Endings and Beginnings

It rained yesterday.

It's been a hot, dry summer, but yesterday was cool and wet.

There was a strange feeling in the house before Brent went to work in the morning. Right after early morning scripture study with the older kids, he read them a fresh email: Motorola/Google will be shutting down 1/3 of their sites. 4000+ lay-off-ees will be notified in the next two days.

Kid worries filled the air at the breakfast table...Will Motorola lay YOU off? Is that the same as firing? Will your work fire you, Dad? Will we have to move? Will I ever see Jennifer again? Will you have to give your phone back?

Brent and I combated their questions and reassured them that whatever happens...All is well. We love the Lord. He has guided us to where we are today. He will continue to guide us on whatever path is best for our family in the future.

Then Brent made his round of kisses and went off to work. Brent has survived many lay-offs over the years. But he had a different feeling about this one. I wondered if a salad and a peanut butter sandwich was good enough for a potential last Motorolan lunch. It wasn't very glamorous.

But then it didn't need to be. Brent's automatic "On my way home." chime sounded on my Droid Razr at 9:40 am. A few minutes later he called to confirm that this time his name was indeed on The List.

The kids were playing a game in the basement. MaryAnn was taking a nap.

So I sat on the front porch breathing in the rain...waiting to welcome Brent home...and embrace the man I love to have walking by my side through the ups and downs of life.

Endings are hard.

When the kids saw Dad home early with a big box in hand, the little ones scrambled to his side with excitement. But the big ones knew. "You lost your job Dad?" I preferred to hear the younger questions: "Did you bring us a present?" "Is that box the package they gave you?" (because we had explained a bit about severance packages during the breakfast table extravaganza).

We found treasures in the box...among books and important papers was lots of child art, one of Diggy's hand-crafted ships made of paper and duct tape, a tin of Motorola mints to evenly distribute, old Father's Day cards...

and my favorite:

Tears came.

Thoughtful Allison, sensing the tender mood and knowing how sad it is to lose something, brought me a piece of paper and asked me to help her spell, "Dad...I am sorry you lost your job. Love, Allison." She then carefully transferred the message onto fancier paper...once for herself...and again for Cienna to sign.

From little people comes such big comfort.

After a day of not quite knowing what to do with ourselves, we held our usual Monday evening Family Night. It was Cienna's turn to say the prayer that would open the meeting. As a three-year-old, her prayers typically consist solely of just a few "I'm thankful fors..." Hearing her combine this with Kenny's solemn reminder to pray for Dad sounded something like this: "Dear Heavenly Father...We're thankful that Dad lost his job. We're thankful that Dad gets to stay home with us. We're thankful that Dad doesn't have to go to work anymore. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen."

We laughed. Then, with tears of joy, I shared how grateful I am for how hard Brent has worked to provide for our family for so many years. And how grateful I feel that we, since the beginning of our marriage, have listened to our church leaders' counsel to avoid debt, live within our means, and save for the future.

Besides our mortgage, we have no debt. We're frugal folks (looks like I won't have to go curtain shopping anytime soon...shucks). And for years, we've been tucking $$ away for a rainy day. So, it can rain and we can still provide for ourselves. All is well.

We said, "bittersweet" a lot yesterday. Change is in the air. And change can be good.


I will always remember that it rained yesterday.

It felt heavy and light at the same time...solemn and refreshing, uncertain and hopeful.

What beginnings will come because of this ending?

MaryAnn Memories

These little ones grow so fast I can hardly stand it. 

So I hereby declare that some memories be recorded before time marches onward...lest MaryAnn's brain keeps developing and I forget a few of the adorable and unique things that make MaryAnn so precious right this very minute.

Like...she's sleeping right this very minute (which makes babies extra precious, no?). Otherwise I would not have the luxury of recording anything at all because MaryAnn adores the exact same buttons, mice, and cords that I like. (Except she has the magical ability to erase documents, uninstall programs, and shut down entire systems with one pound of the fist...remarkable.) 

When MaryAnn meets someone new, they often comment about her eyebrows (conveniently pictured below). She's very curious and very focused. She means business. And she can scream/screech louder than the loudest decibel level ever uttered under our roof (which is super loud according to recent visitors) if unsolicited sibling attention approaches...or when she wants another bite of spaghetti. 

MaryAnn also speaks English now. She chants "Dada, Dada" every time the front door opens. She cries "Mama, Mama" whenever she's done having her personal space invaded. She says "ball" whenever she sees one. She says "ba-bye" and accurately inserts an appropriate little wave. She raises her eyebrows and says "Wow" when a sibling excitedly runs up to share an impressive random tidbit...like "Guess how many mosquito bites I have on my right leg?...Nope. 12."

The "Wow!" face:

And her first recognizable word combo was, "Maa-um. mm-dun." because it's one of the most frequently yelled phrases here at la Casa de Smiths...at least until Older Sister builds up the confidence to wipe herself after spending time here:

Oh yeah...and MaryAnn says "bum" too. We're so proud. 

MaryAnn's middle bottom two teeth came in crooked. After 5 kids with straight middle bottom teeth, her unique crookedness deserves special mention. It's adorable enough to be forever documented in cyberspace. (And I know the average blog browser won't be able to tell just how cute those two teeth are in the above picture. But my Mother Eye can tell...and my Mother Memory will have a nice gleeful flashback when my frail hands go perusing through old blog posts in fifty years.)  

At least one of those teeth is a sweet one...

MaryAnn pulls her own weight regarding Sibling Entertainment. I should pay her.

When we went to Six Flags recently, we expected MaryAnn to have a sensory overload too-many-strange-sounds-and-strange-people-and-take-me-as-far-away-from-Bugs-Bunny-as-I-can-get type reaction like Cienna did at her age (and for many years after)...but MaryAnn soaked all the excitement right in. It energized her.  

She happily went on all the kiddy rides (often with Kirsten at her side instead of Mom) and screamed only when I had to peel her away from the steering wheel and move her on to the boats.

Brains-wise...I love the passion of this spongey stage...MaryAnn's developed senses now work together to absorb everything, her growing memory retains it, and her limited thinking capacity naively (but admirably) prioritizes every new experience as perhaps the most important thing she could possibly know...and so she lives and breathes to re-enact life around her...with intense purpose. Sitting very still and observing her innocent zest for life is often more rejuvenating than finding quiet time by myself somewhere. Such a treat.   

MaryAnn especially finds genuine joy with:

flip flops 

lids
                                                         
spatulas
                                    

and waving.

MaryAnn feels a special purpose in life when she's permitted to go outside, sit on the front steps, and wave at every car/pedestrian passing by.

People wave back.

Taking the Troops to the Dentist

 

It was that time of year again…

and after a few years of mothering, I’ve learned a few things…one of which is that taking our young kids, especially all 6 of them while Brent is MIA (aka at work earning the dough to feed and house the troops), to a no-touching-no-screaming-no-wiggling place for more than a few minutes is pure torture…for all involved parties.

Typically, a visit to the dentist would qualify as such a place (especially since it also includes little mouths opening wide for a very long time while someone pokes at them with sharp tools).

Except… 

We have The Coolest Teeth-Cleaning-Lady on the planet!!

She invites us all to invade her space while she shines up our teeth.

As the children and I switch in and out of the roller coaster seat, small hands trade control over Mr. Thirsty and Mr. Vacuum. It’s very entertaining. (Luckily, MaryAnn missed some of the excitement because she napped in the stroller during my turn.)

Am I lucky, or what?

Definitely worth blogging about.

And if any of my children (or all of them) become a dental hygienist in the future, I won’t be surprised…we’ve spent ample time with an inspiring one.

Good-bye Pink Bathroom

It happened again…and maybe for the last time…at least for awhile.
Brent mentioned something a couple of months ago about starting the remodel on the one room left un-re-done since we bought our 1965 home 5 years ago…

The Pink Bathroom.

And when Brent mentions something about tearing walls down, it’s typically not an ‘I’ll-get-to-it-sometime-in-the-next-few-years’ comment. It’s a ‘hammers-will-start-flying-in-just-a-few-hours-Honey’ type remark.
And they did.

Demolition is like a big party around here. (And Kirsti took most of these pictures…I’m going to hand her the camera more often.)

But because Brent is a fast mover (Have I ever told the story about how he kissed me before we had our first date…and uttered the ‘M-word’ a couple of weeks after our first date? (M-word = ‘Marriage’ for all the non-Utahns.) No? Ahh…future post. We have such a cool love story.) I hardly had a chance to say good-bye to Pink Bathroom. *tear*
All I can do now is reminisce the life lessons Pink Bathroom taught me.
Lesson 1. Potty training is way more fun when you have a Pink Bathroom. Who wouldn’t want to take time out of their busy play projects to tinkle in a pink toilet in a Pink Bathroom?
Lesson 2. Ditto #1 with bath time…because Pink Bathroom also had a pink tub.
Lesson 3. My husband is darn cute when he’s wearing a tool belt (but I already knew that)…

or when he’s surrounded by kids wearing them (I guess I knew that already, too…but it sure was fun to witness it again around here).

Lesson 4. When my child spills red fingernail polish all over the bathroom floor some day, I will be patient and forgiving. Because I did exactly that all over Pink Bathroom’s pink little 1960s square-inch tiles. I accidentally dropped the bottle about a year ago and it shattered everywhere. Ooops. It stayed for several days because we were out of nail polish remover and it took me multiple shopping trips to remember Pink Bathroom’s messy floor while I was bustling around for milk and eggs. Most of it came out nicely. But every time I stomped across the remaining red marks in the cracks, important mental notes ran through my mind: “Breathe deeply when things slip through my child’s little fingers. It’s normal to drop things that splatter a blood-like substance all over the place. It’s just a little mess. And it’s just a bathroom floor.” I’m pretty prepared for the future now.   
Lesson 5. The interior design part of my brain is underdeveloped…still. Because this is the last (as opposed to the first) room we’ve redone in this house and this is the 3rd (as opposed to the 1st) home we’ve remodeled, one would think I could confidently march into the home fashions isle and pick dazzling decor with a gleeful grin on my face…but no.
I’m very plain. Most of our windows don’t have curtains hanging and I hardly notice. Anything in my wardrobe that is remotely stylish is a hand-me-down or came from my mother-in-law or both…she’s awesome…But the point is: I’m not wired to notice fashion. I simply don’t pay much attention to it. I daydream about how brains are wired and what motivates my kids to eat their dinner (or not). Fantasizing about the perfect centerpiece or the latest and greatest hair accessories?? Not so much. It’s just not me. Maybe I should contract out those details to my many stylish friends…oh wait…I’m also cheap…(actually frugal…it sounds so much nicer)…But my dilemma when Brent and the kids started scraping off the pink wall tiles in Pink Bathroom is obvious isn’t it? Crucial design decisions were on the horizon…and that’s out of my comfort zone…which makes me grumpy.
So, with Pink Bathroom in disarray, we (kids and all) jumped into the van to head to the hardware store. Brent stayed in the van with napping children (I almost got to stay, but the fakeness in my snore was easily detected) and I had the tedious job of painfully staring at samples of sinks, countertops, paint colors, and toilet paper holders while the other half of the kids bounced in and out of all the shower samples…begging for me to choose the tub with a handy door on the side for entry and a seat at each end for convenient sit-down bathing (because it reminded them of the Rosey Teacups ride at Great America…Perfect). I nearly went for it because I doubted that my choice would be much better…and a child’s innocent pickings are always cute. 
By the time Brent cheerfully appeared with another cartful of kids to ask my final opinion, I growled and grimaced…and we picked white stuff…and cream…done. **big sigh** 
(Side note: I may not know much about color mixing, but I do know that even adult brains are changeable. Neuroplasticity is the scientific term..what a cool word…it just fills me with delightful chills. But it basically means I still have time to cultivate my design neurons…if I put forth the effort…hmm…stay tuned.)
Lesson 6. Painting Parties are kind of fun (kind of being the key words there). I think MaryAnn is sad that her nap made her miss it.

Lesson 7. It’s really hard to re-wire our brains (hence Lesson #5). So, we hear, “…in the Pink, I mean the White Bathroom” many times a day…and hopefully forever because even though Brent and the kids did a fabulous job modernizing this well-used room, ‘White Bathroom’ just doesn’t have the same comfy ring to it.

Lesson 8. I’m grateful I married someone who loves to do nice things for his mother. Brent’s primary motivation for giving Pink Bathroom a make-over was to provide ample upgraded space for Nana’s recent visit (Papa came, too, and we love him dearly, but he uses the Brown Bathroom) because our girls (and we have lots of them) love to mimic Nana’s every move when she’s digging through her enormous make-up bag and is actually using hair care products that require electrical power.


We’ll miss you Pink Bathroom. You taught us much. You were good to us. It feels kind of like when we had to say good-bye to Green Van. (I kid…I’m really not that sentimental about out-with-old and in-with-the-new. It actually feels quite refreshing…especially since I don’t have to worry about picking colors for something substantial for a very long time…I hope.)
Thank you Brent and Kids! Your hard-working hands do awesome work!!

The Good Times

In honor of Kirsten’s baptism, Nana and Papa (Brent’s parents) came…all the way from Arizona.
And whenever Nana and Papa are coming, time is measured based on their anticipated arrival. “How long ‘til Nana and Papa come?” “Is this the month/week/day that Nana and Papa come?” “When Nana and Papa come, we’re going to…” “That will be when Nana and Papa are here.”
And this time Cousin Katie’s name (age 5) was included in all the bubbly dialogue and in all the bubbly fun once she arrived with them. We’re so glad our kids got to know Katie so well.
These pics sum up the Good Times:

       Didn’t my mom make AWESOME costumes for the show the kids wanted to put on for Nana and Papa as part of Diggy’s birthday celebration?! We had a blast and Halloween is all prepared 4 months early…a new world record. Thanks Mom!!
 





Needless to say, we adored our treasured time with Nana and Papa and Katie.

And Nana did lots of hair while she was here. Yeah!!