- We were in short sleeves for several days in a row. Today awoke grey and blustery. It's now less than 10 degrees. I'm wearing socks and my toes are still cold. I'm not sure our wood pile is going to outlast the cold this year.
- Three of my kids are presently gathered around the table reading animal trivia to each other in some contrived little game, with Adam as the moderator, beeping out the key words that would give away the answer. What will these kids do without Adam when he leaves us in the very near future for 2 whole years?
- Adam will be leaving us in the very near future for 2 whole years. In just days we will learn where in the world he will be serving his mission for the LDS church. Those clean-cut boys in white shirts and ties, always smiling, riding bikes, and knocking on doors? And having doors slammed in their faces? Yep, he'll be one of those.
- I'm hoping my good karma will shower down on him during his mission. See, one day, we were driving down the road on our way to somewhere that we had to be by a certain time, when I saw 2 young missionaries riding their bike down the sidewalk. Did I mention it was 112 degrees in the middle of the afternoon in the Valley of the Sun? And that those boys were sweltering? I asked Mike to please pull over at the next Circle K so we could grab some cold water for the boys, then turn around and find them 1/2 mile back down the road and hand it off to them in the middle of what was typical crazy, impatient metropolitan traffic. Mike was just a tad irritated with my pleading for him to undertake this little project until I said, "That's going to be Adam in five years. I have to hope someone would do it for our son when he's out there on the street five years from now."
- It's already been 5 years. How could it already be 5 years?
- Right now, my littlest girl is tackling a big, messy kitchen all by herself, because she needs to learn a lesson. I hate when they need to learn a lesson. I can't stand that awful feeling inside when you want to jump in and say, "Never mind, never mind, it's OK. You can stop. I forgive you, we'll start again tomorrow." But instead, you have to stand firm so the lesson is really and truly learned. And you hate it, hate it, hate it. Because you love them so much more than they can possibly know and you never like to see them well and truly upset, but you know it really is an important lesson and their characters need shoring up, but it just feels awful. This part of parenting is no fun. No fun at all. And she'll be fine, and she knows I love her. But I don't think she'll ever know how much I want to go pull her out of the kitchen and snuggle on the couch and watch a movie and kiss her forehead over and over and over, and let the dishes get a little crustier over night. Oh my, this mom thing can be the pits in these little, ordinary ways.
- Earlier this evening I finished a huge project that's been weighing on me, literally, for years. I have carried fear and worry over this looming project for a very long time. I'm looking forward to waking up tomorrow with it off my shoulders and seeing how my days will progress without that anvil I've been dragging around for far too long shadowing my plans and coloring my joy in the day.
- Hey, my sweet girl just walked in with a big grin and laid the following on me: "Mom, I've made a pledge to finish the kitchen tonight. And if I do, can I stay up all night playing on the computer and just fall asleep in the morning when everyone else is waking up?" I made a bargain that while I wouldn't let her stay up all night, I would let her have the computer when she wakes up for a whole hour. She left with her grin firmly in place.
- As much of a relief as it is to have that monstrous project off my back, the relief I feel at seeing that spunky little grin heading back into the kitchen is far greater. Ahhh, bliss.
Love from the farm,
Teri
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