Ian's First Testimony

As we sat in Fast and Testimony Meeting yesterday, I realized I’d forgotten to tell Ian that he was giving the talk in Primary.

As I told him of his talk, he immediately sat forward on the pew and asked if I would help him, which I assured him I would. But, even after I reassured him, he maintained this spring-loaded posture which told me that he thought he was going to get up and give his talk now. I reminded him that he wasn’t speaking until Primary, after Sacrament Meeting. It didn’t make a difference. He still continued to look as though the pulpit was reeling him in. He wore an eager attentive look and sat right at the edge of the pew. I felt quietly prompted that Ian wanted to give his testimony like everyone else going to the pulpit and so I asked if he wanted to go up. He said yes; and so I, wanting to make certain he knew the point of speaking from the pulpit during a worship service, asked what he wanted to say.

“I am a child of God,” he whispered, taking his eyes off the pulpit for just a moment.

The warmth of the Holy Spirit washed over me so strongly that I immediately dissolved into tears. At that moment, I knew that Ian KNOWS he is a son of God. He knows that God is real and not just a pleasant story John and I keep telling him.

Once the boy got to the pulpit he did need a little reminding of what he intended to say. But oh, it is an incredible feeling to know that my child has the beginnings of a relationship with God all his own.

Shaking off the pillar of salt...

I’ve been looking for contact information for a dear friend whose email address I’d lost last winter when my computer crashed. I found her. She’s an assistant principal at a middle school in Indiana. After sending out an email to her, I made the mistake of doing internet searches for other people I knew in college. An old boyfriend, my freshman roommate, a neighbor from my junior year – all of whom have made a HUGE splash in the business world and are described in glowing terms by their employers and reporters in their field journals.

.

I was already discouraged with the lack of progress I’m making on my book and to procrastinate I’ve been reading more Nero Wolfe lately, this after having snarffed down the latest Dan Brown thriller. But this time, instead of enjoying the tale, I was left with a sense of worthlessness. I despaired a little, comparing the complexity and cleverness of these authors’ works to the pedantic style of my own writing. I’d begun to wonder how on earth I’d come up with anything that anyone would pay to read voluntarily.

.

Adding the comparison to my former peers to my existent frustration with my own work was a miserable mistake. I felt surrounded by examples of brilliant people accomplishing great things; and here I am with only four living beings to my credit. I had to fight off irrationally heavy feelings of inadequacy.

.

I made the choice to be a stay home mother – to sacrifice aspirations to success outside the home and concentrate on raising intelligent, God-fearing human beings. It’s a decision I’ve always been proud of. I’d stack my fantastic children against your patent-lawyer-partnership-within-five-years or international-man-of-business any day. But this morning, I doubted my worth. Fool that I was, in my already weakened state I still went to the edge of enemy lines and pulled faces at the enemy. Did I think I’d fair better than Lot’s wife? Of course adversity would do everything in his power to try to negate my sense of pride in the complexity and intelligence of the work to which I’ve dedicated myself.

.

When I made the decision to stay home, I knew that returning to the world of work outside the home would be horribly difficult. I knew that much of the rest of the world wouldn’t value my experience like I do. So many people feel that because a degree isn’t required to raise children, that the work mustn’t be very intelligent. The biggest failure of the feminist movement is that modern feminists, women striving for equality and greater value for women’s contributions in society, they themselves persist in denigrating the work of their stay-at-home sisters. They’ve done nothing but perpetuate the sexist lie that a career raising one’s children isn’t as prestigious as a making partner in a legal firm. Instead of beating down sexism, they joined it.

.

I was prepared to face that from the outside world. What knocked me out this morning was that I wasn’t prepared to encounter it from within myself.

.

It was a momentary stagger, however. Writing this has been cathartic. The fire is back and I’m ready for the challenge. I may not earn a paycheck for my work. It may not show up in any industry journals or qualify for accolades from my community. But it is intelligent, challenging and definitely a worthy use of my master’s degree.

.

So now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some research to do for a problem one of my children is facing. If I don’t have that action plan worked out before 4 p.m. there will be hell to pay.

No place like home.

I really LOVE our house.  We moved here in February, just in time to get a nice taste of a "mild" Minnesota winter (snow storms every other week and temperatures hovering around 5 degrees), but not soon enough to do any really fun wintery things.  I've been researching all summer, so next winter we should have a blast.

Here's our new house.  Big enough for all four children (with a basement to ride bikes and roller-blade in during Minnesota winters) and for John's dad (who now lives with us) to have a mini-apartment of his own.  Eventually we'll have my brother John with us as well. 

The main floor has a Great Room - combination kitchen, dining room and living room.  The children's favorite feature is the gas fireplace operated via remote control.  They really enjoy cosy fire at the touch of a button.  lol. 

I like being able to be with the children and prepare meals at the same time. No one has to hang out in the kitchen underfoot anymore. Well...they still do, but the thing is that they don't HAVE to in order to spend time with me.

Next to the great room and off the foyer is a mud room to die for.  The family who built the house was a hockey family and they put in these cubbies, one for each family member.  All the backpacks, coats and shoes go here so our front entryway is always presentable!  THIS was a huge selling point for the house.

The foyer is big enough to bowl in.  It's actually more extravagent than I like, but as it comes with the house, I'll live.  We still had a few boxes to put away when the photo was taken.  I think moving boxes breed in the night, like fabric sewing scraps and plastic leftover containers.  John has an office across the hall from the boxes, just inside the front door.  The previous owners had it somewhat sound proofed - which is great when John works from home during the summer.

My desk is in the Library is off the Great Room in the back of the house.  It has two walls full of south and east facing windows.  I love this room, but I need to find another place for the children's computer.  I want it in a public place, but having it in this room just encourages clutter.  We're working on a wall of bookshelves to keep everything more organized. 

This is also a good bit more bathroom than John and I need, but OH, it's beautiful. 

This, however, is just enough basement.  The food storage area is behind me as I took the photo. 

The yard isn't very big, but across the street is this lovely play park and common encircled by sidewalk and very low traffic streets - perfect for bicycling, and roller-blading and running amok with the hordes of children who come to play at the park.  Minnesotans love their outdoors and take exquisit care of their parks and trails.  It's really a great place for our ADHD enriched family, lots of things for us to spend energy on. 

.

It feels like home, now, too.  Last week I was able to navigate the main floor in the middle of the night with all the lights off.  Didn't stub my toes once. 

.

The ward is very small compared with our last ward in Southern Maryland, rather like a branch and with all the interpersonal dynamics which we remember from our last stint in a branch in Southern Indiana.  We received a very warm welcome and people have been extremely helpful in getting us settled.  I was called as the Primary President last spring, with (honestly) the world's best counselors.  I'm SO thankful for Divine Revelation and the fact that it's not my Primary, it's the Lord's.  John was called as the Executive Secretary to the Bishopric.  That keeps him busy and ensures that I check our messages frequently. 

.

SO, we're officially the Minnesota Daileys now and doing pretty well here.  Come visit - we're constantly discovering fun places to explore and of course, there's now plenty of room for guests!

Friday Night with the Fam.

Friday night is THE best time to take in a St. Paul museum. 

John and I took the children to the Minnesota Science Museum after work today.  Enough people were there to make it fun and interesting, but the crowd was sparse enough to allow us to get to EVERYTHING we wanted and stay at the exhibits for as long as we wanted.  Really great. 

My body has 14 pints of blood in it.  Airstreams can make a ball float within them even at nearly horizontal angles.  Microscopes are too cool.  Alaskan Brown Bears have claws longer than my fingers, and should not be hunted for sport.  Soil erosion demonstrations are strangely entrancing.  And, the Irish Festival across the river from the Museum looks like something John and I should do for a date night. 

Strangely enough, museums are exponentially more fun if we're not constantly forced to curb our children's tendency to shove past other patrons, hog exhibits, and run off.  The children had enough room to move about freely and took a lot of enjoyment showing John and I things they were excited about. 

We had a really great time. 

I LOVE family outings that don't end in tears, frustration and bloodshed. 

Drive-Ins, Coasters and the Next Generation...

Summer Vacation 2009: part 2  (click on the pictures to enlarge)

So, we've established that the Circus World Museum in Baraboo, Wisconsin is definitely worth a visit.  It's certainly a lot of fun. 

.

This picture rather gives me an awful sense of forboding.  Tara's 12 years old and watching my mother coach my brother through his driving lessons, gives me a taste of the trauma in store for me three years hence.  The combination of attitude, linguistic ability and faulty logic circuits ought to make for splended driving lessons.  I still remember the yelling at my father while he sat offering suggestions, well, it seemed like 'barking orders' at the time.  I dished it out, it stands to reason I'll be on the receiving end as well.  Mom's suprised that she hasn't chipped enamel from clenching her teeth while teaching bro. John to drive. 

.

We spent the week at Hittles’ relaxing. John and I read as fast as our eyes would let us. Grammy keeps a huge library of all my favorite mystery writers. I enjoyed a thoroughly entertaining and lengthy visit in the company of Nero Wolf and his confidential assistant Archie Goodwin. John settled into Thomas Covenant’s world (Stephen R. Donaldson) and barely resurfaced in time to come home. 

.

Tara borrowed a rather adorable tunic and leggings from her grandmother to wear to Church.  This must be the first time in many generations within our family that the grandmother was trendy and petite enough to have clothing of interest to her grandchild.  Both Mom and I readily agreed that we wouldn't have been caught dead in anything from our grandmothers' closets. 

.

The trouble with growing up is that nothing stays the same when you go back to visit.  I discovered that when I tried to drive through downtown Chicago from memory, during rush hour and "The Taste of Chicago" festival.  Not advisable unless you're aiming for an hour tour around most of the major Chicago sites, museums and colleges.  As a young adult I could feel my way around Chicago perfectly.  This time, a lot of the buildings/businesses I'd used as landmarks 15 years ago were gone/change.  In a huff, John took over the wheel and we navigated by compass bearings. 

.

So he didn't believe me when I gave him directions to the 49er drive in theater near Valparaiso, Indiana (even though I was right this time!).  I really enjoy taking the children to laid back public places.  Within 5 minutes of arriving in such a place, they've invariably found friends to play with, an alternate source of snacks (in case ours run out or often just for variety), and several amusements upon which to waste our money (like we EVER give in).  We didn't bring enough blankets.  It being July and Indiana, it didn't honestly occure to us that the temperature would drop significantly after dark.  It did any way.  The movie was forgetable, but we had a great time anyway. 

.

.

Thursday, we took the girls and Uncle John to Six Flags Great America to give Emma & Kay their first taste of roller coasters. We started with a moderate one, which they loved. Emma warmed up to the more thrilling ones, but Kay never did. She really enjoyed the carnival type rides. Tara enjoyed going on the coasters with Uncle John to be silly with. 

.

Emma and Kay are already talking about next year, but I think we might wait a further year. Amusement parks are so insanely expensive that my frugal Stoelting sensibilities can hardly stand it. It's difficult to satisfy everyone as a group of six, but given my children's absent-mindedness, there's NO WAY I can turn them loose in the park in pairs (like my parents used to do with us) until they are quite a bit older.  What I do have to remember to budget for, is the line-bypass thingy. It is absurdly priced, but we broke down and got one after standing in our first line with Kay and her ADHD.  Standing imobile in those cattle corrals is almost physically painful for her and Emma. Kay was near break-down after only 20 minutes.  That pass really saved the day and allowed us to enjoy a LOT of rides. 

.

to be continued...

We fit right in at the circus…

Summer Vacation 2009: part 1

We loaded the children, the luggage, the snacks and the entertainment for a week-long trip to my mother and step-father's house in Northwest Indiana. I don't think the early pioneers packed as much as we did, and they traveled three times as far.

The car was clean, so we skipped our usual pre-travel tirade and substituted it for an impromptu at-the-hotel tirade when we discovered all the items the children had left behind. Ian-the-boy got into the car without a shoe to his name, despite his assurances to the contrary as we were pulling out of the driveway. Tara left behind all of her Sunday clothes, save her blouse and all of the casual clothes we'd just purchased for her earlier that day. We raided a Walmart and Grammy's closet for suitable substitutes for both children. Thank goodness Grammy is petite.

We split our outbound journey and spent the first night on the outskirts of the Wisconsin Dells. I was keen to show the children the Circus World Museum in Baraboo and John was keen to let me. We learned several important things at Circus World.

The best way to ride a unicycle is to have it bolted to the ground. Similarly, for tight-rope walking it helps if the rope is a pipe. Padded mats are always useful (but we knew that already).


The animal trainer NEVER turns his back on the tiger. Tigers get really interested in visiting toddlers when the crowd begins to disperse. Young tigers have a shorter attention span than my children (didn't think that was possible), but consequently, tiger trainers have more patience than mothers (they're better paid, too).

Circus parade carts are even more beautiful than I remember.



Watching my children ride a carousel is yet another addition to the long list of things that make me cry happy tears.

And, finally, it's the little things like fun-house mirrors... (John was just as silly as the children.)



...and merry-go-rounds that make a vacation really fun.

(They'd never seen one of these before. Who'd have thought I'd have to teach my children all the tricks to riding a merry-go-round. John sat sneaking pictures. Every time I looked up, he was just lolling about.)



to be continued...

Un-Sandbagging

John and I spent most of Saturday in Moorhead, MN area helping remove thousands of the sandbags in place to control flooding at the beginning of the month. We'd watched the media coverage of the flooding when volunteers put an estimated 3.5 million 40 lb sandbags in place to save homes and businesses from ruin when the Red River crested in early April. It worked out to about 40 miles of sandbags, quite a lot of them in rings around private houses to keep them from flooding. We'd missed the call to help then, so we weren't about to miss out this time. We got up at 3:00 a.m. to meet at the Church at 4:00 and carpool to be in place for work by 8:00 a.m.

A Lutheran volunteer association ran the clean-up effort last weekend. More than 300 Mormons came from all around Minnesota to help hundreds of other people start to dismantle the sandbag walls. I was one of very few woman on-site. But, always having been able to hold my own in most grunt labor, I had no qualms about signing on this time. I'd forgotten I'm no longer 20-something nor physically fit.

Our task was to deconstruct those sodden sandbag walls (like in the picture -which is not us, I'm afraid) from around the houses lining the river and shift the bags to the street (like the picture below) for heavy machine removal. It was the equivalent of lifting my son Ian, over and over, hour upon hour, without the benefit of bracing the weight on my hip (as one does with a child). I managed to keep a decent pace all morning, but by lunchtime my biceps and glute' muscles burned. One charming Mrs. Homeowner cooked us a fabulous hot lunch and I ate it standing for fear that if I sat down I'd not get back up again. Thank goodness we didn't have to eat those MREs. Bleh.

After four hours, we cleared two houses of about 5,000 sandbags and enjoyed each other's company very much. After Mrs. Homeowner's marvelous lunch, we moved on to another house that had 12,000 sandbags around it. It sat at a lower level than the others, and the sandbags hadn't been able to prevent flooding. In fact, it seemed that the makeshift wall had even kept the water from receeding as quickly as it could have and the damage to the house was heartbreaking.

That batch of sandbags was soaking wet and therefore felt twice as heavy and twice as muddy as the bunch we'd done that morning. About 30 of us stood nearly sholder to sholder to hand them down a human line to the street, so I didn't even have to do the lifting I'd done all morning (loading bags into carts). Even so, after about an hour, I couldn't keep up with the men any more. It was all upper body bicep work and I just couldn't keep the pace or the weight. Feeling disgruntled and foolish, I betook my soggy muddy self out of the way to join another woman on the tailgate of the supervisor's truck and drowned my sorrows with bottled water. John kept up the pace for an hour longer and then stopped when he felt his back start to twinge. Half an hour after that, about 100 reinforcements arrived, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Our driver was also worn out by then and we left about 2:30 p.m. to head for home. When we left, the reinforcements had nearly cleared that house, all within an hour of getting there.

The last time I was that wet was the summer I detassled corn as a young teenager, but I've NEVER been that filthy. It would quite easily qualify as an episode of Dirty Jobs. Completely covered in mud. Both of us. Through four layers of clothing. And, our faces were sunburnt. They still smart a little today.

We could hardly move yesterday, but the experience was well worth it.

In other news... As I went to wash the work clothes yesterday evening, the washer broke. *sigh* Evidently (from the research I did this morning), one only gets about 5 years out of a Kenmore HE3 front load washer before they die. Thats an absurdly short amount of time for such an expensive washer. I LOVED that machine. The repairman comes tomorrow, if he shows me an estimate of anything greater that a couple hundred, I can't vouch for the sanity of my reply.