Anniversary ideas.

We went to Wicked a few weeks ago. It was Tim's anniversary present to me... from last year. He knows I love musicals so.
Now it's my year to plan our anniversary. The big ten. I've mentioned before that neither of us are big occasion people, but it's the tenth! What do I do?
I'm torn between a trip to Taiwan and paying off a huge chunk of mortgage debt. With two houses, I'm kind of leaning toward the latter. Romantic, I know. At least it's not a toaster.

Our quest to eradicate mice.

Our garden has seen better days. Between the birds, the earwigs, the slugs and, get this, the MICE, the multitude of seeds we have planted have reaped us little. Our spring crop consists of a few green onions, several pinches of cilantro, and a dozen or so carrots and pea plants that are holding up.

After a failed trip over a month ago in which we almost bought a couple of kitties to raise up as mouse-murderers (our kids still hate me for making the executive decision), Tim spent hours scouring the internet for every mouse trap known to man. Turns out the most basic, snap mousetrap works best for us. We've killed at least 15 in the past few weeks. We even have a little plot dedicated to them in the common area behind our property. Every morning, Rachel satisfies her curiosity by sneaking outside, barefoot and freezing, to count the previous night's kills. It's only slightly disgusting. Especially when those suckers are caught, eyes glazed over, right in the middle of our (12 inch high, mind you) garden beds. I hate them buggers.

If some of you readers are a bit disturbed by my apathy towards a small life such as this, I'm sorry. Anything that breeds every two to three weeks has got to be stopped. God may notice the sparrow that falls, but I'm pretty confident mice didn't make the cut.

On a happier note, this year proves to yield the grandest strawberry harvest ever and we even captured a glimpse of several peaches-to-be on one of the trees we planted last year out back. So, if I can't make a salad without heading to the store, at least there's jam in our future.

Two days, two graduates.

Thursday was Rachel's Joy School graduation - she's still got another year of Joy School but each year ends in a celebration. Sadly, she didn't make her to her own graduation because she started running a fever, but no matter - she is officially a second-year Joy School kid! Next year we add on a "Kindergarten Readiness" unit but considering the fact that she is already reading BOB books, I think we may just focus on tying shoes and memorizing phone numbers.

Friday our Lily graduated from Kindergarten! She was a champ - all smiles... that is, until we all ate lunch in the cafeteria and she refused to eat any of the three choices offered. She even packed her own lunch of pretzels and carrots this morning, anticipating that she would not like anything prepared at school. Smart girl. Despite her preparedness, her morale was somehow battered by the experience and I fear it may have tainted her anticipation for first grade. Oh brother. Well, at least graduation was fun! Love you Lily, picky taste buds and all!

What are we, pioneers or somethin'?

Anna likes to take long showers. Tonight she did it just before we set out to bathe the other three. We got about two inches deep in the bathtub before the hot water was out completely. For the next 25 minutes we used every teapot and stockpot we could get our hands on to boil water for their bath. They're happy now. And Anna is in hot water. Pun intended.

Love in reformed Egyptian.

Three of my four kids are affectionate and demonstrative by nature. They initiate expressions of love effortlessly. The other child... does not. I can't remember the last time she returned an "I love you". I don't resent it much - it doesn't come as naturally to her as it does the others. And some people show love in other ways - she shows it through obedience and service. And that's great. I had to chuckle, though, when I found this note she wrote during Primary when the kids were asked to write a letter to their mothers.



Compare it to the card her sister gave me later that day:



Even later in the evening, she (the less-emotive one) crept onto my bed and presented me with the following - along with a code to decipher it:



It read: "Dear Mom. I love u. From Anna." She said it! I might need a Urim and Thummim to translate it, but she said it!

Covenants.

I had a lovely weekend a few weeks ago visiting family. We first attended Tim's brother's wedding in Salt Lake. Weddings are such wonderful occasions - for a number of reasons - but mostly because of the opportunity it gives us to reflect on the covenants we have made, how they bind us one to another and to the Lord. It is a beautiful thing - one that brings me immense joy in marriage - to know that faithfulness to covenants brings blessings. I have seen it. Thanks Joe and Joanne for allowing us to share in your day, despite the fact that I was the designated "mom" and was therefore chasing little ones around the whole time. But what else is new?

I got to drive down south with Anna and my siblings to witness another covenant, that of the baptism of my niece, Natalie. I think it's safe to say that most of us scarcely understand what keeping our covenants may entail (in the long run) when we enter into them. But that's the beauty of faith. The faith of an eight-year-old child, or a blissful couple embarking on a new life together... priceless. And it is enough to sustain us when we're no longer so innocent. Or so blissful. I thank the Lord daily for my covenants and the joy that is inherent in them.

And now, for one of the few pictures I captured the entire weekend:



Ain't she cute?

The Nice-O-Meter.

There's a shortage of peacemakers in our home. One daughter, in particular, despite her many strengths is especially aggressive. And, since it takes two to tango, the others are more than willing to join her, or provoke her, or feign to ignore her when she flies off the handle. Long story short, contention has reached a level that I can no longer safely tolerate. My girls understand the principle of being Christlike and they actually desire to do what Jesus would do, but putting it into practice when tempers are flaring is easier said than done. So I decided to up the ante around here. I call it the Nice-O-Meter.



Each person (except the littlest, of course) gets her own. Each starts the day at 10. For each unkind word, each argument that dissolves into name-calling, or hitting, or tattling, they lose one point on the Nice-O-Meter. For each kind word, each time one says sorry sincerely and without being asked, each gesture of service rendered for another, they gain a point on the Nice-O-Meter. If, at the end of the day, her Nice-O-Meter registers above a 7, she earns a sticker. After 100 stickers, collectively, they will earn themselves a trampoline (something we were planning on getting soon, anyway, but this makes them feel like they earned it).

Guess what? It's working. And while it may seem like a band-aid - my hope is that they will develop and maintain some habits of resolving conflict, holding their tongues, etc. that will hold up long after the Nice-O-Meter ends up in the trash can.

The great chore overhaul.

I read a few books on teaching your kids responsibility over the past couple of months. Aside from giving me an enormous complex that not all my ducks were in a row, it motivated me to finally get my house in order, in my own way. Now, this is neither to say that our house is in a perpetual state of disaster (even though it is), nor that my kids do not maintain some level of accountability (they don't) - but there's always room for improvement. Nagging is just way too easy for some of us moms. Like me. So without further ado, I introduce the great chore overhaul.



At a very basic level, the kids get to be accountable for doing things that they've been doing forever - they get to maintain their regular privileges if they complete their tasks on a daily basis. They get extra privileges for completing them on time and without any reminders. I also have a bonus chore option where I post a chore of my choice on their chart and, if completed within the designated period of time, they get an extra privilege of their choice.
So here's what I like about this system, in theory, because I don't exactly know how it will all go over in reality.
1. It places responsibility on them, not me. Goodbye nagging mom! (One can only hope.)

2. I don't have to give extra rewards unless kids go the extra mile. I used to motivate them when they were slow to get things done by promising rewards. This was counterproductive, because they learned that the rewards only come when they demonstrate reluctance at first, then step it up a notch. According to this system: regular privileges for completing tasks, extra privileges for doing it without reminders, privileges denied when not completed. Pretty simple.

3. Different kids are motivated by different things. Each child will get to choose her extra reward based on her preferences (playdates for one, candy for another, money for another).

4. I can keep my "ticket system" without compromising the whole extravaganza. They will still be given as extra rewards for helping others out, being the first to respond to a mother's call for assistance, etc.

We'll see how this goes - but I figure, if I can get Anna to get her homework signed without being reminded, and Lily to brush and floss her teeth (she just got two fillings - argh), I will be a happy camper. Here's to hoping!

The noblest calling.

Tim and I had a discussion after church today about the relevance of occasions. He is of the mindset that one should always pay tribute to (in this case) mothers, that a one-day-a-year celebration underscores the importance of what they do on a day-to-day basis. I agree. But only partly.

To me, occasions are opportunities to recommit ourselves to honoring someone or something. They are, much like the sacrament reminds us to "always remember" Christ, a memorable, sometimes tangible moment of commemoration that charges us to reflect upon the important things. Like mothers. What a blessing it is to participate in the process of bearing and rearing children. I am grateful for my own mother, whose example I strive to emulate, and for all the mothers who know who they are and understand the eternal nature of their job. I honor you and am blessed to rub shoulders with you. Happy Mother's Day!

P.S. I'm not sure of the history behind the selection of the second Sunday in May, but one thing that just warms my heart about it is that I can always find something in bloom. A fresh bouquet every year.

One room at a time.

This summer marks our 6th anniversary of living in our current home. Six years that have been laced with pregnancies, postpartum troubles, heavy-duty church callings, multiple landscaping projects, lotsa Joy School, and, let's face it, four energetic girls who keep me and my household in a constant state of disarray. I've gotten used to it. Another thing I've grown accustomed to: bare walls and crummy furnishings. I mentioned in a recent post how disenchanted I am with my abode's utter lack of class and, well, homeyness. I think Tim picked up on the hint, because for my birthday he bought me two lovely bookcases to dress up our otherwise drab living room. Here's the result.



Please be aware that I have this unwritten rule that each painting, photograph, or knick-knack that adorns the halls of my home must embody some measure of meaning or represent a memory of mine. In fact, when I travel, I prefer my souvenirs to be something I can display - a painting, a vase, a magnet (yeah, that's classy).

Anyway, because almost every single trip Tim and I have taken since becoming parents has involved visiting family, we've failed to acquire much that's memorable in the way of home decor. So, during a quick visit to Ross a couple of weeks ago, I bit the bullet and bought a few cheap things to fill some shelves (and add a bit of color). There are still a few bare spots, but for now I will move onto the master bedroom, for which drapes are desperately in order. I'm making them myself - don't hold your breath.