We Really Need You!

My heart is singing with these fine Clevelanders.


EMBED-We Are Lebron Video - Watch more free videos

My Motherhood

With the recent celebration of motherhood, I've been thinking a lot about myself as a mother.

This past year I've spent a lot of time with children, 17 of them to be exact, none of them technically mine, though by this point they feel like they are. And in this privileged, yet challenging environment, I have felt in just a small way what it's like to be a mother.

One time my mom had just gotten home from the grocery store. We were outside helping her unload the car. In the rush, my mom dropped a 2 liter bottle of pop. You can imagine the explosion. I laughed and laughed 'til I was near tears. And then I noticed my mom was in real tears.

"It's just a bottle of pop," I reminded her, not understanding her emotion.

It's like that expression, "No use crying over spilled milk."

Well, logically speaking yes. But, try telling that to someone who has dealt with spilled milk at least once a week for the past 9 months, even after endless reminders to "be very careful with your milk so that it won't spill." Or what if that spilled milk occurs after you've already cleaned up spilled orange juice or the remains of a raspberry churro that didn't sit quite right in one child's stomach.

These are not dramatic representations. This is real life. It's been my real life for 9 months.

And while we're on cliche sayings, how about "I couldn't hear myself think." Can you all really need something right at this moment? Can you all really be calling my name from opposite ends of the room? Yes, I do want to listen, but if you tell me one more time that he said he's not your friend, I might lose it. What was it that I was trying to finish again? "Ms. FLOOOORY" I guess I'll just finish it tomorrow.

One night I was crying with exhaustion. It's so tiring. It takes so much energy. How can I possibly solve all their needs? And take care of myself at the same time? I don't feel like a woman. I feel like a frump covered in snot and Elmer's glue. Forget about hair and make-up or pretty clothes, I feel lucky just to be clean. Did I exercise this month?? I can't remember.

And all of sudden I knew why my mom was crying that night in the driveway.

If these feelings can come to me as a teacher, when I send my children home at 2, then I don't know what it will be like as a full-time mother.

Is it ironic to say I can't wait?

Because even though the above is all true, sometimes painfully so, there is glory in motherhood.

It comes in bouquets of dandelions after recess or a big hug around the neck when you bend down to tie a shoe. It's in those lint-covered grapes that were stored in a pocket just for you. It's definitely in the moment you realize scribbles have turned into letters and those letters now spell your name.

And don't forget the laughter. There is so much joy in a child's laughter. How's that for cliche? But, I couldn't mean it anymore if I had coined it myself.

Motherhood is sacrifice. It's forgiveness. It's love, pure and complete.

My practicum for motherhood began this year, but these lessons of motherhood I've been learning from day 1, from my own mother. She loves me all the time. She always has. She always will. She loves my dad. She loves my siblings. And everything that she does is evidence of that love.

And only she can cut toast exactly the way I like it.

That's because she's my mom.

Welcome Spring

It was lovely spending my afternoon with you!

Growing up in Ohio provided me with a healthy appreciation for snow. It's fun, it's beautiful and if we were lucky, it provided a day off of school. As time went on, snow no longer delivered it's same excitement, what with it's snowmen and angels and days to do nothing but bundle up for a an hour (Moooooom, where are my snow boots??? or I can't find my other mitten ... seriously every time) only to go outside for 10 minutes until our mittens were sufficiently soggy, followed up with drying out by the furnace while mom whipped us up some hot soup.

In college, it still provided some fun, but school went on with or without snow and working full time proved just the same! Commuting takes triple the time and no one at work offers to make you hot soup!

Then there's the car issue. Bless my good dad and brothers for always scraping off my windshield and warming up my car on those early, blustery days. They always shoveled the steps, and created a clear path down the driveway. Then they'd drive to grandma's house to do the very same. I always just thought they liked it, until I had to do it myself. Turns out it's HARD. Do you know how heavy snow is to move with just a shovel? Do you know how long it takes to shovel a driveway with 3 feet of snow? Yeah, approximately 6 hours.

Yes, the beauty of snowfall has somewhat been masked in recent history because it creates such a hassle.

But not this year. My appreciation for snow has returned, maybe even to a higher level than before. And gratefully so because the DC area has received record breaking amounts. It turns out that I really like being snowed in. It's so cozy and fun!! We've played outside, watched movies, cleaned the house, taken walks, played games and even had a slumber party, dance party included. It forces life to slow down, which is perfect because I hate to be rushed.

And as an added bonus, SNOW DAYS!

I thought I liked snow days as a student, but I find them even sweeter now that I'm a teacher (I feel the same way about weekends). Here I sit, enjoying the 4th snow day of the year. Nothing beats waking up at 5:30 only to find you can go right back to bed.

Oh snow, you glisten and sparkle in the sunshine out my window. You adorn the roof, the trees picturesque with your touch. You are lovely to me.

When you're my size having a good tailor is very important. Clothes are made for the average sized woman, which I am anything but. Thus, having a tailor is not only a good idea, it's a necessity.

When I lived in Ohio I went to a woman that I liked who charged me barely anything. Maybe that's why I liked her.

Then I moved to DC and I was appalled at the prices!! But seeing as my legs didn't get any longer, I paid them anyway.

Once I moved to Maryland, I found a guy that was reasonably priced and did a good job. Except for that one time when he hemmed one leg shorter than the other, but no one's perfect.

Then, I met Jerry.

Jerry puts all other tailors to shame. Walking in his quaint little house is like a step back in time. A time where local services reigned and the owner of such local services knew each customer by name. A time where you didn't rush in or rush out, but actually spent a few moments visiting and exchanging good news. A time where you were invited to the back garden to grab some of the overflowing bounty.

That's our Jerry.

If that wasn't enough, Jerry makes you feel like a million bucks the minute you walk through the door. He raves about the many wonderful things about you until you can't believe he likes any customer better than you. Then when you leave, he stands at the door and waves good-bye as if you were family.

The last time I went to see Jerry was simply to pick up a pair of pants. We talked for forty-five minutes. He told me about his love for potatoes and his hometown in Peru. He asked about the "men that come to call on me" until I assured him I would not make any decisions without first consulting with him. He told me how he met his wife, stories of their travels together and showed me pictures of his beautiful granddaughters. We shared his lifetime of experiences, my life of hopes and dreams and there was understanding.

Before I left, he said, "Remember this:" then he spouted off a beautiful message in Spanish which I wish I could have understood. I waited for his translation.

"If you want to cross the river, you have to be willing to get wet."

I've thought a lot about those few words in the past month, and the many ways it applies to my life right at this moment. It's given me a new perspective and is shaping the decisions I make every day, big and small.

And so it goes. Anyone can hem your pants. But there's only one Jerry.

Once upon a time I was a blogger.

Or at least I was a girl who sometimes posted on a blog.

And then one day, I became a girl who teaches.

And no longer a girl who posts on blogs.

It's not that I've forgotten, nor that I've lost my desire. 

But you see, right now I'm a girl who is very, very tired. 

And I keep waiting for my energy to return to normal levels.

In my dreams I have energy. My lessons are perfectly planned. My class assignments are done weeks in advance. I never miss a day of exercise and I always have fresh, home-cooked, healthful meals. I have extra time to read classic novels and study deep doctrinal truths, practice the piano and fiddle around with my camera. I don't forget to buy stamps for 5 consecutive days and that check on my desk actually made it to the bank. I don't fall alseep on my knees. I make it to the temple once a week. I make time for the people who matter the most and keep in good touch with all those I care about. Yes, in that dream my hair is perfectly coifed and my clothes neatly pressed and I most certainly don't have dark circles under my eyes.  

Now if only I could wake up.

Mama, you know I love you!

I have the best mother around. 

And I'm lucky to get to spend Mother's Day with her (and the rest of my wonderful family).

In honor of her, I'm posting a video, taken last Thanksgiving during an intense game of "Would You Rather." Mom would apparently rather rap, so here she is, rapping her heart out.  Just a small preview of exactly how awesome she is...

Happy Mother's Day!