I should be cleaning, or buying birthday presents, or folding laundry or shaving my legs in anticipation of a family outing to Seven Peaks waterpark, but instead, I'm sitting on the couch, typing this here blog post. I'm not sure why I've been so funky these last few weeks (which is obvious, what with all the blogging I've done and the blog posts you've read which have been written by yours truly, although, when I think about it, maybe you haven't read them, and that's okay, since I mostly blog just to gaze at my own navel in a public domain. Haven't I said something like that before? Probably. Ignore me. Moving on) but I have been. Kind of in a mood. Brandon blames PMS, I blame... I don't know. Whatever.
Something happened that was dumb, and I'm trying not to be offended, but I've found that if I'm doing my best to NOT be offended, then it means I am most certainly offended, because if I wasn't offended, it wouldn't even cross my mind to not be offended, capische? It's something I'm sure I'll get over very soon, but the whole thing has led me to a conclusion: Facebook should never, ever, ever be the reliable source for propriety-type interactions with people. If you want to spread information, one should never assume that everyone and their dog and their fleas are using Facebook, nor using Facebook regularly. If one needs information, one should never assume that Facebook is the only way to retrieve said information. And yet! I used Facebook as the sole source of announcing the birth of our son and it offended some people. I shrugged my shoulders back then and thought, 'oh, well!' and now I'm realizing, with the shoe shoved soundly onto the other foot, that it's not so awesome when it happens to me, eh? So, dear reader, for future reference, let's remember that people are people and are not nameless/faceless Facebook names/photos. Let's communicate, especially if what it is you are supposed to be communicating actually needs a response.
And speaking of responses, I find it interesting how my children respond to whispering the same way they respond to yelling: they still don't wanna do it. Whining is tough stuff and it lives and breathes and thrives in our home --much like bacteria in a petri dish in a high school biology class. My children don't care if I ask nicely, demand, or issue out consequences --they will always hate chores. Always and forever. And so we are in a situation where children must do extra chores. It's harder for me, yes, but my kids are going to learn how to work, whether they like it or not! Which they don't. Obviously.
And speaking of obvious things, I find it very telling that the only time I feel rested is when I'm in bed. One may think that is obvious, but sometimes it's not, because I don't spend a lot of time in bed, you see --I'm usually up nursing the baby in the rocking chair in his room or getting #5 a drink of water, or...well, it's mostly nursing. I love my bed, I love to sleep there, and I see my bed as a glorious pool of joyous-ness because when I lay down on it, it means the baby is asleep and I can sleep, too! And it's wonderful! And sometimes the baby even let's me sleep for 5 hours and I wonder what life was like when I slept for 8 hours and I can't imagine because it's so far removed from the current situation.
And speaking of the current situation, I also cannot go more than 5 minutes without somebody interrupting every thought I have --in the course of writing this very quickly typed blog post, I have been interrupted by children about 7 times. Seven times of being asked for things they know they cannot have, or tattling, or whining, or begging, or just causing all-out raucousness. School starts in two weeks, but I'm sad because Kindergarten doesn't start for three weeks and I'm even more sad because it won't be until after the first week that the kids even go to school all day. August and I have this love/hate relationship because I don't want summer to end (so much hiking and camping we never did!), but I'm so ready for school to begin (what with all the interruptions and lack of sleep and whining about chores). September and me love each other, usually, although lately, September has been hating me (see this post here). I'm really hoping this year September and I can make up and renew our relationship, one that will make August really jealous so August will try harder to please me next year.
And speaking of next year, I realized that 2013 marks 14 years of marriage, 12 years of age for our oldest daughter, and 16 years since I left my hometown to strike it out on my own in the big ol' city of Provo. I'm telling you, dear reader, when I was 18 years old, I don't think I even thought about 2013, I was so focused on 1997, and I can tell you right now that I couldn't imagine how my life would turn out, although my biggest goals was to graduate from college, serve a mission, get married, and have lots of kids. Other than the mission part, I pretty much did it. So, goals accomplished. I need to think of more, I think. Simple ones like shredding the documents in the office and purging the girls' clothes. But for some reason, those just don't have the same ring to it as "getting married" or "having lots of kids" --it's more a byproduct of it all, wouldn't you say?
Happy Tuesday, dear reader. Here's a quote for me. I would have said you, but I'm the one who needed it today, probably more than you. I'll probably always need it more than you. Maybe:
And if those children are unresponsive, maybe you can't teach them yet, but you can love them. And if you love them today, maybe you can teach them tomorrow.
― Jeffrey R. Holland