Hawaii Done Ugly

Have you ever been to Hawaii?  Before you leave, you are packing your bags and you are imagining yourself walking hand in hand with your hubby down the beach, or swinging in a hammoc, your hair softly pulled back with the flower he just picked for you.  Your swimming suit fits and you are as sweet as a pina colada. 

Well, at least, that's the dream, but if you were born with hair like me and a chest like me, it just never quite works out that well.  Usually, it's no big deal.  Before we were married, Cam and I went to Lake Powell together, which was one of my tests--If you can stand me in Lake Powell with my lion hair, then  you can marry me.  I don't brush my hair down there the entire time and it used to be long and unruly and after a week's worth of boat-rides flipping and flapping it around, it is tied in knots and swelling like a mane around my face.  Anyway, Cam survived that.  He survives me in Hawaii.

But this year was different.  I went to Hawaii in August with Miss America and her family and seriously, I have to say it is hard being Miss New Mexico.  Of course, it doesn't really matter.  But when you have a cold and your sband won't touch you or kiss you (it's a Cam-thing) and you are looking around and you see beautiful people everywhere you look; it can start to make you feel a little insecure.  Of course, after a huge despondent crying fest, Cam felt sorry for me and risked the germs--I felt better. 

(Seriously, click on this picture and take a look at the mane surrounding my head!)

(Here, the mane had to be controlled with a head band. )

But after I got these pictures I just realized I am not pretty in Hawaii and I guess it's fine because the island makes up for that. 

Cure for Depression

During scripture study last night, we read about how the Sons of Mosiah were "depressed" and were about to "turn back" after they had started teaching the Lamanites. Cam pointed out how they turned to the Lord and he comforted them and told them that if they would be patient he would give them success. Coleman said he liked the verse because the Lord called the Lamanites (those who had hurt them and been mean to them FOREVER), their brethren. The Lord knew who these people were and that all of us are brothers and sisters. Then Cam asked the kids if they have ever felt sad or "depressed." Cy was first to speak up, "I was sad this day." (That's a direct quote.) He didn't want to go to the library for Family Home Evening.

"Well, what did you do to not be sad?" we asked.

"I took a deep breath and took a drink of water, and wiped off my tears." Sounds pretty good.

I'm going to try that next time.

Peace

Somehow, the Stake Choir leader convinced me to join the Christmas Stake Choir. I haven't been in a choir for about 5 years. When she called I was reticent, but I didn't dare say no.

And I am so glad I didn't. I went tonight. As I pulled away from my house, Cy was arranging basketballs in the grass and waving goodbye. Cam was in the backyard playing with the Calvin and Coleman and their guillotine they made. The air was warm and breezy and everything was green. I ran to the library to get a copy of the BIG READ book-- Tom Sawyer --and an illustrated one for Calvin for our next unit. I felt excited about the prospects of upcoming activities with the kids. I drove to the church. The doors to the chapel were open and the choir seats were filled. I sat down and sang songs with this amazing choir for an hour and a half. We sang about the Savior and the joy in his birth and I felt peace. I knew I was where I needed to be. I knew God loved me and He approved of my life. All was right with the world. The Savior was born and he lives, and I get to sing about him and about Christmas for the next three months--a perfect gift for Christmas.

What do you say?

Last night while I was folding the laundry, Cy called to me from his bed,

"Mom, when a baby comes out does it come out of your shirt or your body?"

I hesitated. "Your body," I reluctantly stammered.

"But HOW? THAT'S GROSS!"

What do I say to that? Our Birds and the Bees talk at Sizzler is still a few years away . . . I went into his room to find his favorite stuffed animal had been stuffed up his shirt. "Yeah, babies live in their mom's tummies and then (skipping everything else), they come out. It's great." He seemed to take that . . . and so I went to bed.

Homeschool

When I was little I forced my family to come (with all of my stuffed animals) down to my school in the basement. Raggedy Ann sat next to Dad and my mom sat next to them. Jeff was behind them and he kept falling back in his chair and wouldn't put his baseball bat away. I'd finally had enough and told Jeff to get out, which he gladly did, shattering the light in the hallway as he messed around with his bat. The lesson on the science behind stickers continued until Dad leaned back so far in his chair, the wooden legs broke off. After that, I think, school was cancelled.

School at the Steffani Academy, however, after 27 years is back in session. As Coleman's wonderful teacher of two years needed time to focus on her own family, we decided to have our own homeschool at our house. We decided to invite Calvin to join us, though Cy is still at Scera Park.

I have decided to let the following comments run off my back, just as I had to ignore Jeff so many years ago:

"When are we going to do technology?"

"We aren't learning anything."

"I can't do math."

"I can't read."

"I don't know."

"Who cares!"

"I've had enough for one day!"

And, I've cherished these,

"Let's do some more."

"What is up with Janice McCleavey? (the author of our failing physics projects)"

"Look what life is like from Hobbsie's perspective."

"I love that poem. Can you read it again?"

"This is great."

"This is a real homeschool. I just realized it!"

"Did you see the boat in Marie Antoinette's hair?"
"What were the French doing with all of those sticks?"

"Why did the people have to bow to Louis's food?"

"Mom, were the clergy the 2nd Estate?"

It's been about a week and a half since we started and, despite some negative comments, I am so happy we are doing this together. I love seeing my children learn. I love learning about the oath of the tennis court and having time to talk about it AT an ACTUAL tennis court. I love researching what the fleur-de-lis is right along with them.

I love learning where in the heck all of those countries in Europe are and remembering the state capitals. I love having my children home. I love reading poems about pigs and stiles and taking the time to look up in the dictionary what "stile" means. I love laughing with my kids. I love having time to read to them about the prophets' lives and even some Seven Habits.

I'm still clueless, but we're working it out. I hope the comments about not learning anything will be one day replaced with, "Mom, thanks for taking the time to teach me. I learned a lot."--Though I'm sure that won't happen until some Mother's Day Card 30 years from now. Meanwhile, the day to day has its own reward actually. I like to teach. It's in my blood, just ask Raggedy Ann.