My existence consists entirely of imperfect days. Tasks unaccomplished, patience lost, temptations yielded to. But each day there are divine moments when I forgive myself for failing to live up to my expectations.

My sister has this quote on her blog.

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
Thornton Wilder

I am a 4/5 stay-at-home mom.  That means, four out of the five days of the work-week I stay at home.  On Mondays I go to work. 

I love staying at home.  It suits my lazy tendencies and my inability to be showered and dressed before 9:00am.   That is not to say that motherhood is for the lazy, but motherhood and full-time employment must require great stamina.   I am blessed and grateful to not be employed full-time. 

What I am getting at though, is that although I love the joys of rearing my children, sometimes a good day of work does me good.  Today was a good day of work.  The great satisfactions that come from my job most often come from the relationships I have with my patients and co-workers.   Today though, I left work feeling fulfilled because of three conversations I had. 

1.  I’ve noticed a little bird flying around my backyard that I had never seen before.  He had a bright yellow chest and he was beautiful.  (I say “he” because aren’t the males usually the beautiful ones?)  Today at work I learned the name of that little bird, the Western Tanager.  Apparently these birds are from Colorado and although they are not local to the Boise area, this spring they have been spotted everywhere.  I suppose I could have learned this on Google, but learning something from another human being is much more enriching.

2.  Suzy is the lady who cleans our office.  She is an expert gardener and gives me all kinds of advice and much needed encouragement.  Today I felt a huge relief to learn that she has a clover problem in her garden too.  And so does Loretta, another co-worker/ fellow gardener.  Often even small obstacles in life are best endured when they are shared. 

3.  Dr. E told me about a place in Emmett that sells un-pasteurized milk.  I’d been wondering if there was a place locally that sold raw milk for cheese making.  I’ll let you know if I get around to cheese making.  After Dr. E told me about how delicious this milk is, my patient told me that he can taste “energy” in products that come from “happy” animals.  (Free-range animals, ya know the ones I’m so passionate about.) Albeit a little extreme, I thought that was a pretty interesting idea.

I’m curious, do you work? Do you enjoy it? What do you enjoy about it?

Last week Cameron graduated from preschool.  I used to think preschool graduations were ridiculous.  What is to be congratulated about completing such a program?  But then as I watched him sing songs during the ceremony about apple seeds and setting goals I got a little weepy.  It is sort of a right of passage.  He’s growin’ up!

He won the award in his class for the best writing.  What that doesn’t tell you is that he is also the slowest writer, and after the other kids have completed their worksheets he remained at the table laboring over his alphabet.  Bless his little perfectionist heart.

Speaking of his little heart, he has his first crush.  A cute little girl with freckles and who is the only girl in his preschool who isn’t taller than he.  I was not prepared for this.  He talks about her with that dreamy look in his eye. He recently told Richard “Dad, today at school Macey was wearing a red shirt with sparkles.  And it was tight.”  I’m hoping that this was a reflection of his own obsession with tight clothing (namely his insistance that his pajamas be tight) and not a physical attraction from a chemical reaction in his little five-year-old body. 

Lastly, he has developed a searing conscience.  Whenever he is caught being naughty he bursts into tears and wails “I am such a bad boy!.”  I am hoping this isn’t the result of a complex he developed from too severe discipline and rather a tactic to avoid discipline altogether by demonstrating excessive guilt.  Either way, yesterday I couldn’t resist laughing.  Each day while Eli takes a nap Cameron has a “rest” on his bed.  He has a little clock on his headboard and I tell him where the long hand has to be for him to get up.  Yesterday after the period of time passed impossibly too quickly he brought the clock to me.  Sure enough, the long hand was at the “3”.  I was confused for a moment and then it occurred to me that he had discovered how to move the hands of the clock to set the time.  I asked him about this and the dramatic confession ensued, tears and all.

You might have read the book The Bonds that Make Us Free by C. Terry Warner, it is a favorite amongst my family members.  I think we each dabble in its wisdom periodically.  If you have read it, you will recognize this anecdote as a classic case of self-betrayal.  If you haven’t read it, perhaps you will want to after reading what it has done for me.  And even if this is the only time I succeed, the only argument averted (and I pray it won’t be) it was worth reading.

Last night I made Richard’s favorite dessert.  He had to eat it in a hurry because of a church meeting he had to go to.  As he walked out the door he commented that he looked forward to a second helping of dessert and an episode of The Commish when he returned.  I looked at him askance, and asked if he meant that he wanted me to have that all set up for him.  He smiled and said “That would be nice.”  I made a mental note to do so.

At some point in the next hour I started to doubt whether I was going to be able to execute his wishes.  Or if I even wanted to. It might have been during Eli’s haircut, or Miriam’s bath, or the dinner dishes or while I folded laundry.  Then came the moment of truth, the moment of self-deception and my thoughts went like this.

You know, he has some nerve, asking me to make sure everything is ready for him to sit down and relax.  What would be nice would be if he would come home and take out the garbage, help with the dishes and serve me a second helping of dessert.  He didn’t even say thank-you for making his favorite dessert in the first place.  Doesn’t he realize everything that has to be done during this time of night?  Cleaning up the messy kitchen and getting three children ready for bed? He’ll be lucky if I even get that far.  I’m exhausted, I’ve been taking care of these kids all day, and now I have to do bedtime routine by myself, again.  He should be around for bedtime routine more often.  He should tell me to take it easy while he’s gone and he’ll take care of things when he gets home…

And so on.  I’m pretty justified don’t you think? 

Luckily, having read and somewhat understood the idea of self-betrayal, I recognized it when it showed its ugly face in my heart.  I finished my tasks quickly and without further complaint.  I didn’t quite get things ready the way Richard had imagined, but at least when he returned I was pleasant and not bitter.

I don’t tell this story to make myself out to be a Saint.  Richard would likely tell you that two out of three times I wouldn’t recognize self-deception or else I would ignore it and allow the anger to boil.  He has certainly dealt with the bitter Jo.  But I tell you because it is a wonderful concept that can heal and help relationships and I want to share. 

In a nutshell, self-betrayal is defending our actions when we make the choice not to do what our heart and conscience told us we should.  But read the book.  And then read it again.  It is full of truth and insight.

This morning as Richard left for work he asked Cameron to be helpful and good today for Mom, since she still wasn’t feeling great.  Cameron replied:

“Okay Dad, I’ll get a handle on her.”

Richard could leave in peace, knowing I was in capable hands. 

I’ve been ill today.  Mother-in-law to the rescue whisked away my children so I could feel delirious in a quiet home. 

After watching a really heavy movie,  and dwelling on the Holocaust, I needed a distraction.  (What I am about to say after what I just said, might make me one of the most shallow people you know.)

Finally able to sit upright without the room spinning,  I looked on a favorite blog of mine and lo and behold I had been featured.   It is every bloggers dream.  Or, well it was mine at least.  I sent the pictures to the blog’s host weeks ago, and after not seeing them posted I determined it was unworthy. 

You can check it out, it’s nothing new to you, just the dresser I already posted about on here.  But- it is a fun blog to look at so give it a shot if you are into DIY-furniture makeover-home improvements.  It is a very satisfying blog because it highlights the best part of any project, the before and after photos.

Meanwhile, I think I will resume the fetal position and hopefully fall asleep.

One great pleasure of parenthood is introducing your chidlren to the music that you listened to as a kid.  And sometimes when doing so you are delighted to learn the actual names and lyrics of songs that you thought you knew back when.  This can provide great entertainment as in the following example. 

Richard and I both grew up listening and dancing to the Beach Boys.  Before our vacation he downloaded their greatest hits and we played them on the iPod on our way to Cascade. 

Richard: “Put on Barbara Ann.”
song begins
Jo:  “I didn’t know this was called Barbara Ann.  That’s a weird name for a song like this.”
Richard (with puzzled expression): “That is what they are saying. ‘Barbara Ann.'”
Jo: (totally cracking up): “You mean they aren’t saying Bop-a-ram?”

Good times.

Last Saturday I watched and listened as Richard sang along with the BB in falsetto while the boys did their best air guitar.  It was classic.  The kind of thing family home videos are made of.  But I forgot to get out the camera.

Ha! Some break! Go ahead and laugh, sneer, roll your eyes, remove me from your google reader. 

But I just can’t stop these blog posts from composing themselves in my head as I lay in bed at night.  In fact, just now those words typed themselves behind my eyelids.  So I removed myself from my bed and here I am. 

The truth is I have a new approach to blogging.  A non-obligatory, post-as-I-please approach.  I am relieving myself of the pressure I manufactured as I imagined my readers waiting with bated breath for my next post.  It seemed necessary to post as often as possible.

Since we all know that was not the case, that pressure was the product of a delusioned mind, it was pretty easy to relinquish. 

So I’m back, but ready to blog at will.  As much or as little as I darn well please.  

Home again  home again.  We had a nice vacation.  We rented a cabin in Cascade Idaho for five days four nights.  You can rent it too if you like, see here.  The owners were great to work with and I believe in patronizing businesses that provide quality service, so there is my piece on that.

We were lazy, slept late and took afternoon naps.  I completed a 1000 pieced puzzle.  Cameron got his first sliver which was a catastrophic event.  We had picnics on the beach.  Misha was the only one brave enough to get in the lake but she retrieved countless sticks from its chilly waters.  We had a campfire and made smores.  Eli devoured them.  Miriam was out of sorts and did not sleep well.  (Hence the naps.)  We ate dinner on t.v. trays to honor the 60’s/70’s theme of the cabin.  Cameron and Eli made pinecone soup.   Misha never ran away.  I took the boys on a long walk and lost my way for a bit.  Cameron will tell you an exaggerated version of that story should you have the time commitment to hear it. 

It is always hard to return from a vacation, even when you are anxious to be home again.  And of course  I will be doing laundry and cleaning up sand all week.  Oh the sand…