sundays ago. My husband was getting ready to bring dinner to some friends who were feeling sick. "Do you remember their house number?" he asked.

As I walked to my phone to look up the information, I thought: you were just there twice yesterday to drop and pick up our daughter for a birthday party... wait...

I remembered the party invitation in the middle of the floor that I'd walked over at least 10 times in the last few hours. I stopped moving, looked down, turned my head, and read him the address.

I still can't decide whether it was an epic success or epic failure.

week 2

Is it even worth mentioning what my goals were for week 2? Because they didn't get done.

Instead I ... helped the kids go outside in what may possibly be the only snow they get this year (all 1/4 inch of it). I sorted through some clothes. I taught E how to clean the bathroom sinks. I made multiple visits to the "candy store" (long story). I went grocery shopping. I went visiting teaching. I was visit taught. I watched other people's children.

I did get some longer term clean up done, but I can't remember what it was.

Week two was about failing in my organization goals.

But, is this where the glory comes in? I don't feel like a failure, I just feel like as last week unfolded, different things needed to be prioritized.