The Truth (at least some of it)

I've been thinking about comments I receive,the people I chat with once in a while and the perspective of those who read my blog who may not know me very well (although when we speak of knowing someone, there is a whole spectrum of knowledge isn't there?).

A blog, from what I can see and know, is a polished fragment of reality. Most of the truth I choose to keep private because it isn't up for public display, discussion, or debate. And sadly, there are people in my life (possibly most people's lives) who think that they are entitled to weigh in on my children and my choices.

Having said that, I feel that sometimes, not sharing the truth about certain things can be a disservice to others. I certainly don't want to mislead anyone by presenting a life of only beauty and loveliness.

I am often sad and have many setbacks. Lulu has made a lot of progress, but still struggles with a number of things. Just when I thought we had a few of them down she started to regress back into horrible social melt downs. They are often embarrassing and exhausting. She is inconsolable, and I am clueless. She is beautiful, and she is tender. I love her, but I am less than adequate for her in these situations.

I don't really feel like sharing that much about Norah, but I will say, it is a difficult situation. Norah is a sweet and sensitive little girl,we are trying to find the best way to help her focus and achieve her potential. I struggle every single day to keep myself calm and patient while trying to help her perform tasks.

Abram is occasionally sweet tempered, it's true. But he really is a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. He throws screaming and kicking temper tantrums 5-8 times a day. I pray every night and every morning and often in between that I will know how to keep him calm and how to love him more. And, he's not interested in the potty, bummer.

Rosemary is perfect. Seriously.

So, to summarize, sometimes I am a good mother. Often, I am not. Although, I don't run around with friends, go out to lunch, watch TV,shop, or sit at the computer (very often), I fall short all. the. time. I don't know what the answers are. I am often lonely in my problems, oh yeah, there are also my problems besides those of my children (which essentially are my problems as well) and I almost always feel inadequate for this job.

I have a lot to be grateful for. I love my children, they are the reason I wake up every morning and the reason I fall in bed exhausted every single night. But I want you to know that these pretty pictures aren't the whole story, they tell only a small piece.

So here is to anyone else who struggles and cries. I invite you to stop by sometime for a drink and a hug.

Headway

Summer is fading. A chill is at our door and has doomed my dahlias.



Shoes and socks, now back in vogue, inevitably divide themselves causing ceaseless drama.



It's a Texas Chili type of day,



and we are celebrating because someone got her first 100% on a math test.

A little nostalgia goes a long way

Ten of us piled into a battered three-tone Beauville full-sized van as we embarked on a trek west, or east, or south (for that matter). The trip would be smelly, there would be wet pants, hair pulling, threats, yelling and an astronomical amount of dirty looks, but time was spent together and these times are remembered with fondness and laughter.

Whether it was Mt. Rushmore, Lake Superior, or Zions, I am grateful for the family road trip.



Have you been watching The National Parks: America's Best Idea on PBS? Incredible.



Suburbia can get you down, I often feel a real disconnect when surrounded by artifice. We've been trying to regroup our natural bearings once a week as we go on hikes and wander through trails.







My best memories with my family have been in natural settings, where stillness and gratitude were easily felt, and where God's beauty whispered it's truths to me and I felt whole.

So here is my plan: buy a map, stake out national parks we would like to visit, learn about the history and treasures of that park, then drive to the park fighting, wetting, and screaming all the way. Hopefully the awe and wonder of our visits out weigh the threats and the yelling that will surely ensue. And hopefully the nostalgia for alfresco family time will lend it's legacy to my children.

Anticeptic

Tuesday was a heavy day, a morning meeting regarding Norah left me feeling a bit broken and fearful.



Life is so often rerouted from the anticipated course, and we are left in a heap of humility with only the essentials intact. Isn't it just like God to reiterate once again that my own understanding is very, very limited? And that I desperately need Him?

I'm not sure what all the answers are for Norah, but I am sure that there is room for more love, sweeter words, a gentler touch, and more direction from her Father in heaven. He loves her and I know that he wants to help us succeed as her parents, whatever that may mean.

Feeling lonely and achy Tuesday night, I reluctantly joined the young women for our activity. I sat cross-legged in a darkened room and listened to President Monson's words. "Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved" soothed my aches and satiated my need. The problems this situation presents matter little next to the need to love.

And again, His perfect love casteth out all fear, and maybe this, in part, will help Norah.

A little bit of backlog

I've taken photos, when it occurs to me. I've mind blogged here and there-scraping it all for a library book or a shortbread cookie recipe.



I keep thinking I'll just post little bits of our days so that there is something to look back on, but than I think about the meat of our lives. Should I share? Is it an open door for those who feel the need to condescend? I, for one, have found support in the words of those who have similar paths.



Don't get me wrong, I'm content and enjoying my life, but there are things...




Do I write about Norah and her struggles?



Do I write about Lulu and her afternoon "school" at Autism Journeys?



Do I write about how there a few fleeting moments in the day when I want to cuddle Abram close and smother him with love but mostly I want to leave him screaming and yelling in the grocery store/library/Thanksgiving Point garden/park, and pretend I don't know him or his sorry mother?




Do I write about how being the YW president is often rewarding, always busy, and sometimes incredibly difficult? Do I write about how there are times it makes me feel lonely, alone, and sad? I know, "all these things shall give me experience, and shall be for my good". But there are days.




I'm content to let the world pass us by-to make a peach this or a peach that.



Finding the balance between simplicity/establishing a house of the Lord and charity/knowledge is a serious and ever evolving endeavor.



I'll continue to think about it while making another tart.





And while my baby smears her face with sugar.

The End of Innocence

The 2008-2009 school year was a difficult year. You know the drill, I was called as YW president, I had my 4th baby in 5 years and then Norah and Lulu started school.



Despite Lulu's recent diagnosis, she actually thrived in a structured and busy routine. Norah, not so much. There were calls from teachers, parent conferences, and a tutor was hired. Norah and I spent many of our days frustrated, overwhelmed, and tearful. Her struggle just about sent me over the edge. Too many nights I barely slept worrying about my job as a mother.

The souls of a mother and a young child are so intertwined that it is difficult to access a portion without considering the whole.

There is a certain loneliness in being a mom.Often we share our triumphs and defeats in knowing nods and embraces, but there are unique burdens carried alone in order to escape the generalizations, judgments, and condescension. Over the course of the school year I learned who could be trusted with the raw, and who really couldn't. I am so grateful for friends who listen and love. I hope to be more like you.



Then the summer came and we were able to escape to leisurely expectations. You would find us under the tutelage of the library, the praying mantis, "hoppers", flowers, and clear, cold, great lake waters. But now our school of make-believe has come to a close and I feel a little apprehensive.





Sunday we had a special family dinner with grilled salmon, sweet corn relish, and grilled asparagus. Lulu had an apple. Lulu is under the impression that Salmon ranks among the undesirable food.



For desert we had a strawberry tart which Rosemary thoroughly enjoyed. We had a family council, set goals, received father's blessings, and resolved to use the potty (mostly Abram's goal, but still a good goal for everyone).



I woke up early yesterday morning, did my best June Cleaver, cleaned, cooked, smiled, took Abram and Rosemary to a quiet and destitute Thanksgiving Point garden while Lulu attended her afternoon program.









And so we will see. I certainly am depending on and need more than my capabilities in order to have a successful school year.

Who knew school became more difficult when vicarious?

So I cut my hair...

Essentially, I've had the same hair since 10th grade; long layers, frizzy, occasionally styled, always safe and slightly boring.

Maybe the Young Women are rubbing off on me, they easily mix it up. Blond, pink, skunk,somehow they seem to pull it off. I am far too old for blond, pink, or skunk, but I can do bangs. Maybe?








Abort the bangs and stick to plan A?

Or super-foxy-can't-believe-you-are-a-mom-of-4 hairstyle?

*photos taken by Norah the amazing armature photographer