The Poor Man's Bumbo

Feelin' Crafty: 'Tale of Two Toys' cloth book

So, this is one of those posts to make me feel better about myself, even if it was a long time ago that I did this, I thought I'd share it here.

One (kind of) finished product, and two un-bound pages.

My husband and I like to give handmade gifts for Christmas, and two years ago we were giving gifts to his brother's family who has two boys close to the same age as our own, and so I thought I'd double up on the project.

I had the idea of making cloth books when I came across this printable (and washable) fabric.  So many awesome ideas ran through my head.  The one that stuck with me was to take pictures of the toys that I was giving as gifts to the boys and put them together in an adventure story. Then the kids could read it together with their toys and perhaps it would excite their imaginations.  I also wanted to personalize it, so I gave the end a twist to include the boys.

Here's the story: (I had the text on the pictures, but I guess I didn't save that version, so you just get the raw stuff.)

Once upon a time there were two toys who ran away from the store to explore the world outside.

They went to the park to play on the swings,

and the slides.

Sometimes they went to the zoo,

to see the animals.

They often climbed trees,

and watched the beautiful sunsets.

They also made friends

with different animals.

Soon, all the leaves fell off the trees, so the toys made a big pile to play in.

One day it snowed.  The toys decided they needed a home.

Then they had a great idea! They got in special boxes and send themselves to two little boys they had heard of who would take care of them and love them. That way, they could always be together.

THE END

I had a lot of fun taking the pictures for these, and I'm sure we got a lot of weird looks, and you have no idea how much lunch meat I fed to the neighbors cat to get him to sit still close to the toys!   We actually lost one of the toys to a dog in the park who decided it was a play thing, and had to go back to the store to replace it.  We were lucky to get an early snowfall so I could finish the book in time, however, when I did the layout I found that I was short one picture.  I'm sure you can figure out which one was photoshopped -horribly I might add- but the kids don't seem to mind.

I wanted to take pictures of things the boys could relate to --things that they did often, and could even bring their toys along to do as well.  The last picture I did differently for each family, and I'm afraid I didn't have the pictures of my own kids to personalize it for them, but it turned out really cute for their cousins, and apparently they really liked seeing themselves in a book.

All I had to do was print the pictures out on my regular ink jet color printer (the instructions are on the fabric), iron them to set the ink, and sew it all together.

The hardest thing for me was actually the sewing it together--since I really don't sew, and luckily two of my wonderfully talented sister-in-laws helped me with that part.  Still, my design for the cover could have been better.  Maybe next time I'll figure it out.

Over all, it was an easy yet somewhat time consuming project --since it spanned over at least a few months, but it didn't really have to.
And did the kids really appreciate it?  Kind of, but it hasn't been until recently (two years later) that they've really taken much interest.  Maybe they were just too young before, but now they've been asking me to read it to them more often. If nothing else, it's fun for me to read because it serves as a reminder of good times and I have fond memories associated with it.

Favorite pictures: The awesome sunset we were lucky to catch, and the giraffes at the zoo.

New Year's Resolution: Getting Things In Line

I saw these clouds all lined up while driving through Idaho and had to take a picture.  Cool huh? 

I generally hate the word Goal. I actually don't believe in goals, because my experience with them has been such that in my mind the word has become synonymous with failure.  Goals are just something to eventually give up on.

Sounds really motivating huh?

I'm sorry, but I guess I'm easily discouraged, and so when I make a goal and things don't go as planned, it might as well have been a distant wish, and once the merest hint of failure creeps in, the goal inevitably and magnificently falls by the wayside.

So generally, the New Year holds no special meaning for me.  I'd rather not set myself up for such disappointment, so I generally don't set goals.  However,  this year I'm trying to look at it in a different way.

I don't know if I mentioned this, but last month I turned 30.  Yes, the big 3-0.  Actually I don't care that I'm getting older, the number is meaningless,  I am only a little saddened by the fact that I've felt 30 since I had my first child.  With that first pregnancy, I gained a lot of weight, and afterwards it didn't come off.  After my son was about 9 months old, and sleeping through the night --even sleeping in until 9 a.m., I was still so tired I found that it was all I could do to get up with him and lie on the floor next to him while he played.  I didn't think that was normal, but attributed it all to the weight, which I blamed completely on myself for having a lack of self control or something, and basically I was miserable and depressed. Isn't that so typical?
Anyway, shortly after that, I went to a doctor for a recurring cold, and was diagnosed with hypothyroidism.  Yada yada long story short, after two more kids and periods of almost feeling good enough to almost try and exercise, (and yes, I am being redundant on purpose) I've decided that the time has come for me to try something new.  Yes, I went to a new doctor, and yes I changed my meds, and perhaps he'll have one or two more things to have me change or take or do differently, but this is more than that.

Now this isn't your typical new year's resolution to lose weight, nor is it even a goal to stay off sugar for a year or something ridiculous like that.  This is a desperate, hit-rock-bottom-can't-go-on-like-this mid-course correction.

It involves not just focusing on my physical health, but getting my mental health and spiritual health in line as well.

You see, I am a pretty good mom (if I do say so myself).
I am an okay wife I think.  I take care of my husband pretty well.
However, I am a horrible self. I do not take care of me.  When I do, I feel selfish.  (The only thing that I do for myself is steal sleep, because when I'm sleeping, I generally don't feel the guilt... I guess. Oh, and blog occasionally, but I do feel guilty about that.)  My husband has so graciously given me a "day off" every other week or so, which consists of a few hours without the kids to get out and do whatever I want to do.  My last "day off" I spent getting the oil changed in our van. Does that tell you something about me?
Half the time I don't even realize that I'm doing it --shoving my wants and needs and interests aside not taking the time for things that would help me be happy, or feel good about myself, or to become better; and even if I do realize it, frankly, I just don't believe I have time for it (I have to admit I have never wanted to walk out of a relief society meeting more than when I went to a workshop about time management).  Of course, what results is me rushing around frantically, trying to get everything done, trying to be everything to everybody, and all-the-while resenting it, feeling picked on, or rather, like a martyr, hoping that someone will appreciate the sacrifice I'm making... and ultimately failing.  Oh yeah, and I try to make myself feel better by sneaking chocolate, among other things.
It's an unhappy existence to say the least, not to mention counterproductive.

I believe that if I could turn this around, I could be an awesome mom, and an amazing wife -- but I'm not going to strive for awesomeness; that's what I've been doing.  I'm not going to aspire to be amazing; I always fail.

This year, I'm going to focus on me.

I may feel like I'm a horrible mom, I may feel like I'm not taking care of my husband, (but I suspect that it will be good for them in some ways, and honestly, they will be taken care of. I'm not heading off on a year long vacation or anything).
But I'm not going to feel guilty about spending time on myself --whether it means saying no to sharing the shower with rambunctious toddlers just to save time, or perhaps splurging on some real running shoes so exercise doesn't have to be any more painful than it already is, and maybe I'll even get my hair cut more than once per year --and actually take the time to do it instead of twisting it up in a soggy mass with a clippy, hoping that it will somehow dry on its own and thinking that it doesn't look too bad.

Okay, it will take some time, but I will find better examples of how to take time for myself.

Not all of the "focus on me" kinds of things will be indulgent of course.  Some will be less comfortable.  For example, I will be making some minor changes in my eating and exercising habits, but ones that fit me, and feel natural.  Yes, I plan to make a habit of counting calories sparkpeople style, but I am also making it a personal goal to eat sugar every day (now that's my kind of measurable and attainable goal, ha!).  Ultimately, its not about being skinny, or looking better; it's about being healthy, and having energy, and enjoying life for once!

As far as the spiritual side of my plan goes, it can't just be a "goal" in the measurable and attainable sense of the word.  That is too finite --meaning with a beginning and an end; however, there is no end to spiritual growth, and spirituality is not measurable.  So like my "To Do"  v.s. "To Be," I am not making a goal, I am making a decision, a commitment; to be more concerned about spiritual things, to be a better disciple, to be more Christlike in my communications, be more faithful, patient, charitable, loving and kind... and if I want to be less vague, rather than list all the things I would have "to do" to achieve this, all I need is to think at any given moment, "Who am I?" the answer being things such as, "A person who... reads their scriptures, or ...does their visiting teaching, or ...is patient, or ...shows gratitude to heavenly father for their talents by practicing and blessing other people's lives with them...  etc." and making sure my actions are lining up with who I want to be, and who God wants me to be.

Over all, I'm going to work on being the best me I can be, and I think all the other things will fall in line.

Wish me luck.

S.A.N.T.A.

So, does anyone else have a problem lying to their children about the whole Santa thing?

I mean, I love the innocence of youth that allows for kids to believe in something magical, and obviously I believed in Santa as a kid and turned out okay...I think.  Actually by the time I was told the truth, I wasn't too surprised, although I could imagine some kids being heartbroken and feeling completely betrayed...

Seriously though, why do we do it anyway? Does it really convince kids to be good, or change their behavior to tell them that if they're naughty they're not getting anything for Christmas?  Um, yeah right.


Gee, all those poor kids sure must've been naughty... 


Now, I'm not saying that anyone who teaches their kids about Santa is wrong, but I am having a personal dilemma with it.  I have to admit that not only am I a horrible liar --no pokerface whatsoever -- but I feel super guilty and weird telling my kids about a strange bearded man in a fuzzy red jumpsuit who somehow comes down the chimney to give them toys...for whatever reason (obviously not for being complete angels though).  Honestly, the first time I tried telling them I think they were more alarmed than anything.  At least we have a chimney this time so I don't have to field those kind of questions.  I couldn't bring myself to even approach the whole reindeer thing though.

I suppose there's something to be said for tradition, and it just being a part of childhood, but still... I don't need one more thing to undermine my credibility with my kids.

Remember how Mom lied to us about that whole Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy thing?  Maybe she was lying about the whole God thing (or drugs/alcohol thing) too...


Yikes!!

Okay, so maybe I'm blowing it our of proportion, and honestly, I'll most likely keep on telling my kids about Santa et al.  However, I'm still going to try to be careful not to get too into it, or try super hard to convince them of anything.  And when they do figure it out, I'll make sure to let them know not to go blabbing it to all their friends and ruin the "fun" (since lying is fun you know).

So far, I've only told them that Santa is a really nice guy who gives presents to everybody because that is what Jesus would do if He were here.  They already know that Christmas is Jesus's Birthday, and since we can't give presents to Him we give them to other people, because when we do things to other people it's like doing things to Him.

Oh yeah, and when we go to Grandma's house for the holidays, we will be sure to tell Santa that we're going to be there so he can find us --the kids were worried.

I'm such a liar.

I think I'll end with a few of my silly attempts at an acronym for Santa. Pick your favorite.

S.A.N.T.A. 

Sweets
And
Nice
Toys for
All

Singlehanded

Act of

Nationwide

Toy

Allocation

Sublime
And
Nostalgic,
Truth is
Ambivalent

Standard
Anecdote;
Negotiable
Truths
Abound

Subterfugitive    

Anomaly

Notorious in 

Traditional

Allegories

Shortage

There's been a shortage of cuteness here on my blog.  So here you go.

6th percentile for height.  4 mos.  

Get it?  Short + Age!  ha ha.  

ok so that was pretty lame.

Actually, he was just being stubborn about stretching out to be measured (he's a strong baby!), but I think we finally got it up to 25% on our 2nd try.  

FYI, 70th percentile for weight and 89th for head circumference! 

Yeah, we make 'em big around here (especially their heads... check out this melon --97th percentile!), 

2 2/3 yrs

but they're still so darn cute! (If I do say so myself) ...and funny, and smart...

4 1/2 yrs

Not to mention extremely talented.

Now we've just got to work on photogenics.  The older two are into the phase where they give me goofy smiles any time I get the camera out.  And yes, bed head is apparently all the rage around here. I even sport it on occasion (but no, you don't get a picture of that... that would counteract all the cuteness.)

Why I burned dinner the other night.

Hope

This is the talk I gave in Church today, more or less.

Hope:

As I began thinking about this subject, the first thing to come to mind was Emily Dickenson’s poem that begins, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.”

It’s a lovely poem, in fact, one of her more positive ones. 

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

It describes hope as a bird, that never stops singing it’s sweet tune, is everywhere from “chillest land” to “strangest sea”, where it warms people, never asking a thing in return, and is not easily “abashed” except for by “the sorest storm.”

As I thought about this metaphor for hope, I found myself thinking that however beautiful it sounded in prose, this wasn’t exactly the same kind of hope taught to us within the context of the Gospel.  There was something lacking.

In everyday speech, the word “hope” gets used a lot: “I hope it’s not going to snow this weekend,” (or that it is if you’re a skier), “I hope I get what I asked Santa for,” or “I hope I don’t make a complete fool of myself while giving my talk today…”  :)

 I’m afraid that in the colloquial sense, “I hope,” becomes “I wish.”

So my purpose in speaking to you today is to help you to understand what hope is in the Gospel sense of the word, how we can acquire it, and how it can help us through the tough times in our lives which will surely come.

Hope, in the Gospel sense.

“Wishing” is not what Ether spoke of when he said, “Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with ^asurety ^bhope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God…” (Ether 12:4).

The key to the kind of hope we’re speaking about is found in that word, “Believeth” and if we keep going it continues, “which ^chope cometh of ^dfaith, maketh an ^eanchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast…”

So Faith is the key to Hope, but not just any faith; to further explain and clarify it, Mormon teaches us what kind of faith we must have in order to have this hope when he says, “Behold I say unto you that ye shall have ^bhope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life ^ceternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise.” (Mni 7:41)

Faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ is what gives us hope –a “surety” of hope, or in the words of Nephi, “A perfect brightness of hope.” (2 Ne. 31:20)  that his promises will be fulfilled.

What a wonderful thing!

With the world’s use of the word hope there is a degree of uncertainty, but in the words of the scriptures, given to us from the mouths of the holy prophets, there is nothing more sure.

How to acquire hope.

So how do we acquire this hope?  While we live in such a world full of turmoil and suffering, hope is often hard to come by.  The very signs of the times include the prophecy that “men’s hearts shall fail them” (D&C 45:26).

In Moroni 10:22 we learn that “if ye have no hope ye must needs be in ^adespair; and despair cometh because of iniquity.”

Well of course it does!  Isn’t iniquity the very manifestation of a lack of Faith?

This includes not only sins of commission, but sins of omission. 

I admit that there have been times in my life when I have been very lax in my scripture study and personal prayer.  A few months after my first son was born, as the sleepless nights and constant fatigue of caring for a new baby dragged on, I found it difficult to get a shower, let alone read my scriptures, and although I tried to keep up my prayers, I often drifted off in the middle –if I even finished at all. One night, as I was feeding my little one in the wee hours of the morning, my mind was wandering and I was startled by the realization that if something bad happened to my baby or my husband, I wasn’t sure if I would have the faith needed to endure it.  I couldn’t say that I was confident that it was the Lord’s will, I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t doubt that there even was a God who cared about me, and I couldn’t say that believing in such a God wasn’t a mere fancy of the human race to make themselves feel better about things.  This realization shook me.  After all, I had been faithful all my life, I had gone on a mission, I been married in the temple, I was going to church each Sunday… however, for some time I had been neglecting those small yet important daily reminders and communions with the Spirit that are essential in keeping your faith bright and strong. It was a lesson to me just how easy it is to get casual about the gospel and be “lull[ed] away into carnal security” (2 Ne. 28:21).  When this happens we can lose sight of that hope. I confess I have had to dust off the old testimony more than once since then, but with a little work, it can burn bright again.

Mormon has taught us, “Wherefore, if a man have ^afaith he ^bmust needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope.” (Mni 7:42)

In short, we acquire and maintain hope by nurturing our Faith, and we do that by obedience, by repentance, and by learning more about the Gospel of Jesus Christ through scripture study and prayer.

How hope can help us through the tough times in this life.

Once we understand who we are in relation to our Heavenly Father, our purpose here on earth, and what glory awaits those who endure to the end and are entitled to enter into His rest, we can have that hope which is spoken of in the Gospel sense of the word. 

It is the surety of hope that brings us peace and comfort in the face of adversity, it is the perfect brightness of hope that buoys up our spirits, and gives us a love for all mankind. And that brings me to the third part of this natural progression: Charity. 

You can’t speak of Faith and Hope without speaking of Charity.

In the Book of Mormon Reference Companion, under Hope, it reads, “As a person’s faith in Christ begins [to grow], his hope in Christ is awakened and strengthened.  His heart expands with greater love, even ‘perfect love,’ for others.  Thus personal hope springs from faith in Jesus Christ and leads to charity through the power of the comforter.”

I saw this process come to life So many times as people were converted to the gospel on my mission.

One young man in particular, stands out in my memory. Although I don’t recall his name --I only met him briefly, I won’t forget his story.   I met him when I traveled to a city in the west of Poland for a zone conference. My companion and I arrived at the meetinghouse late the night before, and since the Elders couldn’t be out past curfew, they asked this young man to escort us to where the other sisters lived. He had been helping them teach another one of their investigators, and according to the Elders, he was “on fire” when it came to sharing the gospel. He was very courteous and respectful as he helped us get our bags onto and off of the bus, and I felt quite safe with him as we walked the few blocks to the sisters’ apartment building through the darkened streets and alleyways. 

It wasn’t until the next day that I learned from the elders that the young man wasn’t a member.  I was surprised; I had assumed he was a member since he was constantly going with them to help on discussions.  I had an even bigger shock when I found out that although baptism was what he desired most, he was waiting patiently for permission from the First Presidency because years previously he had been a member of the mafia while he lived in Canada, and as such had done stuff… I won’t say what, we’ll just say …things that were contrary to the law, not to mention the Commandments (namely the 6^th).

I’m afraid I don’t know the rest of the story, I’d like to think that he is baptized now, forgiven of his sins, and is a strength to the Church in that area, but I just don’t know.  Still, what I gained from his example is a greater appreciation for the power of faith --which to a young man who had been through so much, gave such hope that he couldn’t help but share it with others.  It was like witnessing a real-life Alma the Younger –whose story of conversion is one of the most inspiring stories of hope and redemption that the Book of Mormon has to offer, and just like Alma the younger, his love of the Gospel and of all mankind was helping him, in a way, undo some of what he had done in years past as he taught others and awakened this hope in many.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I’d like to return to the Emily Dickenson poem that I began with. I hate to be contrary, but I have to say that hope is not merely a thing with feathers; that is too fragile a picture.  For when the “sorest storm” arises, the kind of Hope that is centered, in faith, on the atonement of Jesus Christ, strengthened by our daily strivings, will stand firm like the house that was built upon the Rock. 

This is the Hope of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  It is the hope of eternal life given so freely through the merits of the Savior and the infinite mercy of a Loving Father in Heaven.  It is the assurance that whatever hardships we experience in this life, it is for “but a small moment” (D&C 121:7), and it is “for [our] good” (D&C 122:7), and that if we hold out faithful, enduring to the end, we will be “heirs… and joint heirs with Christ” (Romans 8:17) of all that the Father has in store for us.

This is my prayer, that we may share this message of hope with the world, that all may partake of His Glory, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

See what I made?

I made this to go with my new shirt for giving my talk today.  I wish I had taken a picture in real sunlight, but this will have to do.

When we lived in Jackson we got a whole bunch of cool rocks at the souvenir shop, so I decided to try my hand at wire-wrapping.

And just so you know, this is as fancy as it gets for me.  I generally don't wear jewelry, mostly because I don't have any sense of fashion, and because I'm too cheap frugal.

What's in a Name?

Today I had a revelation.  It's probably something most people already know and appreciate, but for me it was new and sweet.

My 4 year old asked me what my name is.  I've told him before, and he hears his father use it all the time, so I told him, and when I tried to explain why he should call me "mom" it hit me.  It's not a mere formality, or a recognization of authority; it's even more than a term of endearment.  I told him that there are only three people in this whole world who can call me "mom" and that is very special to me. It's who I am, and who I'll always be to them.

It is a title attached to the new, eternal, identity that I received when I fulfilled the measure of my creation, and although the world may see it as a hinderment to my progress as an individual (to what end? I ask), it is actually just the beginning of the ultimate realization of my eternal progress, and something I proudly wear like a glorious crown.  My children are my jewels.

 Remembering this helps me once again see it as such a blessing and a sacred responsibility that I don't take lightly, and I am so grateful for the opportunity.

Even when they're being little stinkers.
          

Nostalgia

I could imagine the origin of that word coming from the word for nose, but it doesn't.  Still, haven't you ever just gotten a whiff of something that totally took you back to a specific time and place in your life?  It's like a little time machine built right into your head!  Of course, there's the nice smells that we all enjoy: fresh bread, lilacs, lemon peels, rain...  But I'm talking more specific than that. I'm talking smells that are inseparably connected to a place or time in your past.

Some smells are place specific.  I remember the first time I was away from home at college.  I hadn't realized that home had a smell.  I first realized when one of my roommates started cooking something by sauteing onions and I was instantly transported, you know, like Anton Ego style when he takes a bite of the ratatouille...  yeah.  I guess my mom sauteed onions a lot.  It happened again when I returned home for the first time for a visit, but this time it was the evening canyon breeze coming through the kitchen window.  It smelled of pines and a freshly mown lawn, and maybe a hint of faraway skunk. It filled my head with memories of sleeping out on the trampoline, digging for fishing worms in the garden after dark, and climbing our willow tree to sit on the still-warm garage roof to watch the stars come out.

Other smells are season specific --like the smell of fresh cut grass and the oil they use to burn lines into the soccer fields --that takes me back to various years that I played, both city league and in high school.  Even though I haven't played for more than 10 years, at the beginning of each new school year I smell it and it makes me want to run around and get grass stains.
One of my seasonal favorites is new Spring grass.  When I was young we had rabbits and we would feed them handfuls of the stuff as soon as it sprang up.  I remember how eagerly they would pull it from our fingers as we stuffed it through the wires of their pens and munch it one blade after another. The smell was pure green, if green had a smell, and every spring I still make sure that I grab a handful of the stuff for my annual dose of time-travel; back to when I had no cares in the world, wore sun-suits and Jellies, and played with My Little Ponies (yes, I was a child of the 80's)

Another Spring smell that takes me back to my earliest memories is that of the smoke from when the migrant workers would come and burn the grass and winter debris out of the ditches to unclog them for irrigation.  I even have an image that comes to my head when I smell that smell: the perspective is from either my tricycle or hoppity-horse, out on the pavement under the basketball standard to the side of our house --before the garage was there, watching the smoke rise from the ditch that ran along the road under a line of huge old trees that don't exist anymore.

Ah yes.  I could go on and on, but it's late, and I shouldn't stay up much longer.  I'll have to do time-travel posts every so often, whenever I smell something that transports me somewhere.

What smells take you to other times and places?