paynefamilyblog

signs of love

The title of this post may seem more appropriate for Valentine's Day weekend rather than Thanksgiving weekend, but this is one of many reasons I am so grateful to be Jackson, Will & Ginny's mom.  Yesterday afternoon I was talking on the phone to my grandparents.  Somehow we got on the subject of favorite childhood memories and I told my Grandma how much I loved a sign she kept on her desk that read  " a clean desk is a sign of a sick mind"  Even as a child I understood the humor there and it made me laugh peaking out behind piles of paperwork on my Grandma's desk.  Jackson, who was not in the room at the time, must have overheard the conversation with my Grandparents because a little while later he brought me this:


 

And just to put this in context for you, a pull away shot of my desk:

Pretty scary that people trust me with their credit card info hu? : ) I have always been a believer that the true signs of love are not in the grand, sweeping gestures- they are few & far between, but rather the little daily acts of service that say I love you. Rusty doing the laundry without me asking or running out of clean unmentionables- sign of love.  Will playing with Ginny in the morning so I can sleep in on one of my five days off from early morning seminary last week- sign of love.  Rusty cleaning out all the mud from my car & vacuuming it clean- sign of love.  Breakfast in bed, not once, but twice this week- sign of love. A little girl who asks me ten times a day, "do you know who I love?" and before I can even answer she replies "you!" - sign of love.  Yes, I have much to be thankful for and many, many signs of love surrounding me, including this one that stays in my office from my sweet Will:

a definite sign of love! 

     

mom guilt- I've got it bad

I think part of being a mom is the guilt that goes along with not being able to do all things for all of your children at all times.  Truthfully, we wouldn't want to do everything for them, but there are a lot of things that we would like to be/do/provide/give them that we can't, for whatever reason.  Intellectually I both understand and accept this.  But in reality...

We didn't go to Cox's pumpkin farm this year.  It is a family tradition that we have done every year since it was just Jackson, Rusty & me.  Rusty had an incredibly crazy two weeks at work when he was at work as early as 5 AM and as late as 10PM. There were three other weeks we might have been able to squeeze a quick trip to the pumpkin patch, but we didn't.  We didn't make our annual apple picking/apple orchard baseball game either.  We actually planned a date to go, but apparently the beautiful weather the two weeks leading up to our trip gave a lot of other people the idea to go and there weren't any apples left. Ginny had a Halloween costume parade at her school, Rusty had a press conference & I had a photo session.If it wasn't for Ginny's amazingly wonderful Aunt Beth, she wouldn't have had anyone to cheer her on during the parade.  I didn't take any pictures of my kids in their Halloween costumes.  Any of the 10 times they wore them.  And Jackson was a great Anaken Skywalker and WIlls was a startling similar Harry Potter.  Ginny's costume changed depending on which party or event she attended.  

I'm leaving town tomorrow on a work assignment for a few days.  This has made the mom guilt almost unbearable.  

There are days where I get up at 5 AM after going to bed at 1 AM (most days) and am going nonstop and somewhere at about 3 in the afternoon when I need to gear up for the next 5 hours of critical mom time, but I am so exhausted that I just want to climb in bed and sleep for a week I feel like those early pioneers, who felt at times like their handcarts were pushing them and I turn back almost expecting to see an angel pushing me along on my labor's path.  

I may not see them, but I know they are there.  

And sometimes I do see them.  

Sometimes the angles are my many dear friends & neighbors who have taken my children numerous times for play dates when my work schedule has gotten out of control again.  The woman I visit teach (my dear friend Melissa Fredley) who has been an incredible example to me is also an angel when after going to visit her and ending up crying on her couch for two hours because I am tired & overwhelmed she brings ME dinner. That's not how it supposed to work, but that's how angels work.  My children are angels.  They are quick to forgive my short comings and even quicker to express their love.  Rusty is an angel.  For sooooo many reasons, but right now he is the laundry angel making sure we all have clean clothes to wear.  Somedays I wish I had time to do laundry because at the end of doing laundry there is a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction when you can visibly see the results of your efforts.  Angles are the friends you can call at 5AM because Rusty had to go into work early and I have to teach seminary and they come over happily and make your kids pancakes for breakfast (something I seldom do- there's the mom guilt again).  There are also unseen angels who miraculously maneuvered me through months of unnecessary appointments with a child to get a correct medical diagnosis and treatment.  

I don't know how to get rid of my mom guilt.  I am not sure it is even curable.  I do know that I have decided to approach this holiday season a little differently.  I am going to try my hardest to make sure I am giving my best self and the most of my time to those I love the most and not to those who are paying me for it.  I am going to try to ensure that the traditions that help make the season magical happen.  I am going to look for ways to be someone else's angel.  

I blogged about my continuos prayer to "multiply my efforts like the loaves & the fishes"  I somehow thought that the Lord would give me strength to do everything.  Instead, He gave me many angles to help me.  

ballerina girl and pink kitty

Ginny recently started dance classes and let me tell you- she thinks she is pretty big stuff.  She asks me everyday, "is today my dance class?"  She tries to wear her leotard and tights even after I have told her she doesn't have dance today.  She plays "dance class" with her dolls.  The only thing is, I'm not sure she's a dancer, at least not in the trained classical ballet sense of the word.  And that's just fine with me.  No one is going to think "waif like ballet dancer" when they see my 40 pound, chunky-thighed three and a half year old.  But you should see her do the Macarena!!

 This is her excitement level waiting for her ride to dance class.

Something about this image gives me a glimpse into her as a teenager.  Wish I could freeze time and keep her as the delightful three year old she is forever.

This is pink kitty.

Pink kitty is Ginny's best friend.  Her best stuffed friend.  Pink kitty is VERY well loved.  Ginny can't sleep without Pink kitty.  On more than one occasion we have had to drive to a friend's house where Pink kitty was mistakenly left earlier in the day to placate a distraught Ginny before bedtime.  We have tried to "replace" Pink kitty with newer, cleaner kitties- to no avail.  There is only one Pink kitty.  But Pink kitty is not pristine and no amount of cleaning will restore her to her previous clean kitty state- believe me, I have tried.  Some people, who shall remain nameless, but are related to the one who loves Pink kitty most have taken to calling Pink kitty stink kitty.  There's not a lot I can do when this is the reaction Ginny has to Pink kitty every time...

I know, it kinda makes me cringe seeing her kissing on stink Pink kitty.  But the germs just make Ginny's immune system stronger right?  And her love for Pink kitty couldn't be any stronger.

it's that time of year again

Where I feel like I fall off the face of the earth to my friends & family (and my blogger friends too) because I am so crazy busy with work.  This year however rather than falling I feel like I am in a nose dive off of a very tall building onto a concrete road without a parachute  -descriptive enough for you? This time of year is always busy for me with the holiday card rush and school starting again and all that goes with that (homework, chess club, flag football) two boys playing baseball, one boy playing the violin (or rather at this stage, attempting to play the violin) and one little girl in dance.  

But this year there is something else to add in the mix.  Something that requires me to get up very early and stay up very late(er).  I am teaching seminary.  Before I go on I just want to make this very clear:  I LOVE this calling.  I LOVE the kids I get to hang out with at 6 AM.  I LOVE being able to study the scriptures in a way I haven't been able to since my mission.  I LOVE the things I am learning about the scriptures, teenagers and myself.  

But...

I am so very tired.  I am so unbelievably sleep deprived.  I am so behind on work it is overwhelming and I don't know how I am going to catch up.  And I am only in month two of the year.  

It is interesting to me how I have prayed for help getting organized, prioritizing my time and having more meaningful scripture study and the Lord in His infinite wisdom and with a sense of humor called me to teach seminary.  Not exactly the answer to my prayers and pleadings I was hoping for.

But...

I am getting done what has to get done.  I am reevaluating how I spend my time and what I want to spend my time doing.  I am learning a lot about the scriptures and studying them in a way that brings me a lot of peace.  I am receiving regular inspiration and revelation about things in my life and my family.  I am keenly aware of how blessed I am to have an amazing husband who picks up a lot of my slack.  I am really grateful for a wonderful sister-in-law who is one of my very best friends who willingly takes my children when needed and I know they are being loved and well cared for.  

No, my house isn't always clean except the one day a week that my cleaning ladies are here.  But I am grateful to have cleaning ladies to help out.  No, I haven't cooked dinner in a while, but thankfully we aren't wanting for food.  No, we aren't spending as much down time together as a family as I wish we were, but it does make the time we have together a little bit sweeter.  

I had a few ideas of how I thought the Lord could answer my prayers, teaching seminary wasn't one of them.  I am grateful that He knows what I need and sends answers to prayers in His own way.  

My constant prayer these days is to ask Him to bless my efforts like He did the loaves and the fishes.  To take what little I have to give and to make it enough for all those who need/want it.  

And He is.  

  

first day of school & three and half years coming

Skipping right over our beach vacation (which hopefully at some point I will have time to download the images from my camera and write about in the near future) we returned home and started school two days later.  I have been dreading the first day of school since the last day of school last year.  Last year was a hard year for us.  A really hard year.  I wrote about it earlier this summer so I won't go into too many details but to add that we found out this week that the treatment Jackson received from his teacher was par for her course and we weren't the only ones going through it.   While we were at the beach we received our boys' teacher assignments and I honestly started to cry when I heard the news.  Will got the teacher Jackson had and LOVED for second grade and Jackson got the teacher he wanted for fourth grade.  I was so relieved knowing what a difference a good teacher can make in all our lives.  I told my sister-in-law Beth and she said, "the Lord knows you can't teach seminary and have a year like you did last year so he gave your kids good teachers".  So true, He asks you to do one thing and then compensates for your efforts in other areas of your life.  I am really grateful that the Lord has given me blessing identifiers such as Beth in my life to help me see the blessings He has given that I can't seem to recognize on my own sometimes.  I practically skipped out the door to seminary at 5:45 AM knowing everything was going to be alright.  

So here we are all happy the first morning of school this week.

Jackson is getting so tall.  

The happy morning starts to fade fast as Ginny realizes her brothers are leaving her -look at her sad little face in the window.

The only way I got her to stop crying was talking to her about her very first hair cut.  That's right, three and half years old and she's never had her haircut.  It was supposed to be cut last year, but her daddy couldn't bear it so we waited.  Here she is pre- haircut.  Look how long (& stringy) her hair is!

So I took a slightly still weepy little girl to get her first ever haircut.  At first she was so excited and loved everyone at the salon ooohing & aaaahing over her.

And then the stylist told Ginny "I am going to cut your hair now" and all the sudden it dawned on Ginny what was happening:

But look how gorgeous and healthy her hair looks now.

Her first haircut came just in time for her first day of school the next day.  She was soooo excited that it was finally her turn to go to school and I was soooo sad that my little baby girl is big enough to go to school.

Ginny's first day of preschool:

Week one down, 35 to go till summer vacation : ) 

Oh summer, where art thou?

The other night I met a friend for a late dinner to celebrate her birthday.  I hadn't seen her all summer so we were catching up on our lives and she asked me, "how was your summer?"  I replied with the same words I have been telling myself every day this summer, " I feel like summer hasn't started yet.  I just keep thinking as soon as I finish X Y & Z then summer will begin.  School is going to start in a week & a half and I am still waiting for summer to begin."  She looked at me and said, " you said the same thing at the end of last summer."  

I'm doing it again.  

I'm letting life get in the way of living.  I'm getting overwhelmed by the details and missing the big picture.  I'm so worried about checking everything off my to do list that I'm missing what REALLY needs to be done.  And in the process, I have missed out on not one, but two summers of my life!

I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge from Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol when he pleads with the ghost of Christmas future, "I can change.  Give me a chance, give me a chance!"  

So here is my chance.  We leave for the beach tomorrow. I have one week to make up for two lost seasons.  To sit back & relax.  To spend quality time with my children.  To create fun filled memories with them.  To soak in the sun.  To have my summer.  

Some of you know that this year I decided to have my own "be" list based on President Hinckley's six be's from a talk he gave the youth.  I chose three words I really wanted to focus on and improve in my life. Well more than halfway through the year I am adding a fourth.  Be there.  Be there for my children, be there for my husband.  Be there for my friends and my family.  Be there for the moments and the memories I am missing out on.  

I have a million things to do to get ready to leave tomorrow.  But I am excited to go and enjoy my one week of summer.  

the halfway point

The other night I decided to go running and Jackson came along to keep me company.  It was getting late so we went up to the high school track to do laps.  By the last lap Jackson opted out and went to ride his scooter in the parking lot.  As I came around the track I saw him.  Riding on his scooter, weaving around the lines on the pavement.  So tall, so sweet, so much more than I could have ever hoped for in my first child.  And then it hit me, like a literal punch in the stomach, HARD.  

He’s 9 years old.  

I have had him for half of the time he will live in our home.  

He’s at the halfway point.  

And all of the sudden I started to cry.  Not the silent tears streaming down my face type of crying.  No I went straight to the out loud sobs and hyperventilating crying right there on the McLean High School track.  

He’s 9 years old.  9 years from now he will be leaving for college and then off to his mission.  I only have 9 more years to try to teach him all the things he needs to know from me.  9 more years to learn all the many things I need to learn from him.  9 more years to learn to appreciate his sense of humor.  9 more years of him suggesting songs I should buy on itunes (Mom, have you ever heard of a band called Boston?)  9 years to learn how to be patient with my child whose answer to every request feels like an argument to me (“no does not mean the discuss is now open for negotiations”)  9 years to enjoy his infectious giggle, 9 years to take pride in his very kind heart, 9 years to wonder if he will ever learn to use a napkin instead of his shirt.  9 years to try to undo any damage I’ve done in trying to rear him correctly but inevitably making mistakes with my “guinea pig” child.  9 more years to watch him play baseball in the backyard.  9 more years of going into his room at night when he is fast asleep and whispering in his ear, “I love you so much” and knowing that he can’t hear me, but that he knows.  

I opted to run another lap rather than stop and let him see me all red eyed and still trying to stifle my sobs.  He’s a worrier, just like me, and I didn’t know how exactly to explain that everything is alright I just don’t want the next 9 years to go by as fast as the last 9 have.  

to thine own self be true

I have lots to share, but not a lot of time right now so this isn't going to be the catch up post.  This past week Jackson went to basketball camp.  The first afternoon when he came home I asked him how it went, he said fine, LONG PAUSE, except for...  

that morning first thing they had a shoot around and there was music playing in the gym.  "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" came on and Jackson remembered that Rusty had told him there was a bad word in the song.  At first Jackson thought it was pretty loud in the gym with all the kids & the dribbling that he probably wouldn't even hear the word (he doesn't even know what word he's trying not to hear).  But then Jackson thought, "I have to stand up for what I know is right."  So he walked out of the gym.  

No one may ever know why he left.  

But Jackson knows why.  

And the Lord knows why.  

I told Jackson I was so proud of him for doing what he knows is right and because the  next time he is in a situation where there are words or music or (heaven forbid) images that are offensive to his sweet, little spirit it will be all that much easier for him to leave because he did it this time.  

Christmas in July

This week is the big one in our family;  our anniversary is the 8th, Jackson’s birthday is the 9th and Rusty’s birthday is the 10th.  I wonder how I, having shared a birthday with Christmas my whole life, consented to be married so close to Rusty’s birthday.  I feel bad that it always seems to be tucked in last during a week that is so crazy busy (my brother Casey’s birthday is the 6th, Rusty’s sister Debbie’s bday is also the 8th and there are also numerous other family birthdays in the month too.)   

So before the festivities begin & take over I wanted to take a moment to reflect upon the last 12 years of my life.  You may know how this story will end (happily ever after, of course) but you may not know how it began and almost didn’t come to be the fairy tale that is my life : ) 

The first time I met Rusty I didn’t like him.  At all.  He spent the entire duration of my Gospel Doctrine class that I was teaching sitting in the back with his feet up on the chair talking to his buddy (I won’t even go into the fashion faux pas with his shoes at this point).  Not a good first impression.  

The second time I remember meeting him I thought to myself, “wow, he is devilishly handsome”  but the “devilishly” part scared me and I told my sister, “ yes, he is cute but I would never date him, he is a player.”  From that point on he seemed to be omnipresent in my life.  I would come home from work, he was there, I would go out with my sisters, he was there, I would come home from dates, he was there, I would go out running, he was there (with his parents one time too).  When I would come home and he wasn’t there, there was a phone message or a written note telling me where he was in case I wanted to join him.  One day, I came home from work and saw him outside (he lived next door) said hi and went inside to change.  By the time I came downstairs he was there.  

It didn’t bother me too much because I’d always had lots of guy friends and besides I was NOT dating this guy so nothing was going to come of it.  

Until he kissed me.  

Out of the blue.

Did not see that coming.

What was he thinking?!?  

Then I started to get worried.  Because maybe now I was being played.  And because I really liked that kiss.

  

That would have been the end of it right then and there (I scared pretty easily at this point) if I hadn’t been asked to meet with the Stake President the morning after the kiss.  The Stake President wanted to know why I was working in the Temple on Friday nights instead of dating.  He thought maybe I was trying to hide from dating and that maybe I wasn’t taking it seriously enough and told me to give dating another try starting with anyone I was currently seeing.  I walked home from that interview, my head still kind of spinning by his gentle rebuke and who was there?  Give you one guess.  I almost started to say, “ about last night...” but the Stake Presidents words still ringing in my ears made me pause and I thought, “let’s see where this goes.”  

Poor, patient Rusty.  The more I saw where it was going, the more scared I became.  And my antidote to being scared was calling it off.  Frequently.  One day we met for a late lunch and he started talking about taking a trip to DC together that summer.  Way too much pressure for me.  I told him this was going too fast for me and I needed some space, please don’t call me, I’ll call you when I am ready.  That was at 2:30.  I arrived home shortly after 5 that day and by 5:30 I couldn’t take it anymore and I called him to say, “ when are you coming over?”  See what I mean by patient?  I decided to keep dating other guys because I didn't like any of them so they were “safe.”  Rusty would watch me leave and then meet me when I came home.  His parents were in town for his graduation and he asked me to meet them for lunch.  I drove to the restaurant, turned around drove half way back to work at least three times and wound up being twenty minutes late.  Even as I type this I am thinking, “he put up with a lot of relationship neurosis on my part back then.”  

There is nothing like a very strong spiritual experience, one that is completely unsolicited on your part and undeniably directed to you to cause a complete 180.  I had two of them, in two days.  I think the Lord wanted to make perfectly clear what he was saying to me.  And from that point on I was completely calm.  I knew I loved him, I knew I needed him, I knew I hadn’t scared him away- and that was certainly a good sign-  and I knew this was the way it was supposed to be.  

From the day we met to the day we married was less than 4 months.  That’s fast.  Really fast.  If any of my kids tried that I would certainly have a thing or two to say about it.  But twelve years later I couldn’t be any more certain that I made the right decision and married the perfect person for me.  

So in celebration of twelve fabulous years of marriage, here is a combined list of my twelve favorite memories from the past 12 years and my wishes for the next twelve:

1.  Wish:  We finally have a proper honeymoon, one that doesn’t involve spending any time in my in-laws basement : )

2.  Memory:  The Christmas tree Rusty bought & decorated with three ornaments when I was so sick & pregnant with Jackson.

3.  Wish:  We send two worthy boys off on missions (you know I am tearing up just thinking about this!)

4.  Memory:  Walking to Safeway for FHE treats when we lived in Provo.

5.  Wish:  We continue creating happy childhood memories for our children.

6.  Memory:  Watching Jackson at 18 months run down our tiny hallway in Arlington to Rusty when he came home from work. 

7.  Wish:  Weekly date nights/more regular over night trips for us.

8.  Memory:  Saturday morning breakfasts with our boys at Eastern Market.

9.  Wish:   We survive three teenagers under one roof!

10.  Memory:  family vacations at the beach

11.  Wish:   We take a family vacation with cousins and grandparents to the church history sites when our kids are a bit older so they can remember it.

12.  Memories:  baseball games in the backyard with the kids.

Here’s to many, many more dozens of years of marriage.  I love you babe and I am so blessed to be your wife.

 PS- One of these days when I figure out how to work my scanner I am going to post some great old pics of us.

perfection

Yesterday (the 4th of July) was spent with family, lots of good friends, tons of great foods and hours & hours of uninterrupted fun.  I guess there were a few brief interruptions in the fun when Jackson got tangled up in the rope used for the adults vs. kids tug of war and wound up with one heck of a rope burn around his belly.   That was followed shortly there after by Jackson crashing into a parked car after falling off of an out of control wagon speeding downhill. That resulted in some good cuts & bruises on his back.  Good thing one of our close friends there is a doctor.  Other than that, the day really was perfect. As always, my sister-in-law Beth went above & beyond with the decorations, party favors, games & treats. This is one of those traditions that I hope never ends because I love spending hours & hours with dear friends & family.  The evening was capped off by fireworks and exhausted children & equally exhausted moms & dads.