Mindless

I used to pride myself on having a great memory. There was a time when names came easily, dates were never forgotten, and events were never missed on account of being overlooked.
Due to old age (or possibly that lack of REM sleep), the last year has been one of confusion and multiple apologies. I now forget everything. I forget parties, activities, birthdays, groceries, times tables, sentence structure, adjectives, and my name. In the last few months I have forgotten about 2 parties, a neighborhood fund raiser, a plethora of groceries, the primary Christmas activity, and that Norah was supposed to give a talk on Sunday (actually I didn't forget, I never knew because I forgot to pick up the primary newsletter) . This isn't a case of 'conveniently' forgetting. There are consequences for my mindless behavior. I am really sad that my family and I are missing out because of my lack of competence and that I appear to be such a flake.
So I apologize to all of you whom I have offended. I am sorry.

Please enjoy our ginger bread house.




Oh, there is one more thing I forgot about in these last few months...

this one carries very serious consequences...

VERY

VERY

SERIOUS.

As I See It

I Have Issues

When I embarked upon becoming a blogger, I envisioned posts which documented a beautiful family life. I welcomed the hope of departing (if only momentarily) from diapers, yelling, biting, hitting, potty training, time outs, sweeping, mopping, washing, drying, and scrubbing. I longed to replace the Dora and Diego lyrics etched in my now oatmeal of a brain, with creative, illustrative, and expressive prose and poetry. I wanted to once again, become a little bit of the old artistic Martha, and just a tiny bit less of the try-as-I-might (not so much) Donna Reed Martha.
There has been a little self expression here and there. And I have enjoyed the constant reminder to document the fleeting time I have with my beautiful offspring. But to take the time to actually articulate beyond surface feelings and thoughts takes a bit of time.
As much as I would like to write a post about how my life is like this...



I don't have the time or the inclination to lie to you today, for this...



is the art that awaits me.

So this post is for all of you girls who say that my blog makes you feel bad about your house, cooking, mom skills and your blog. Take it from me, the negligent launderer, you've nothing to feel bad about.

I'll try to post something less 'real' in the next few days.

And for those of you who ask for photos of the house we are building, I posted a link on my sidebar because I really don't want to be vain enough to think everyone is really that interested in a house.

39

Happy Birthday Dear Brad.

Here are 39 thank yous to my incredibly handsome, talented, good, husband to round out my grateful November.

1. Since you didn't have me at hello, thank you for continuing to say hello at least 100 times more (or so).

2. Thank you for being a spectacular kisser.

3. Thank you for being such a hard worker and a good provider.

4. Thank you for introducing me to medium rare steak.

5. Thank you for a warm, safe home.

6. Thank you for being so patient with my quirks.

7. Thank you for continuing to compliment my derriere in jeans even though it is no longer 25.

8. Thank you for being so sexy.

9. Thank you for sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the door.

10. Thank you for some sweet rims.

11. Thank you for liking my cooking, it makes life easier.

12. Thank you for always supporting me in my callings.

13. Thank you for sharing your talents with our children.

14. Thank you for loving that I served a mission.

15. Thank you for being such a handy man.

16. Thank you for being so clever (most of the time, sometimes you are too clever for your own good).

17. Thank you for always being willing to help our friends and neighbors.

18. Thank you for being nice to my mom.

19. Thank you for all the cat litter you've cleaned.

20. Thank you for the Randy Travis song you sang to me at our Wedding, my aunts still speak of it.

21. Thank you for avocado shakes.

22. Thank you for letting me often win.

23. Thank you for always being willing to serve.

24. Thank you for standing by me when I'm crazy.

25. Thank you for always telling me I'm the prettiest and the sexiest.

26. Thank you for loving sushi.

27. Thank you for being tender hearted.

28. Thank you for day dreaming with me.

29. Thank you for not being too much of a sports fanatic.

30. Thank you for being kind to animals.

31. When I taught you how to snow board, thank you for not rubbing it in my face that you were better then me after 4 attempts.

32. Thank you for allowing me to complain throughout my pregnancies.

33. Thank you for humoring me when I talk about things that don't interest you.

34. Thank you for being patient when I didn't change my name for 3 years.

35. Thank you for being my best friend.

36. Thank you for songs, laughter, and joy.

37. Thank you for the most beautiful children.

38. Thank you for being an amazing father.

39. Thank you for loving me always.

I love you.

So Many Things...

Last week I just about threw in the towel on blogging.
It takes time and effort and sometimes I feel guilty. I waffle back and forth about whether or not it is really a best choice.
Then I thought about how many good things I've already sacrificed in order to be a semi-good mom.
I've given up reading (this was a huge sacrifice).
I watch very, very little TV. Sometimes I watch silent TV while breastfeeding.
I never, ever watch movies.
I don't do anything with friends, well once in a great while.
I have employed a babysitter like 5 times in the past 4 years.
(By the way, these are not things I am suggesting every mom should do, they are just things I have had to do because I am a horrible multitasker)
So, after consideration, I decided to give it another week and I am so glad I did, because just look at all of the gratitude it has brought me today:

1. My friend, Wendy (who I met through blogging), is finally a mother after many prayers and a ton of patience. I haven't been able to stop smiling today because I am so happy for her.



2. My frustration at finding the above and being told by my 4 year old (who coincidently is named Norah Griffiths) that my 3 year old did the drawing on the door (who cannot write and who is not named Norah Griffiths) was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge that I am not alone because of this post.



3. Because of blogging, I remembered to take a picture of my girls in the new snow.

4. I get to direct everyone to my dear, talented sister in-law's blog so you can view our Christmas pictures (aren't you so excited) so I can tempt you with a family Christmas card. If you want one email me, marthagriffiths@gmail.com. Some of you will be getting them whether you like them or not, so please reserve a revered spot on your refrigerator or magnet board.

and lastly,

5. I get the opportunity to air my bouts with insanity on my blog so that all of you who live by me can understand my newly acquired ugliness.
I have a self mutilation problem. It has only manifested itself 3 times previously, but sadly, on Thanksgiving afternoon, I was stressed and sad and I took the scissors into my own hands and did something drastic. I chopped my hair off.


(please excuse my skin, stress is manifested in many ways besides chopped hair)

Like I said, I have done this before.



I did it once while in a very stressful companionship on my mission. I just grabbed all of my hair in front and cut it. I ended up feathering it to the side a la 80's style, which luckily seemed to fit right in with the inhabitants of the Provence/time warp I was serving in.



I did it during a not-so-good-for-me relationship back in my early 20's (the girl in the picture with me is my sister, and that is not the relationship I am talking about).

And I did it again after I had my first child.

You may think this is not a big deal, but it is. I have a very pronounced widow's peak and bangs DO NOT WORK. I know this, yet I continue to chop off the front of my hair every time I feel major amounts of stress. This must be a metaphor for something, I just haven't figured it out yet.
So stare if you must, but know-I don't think this is pretty either.
In fact, my hair dresser passed me in the hallway at church Sunday and told Brad to hide the scissors.

Thankful for the Special

Last year I didn't decorate for Christmas. I did the tree. That was it.
I had just had a baby and the doctor had ordered 2 weeks bed rest (as if, what mom has that luxury?).
Anyway, I wasn't up for it.

The other day, as I was driving down the highway, Norah noticed the lights on the trees surrounding the entrance to our community. With childhood fancy, Norah said, "All the Christmas lights and decorations make me feel special mom". I smiled. I loved being young and believing in something magical, larger than life, and the possibility of anything. I want my children to believe as long as possible. I want them to believe in angles, peace, and happiness. I wish the weight of the world could be light and that all of God's children could avoid the sobriety of 'reality'. Such is not the case, sadly. So decorate I did, if only to perpetuate the specialness for the short Christmas season.



Brad, being a special dad, decorated the outside of the house with ethereal lighting.





I quarantined all the 'crafty' childlike decorations, snowmen, and snow globes to the familyroom/children's rec area. Decorations must know their place, they cannot mingle.



I hung colorful, graceful ornaments in the windows upstairs.



Actually, I hung glass ornaments in every possible light blessed spot (I'm a sucker for pretty light).



All of these were hung from my pot rack so that gold and amber light adorn our breakfasts (notice Brad ruining my picture from the deck).



An extra large amount of silver and turquoise draped itself all over the living room.

And my incredibly unsteady hand caught the magical drama of our night lights overlooking the valley below.



Even if all of this tangibly only amounts to a heap of glass, plastic, and electricity, it is worth the effort for the warm feeling of something extra-ordinary. And I will tell my children the incredible, fantastic, magical, peaceful story of Christmas. And we will bask in the special.

Macaroni and Cheese

The autumn night was warm and still. The azure sky was painted in fire and gold.



The peaks of Timpanogos were bathed in pastels.



The humble garden offered her last tomatoes and suggested the use of her forlorn, dying chives.



With shallots and great expectations on my mind, I undertook the feat of composing the most delectable macaroni and cheese ever.



There were 3 gourmet cheeses. Heavy cream, basil, tomatoes, and bay leaves swirled in heated effort.



A lonesome can of Costco crab meat sacrificed itself for the good of the whole.



Penne and paprika alliterated the dish.

The children were called with the promise of deliciousness.

The excited feet bounded up the staircase in hot pursuit of such a simple pleasure.



As the first enticing bite was placed in Lulu's mouth, enthusiasm and anticipation quickly turned to tears and bitter disappointment.



Lulu can still be heard to mutter pained, knowing lyrics of deception, trickery, and duplicities.

I am a fallen momma.