Nervous and Excited

It's been ages since I've written; I expect my audience is only myself, which is fine.  I feel compelled to write some of the thoughts that float through my head each day, if only to one day remember what these moments in time felt like.  I know they are fleeting at best; some days my boys seem so small and close to home while some days they seem to be growing right out of their need for me.  I equally love both extremes.  I hope there will always be a part of them that needs me and a part of them that stands on their own, even when they're all grown up.

Todd just left for his first high school swim meet in Bountiful.  We were unsure of how the logistics would work for check out from Vista, so we carefully planned my bringing his stuff, checking him out, driving him to the high school, and getting him on the bus.  He likes to have a clear plan all lined out, so he went over every detail before he left this morning.

When he got to school, he found out he could check himself out like he normally does for swim practice (which I had suspected and mentioned to him earlier).  He said he would rather just have me come check him out, so I did.  I could tell he was both nervous and excited for the day.  Nervous because it's new and different.  Nervous because he's still a pretty little guy compared to those big seniors he is now swimming against.  Nervous because he's not used to heading out on his own.  But excited, too.  Excited to be trying out this new independent phase of his life.  Excited for a two-day meet with time for card games, hanging out with friends, and reading books.  Excited for a bus ride.  And let's face that fact that he's excited for Gatorade and beef jerky.

I'm nervous and excited, too.  Nervous about this new person who makes his own friends, instead of mom-planned play dates.  Nervous about long stretches away from me where he carries on his own conversations and chooses how to spend his time.  Nervous about whether or not the things we have taught him have gone more than skin deep.  But, excited, too.  Excited that he is stretching his wings.  Excited to see him all dressed up for game day in his preppy outfit--white shirt and plaid tie with grey jeans and Vans.  Excited for him to get to the "fun" part of the swim season (we've been practicing since September).  Excited for him to develop new skills and figure things out on his own.
This parenting gig is new every day, I'm finding.  Part of me wants to freeze time right now and hold on to it, but the bigger part of me is excited to find out what each new day and each new adventure will bring.  So I picked Todd up and drove him the quarter mile to the high school.  He just needed me to be a touch-point in the process, to see me for 2.5 minutes.  No fanfare.  No hugs or kisses.  No drawn-out process.  But there was a sincere, "thanks, mom," and a spring to his step as he headed for the bus.  One more step one this path to manhood.  Lucky, lucky me that I get to be a  small part in that journey.

Mountains to Climb

I was a scouting agnostic.  Until last month, that is.  Look it up.  Agnostic: a person who denies or doubts the possibility of ultimate knowledge in some area of study.  Let me tell you, I’ve been in strong denial that scouting is the answer to make a boy a man.  Oh, I’ve “done” scouting for four years.  I’ve sent my boy off to be taught or “entertained” by his den leaders and 11-year-old scout leaders.  I’ve even praised the particularly good ones, thanking them for getting my boy to where he is in scouting, because clearly it hasn’t been me.  In cub scouts, you could always tell when it was about a month shy of an upcoming birthday, because the mostly-blank tracking chart would go up on the fridge and we would feverishly work to make check marks.  Admittedly, he has learned phenomenal lessons from a variety of amazing men, but despite this I for sure had not had a drink of that scouting Kool-Aid.

 Then came the ever-looming Boy Scouts, with their rank advancements and uniform inspections and the Holy Grail Eagle.   That was one mighty checklist in my mind.  We floated through 11-year-old scouts on the backs of two great leaders in two different states.  Is it sad to say there was a part of me that was hoping for a different decision when the BSA was contemplating the issue of homosexuality?  I was almost wishing it wouldn’t go well and then maybe the LDS church would part ways (I’m just being honest here, folks).  Then my husband got called to scouting, and in a flurry of new excitement “we” made a plan, which we graciously informed our 12-year-old he would be participating in.  We’re just cool like that.  Real cool.

But small things can change a mama’s mind.  Small things like an 11,752 ft high mountain.  And 3 good men.  And 1 good woman.

See, my 12-year-old Todd hiked Mt. Timpanogos last month.  All the way to the top.  And back down. 

It.

Was.

Hard.

The day started early.  We got up an hour before the scheduled departure time, having made zero preparations the night before (did I tell you we are awesome?).  Both Todd and Ryan were a little stressed (Ryan went as well—he’s a scout leader now, ya know).  But we got them ready and out the door.  It had been an ugly weather week—rain every afternoon and most mornings.  Our view of Timp from home was socked in with dreary grey clouds.  They left at 7:00.  5 boys and 5 leaders.   The other 4 boys hiked in 2.5 miles, and then had other obligations to get home to.  So they headed back down the mountain.  Those other four leaders kept going.  With one scout.  Yep.  My scout.  Let me tell you, it would have been mighty easy to say, “Let’s all head back.  We’ll do this again another time.”  But they didn’t.  They took their entire Saturday to help my son summit a mountain. 

It was perhaps the most demanding physical exertion that he has ever asked of his body.  And this kid isn’t a weakling—he swims one to two hours a day, all week.  But he hasn’t built up his hiking legs, and it was hard for him.  There was weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth (literally).  He wanted to quit.  At the top, they made a shelter for him out of ponchos and he sat in it with the one mama who was there—she probably knew he need a little mothering amidst all the manliness.   I’m sure he’ll toughen up after a few years in the Utah arctic tundra, but this kid is still a desert rat—he was cold.  She sat there with him until he got back some degree of body heat.  He truly felt like he couldn’t make it back down the mountain.  His legs were jello.  He was cold.  They ran out of food and he was hungry.  I made him wear my hiking books because we’re the same size, but that wasn’t a brilliant idea.  In utter frustration he took off his hiking boots and hiked 3 miles in 3 layers of socks (2 of which belonged to leaders).  This was not a hike to publish in Backpacker magazine.  Nothing glamorous here.

But here’s the beauty and the lesson of the day.  My son did something monumentally difficult.  In this day of ease and plenty, we rarely ask extremely difficult things of our bodies or minds.  Scouting asks these things.  And it is in those difficulties that we find out who we are and what we are capable of.  One day, perhaps 6 years from now on the streets of Chicago or in the jungles of Brazil, or on a path in China, Todd will feel like he can’t possibly go on.  His legs, or his heart, will be wobbling and threatening to buckle.  He will feel freezing in body, or in spirit, or both.  He will want to quit.  But he will remember that he hiked Mount Timpanogos.  He will remember that Brother Mason, Brother Skinner, Sister Skinner, and his dad believe in him.  He will remember that they stood beside him while he did something that felt impossible.  It may not be a glorious moment.  But when he is an 18-year-old serving a mission, or a young father struggling to find his way in the world, or a middle-aged father feeling lost and unneeded in a new place, he will remember that summit.  And he will pick himself up and keep going.  Because he will know that he can.  He has done it before.  He can do it again. 

So I’m a convert.  Scouting at its heart isn’t about badges and lists and checkmarks.  It isn’t about sewing on patches or paying registration fees.  It isn’t about deadlines and details.  It is about my son.  It is about making him a man who knows he can climb mountains.  Because there are mountains ahead.

Prayers Answered

This Todd is a thinker.  He's quiet (except when he's making annoying sounds).  He's pensive.  He isn't prone to wild exuberance.  He isn't a constant smiley kind of kid.  Sometimes I worry about him. I worry that he isn't finding joy in life.  I worry that I'm not doing the right thing, not being the right mom, not making the right decisions.  I worry that I'm not pushing him hard enough.  I worry that I'm pushing him too hard.  Sometimes I worry.  And I pray.  I pray for wisdom and guidance.  I pray that I will remember he was first God's son before he was mine.  I pray that there will be people in his life who love him and see his amazingness.  I pray for this kid all the time.

On Sunday, we had our primary program.  Todd volunteered to sing a solo verse in the program.  My shy guy who about died when I suggested he call the dentist to make his own appointment.  That one.  He volunteered to sing a solo in front of 300 people.  And he did a marvelous job.  I know, I know.  I'm his mother and I'm a little biased in my thinking.  But, it was seriously beautiful.  He hit the right notes.  His voice was clear and bright.  He is still a soprano, and he sang it out so beautifully.  I could see that he was so pleased that he had made it through and I was so grateful for his primary leaders who gave him that opportunity.  As I sat there in the next few minutes pondering my oldest child, I felt the spirit teaching me.  

I'm not sure I can adequately explain what I learned, but here is my best effort.  I have prayed so much for Todd, which is right and good.  But then I have held on so tightly to that prayer.  I have held on too tightly.  I have prayed and then instead of turning it over to my Father,  I have tried to MAKE that prayer work.  I have tried to MAKE him choose joy.  I have tried to MAKE him be happy.  I haven't spent enough time looking around at the multitude of ways Heavenly Father has blessed me with answers to my prayers.  Most specifically, Heavenly Father has sent so many people, amazing people, into my life, and into our family's life, who love my boys.  They love Todd and have changed his life.  As I scrolled through pictures this morning, it brought tears to my eyes to look at the love these good people have for my boy.  These, my friends, are the answers to my prayers.  These are the people Heavenly Father has been using to bless my boy.  I am so grateful they have accepted that call from Heavenly Father to take up that challenge.  So grateful.

 This is Todd's 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Smith.  For me and mine, this woman was a miracle worker.  That smile on Tod's face isn't fake.  He loves this woman.  

 Coach Brittany was Todd's swimming coach this summer.  He said he liked her because, "She really makes us work hard."

 This fellow is Todd's cousin.  Sometimes they're super cool.  Sometimes they giggle like girls.  Sometimes they fight like brothers.  Oh how I love them.

 This is Todd's best buddy.  These two are a lot alike.

 This is Todd's great aunt ( I threw that in there to make her feel old :)  She visits every other year and we always have a grand adventure.

 This is Todd's bridge ceremony.  On the right is scout leader extraordinaire, Sister Lambourne, who was also Todd's amazing primary president for several years.  On the left is Brother Thiriot.  Talk about a dynamite 11-year-old scout leader.  

 Wow, does Todd look up to his dad.  I think his greatest desire is to please him.

What fabulous grandparents.  Grandpa even showed Todd how to mow a lawn this summer, and then was patient when Todd missed ummmm, a few spots.

 This was Todd's fifth grade teaching team last year.  Those women are my heroes.

 This is Todd's uncle/surf instructor, Jeremy.  He has made Todd one happy camper to be up on those waves.  (Though Todd does prefer the water temperature in Hawaii to that of Monterey)

 This is Todd's newest cousin, Oscar.  Todd loves those babies.

 These boys are so good to each other.  Yesterday, Ben came home with 62 new Pokemon cards.  Todd spent his hard-earned school money to buy them for him.  

 This is Todd's great great grandmother.  She and Todd share a birthday month.  What a gift it was that Todd knew this wonderful lady before she died 3 years ago.  Lucky, lucky  boy.

This is Todd's grandpa.  (His grandma has a serious gift for photo avoidance, thus no recent photo).  Todd loves and respects this man so very much.  We often talk about how much Grandpa will be able to help Todd even from the other side of the veil.  I'm so grateful that Todd will always remember good moments like this he got to have with his grandpa.

So there you have it.  These people (and more) are the answers to my prayers.  They are the reason I can let go a little bit.  They are Heavenly Father's way of getting us through these times that aren't always easy.  What a blessing.

Halloween in January?

I can't believe I never posted these gems. I seriously love making family Halloween costumes. . .

Every year the camera manages to catch Ryan with a fabulous look on his face. This year was no exception.

A vacation of sorts

In mid December, Ryan had a work training in Salt Lake City and the wives were invited to come along. Some great new friends of ours, the Yancey family, graciously agreed to host our two little munchkins for four days and three nights. They are an fun young couple eagerly anticipating their first baby, so they said this would be great practice for them. So, every day, Elizabeth took the kids to school and picked them up, packed their lunch

es, and made sure they had their miscellaneous items for that last week of
school before break. At night, Russ and Elizabeth played drums, guitars, playstation, and games with the boys. I'm pretty sure after that fun week, T and B decided we are no longer cool parents. Thank you Yanceys!

But enough about the boys. We had a great, great, great time in Salt Lake. Well, I had a great time. Ryan still had meetings all day. This was our agenda:

Monday: Ryan drives to SLC in the afternoon.

Steph gets the boys packed, finishes last minute errands, etc.

Tuesday: Ryan has meetings.

Steph gets the kids to school, then transports a massive pile of stuff to the Yancey house. (because of course you need guitar for lessons, scout uniform for Wednesday night, church clothes for Ben's piano recital (Yep, we missed it), uniforms for school, pajamas both for sleeping and for Friday's wear jammies to school day for Ben, Christmas books for our nightly Christmas book reading tradition, cookies for Todd's class party Friday, etc. etc. etc.

When all this is done, Steph flies on a plane all by herself. She buys a magazine in the airport newsstand because she can. She wears adorable boots and looks like a grown up.

Tuesday night dinner at the Lion House--Ryan and Steph are the youngest by at least 10 years, but it's fun.

Wednesday: Ryan has meetings

Steph sleeps in, gets ready, wears grown-ups clothes (not one surf T-shirt or pair of ratty jeans in the bunch), has brunch at The Blue Lemon overlooking the Salt Lake Temple and reads in her Kindle. She eats an artichoke and sun dried tomato sandwich with sweet potato fries. She sits there for an hour because she can.

No one tells her the food is disgusting or asks "what are we doing now?" She then treks over to the Family History Library. They have her watch a movie and give her a yellow "Newbie" name tag so everyone knows she is clueless. It is fun. Seriously. She stays there for hours.

Wednesday night Ryan and Steph catch a rushed dinner at Red Iguana (not nearly as good as they hype, in Steph's opinion) and then catch a temple session at the Salt Lake temple with Ryan's co-workers. Fantastic.

Thursday: Ryan has meetings (thought he originally wasn't supposed to)

Steph sleeps in, gets up, breaks a record for looking like a grown up three days in a row, has breakfast overlooking the temple at Hagermann's (She'll fess up that it was a croissant smothered with Nutella and then grilled--nothing healthy but everything delicious). She then heads back to the Family History Library for more fun. She even finds some clues to a mystery in Grandpa Bob's family. So exciting.

Ryan and Steph meet for lunch, then back to more meetings and Family History.

Friday night dinner at Bruges waffles (OK, so it wasn't really dinner--more like a heart attack waiting to happen) followed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas Concert. The organ solo was amazing!

Friday: Ryan and Steph oversleep a bit, run a few errands, then drive home. Because of some poor communication on Steph's part, they were only unsure about the whereabouts of their kids for 15 minutes on Friday afternoon. Other than that, everything went off without a hitch.

It sure was fun to enjoy my husband without the pressures of parenting and balancing schedules. The best part of all was that by the time we came back, I missed my kids and was ready to dive back into mothering. We are definitely doing this again soon. Next time, maybe we'll just have to get away without the meetings. . .

Marbles

Todd has been chomping at the bit every morning to get to school this week. You heard me right.

Todd.

Wants.

To.

Get.

To.

School.

My kid who five months ago hated school and would tell anyone withing hearing range. That kid.

Every morning this week he has been counting down the minutes, starting 30 minutes before. He herds Ben toward the door (somewhat nicely) and is so frustrated when Mr. Slow is his usual dawdling self.

What brought about this change?

Marbles.

Marbles are the new craze for the 5th grade boy set. They don't even play by the right rules--they have their own version. Every morning before school and every lunch recess they play. Todd was all excited today because he's playing for 3rd place in the "championships."

There is one boy, Henry (I think), who is the "marble expert." He knows what all the marbles are called and he can examine your marble and tell you its name. He has a gallon bag full of marbles, according to Todd.

This might seem little and silly, but it is another answer to my prayers. Todd's shell is cracking open bit by bit. He is meeting new, good, kind friends. He is expanding beyond his little world. I can see him growing and changing and I love this young man he is becoming.

And guess what?

Marbles are cheap.

Whose Head is it Anyway?

Can you identify this head?

I'm giving myself points for being an innovative mom with this one. Todd wanted a big Elvis head on a poster for his Elvis Presley biography report. I don't own an overhead projector, an opaque projector, or a cool DVD projector. But, I do own a flashlight, a card holder, two card game boxes, a stool, and a plastic bin. Combined with a cut out printable of the Elvis head, and Voila! Traceable goodness.

The poster turned out great, by the way, but did I think to snap a picture of it before he whisked it away to school? Nope.

By the way, you should read a biography soon about someone interesting. It really opened my eyes to see the world through a different set of eyes. (Yes. I read the biography, too.)