Five things that are making me happy

I am really bummed today. As in, fighting tears all day, sad.

Today my little sister, Paige, graduates from high school. And I don't get to be there. Or hang out with all my family that is congregated for the occasion. (Again.) Or go to California at all this summer, for that matter.

And I'm unendingly sad about it.

But I know I need to buck up and get over it and move on with life.

So in an effort to be cheerful in all things, here is my list today of five things that are making me happy. Because I can choose to be happy.

1. I am sewing again! After a six month break, I've busted out my machine (as of last week) and am sewing up a storm. I've made three skirts for Ginny, one for me, and have a Ginny dress in the making (as in, the pattern and such are in the making). I've also been making yoyos for Paige's quilt. And I've remade three (or four?) of Jeremy's ties into Raymond ties for church. Creativity breeds happiness.
2. I've joined pinterest. Just today I've been working through the details and adding pins to my boards. Most notably my "Salt Lake Options" board in which I've added the many different houses and apartments in SL that I've looked at in the past two days. Sigh. Finding housing is stressful! (But this portion of the post is supposed to be happy... so I'll stop there!)
3. I've exercised five or six days a week for three and half weeks now! I feel so dang good about life when I'm exercising. I alternate daily between the elliptical and a kettlebell workout. It's a great mix of aerobic and cardio.
4. I've successful convinced Jeremy to watch movies with me like Persuasion and North and South. And low and behold he enjoys them. Seriously opens up all sorts of movie-watching possibilities around here! (And isn't it happy that we get to bum off my in-law's Netflix all summer? Yes. Very happy.)
5. Summer weather is finally (FINALLY!) here to stay (or so it seems). Blue skies, hot sun, cool breezes. I love summertime.

And because this picture has been making me happy for a few days now: here is Miss Virginia in her new (made by Mama) all pink ruffle skirt. It's seriously darling on her (much cuter in person than in the picture)... but who can resist being happy with that little face looking up at you?

Where to start...

We have been living in Blanding for one week now.

Which means that somehow we managed to pack and clean our apartment in the midst of all the graduation festivities. I'm still not sure how that happened (or how we passed our cleaning check). But we did. And we're here.

It already feels like Cedar City was a long-ago dream. It's so strange how that happens.

At the same time, I can't quite get it into my head that I don't actually live there anymore (and am not just on vacation at "Nama and Nampa's house." I keep thinking about my friends and past ward-members in Cedar and having to remind myself that chances are I won't see them again. I'll never get to see that new baby or find out if so-and-so got into Med school. Weird. It's hard to let go sometimes.

But slowly and steadily we are settling into a new rhythm. Jeremy is working four tens Monday through Thursday (which makes those days long) with a perpetual three day weekend on every horizon (which makes the weekends gloriously long as well). I love that when he's home from work, there's no studying to do (just playing with kiddos, bath and bed times, hanging out).

Debbie (my mother-in-law) has already babysat for us twice. Twice! Getting a babysitter was the bane of my existence in Cedar, so I can hardly believe my good fortune to be have one living with us (who's willing, no less!)

We are loving (with all our hearts) having an enormous backyard to frolic in--with "doggies" who bark at the fences on all sides (Raymond's one true desire in life is to go see the doggies every day). And more than that, there are chickens ("bock bocks") across the street, horses and donkeys a few doors down, and pigs around the corner. Really and truly, life doesn't get better than this when you are two.

Ginny, however, is reaping the most benefits of us all. The girl has finally been put in a room of her own... and miracle of miracles, she sleeps! Still not perfect by any means, but most days she has at least one long(er) nap. And most nights she has at least one stretch (longer than two hours is a stretch for her). Progress, my friends, progress. Hooray!

Other glorious perks to living at the Christiansen abode is (as mentioned before) my mother-in-law's love of all things culinary. She is more than willing to be the head chef of the house, and truly I am happy to be her helper! And she's in healthy-eating mode, which makes me oh so happy. But willing to buy Jeremy just about any treat he requests, which makes him oh so happy. There is all sorts of wining going on around here when it comes to food. (Can I just say she made some out-of-this-world Gumbo for dinner today. Wow.  I don't have words for the rhubarb cake with nutmeg sauce that followed.)

Speaking of the healthy side of life, there is an olyptical (sp?!) machine in the basement (where we live), that I am taking full advantage of. Along with the wide open spaces and new place to go when we want to get out for a walk. Glorious exercise is making me happy.

Did I mention there is a toy room? Yep.

So you see, we are alive and well.

I'm not quite sure how blogging will fit into life this summer. Hopefully more so as the summer progresses, but I guess I can't make any promises. But have no fear, we are happy and healthy and well.

Speaking of things I enjoy doing

Growing up, Sara was the neat one. She liked to have all her things in their places, which made me scared to touch anything in her room. In comparison, I never really considered myself as neat or organized.

But I think in some respects, I always have been made after the same mold as Sara. As I think back on my childhood, I was pretty meticulous about putting my things away in their places too. My American Girl doll (Molly) had her special suitcase that I kept neatly under the bed. I always put books back on the shelf from exactly where I got them (and prided myself on knowing where every book in the house was). I have always hung my clothes in the closet facing the same way, organized by color or shirt type etc. I have never been one to leave my clothes strewn about the bedroom (shudder).

I think I have always been an organizer without realizing it.

And now, I accept the label wholeheartedly. I devise plans in the middle of the night for how I want to better organize and utilize our limited space. I truly find pleasure in rearranging, refitting, and cleaning out cupboards, closets, and living spaces. I find it wholly satisfying to fit everything into place just right.

Or maybe I'm just OCD?

Regardless, I tell you, since becoming a full-time stay at home-er, my mind is constantly reeling with plans to organize and reorganize. Jeremy will sometimes ask me in the morning, "What are you going to do today?" and a typical response is, "reorganize the vacuum closet."

A few weeks ago we needed to make some serious changes in our bedroom. On either side of our bed were desks that Raymond gloried in climbing onto from our bed. After writing in permanent marker all over the comforter (pen obtained from Jeremy's desk), I knew the set-up had to change. I think it took me two or three days to get it right.  I would sit in the rocking chair and work out plans in my head of where to put what.

It's almost like doing a puzzle. How I can I put things to make them easily accessible when they are needed (and out of Raymond's reach)? And then, when circumstances (ahem, Raymond's ability to reach) change, I actually enjoy going back to it, rethinking it.

I love having things streamlined, ordered, smooth, neat. And quite honestly, I love the process as much as the product.

(Don't get me wrong though, there is still plenty of room for improvement in this apartment; plenty of "clutter spots" that haven't been figured out yet!)

On reading

This afternoon a friend from a few doors down showed up on my doorstep wanting to borrow a book. She'd never been to my house to know that I have a few bookshelves. We'd never even talked books before. She just had a hunch that this might be a good place to start.

Do my heart good.

I'm sure my eyes lit up with anticipation of sending her home with something good to read.

The past four months or so I have been a reading manic. Since my sewing machine is in the shop (my mom has loaned me an old machine of hers... but it isn't the same), and my alone time is minimal at best, I've found that there's nothing better than a good book these days.

I nurse and read while Raymond explores (and tears apart) the house. Or he reads a book of his own on the couch (seriously darling). We all lay on our bellies on the floor with a book (or toy) at hand. When the babelins are finally sleeping at night, I curl up on the couch and read and read and read.

And so pass the days.

I have always been an avid re-reader. I honestly don't remember what happened in a book just weeks after finishing it. (Contrasting with my dad who will remember minute details years after reading a book).

Most of the books I've read most recently are just ones I've picked up off my own shelves and decided to read again. To Kill a Mockingbird (heavens, how many times have I read that book?). The Emily of New Moon series (borrowed from Sara). The Chronicles of Narnia.

The funny thing is, I am often surprised by things I simply don't remember from a previous reading. Things are familiar and comfortable, but fresh. I love that about a well-loved and oft-read book. They are like old friends whom I haven't seen in a while. Somehow the conversation always is new, but the feeling the same.

speaking of redheads

Right as I was about to start typing I was temporarily distracted by the fact that my feet are purple. Does this happen to you? I have extremely poor circulation.

Speaking of blood flow, did you know redheads are bleeders? Neither did I until Valley View Medical Center staff told me so every single time I had to have any sort of blood work done in the last two and half years.Funny thing is, at least in my case, it's true.

Redheads also (supposedly) bruise easily. Also true in my case.

Speaking of redheads, I think general we get a pretty bad wrap. You know, the whole personality-matches-the-hair bit. (I guess blondes have it worse, though. I shouldn't complain.)

Just last week I had a whole conversation with the checker at Wal-Mart about Raymond being a redhead. You know, feisty and fiery. We made small talk about his temper.

And as I walked away, I thought about how I don't agree with what I just off handedly said about my son. That he has a personality to match his hair.

Because while he can throw a pretty good tantrum when he wants to, I don't know a toddler who can't. Redhead or otherwise. I don't really think it has much to do with his hair.

But speaking of Raymond, I must say that boy really does get cuter every day. Today he got a hair in his mouth (ahem, one of my very own red hairs) and came running to me with his tongue hanging out and said (as best he could in that position), "gross!" I laughed.

He seriously says the funniest things  (or maybe they are just funny because of the way they come out of his little boy mouth.) He kept trying to say strawberry tonight.Endearing in every way.

Speaking of strawberries,  I'm pining for summer and walking weather and short sleeves. Last night the wind got up to 50 mph around these parts. I'm serious.

And for a last unrelated note, I have decided that I love to dress "Baby Birginia" in pale pink more than any other color. Even red! It suits her so well. I was sure I wasn't going to be a only-dress-my-baby-girl-in-pink kind of mom. But I purposefully do laundry to recycle my favorite pink outfits faster. Maybe it's because she isn't a redhead. (And the stereotypes continue.)

And there you have it.

to clean or not to clean...

When I moved into my own apartment for the first time, I was surprised to discover how much of a clean freak I am. Every Saturday I would sweep and mop and organize. I loved keeping that apartment spic and span. And with only myself making the messes, it was pretty easy to do.

There is something so calming and peaceful and good about a clean living space.

Getting married added a new dimension to Saturday cleaning. Not that Jeremy is overly messy (although I think his mess-tolerance is much higher than mine), but two people are inevitably messier than one.

I soon discovered an interesting fact about myself: I have a much higher tolerance for my messes than for someone elses. Hmmm.

Enter toddler to the mix. Wow. I can't even clean the first mess before another one is underway. Crayons thrown around the living room. Pots and pans pulled from the cupboard and spread out on the kitchen floor. Toys dumped from their places, and books strewn about the room.

All done in one nursing session.

I don't know how he does it so fast. His latest favorite is to open the fridge (a sad day when that skill was learned) and line the ketchup, mustard, and Worcestershire sauce up on the table or throw everything he can grab into a pile in the baby swing.

Sometimes I want to pull my hair out in frustration. Because messes that big nigh unto give me anxiety.

We're working on the concept of putting away what's out before moving on to the next toy. It hasn't caught on quite yet.

But today, as I was reminding myself to breathe deep and not let it get to me, I thought about how this is life for a while. Once Raymond is old enough to be better at picking up after himself (or at least able to understand that concept), Ginny will have taken his place in mess making. And another after her. And so on. I am only at the beginning of toddler messes, I think. (I'm not sure I want to know what comes after toddler messes.)

Anyhow, it's a struggle for me. To let the cleanliness go. To be ok with cracker crumbs inevitably sprinkled all over the carpet. To not crawl after Raymond all day (everyday) putting away what he just got out and already left behind.But to be quite honest, the constant clean-up duty is exhausting sometimes. But I can't just give it up. I can't live like that. Such a conundrum.

Anyone else been able to strike a better balance with this? Thoughts?

28.

I'm 28 today, my friends. Such a lovely age to be! I hope I never grow out of loving my birthday and the newness of a new age.

Twenty seven was a good year. Full of baby-turned-toddler, new skills, new friends.

But twenty eight.

Twenty eight will be a great year. I can already feel it in my bones. So much living is going to happen at twenty eight. A baby girl, law school decisions and decisions, moving, reestablishing, growing, loving. More than I can now foresee.

It's thrilling just thinking about it.

And you know, today I feel beautiful. Not just outward pretty, but deep down good about me. Glad to be me. Grateful for my ever growing belly. Glad for my strengths and talents. And glad that there is so much more to become and improve on. Birthdays always remind me that I am glad I am alive. Oh so glad.

32 weeks today.

A slow kind of busy

I have a lot I keep meaning to blog about, but haven't. Alas. But because I have my doubts that any one of them will hash out into a real live post, here's a snippet of them all...

1. Monday was our two year anniversary. We spent most of the day traveling, taking all our energy from anything celebratory that could have happened that night. We did get a movie from redbox, however, which was a treat.
2. We went to Blanding over the weekend with the primary objective being canning. My mother-in-law cranks out dozens of jars of produce each fall (all from her garden, peach, pear, and apple trees).  I've been itching to learn from the professional herself. We did pears, pear butter, pickles, and jams.
3. I also brought home some peaches so I could put my new skills to the test. Today I did my first batch. I think they'll be shelf-worthy.
4. Law School applications are in full swing. A handful have gone in, and, except for one, we probably won't hear a thing for months to come. Ahhh! Stressful!
5. Did I mention we've been married for two years? Does that seem crazy or what? I can't decide if really I've been married for forever or if these last two years have flown by.
6. I do still sew on occasion. I made another jumper and a sweet little set of Mary Jane booties. I also whipped out a bowtie for Jeremy's Professor Plum costume for our ward activity tonight. Fun fun.
7. A few of us in my ward have started a little playgroup. It adds a nice diversion to the week. I feel lucky to be surrounded by such great ladies.

 Well, that's all for now, my friends. I'll do my darndest to be back soon!

Love,

cj

Come what may

Jeremy and I frequently ask ourselves what we think life will be like once the LadyBug comes along. It's a little mind-boggling, actually.

Because I honestly don't know.

Raymond, I'm not going to lie, is a pretty active little fellow. Not to mention, he was--during his first few months--what might be termed a "fussy baby." At the time, I didn't really want to believe it. I focused on the happy boy who did surface for chunks of time each day. But in between was a lot of crying and rocking and swaddling and nursing and very very little sleeping (by either of us). I hate to admit it, but those first three months were rough for me.

You would think the (very fresh) memories of that would make me nervous about doing it again... this time with an 18-month-old at my heels. An attention-loving, hand-on, busy little fellow.

But you know, call me crazy, I feel extremely calm about the whirlwind that will hit this house in just about three months.

I've decided that if somehow this little Lady is a crier like Raymond, well, I handled it once before. But I think she'll be a little bit calmer. She's not nearly the kicker Raymond was in the womb anyway. I think she's going to bring her own special peaceful presence even while turning our world upside down (or Raymond's anyway).

I feel absolutely sure that this is when Heavenly Father wanted us to have another one. Which means He is absolutely sure I can be the mother of two little ones right in a row. It's a good feeling.

As Jeremy frequently reminds me, I'm made for this.

 26 weeks, 1 day and going strong.

The funny thing about summer

is that suddenly--just when you think you can't take the heat one more day--you wake up and have to snuggle under the covers because you're just a little (dare I say it?) cold.

And even though it's still hot most of the day, you find yourself putting on your pajama pants instead of capris at night (and being glad with the decision).

And suddenly it's ok to take a walk a little later in the morning (than 7am) because there's a breeze coming in from somewhere that takes just enough of the heat off.

Mmmm fall. Autumn. My favorite season of all. I can smell and taste and feel your stealthy approach. Our front door is open and we've set a place at the table just for you. So come on in!

Today I am grateful for:

1. Toys on the living room floor. Really I am. I love watching that little boy put his blocks in and out of the bag they came in. And then throwing them across the room. 
2. The fact that I only gained three pounds in the last four weeks. I was sure the amount of ice cream, brownies, and marshmallow maties I have eaten in the last week would have done more damage. Here's to a healthier week!
3. Kind words. A friend gave me a little thank you note (for nothing in particuar) on Sunday... and it's still making my day.
4. Living en route to Provo. It means we get to be a designated pitstop for family going back and forth to California. It's seriously the best.
5. Good books. I am reading The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings--a book I remember loving in my youth (but remember very little else about). The father and son have the most tender relationship. The simple beauty of their lives and their relationships is inspiring.
6. My pioneer heritage. Yesterday my dad brought me ALL of his family history stuff. I have been wanting to get my hands on it for a while--to make copies of the stories and start helping him weed through all the many (confusing) pedigree charts. I learned yesterday that Ann Roberts (my great-great-great-great grandmother had 15 children--five single births and five sets of twins (there is hope for me getting a set of twins someday!!). Her husband died when the oldest was 16 and she was three months pregnant with the last set of twins. Talk about a righteous and faithful woman.
7. The fact that Raymond's blood type is O Negative.There seems to be significant confusion about what my and Jeremy's blood types are (new tests are pending). And when you're pregnant, the Rh factor matters. But I have the feeling I should have gotten a RhoGAM shot while pregnant with Raymond, and didn't. It's just lucky that since (I think) I'm A negative and not positive, he also ended up having a negative Rh. Or it could have been fatal. Long (confusing) story. But I'm glad. What would I do without that little fellow?

And oh so much more. Life is good. I am happy.

In case you feel the need to cry today

This video will just make it happen for you. Just another example of how very good people are.



Happy Weekend to you!

People are Good

(Sorry for the delayed post. We had a fabulous Family Reunion/Chad's Homecoming in California last weekend--see pictures here--and then Jeremy had a conference in Provo Tuesday through Thursday. For some reason it didn't occur to me that he would need to take the computer until late Monday night. And then, well, it was too late to get a post up. So here I am on Friday.  Hooray for Fridays!!)

I am feeling sentimental today. I feel blessed and loved and filled to capacity. People are so good. So kind and generous. Although it might sound bad, it never ceases to surprise me.

I got three packages in the mail today with bundles of little lady fabrics in reds and pinks, yellows and greens.They were sent from a friend who (I'm guessing) did some trading on etsy to have them sent to me.  I wanted to cry.  I don't deserve such generosity. I promise, I don't.

Speaking of generosity, my sister also gave me a whole box of her "cast off" (but good!) fabrics while I was home last weekend. It was way more than I was expecting. I don't know what to do with all the sewing possibilities opening up in front of me.

And just this week I won a giveaway of $50 to CNS stores. It means I'm going to get to buy a much wanted  and longed for baby sling for totting the little lady around this winter. I didn't have my hopes up that I'd get one, but now I will. Such an unexpected and delightful surprise.

We've been on a tight budget lately, but we have also been extraordinarily watched out for and taken care of in more ways than I've even touched on here. I tell you, I don't deserve such generosity.  I can't quite figure out why life is so good to me sometimes. But I am grateful.  Thank you for being such good people. So generous and thoughtful and kind. It makes me want to be better, to give more, to do more. I am certain that I do not do enough, but I want to do more. I'm determined to be better, kinder, more thoughtful. Thank you for your examples.

19 Weeks 2 days

Last Wednesday (the 7th) our (one and only) computer got a virus. Since we're not high-tech-super-computer-savvy folk, we did what made the most sense to us: we immediately packed it up (it's a laptop) and took it to the local computer fixing people.

And then we waited for the phone call saying to come and pick it up, good as new.

One day, two days, three days... no such luck. We called, and they still hadn't even gotten to it yet. Seriously. We debated just going to pick it up and try and fix it ourselves.  But reason prevailed and we waited.

A whole solid week later, it was done.

It was a learning experience week for me. I discovered that I like having the internet at the tip of my fingers. I like keep track of all of you bloggers out there. I like access to my email and pandora. I also discovered that I can survive without a computer... for a short period of time. And that the computer is a significant distraction when it comes to down time in my day. I sometimes just didn't know what to do with myself (which also has to do with the fact that I'm in a book-funk. Just don't know what to read next).

Anyhow, since getting it back, I've been making up for all the blog posts I wrote in my head in the meantime. I hope you won't get too used to the daily postings... because chances are I won't keep them up.

But in the meantime I thought I might try to be a little bit more consistent about posting pregnancy pictures than I was with my last pregnancy. Of course most of them will be taken on my phone (and thus be terribly low quality). And I don't even aspire to doing it weekly (which would probably get old anyway).

But here's a start:

Obviously I'm looking a lot more pregnant earlier on than I did with Raymond. But at least I'm moving out of the belly roll stage and into more of a baby bump. That's happy. Also happy is all the little pin prickings I feel more of as the little lady moves around. Love it.

And that should be enough pregnancy/maternity/baby posts for at least as week.

CTR

For the last few days I find myself absent-mindedly fingering my right hand ring finger. It's uncomfortably bare.

I don't exactly remember when I got my CTR ring, but sometime during high school. I must have been fifteen or sixteen. I first wore it on my wedding-ring finger, not really caring that it might confuse some poor soul who was trying to see if I was married or not. I was in high school anyway.

But when I got to BYU a few years later, I realized it really could confuse someone, and moved it to my right hand. There it has kept house for ten years. Battered, bent out of shape, and endlessly dirty, I love that ring.

In high school it was a conversation starter. People didn't always know what it was or what it stood for. On my mission, it was my "bell ringer." Most people had wrought iron gates, railings, or window coverings in Honduras, and my handy ring was the perfect thing "clang, clang, clang" out our presence. That ring has knocked on many a door.

We've been through a lot together, that ring and I. It fits (more of less) on every single finger of my two hands (but my right thumb), although most comfortably in the slight indent of my right ring finger where I often find myself fingering it.

But somehow, somewhere, I lost it on Saturday.

It's been getting progressively looser lately, sliding around more than it should and flying off my hand while moving the laundry or doing the dishes. I kept telling myself I should retire it soas to not lose it. But what's the point of a ring like that if it's hidden away in a box somewhere? It would lose it's relevance.

But I wanted to record the sentiment of that ring somewhere where I would remember it. I'm sure I'll wear other rings in the future, probably nicer and less old-school CTR rings will make their way to my hands, but I really loved that one. Please forgive me for being so sentimental about it.

To Teach

My favorite job of all time was teaching at the MTC. That's not to say that I didn't love being a high school English teacher (because I did). Or love wearing the little black and white dress and handing out samples at See's Candies (oh the good times!). I've had some dang good jobs in my life.

But at the MTC, I was in my element. That place is hallowed ground to me. Sometimes I think teaching is in my blood, in my very make-up. Especially when I am teaching the Gospel. Especially when the people I am teaching want to be there. (a beautiful combination that is more of than not found at the MTC). I don't know how to describe what happens to me when I stand up in a setting like that. It's like I'm a different person. A new person. Alive and awake and powerful. But not worldly powerful, spiritually powerful.

I don't know if I'm making any sense.

But I do know that I love to teach. It is fulfilling, empowering, enlightening. It feels oh so right and oh so good. It makes me happy on every single level. I love to teach. And more than anything else,  I love to teach the Gospel. I love to slowly and carefully lead and guide and create a new vision of who and what we can be. Asking questions, sharing experiences, teaching.

So yesterday when I got up in front of the Relief Society to teach, for the first time as the newest called RS teaching in my ward, it was like going home. I wanted to cry or dance or ask if I could do it again next Sunday. It made me so happy. I'm sure I was grinning from ear to ear like a two year old with a popsicle. It made me so happy.

I hadn't realized just how much I had missed it. It's been a long time since I taught in a setting like that. Too long. I didn't realize how hungry I was for it. I lapped up every single second. I guess, if I could choose my calling for the rest of my life, I might just ask to be the Relief Society Forth Sunday Instructor. Do you think they would let me?

It's not about me anymore.

I've discovered an interesting thing about motherhood.  I've heard my whole life about how selfless mothers are... that I kind of subconsciously assumed it just happens. A magic switch is flipped in the "internal motivations" control panel and without thought or question or struggle, the "selfless" mode kicks on as soon as a baby shows up. Or even presumable as soon as she's "in a motherly way" (aka pregnant).

I'm learning it doesn't work that way.

Perhaps God has made women more susceptible to adopt selfless reflexes and motivations, but it's by no means a guarantee.  Of course (am I the only one slow to catch on to this??) it's a process. And a constant up and down struggle. Because it's by no means easy to love someone as much as or more than yourself. To remember that it's not about me anymore. To be selfless.

Sometimes I find myself thinking, "I just want to sleep in once" or "I just want to read my book even though it's not nap time for Raymond" or "I don't want to play with trucks right now." Not bad thoughts, per se, but more in the selfish category. Not the kind of thoughts I ever envisioned of a Mother (capital M)--the kind of Mother I want to envision myself as anyway.

Going along these lines, I've been thinking quite a bit about the talk Sister Beck gave in the last conference. A few key quotes keep resurfacing.  This one, for starters, never fails to catch my attention...

A good woman must constantly resist alluring and deceptive messages from many sources telling her that she is entitled to more time away from her responsibilities and that she deserves a life of greater ease and independence.

In other words, the lure to be selfish. To think that what I want and what I need and what I find most comfortable and easy is of utmost importance. I find that it's fairly easy to justify selfish behavior all day long. To rationalize why I'm reading a book instead of playing with Raymond or starting dinner, for example. Of course there are days when I need to get things done, and I can't play all day with him. But the good motivations of some days often get jumbled with the selfish motivations of other days.

It's an uphill battle.

And yet it's a hill that I believe to be worth toiling up. When I think of the times in my life that I have been less selfish, I am always reminded that they are the times when I feel most fulfilled as a person. When I recognize most clearly my purpose and my potential and all of my weaknesses. And yet those glaring imperfections don't seem so daunting when I know they will be swallowed up in the greater whole of the good I am trying to do for someone else.

When I am least selfish is when I am most empowered.  It's funny how that works. Another paradox of the Gospel, I suppose.

I feel like a responsible citizen today

because I voted for the first time in over two years.

(Don't judge, please.)

Yup, that means I missed the last presidential election (because I didn't get my addressed changed and registered in time. Lame, I know, by my work schedule kept getting in the way). I determined it would never happen again.

Anyhow, the last time I voted was in Blanding, and the time before that was before my mission (haha, yeah, I might have missed the last two presidential elections... please continue to not judge.)

Anyhow, today we went and voted for the Primary Senate elections. We're Mike Lee fans at this house (big time). If you live in Utah (or is it the Senate Primaries everywhere?), I suggest you get yourself one of those shnazzy stickers that says "I voted today" and feel good about that fact that your voice is heard.

I sure feel good about wearing that little sticker. It almost makes up for my past voter history.

Go Mike.

The art of being on time

As a little girl I remember being one of the first families to enter the chapel on Sunday morning. We left for church twenty five minutes early... and if we didn't, my mom was in a panic saying, "we're late! We're late!" Needless to say, my mom does not like to be late to anything. She subconsciously taught us that it's rude and inconsiderate to not be at least five minutes early to an event.

So I guess you could say that it's an ingrained habit of mine to be on time. I like to get to a play or concert at least fifteen minutes early. Church is the same.

Now, I don't always have to be early, but if I'm invited to someone's house, I make a point of coming on the dot. It frustrates me when I have two things back to back and I end up late to the second thing. Or if I tell a babysitter I'll be back by a certain time and then I can't be, I'm not only intensely embarrassed, I'm a wreck.

On my mission, I had a strong testimony that I needed to obey the rules about time (when we got up, left the house, came home at night). Because the streets of Honduras are dangerous (and dark) at night, sisters had to be in there apartments by eight o'clock every night. I knew my daily safety depended upon my obedience to this rule. I would literally apologize to my district or zone leaders and repent if we got home even a few minutes past eight.

I walked three fourths of a mile to and from work (for a split shift, so twice a day) at the last job I had. If I knew I was going to be more than two or three minutes late, I would call and apologize and give warning of my tardiness. I only called three or four times in nine months of working there.

Come wind, rain, or snow, I like to be on time.

As soon as I know what time I need to be somewhere, I calculate how long it will take me to get there, and how early I need to be. In short, I figure out, as best I can, what time I need to leave the house--usually with at least a few minutes of grace in case there is traffic or some other unforeseeable road block.

For example: Church starts at nine o'clock. I like to be in my seat no later than ten till. Adding in the time it takes to load Raymond in the carseat, adjust the mirror, drive to the church (going the speed limit), and unload Raymond upon arrival, I know I need to be walking out my front door at eight thirty five. This still gives me a few minutes for red lights, walking into the chapel, etc. This gives me time to not feel at all rushed (I hate that feeling).

So when I'm getting ready in the morning, the fact that church starts at nine o'clock is totally irrelevant to me. The only time that means anything is eight thirty five. The time I need to leave my house.  If I am not walking out the door by that time, I'm in that panic mode I remember so clearly from my mom growing up. I'm screaming in my head, "I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!"

Even though I will probably still get there well before nine o'clock.

Five things that are making me happy

Life is so good, I tell you! It's been a good week (despite the rough weekend). Here are a handful of reasons why...

1. Everyday this week is in the low 80s. That's pretty much perfect in my book. Plus the breeze (not yesterday's wind) has been a nice cooling touch.
2. Today we are going to watch the Argentina v _____ (I don't even know) World Cup game today at my sister-in-law's house. I really like watching soccer. Jeremy really likes Argentina. We both really like Nick and Jeanine (and their cute kiddos). Fun is definitely in the making.
3. My cute Raymond has been all smiles lately. His little face is thinning out and he's just looking older to me... and I love every second of it. I've figured out the trick to keeping his temper tantrums a bay lately too... which makes for a happier home :).
4. Jeremy got to go to a Utah Senator's Election Debate last night (have I mentioned he's a mite interested in politics??) and talk with Mike Lee (his candidate of choice, also the son of Rex E. Lee) for a few minutes after... and he gave Jeremy his phone number with instructions to call him once he started applying to Law Schools (which is right around the corner). Jeremy came home excited and happy. I love seeing him happy.
5. I've actually been (somewhat) productive in the last week. I worked on Christmas presents on one night. I made a tiny new cloth diaper for new baby Christiansen (and have more in the works), and I've read a few handfuls of books.  Ah it feels good to get things done.

I'm one happy girl, I tell you. I just love this stage of life we are in. It has it's ups and downs, but it's such a good place to be.