Color Me Old

So my body is breaking down. The decent into old age has begun, as evidenced by my grouchiness toward street youths, joint pain, and love of hard candies.  But I've decided not to surrender without a good struggle...I am dedicated to slathering my face in creams, eating foods that grew on a plant, and to staying active. 

I like to run. Traditionally I do it in an effort to be less fat, but lately, what's motivated me more than anything else is the thought that someday I might not be able to run. At least not without hurting a lot later. So I want to soak up the feeling of my own legs carrying me swiftly (or not so swiftly) anywhere I please.

I do not aspire to ever run a 26.2 mile marathon, but I did a half a couple years ago that I enjoyed and would do again. I'd never run any other race, so conference weekend, ran a little 5K with some friends. I only went on a couple runs to "train," but I am always really good about carbo loading every day in case something like this comes up. Have you heard of Color Me Rad? It's the race where people throw color bombs (dyed corn starch) at you throughout the course, and everyone gets completely hyped up about it like it's the best thing to ever happen to them. 

I was surprised to discover I don't own a white t-shirt...so had to borrow a giant ugly one from Andrew the morning of.

 It was pretty fun...and they did a good job of pumping you up beforehand by blasting Zumba music and having pro dancers going crazy onstage. I love to dance, and do it almost involuntarily anytime the music is right. But when someone took a secret cell phone video of me busting a move - I mean, really going for it - then posted it to our Relief Society Facebook page, I realized I was not a gifted dancer. Like...at all. 

Suddenly I felt pretty good about old age robbing me of my ability to move.

Earned Satisfaction

Asher learned how to snap his fingers today. He'd been working at it for over a month with no real success. Then as we were driving home from the park today, I heard a little "pop", followed by a jubilant, "Mom! I did it! I snappted my fingers!"

The boy has been positively floating ever since.

We celebrated with hugs and high fives at home, and I jumped to teach the obvious lesson:

"See, Asher? You worked really hard, and even though you couldn't snap at first, you practiced and practiced and then learned something new! Don't you feel happy?"

He smiled broadly and nodded. Then thinking a moment, said, "Mommy, I'm a smart boy, because I do smart things."

I agreed (not that his logic was perfect), but again emphasized his practice and perseverance. It's fine to feel bright, but I always want to attribute our children's successes to their efforts. Because being "smart" isn't enough: life takes work.

Asher's excitement and pride bubbled over as he snapped the first time for his Daddy. When night time came, he lay in bed with eyes closed obediently, but one little hand raised, unable to resist the urge to enjoy what he'd labored so long to learn.

In the grand scheme of things, it's a pretty tiny triumph (although at three and a half, he's way ahead of me. I distinctly remember being unable to snap in Kindergarden...which was an embarrassing handicap, because almost every dumb little song we sang called for snaps somewhere, and I had to be sly and fake it). But seeing the pure joy of a child achieving a goal was just the reminder I needed today.

We are always working on something. Always doing, trying, becoming. Sometimes the journey to achievement isn't "snappy." Sometimes the road presents distraction, doubt and discouragement. Sometimes we question why we're on the road at all.  But prayerfully leaning on the Lord and trusting the Spirit's guidance brings such profound peace and reassurance. With His help, we can do hard things.

So here's to work. And to remembering it's what builds us. Here's to the joy of arriving, and to earned satisfaction.

Everyday Snapshot

What we're...

Reading: "Ender's Game." I planned to read it anyway for book club, and since Andrew and I have always wanted to read a novel together, started with this one. Looked forward to reading with each other every day - recommendations for our next one? Anyway, we really liked the book. The movie comes out next month and we are so pumped to make a date night out of it. Lesson learned: Making time to enjoy things together goes a long way in a relationship.

Here's the trailer for those of you not living with husbands who play it every other day:

Listening to: Preston dropping things all around the house and saying "Uh-oh!" It's a cute stage.

Snacking on: Jello. I know, JELLO! I had never made it for my family. Then a couple of months ago, Asher begged for some at the store, and I mustered up 68 cents worth of generosity. Let me tell you, these boys are a little obsessed with it. Asher loves to make it with me (and by "make", I mean dumping a packet of powder into a bowl and stirring in some water. Our aprons are probably overkill.), and to offset the guilt of feeding my kids non-nutritious blobs of sugar, artificial colors and flavors, I call it a sensory experience, and pour it into 2 ounce containers so they only get a little poison at a time. ...Okay, so I'm not really the concerned, organic, vegan, dye-free, all-natural, local, sustainable, blah blah blah parent I want to be. My kids love Jello. Whatever.

Artificial flavor of the day: Peach

Proud of: Asher doing so well with preschool. We had some misgivings about sending him at first (Isn't he a little young to be sending out into the world? What's he going to pick up from other kids?), but most of our concerns subsided after he began smiling and waving to us as he left. Very grateful he is enjoying structured learning and playtime with other kids a few days a week. And I love how he comes home excited to tell me about his morning and show me what he worked on. His teachers are great too. Yesterday I was talking to him about them, and he said, "Miss Sue is not my favorite. She tells me naughty things." Masking my concern, I asked, "Like what?" Brow furrowed, nose in a snarl, he replied, "Like, 'We don't hit.'" Yep, she sounds awful.

 Marching into school for the first time - September 4th, 2013

Gearing up for: Halloween. We kind of copped out last year, so are actually planning family costumes to pay penance. As with anytime we've dressed up, I'm most excited to see Andrew's ensemble. ;)


Sick of: Preston pooping in the tub. SERIOUSLY. At first, we kind of chuckled since as a baby, Andrew was well-known for having pooped during baths; guess we had it coming. Ha. Ha. But in the past week Preston has let loose in the tub five times and cleaning up the disgusting mess is getting old (though watching Andrew dry heave when it's his turn is NOT. Ahhhhhahah...). Asher is the real victim. The poor chap is always oblivious for a few moments he is bathing alongside chunks of his little brother's solid waste, then he notices and is horrified. Maybe we should dial back on the Jello.

Questioning: Whether poop is blog appropriate.