http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?sns=fb&v=veNJBosc6EA&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DveNJBosc6EA%26sns%3Dfb

I’m sure you’ve all heard the news, Xanga may shut down in July if they don’t raise like 60 big ones. I’d enjoy a nicer fresher format with all my xanga pals in tow, but I’m not interested in paying tons of money to make that happen at this point in my life. Just in case we get disconnected in a month or so, here’s my other blog. I get practically zero traffic over there but I’ll be around!

http://makingitcomplicated.wordpress.com/

If you want to connect in another way like facebook or something just message me and we’ll see if we can work that out.

I have like a zillion years of stuff here on xanga, some is really a waste of time and some is really great. I dread keeping all of it and I shudder to think about losing some of it. Argh. That’s me pirate saying of the day.

Today is my boys’ last day of school for this year. I find myself with mixed emotions. I’ll be really glad to only have to get myself around in the mornings to leave for work, and not 5 cranky boys who can’t find shoes/socks/clean underwear/the favorite shirt, etc.

The sad part? I LOVE the teachers we’ve had this year. Thomas’s teacher last year just picked apart every single thing he did. He was making all A’s in class but getting behavior marks for “acting silly” and talking a lot. He is a talker, that’s true. He also has a tendency to find something to do if he gets bored, even if it’s not a cool thing to do. (In that way he’s alot like our border collie, ha!)  This year, his teacher has been able to “harness” Thomas’ intelligence or something and he’s had no bad behavior marks all year. I think the classroom environment has been one of learning in an organic way and had room for Thomas to move ahead in areas that he was already ahead in and resulted in less boredom for him in the classroom. It’s been totally awesome. Elijah’s teacher, well I think she loves him. I don’t think that, I know it because she told me so. When he broke his arm she checked in with me on how he was doing several times and when he went back to school after that with his cast she let me know throughout the day how he was doing. It’s been a relief to send him off to school because of her.  Alex, well he changes classes and has lots of teachers but all the ones he had this year were really good.  When you’ve had a year with teachers this good, it makes it hard to go up from here next year. Know what I’m saying?? What are the odds we’ll have all great teachers next year too??

That’s not where the anxiety comes in to play, however. I’m scarred, you see. One of my children, I’ll not tell you which one. On the last day of school his kindergarten year, had to be picked up. That’s right, on the one day of the year where all good behavior expectations are practically nil, I got a call from the school to come pick up my child and take him home for something he did. It leaves me a little terrified of the last day of school. Like they’ve held it in all year, and been SO GOOD and you think you’re home free. Alas, it’s not always true. I always feel anxious until they’ve been picked up on that last day. What did he do that was so bad, you ask? He mooned the entire cafeteria at lunch.

I’ll rest easy after school is over today.

Disclaimer: I consider myself a young person too . . . so I will gladly apply this advice to myself as well.

1. Facebook. If you wouldn’t say it or do it in front of your Mama, it doesn’t belong on Facebook. Chances are, someday, you’ll want a job that is prestigious enough to have a base pay that gets you out of your parent’s household. Any job like that is likely to check out your Facebook profile. Don’t use profanity, display pictures of yourself scantily clad, post videos of yourself a drunken mess, or do anything else your sweetest, most precious relative would be offended by.

2. Work your way up. When you get a job out there in the big bad world, don’t expect to start out at the top. You can’t/won’t/shouldn’t be making in pay what everyone else who has been there for ages is making. They started at the bottom. Whether you’ve got a college diploma in your hand or not, you’re new. Go in knowing that all the people who succeed in life work really hard to get there. They don’t assume they are entitled to what other people have worked for.

3. Learn to Forgive. People are not perfect. You are not perfect. Relationships that you cherish will require your ability to forgive mistakes and move forward. You don’t have to stay around people who are bad for you, but holding a grudge in your heart harms no one but yourself. It hinders your ability to love and forgive and accept other people in the future.

4. If a girl or guy is not good enough to be the mother/father of your future child, you probably shouldn’t sleep with them. I think this is self-explanatory.

5. Learn to spell, or use programs with a spell checking feature. If I’m looking at your resume and you don’t know the difference between your and you’re, or to, too and two, I’m mentally judging your ability to do the job.

6. Laugh at yourself. No one else will provide you with as much entertainment. It improves your coping skills, and makes you more likable.

7. Don’t expect more from other people than you are willing to give of yourself.

Sometimes you don’t realize the value of a gift you’ve been given until much later. When I was 9, my Grandmother gave me a Bible. I don’t think back then I read it much. It wasn’t for a few years that I actually got interested in reading it.
I look at it now, worse for the wear, and I just love it. I thought she had given it to me when I became a Christian at age 13, but I realized this morning that wasn’t the case. I was 9. Leave it to Mema to give a 9 year old a study Bible! Out of nowhere I found myself wondering if I had ever written Oliver’s name in the front pages where there’s a place to record births. I hadn’t. The realization that I also hadn’t recorded her death in the section for that, made me sad.
I value this Bible more today than I ever have. It’s like there are pieces of her in it.
I don’t agree with all of her interpretations of its content, but I love that she cared enough to make me think about it.
I remember her own worn Bible, with notes made by us kids tucked in there as bookmarks. And a faded embroidered rose sticker from when she joined First Baptist all those years ago. I love that she’s the one who gave me this gift.

I was driving along today and I remembered my Mema’s voice. I remembered how sometimes she used to call me Bethy-roo. Not all the time, mind you, it was a special endearment. When she was being particularly silly, or gently scolding me but not in a mad kind of way. “You know better than that, Bethy-roo!” and of course it made me feel chagrined about whatever I had done. What a fun memory to have randomly hit me like that! (I do have an aunt who occasionally still calls me Bethie, too, but they are the only two who get away with it!) It got me thinking about names.

I have to admit a secret. My name isn’t actually Beth. It’s Mary.  My middle name is Elizabeth, and that’s where the Beth comes from. My mother named me Mary Elizabeth and decided immediately to call me Beth. I sort of feel like Mary is someone else. I forget at random times like at the doctor or the first day of college when your first name shows up. I’m looking around, where’s this Mary chick? Oh yeah, that’s me.

I know a few people who actually call me Elizabeth. You see, my first day of kindergarten was a little traumatic. It was my birthday. I turned 6. I was told not to tell anyone it was my birthday because they would think I was bragging. So all the while I’m keeping my birthday secret, the teacher is going around learning everyone’s names. When she came to me and I said I was Beth, she said, “No, you can’t go by Beth. You can go by Elizabeth.” Seeing my displeasure at the renaming, she reassured me by saying “Don’t worry, there once was a queen named Queen Elizabeth!” and from that moment forward until the 3rd grade, I was Elizabeth at school and Beth at home.  Every once in awhile I’ll run into someone I knew from early elementary and they’ll say, “Hey Elizabeth” and I’ll be looking for this Elizabeth chick. Oh yeah, that’s me.

I know that this name stuff, it made me certain of one thing. I would name my children the name I intended to call them. There would be none of this going by your middle name business!

For a brief period in Jr High my older sister decided she wanted a sister named Libby. So she started calling me that for awhile. I really hated that. You can’t just rename people in the middle of their lives!

Do you go by your first name? A middle name? Someone else’s name?

Yesterday I went for a walk. I drove over to near my workplace and walked the sidewalk that I usually walk on my lunch break. (Doesn’t the word “walk” sound funny now, like I’ve maybe used it too many times in a row?)

I wanted to be able to move at a decent pace, but didn’t really want to leave everyone and go be alone. So, I asked Alex if he wanted to go. I’ve asked him before and he’s always said no. This time, he said yes. I was both glad, and a little worried. After all, this is the 12 year old who acts like it’s hard to lift the garbage bag out of the can to take outside. Also if you ask him to do something around the house he frequently says he’s “tired”.  (insert motherly eye roll here)

I should have known better. A chance to do a physical activity that was not a chore, piece of cake! It wasn’t long before this guy was far ahead of me.

He did a silly little laugh and took off. He didn’t run the whole time just enough to keep ahead of his Mom. If he heard me getting close he’d take off again. I didn’t have to slow down, in fact, we did the fastest time I’ve ever done on that sidewalk before. It was funny being behind him and seeing him up ahead. He’s still a mix of boy and man. I thought, I don’t want to forget this. So I wiggled my phone out of the arm holder and took a couple pictures unbeknownst to him.

I caught up at one point and he asked me, “Hey, when can I get a phone?” to which I replied, “I don’t know for sure, but not yet.” He was satisfied with that and went on his way.

It was fun. I thought, when I walk this by myself again, I’ll remember Alex up ahead of me.

I also should have remembered that youth have boundless energy.  He wasn’t even winded.

I’m gonna remember that when the trash is full again.

I enjoy Mother’s Day. It’s so fun to see the cute things the boys bring home from school. Like, some kind of crystallized flower in a handmade little pot, that now sits on our kitchen windowsill.

Or an oversize bookmark, you know, for all those oversize books I read.

And especially the questionnaires. Those are my favorite. They never get my favorite color right and I love that in this one, Elijah estimated me about 2.5 inches taller than my actual height.

I mean, who wouldn’t love that kind of stuff?? Or getting an extra nap, guilt free? No sane woman I know would not care for any of those things.

All that being said, Mother’s Day makes me feel a tad bit guilty. I know it’s a good thing, because there’s lots of people out there who take their moms for granted, and they need that day to remind mom that they love her and appreciate her. They never take the time to tell their Mom that stuff, and that’s sad!  However, for my family, I really feel like they’re thanking me for something I should be thanking THEM for. I love my kids. No really, not in that way that you love them because you had them and you always love family, I really actually like them too. Sometimes when I tuck them into bed at night I just can’t help but say something like, “I’m so thankful God let me be your mom!” They usually look at me kinda funny or they’ll say something similar back, which is too cute.

Don’t get me wrong, they make me kinda crazy. I mean the noise level here, you just have no idea. (unless your noise level is about the same, which I imagine for many of you, it is!) And the mess. I could seriously explode when I go into the kitchen and see those dad.gum.socks.underneath.the.computer.desk AGAIN. Or the clothes just laying around, or the partially eaten food under the bed that has been in its present location long enough to not be 100% identifiable. I’m not gonna lie, it’s not always a picnic around here. There’s fighting, the kids among themselves, me with them, them with their dad, me with their dad. There’s rarely a time that everyone is actually getting along.

But, then there’s the car rides home from school where the 9 year old and the 12 year olds are discussing the finer points of talking to girls, whether is should be done “face to face” or “anonymously”. And the whole time I’m thinking, I LOVE that I am getting to hear this conversation, and I wish I could secretly record it to show Steven later. They constantly impress me with their intelligence, their sense of humor (so different from one another and So funny!), their sporadic sweetness. They alternately need their Mama and can handle it on their own.  Sometimes, one of them will give the other one a hug or a kiss when they think no one’s looking, and is there anything in the world sweeter than a boy showing affection to his brother?? I haven’t seen it if there is.

There’s no way in the world I’d trade all the poop jokes, disgusting bathrooms, funny and not funny jokes, handmade cards, years of doing laundry, arguments and all that for a life of leisure and napping and a wallet with actual money in it.

I love my 2 year old with his babyness and cute words and constant dancing.

I love my 5 year old who is the sunshine in all our days and has the happy disposition almost all the time.

I love my 7 year old who is sensitive, and helpful, is maybe from the elves, and just wants to be just.like.his.big.brother.

I love my 9 year old whose intelligence and artistic abilities are also accompanied by an artistic temperament that is sometimes wonderful and alternately out of control.

I love my 12 year old who is growing up, and having big person conversations with us, and watching movies and shows with us that we like, and he gets them and we can talk about it.

So you see, the secret about Mother’s day is this. People are saying all these nice things about moms and how we should love and appreciate them and all that, and the whole time, I just can’t help but stop and think of how much I love THEM. I wouldn’t be a mom if it weren’t for THEM. 

But I’m still gonna take that nap if I can get it.

* Your sister left two days ago and you’re STILL sad about it.
* Your 13 year old with the cracking voice has been talking about Dr. Who for 15 solid minutes and instead of getting bored you’re just thinking about how you’ll miss him dearly when he goes across the pond to play that role on T.v. as per his plan.
* You heard the song Everything That Glitters Is Not Gold, by Dan Seals, circa 1985, and sang along. But you skipped a verse because you were choked up.
* Your in a-picky -eating- phase 2 year old cleaned his plate at dinner and you thought, “Phew, he’ll live another day!”