Boston Marathon, "I Don't Have a Song for That"

Big news today was that the Boston Marathon Bomber said "I'm sorry."

Those words can heal.  As can music.

Boy turns 7.

I have allowed myself to enjoy the fact that my children are getting older.  In fact, having Danny turn 7 was a wonderful milestone for us all.  For some reason 7 seems like more of a turning point into 'big kid' than any age has yet.  It may be that my youngest is now a big kid without me having any reservations that my kids are growing too fast.  They are growing fast, and it is fascinating.

The cooler beginnings of summer made the lush outdoor decor match the indoor green strings that we all woke to as a celebration of Danny's day.  Did you know they make blow up balloons now with LED lights in them?  It seems a bit extreme, but too cool to pass up buying.  So we had glowing camo-green balloons around the house for days.  What a waste of technology in the end when we just popped them and threw them away.  Disposable birthday LED.  Couldn't we do more with innovation than make glowing birthday decor?

Part of the consciousness of turning into a 'big kid' is knowing that others should/will give you presents for your upcoming birthday; and you can now watch the calendar and become a steady alert system to ensure that no one forgets.  Although it is not my favorite to be told I need to buy someone a gift, I will admit that Danny's birthday seems to creep up on me every year and I had not put the requisite planning into a meaningful gift to have the time to buy it cheap on eBay.  He should have gotten a Hogwarts lego set,  the boy is meticulous about building things from directions and patient enough that he needs a big project.  Legos are expensive because they haven't gone out of vogue for decades (good job Lego marketing division).  We ended up getting a supplementary set to Danny's giant garage sale Kinex set.  What he really needs is more instruction books for Kinex, if anyone has those lying around.  He is not yet into the innovative stage of just building complex things on your own. 

But I digress, the big attraction was a new bike.  Danny knew it was coming because we had to take him to a bike shop to get him sized so as to properly buy a bike off Craigslist. The bikes he test drove at the shop were fancy - gear shifters, Shimano brakes and everything.  The used trade ins were $100+  oh no!  This kid grows 3-11 inches a year and shoes, bikes, shirts, anything sized will be grown past too soon with no younger brother to pass it on to.  I think he was disappointed a bit when he saw the Huffy bike we got him (new from Walmart, Indiana has some serious problems with pricing things on Craigslist).  I tried to build the excitement a bit more with a good scavenger hunt- which was Danny's suggestion.  Yep.  He told me where we should hide his presents, how he would like to find them via a good set of clues, and which gifts his sisters should get him.  He was sweet about it, not completely arrogant.  But let's be real - 6, 7, 8,....and I don't know how much longer this will go, but these ages are increasingly more ego-centric.  So he got a good hunt and a semi-good bike in the end. And I put a clue in the place he thought he would find it (the attic) and hid the real bike in the food storage room!

Dinner was after Church - which you may notice Danny has decided to gel his hair for now (big kid stuff).  He had requested a birthday breakfast; his favorite foods are German pancakes and "fluffy clouds" which is a hot cereal made with Cream of Wheat and egg whites.  For dinner we did a Sunday barbecue and ended it all with a wizarding cake.

I was super frustrated that I hadn't bought black licorice to make the glasses the cake, so I made due with some old sunglasses that we demolished all in the name of a Harry Potter face birthday cake.  I put the 7 candles along the scar line so the 'burned.' 

 Magical wand sparks around the cake for the 'blowing out,' which of course they just blew themselves out and Danny's spark-back candles decided they would follow suit and not come back to life.  That, or Danny really did a good job blowing them out.

That's my boy.  He's long.  He's eating a lot already.  He is kind hearted and a  bit emotional in this stage.  He doesn't like practicing the piano.  He is not excited about anything that involves reading, but if you read it to him he will have all sorts of hypothetical conversations about any topic.  He considers himself an expert on most sports and will teach you how to 'do it right.'  He still comes in every morning to give me morning cuddles, which conveniently coincide with when Josh leaves for work and when he would like me to make breakfast; although Danny is almost proficient at making his own scrambled eggs.  We love every bit of this boy.

Judas Iscariot was a our neighbor, wish I would have know that when we moved in.

Two phrases that are rampantly running around my brain trying to keep me from doing something rash and rage filled are from some wise men in my life:

• several year ago when my father was being undeservedly slandered at home while he was serving as a missionary in another part of the country I complained to Dad that he was not fighting back, his response was "Let sleeping dogs lie."  I have relied on that several times in my adult lifetime to keep me from getting into tussles with unseemly slanderers.  
• The second bit of wisdom that is keeping my soul from splitting in shattered faith is from a moment of venting to my husband after the heat of being burned again for having only tried my best.  I proclaimed "the worst is just feeling that you are being targeted and attacked when you have done nothing wrong!"  His response, "At least we are in good company."

I recognize that in light of the crimes in the world and recent hate crimes in South Carolina, my personal plight seems insignificant.  Yet I am hurt and have no where to vent and let it out that is satisfying enough to let this incident fly away from me for good.

Today a very kind man named Jeff showed up to my door.  Jeff works for the Department of Child Services.  He informed me that someone had made a complaint on the 15th about two accounts of abuse of my daughter that needed to be investigated.  I was blind sighted.  I was in the middle of wrapping up a productive day of playdates with my kids and yard work.  My good friend was sitting in my living room chatting about various minivans she is considering to buy.  And then the past jumps out of a dirty trash can and belches its way back into my life.

The two alleged accounts of abuse were in no way inaccurate.  We had, in fact insisted that our daughter eat her eggs at breakfast with the consequence that any food she tried to spit out would be fed back into her mouth.  The classic "you don't leave this table until you eat the food that is good for you" is how the case worker classified it.  The second account was using a cold shower as a consequence.  Yep.  We did that.  When you are resolved to do no physical pain to a child and they are out of control, your options to get their attention are limited.  What is shocking about both of these accounts is that we have not, nor have not needed to use them in over two years.  Meaning the child has moved beyond certain manipulative behaviors and we have a peaceful family and healthy child for having stuck to our guns during a difficult phase.

The question is who and why would this be called in now?  As I mentioned, those accounts occurred two years ago.  I had to ask Jeff again, how old is this request?  DCS only services complaints within 30 days of their report.  I know the rules and that he could not have disclosed who made the complaint.  I didn't have to ask.  There is one person that was once very close to us has become the persecuting Judas.  Someone who was part of my day to day life two years ago and has since turned into someone whose name stabs me to the heart.

You can't really ask what incited Judas to sell Jesus for 30 pieces of silver.  Money doesn't seem like a  good enough answer.  I can't understand why a person whom you have loved, trusted, helped, responded quickly and kindly to for years would suddenly take a turn.  Our only crime was to look for a different house, move out of the neighborhood and thus no longer be able to respond to her whims.  For years I helped with her yard, put up a fence at our labor cost, took care of her complaints of the alleyway, talked with neighbors she didn't like so that she wouldn't have to.  I gave her paint for her home and diapers for her newborn baby.  I weeded her yard and mowed her lawn when she was fully capable of doing it.  I shared the produce from my garden and gave them space in our garage to store their things.  I could have wronged her somewhere along the way, given her some little space to hold onto an error.  I don't get it.  I all know is that life since moving has been worse for us.  From my side of the newly built (demanded and harangued) fence along our abandoned property line that we manage from afar is that she cannot remember one good deed or moment.  She can't see that we were once friends.

And then calling DCS years later?  I know she has called the City on our property which has cost us literally $2000 on immediate update projects.  I know she called animal control on our renters resulting in them having their pets taken away.  We have had to block her number because of harassment and I have refused to pass on information of another renter that has escaped her tangled web of manipulation.  Oh now I sound vindictive....I am venting....I am upset and confused and just don't understand the Judas's of the world.  The ones that sell their friendship, forget it, or the ones that walk guiltlessly into a chapel full of Christian people and put bullets through their hearts.

The recourse left available for those holding onto faith in humanity is forgiveness.  Forgiveness carries with it a process similar to grief - disbelief, anger, resentment, venting, puzzlement, faith, prayer, belief, and choice.  I'll get there.  As Jeff, the bearer of bad news from DCS found out, I have done no harm here.  Let sleeping *female dogs* lie.  We are in good company.

Our home as we left it. (yes Judas lived to the right)

*P.S.  Last night I went to directly confront Judas.  She said she was not the caller on any of the complaints.  Although I don't know if I have built any trust back yet, my soul at least feels free of the burden of worrying why....I put a lot of store on face-to-face communication and I saw in her face at least the realization that any negativity 'anonymously' called in is not without consequence.  There is a great mystery as to whom would want to hurt our family with such accusation.  I did learn that even uncomfortable conversations are better than building up spirals of blame. I don't need scapegoats in my life; I need clarity.  Part of her rebuttal recounted all the positive things she felt she had done to sustain our friendship.  Maybe we all only see the best in ourselves.

Cain Theory

As a parent, I have been considering what I will call today the "Cain Theory."

Having been raised on a scripture foundation, the analogies of my parenting strife today are rife with accounts of Laman, Lemuel, Cain, Lucifer and the other biblical black sheep of the family.  For doesn't every family have one?  Or are they only considered the black sheep in comparison with their fairer siblings?  I'm not talking color of skin only here - although scripture and our family are rife with that pigmented contrast - I'm talking of the inevitability in a family with more than one child that one of them is comparatively naughtier than the rest.

What bothers me about my 'Cain Theory' as of yet is that I have no empirical evidence to show me statistically how many families feel like there is one child that is 'naughtier' than the rest, the black sheep.  I'm not just talking about ideologically different today, I'm talking of the one who was hardest to parent because they, well, were just bad somehow.  I have been considering this morning if this is a foster parenting problem or a universal parenting problem.  That's how it got to be the "Cain Theory."

Look, Cain and Abel, and all the rest of the start of the human family, all came from the same parents.  From the record we are given it is safe to assume that Adam and Eve were really great parents.  They taught all their children the laws of God.  They taught them all to garden, for it was in the garden that Cain got his ultimate revenge or punishment however you see it.  This morning it was in the garden that I watched one of my children exact her revenge on the world, one cucumber plant at a time.

As part of my personal parenting philosophy I will not give my child enough space to blame Satan for their actions (in fact, I don't know if Lucifer just wasn't painted as a devil until he was compared against Jesus but that is a deeper theological debate than is needed for the day).  I do believe there is opposition in all things, including our choice of how we use natural emotions.  It would be silly to deny that we all feel and that some of those feelings are negative.  Anger is real.  Frustration and fatigue are very real.  Just as real as love and joy and compassion.  Agency, which is told to be the greatest gift of God to His children (Christ's sacrifice was His own great gift) allows us to experience emotions in all their colors and make a choice as to how they will guide our lives.  To some degree, for at least a reasonable 8-18 years, parents have the obligation to guide the choice of actions based on feelings.  That is part of what parenting is right - teaching your children the 'appropriate' way to behave when under the duress of natural life.

It seems too easily metaphorical in the bible that Satan or his angels popped up right in the moment when Cain was feeling anger toward his brother and let him know exactly where to put that negative feeling.  I sympathize with Cain, working hard like the rest of the family, but always feeling cast in the shadow of Abel. And we have no evidence that Abel was the perfect brother.  Perhaps he was goading on Cain that day, I've seen it enough in sibling relationships.  Even the good ones can be downright vindictive when their parents' backs are turned.  So why is it that Cain got the curse of the family? And was the curse before or after the killing?  Who's to say that Cain didn't already know that he was the bad boy of the family and was just fulfilling their expectations for him.

I'll admit it - some of us have bigger inner dragons than others and in a group setting as tight as a family, that is not seen as an asset.  Some family members can feel like a liability.  As much as we love them, we continue to ask God why he gave us this  member of the family to help us experience the binaries of life.  But then I pause.  Is any of us so bad in isolation?  If my Cain were my only child, would I really be so up in arms today about cucumber plants uprooted?  Or would I shake my head, give her a hug and tell her she was being silly.  Was the disaster only so disappointing because the other two children had angelically completed their weeding singing songs and wanting to help longer than was needed?  Biblically, would Cain have been such a big deal had there been no Abel?

Despite my theory, there is still parenting to be done.  Principles of work, love, respect, and self-worth that will have to be gaged with or without the comparisons.  The point, I think, is to stop and think about how 'bad' any of us really are.  If the dragon of revenge wants to wield it's way through my garden and rip out one innocent plant after another, I shall be grateful that today she is only 7 years old and that there is still time to plant again.  Maybe Cain had ripped out a few plants prior to sinking a knife into his brother.  I don't know.  I just feel like today I have a bit more mercy for all those siblings who got painted black before really knowing that there had to be any comparison.

Squish, squeeze,...POP!

Today I feel like a pimple on Life's face.  I am irritated, agitated around the edges, and ready to pop.  I find it incredibly ironic that it is now, in the quiet week, that I feel the most emotionally and mentally squeezed rather than during the tumult of end of term projects.  Do I thrive under pressure? Or, do I have a hard time being alone with my thoughts?

I feel as though the emotional work that I have been doing over the past four months both with and through my academic work was what they describe in academic methodology "squishy."  The boundaries that once seemed so firm and constrictive began to give way.  My own concept of my position in life became more malleable as I began to poke at some of my core beliefs about myself.  I took it all in small doses as my life continued to run on around me, which may have been a saving grace.  Now, the race over, I am trying to determine how much squishy = messy.

I find now, with hours of open time to myself that I don't quite understand what "productive" is.  I feel merit in finally just relaxing and breathing; yet as I slow down, I start to go down.  I know depression.  I have spent plenty enough time with it as a house guest in the past that I can recognize it coming up the drive.  I liked the constant pressure of time - squeezing every bit of usefulness out of time.  I made sure to squeeze in time for myself in the midst of it all, but never felt such a victim of time now that I have too much of it.  Josh likes to use the phrase "playing the victim" which perhaps I am this week.  It is Wednesday this week and I am a victim to lost time.  Non-regimented time.  What stresses me most is not deadlines, it is dead time.

In this emotionally vunerable white space that I am experiencing I am ready to burst.  I probably shouldn't take the pimple analogy too far, you can imagine for yourself the white antibodies gathering around the foreign emotions inside of me that are pushing against the surface.  Ready.  So ready with any little bit of prodding to release the pressure.  To pop.  Be careful world, this may all just be a result of fluctuating hormones - but being a pimple is not pleasant.

In the name of procrastination

As it is late-ish on a Saturday night and I have already watched a dumb movie this afternoon - my brain says there is no way that I can do any significant writing for end of term papers - I feel compelled to feel productive.  Posting feels productive.  As it is the last remaining vestige of journaling that I actively maintain (I somewhat compile my communications in a bit of an archive just in case someday I am famous and anyone cares), it is time to lay down some mortar that might stick together the past months.  As it is, I have no evidence online that the Button family continued to exist beyond the year 2014.  We are alive.  The apocalypse did not hit Indiana (although there are rumors that our proximity to Adam-on-diaman may give us some advance warning) and force us into oblivion.  Herein lies the proof:

We packed up and moved into our new house on  December 23rd.  It was the fastest  unpack I have ever done because we needed to have a 'home' atmosphere for Christmas.

In this photo it is very apparent that the elements of tradition that was forcing me to roll sushi on New Years was not personally what I wanted to be doing.  But the kids love it.  With the speed of the move, I am super impressed that I was able to keep up with any tradition.  But with the kids, they are old enough now to keep the guilt trip coming: that is the essence of tradition and as we edit our past when older, each one of those consistent years together will paint a picture of family bliss and fun despite Mom being cranky in 2015.

Josh and I made it to 33.  I don't remember what I got for Josh for his birthday and I only remember going to get some hair coloring done on my birthday...wow that doesn't speak well for early thirties!

Through January and February we had plenty 'snow day' cancellation from school which had nothing to do with snow but with a bit of chilled weather.  We loved having the ambiance of a fire to do some homework by on some of the chill days. I do have amazing kids.  Most of the time we are getting along and enjoy the same activities. 

Snow day core strengthening activities.  Viv is the only one of us with a strong core.  Danny is too ticklish to stay long in an airplane and Faith is floppy.  

So impressive - the kids wrote a play about cats and created costumes.  Day well spent.

January 14th, 2015 my baby turned 8.  Wahoo! I am no longer accountable for her sins!  Really, now we are all just accountable for the emotionality of burgeoning independence.

I couldn't have imagined how beautiful this day would be.  Faith chose to be baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  She has such a mature soul and perceptive intellect that the choice was deeply felt by us all and I felt something more pure than proud, perhaps it is joy.

While Grammie and Grampie were in town for the baptism we went out for the first  roller-skating  experience.  The kids were pretty amazing.  Maybe I am a mean mom, but I wouldn't let them use the walkers on wheels as a crutch for learning.  In my opinion, they learned faster than if they had a walker, but I have no proof that there is any correlation.  Mostly it was their determination. 

Disco baby!

March we took a trip over to Columbus Ohio to visit the Ohio State University.  The trip was a combo of PhD program interviewing, temple visit, and most important for the kids - OSU vs Boise State gymnastics meet!  We reconnected with a cousin of mine who joined us at the meet.  It was really cool to see the women gymnasts do some amazing stuff so close up.  We tell Viv were are investing in her college tuition by paying for gymnastic lessons now - no pressure.

I may have gone a bit overboard with the eggs for color, not that the kids minded. And we have a giant yard to hide them in, we just had to make sure we had an accurate count.  

With Auntie Jill living with us she makes sure we schedule plenty of outings to experience life beyond our home.  We watched the IPFW mens baseball up to the 6th inning and decided we are more excited for the Tin Caps season to open than we thought.

The excursion to the game was worth it for Danny who found a ball in the grass and when he tried to return in to the team, they said he could keep it.  Free game.  Free ball.

I've been working hard as a student his past semester and have had some academic honors bestowed upon me.  Fancy.  I presented a couple of my papers at conferences and symposiums and it accumulated in a scholarship award from the department.  I am grateful to have the recognition not to inflate the ego, but rather to be able to celebrate what I am doing as a contribution.  It is nice to know your work is appreciated. 

Whereas I used this blog in one of my research projects on journal writing, which will probably become a theme as I continue to work with family history writing projects, I hope to keep everyone posted. That is, anyone who is still interested in the ancient form of blogging (came out in 2005 and after a decade in the digital world it is basically dino bones).  I teach blogging to my beginning composition students of one the original internet writing genres and LOVE it!

Not to be forgotten - October and November

Fast recap of what transpired in the family through October and November:As a family, and yes, that very much includes the cats, we watched the General Conference Broadcast at home.  I suppose it is not true to say the full family because Josh could not join us on Saturday as he is always working.  But, Sunday he did.  We kicked up our feet and enjoyed snuggling and working quietly while listening.  The kids are becoming wonderful note takers and probably go more out of the talks than I did (I was a bit snoozy).

Viv turned 7 on October 16th.  We often wonder if her biological age is about a decade behind her attitude.  She absolutely loves fashion and was pleased to receive more frills and sparkles to put together (and yes, she just puts together her favorite without regard to matching which is surprising considering her over-conscious regard for social acceptance).  She certainly is a force to be reckoned with, and is learning how to reckon with herself.  She is a proficient reader and can do anything she sets her mind to, it is the setting the mind part that is still in progress.

 Josh and I celebrated our 9th Anniversary on October 27th.  Having Josh by my side for all these many years is my favorite constant.  I couldn't ask for a more devoted and progressive man.  He got me this lovely hat and a praying mantis broach. Josh was a bit worried about the animalistic connection of how the female mantis bites the head off her mate after they copulate.  I figure that (1) my mouth is not that big and (2) it would have to be some experience for me to loose that kind of self-control.  All in all, Josh doesn't have to worry about me literally biting his head off, and I think that over the years I have become a better wife and 'bite-his-head-off' a little less figuratively.

Everyone in our house is currently obsessed with Harry Potter, so it was a sure bet for Halloween to go the Hogwarts road to costuming.  An etsy friend supplied the scarves and I broke down and bought a new sewing machine to finish out the cloaks (it should not take hours to sew a basic polyester straight stitch and that is when I knew that Grandma's machine and I were going to have to part ways).  With his blonde hair, Danny was Draco Malfoy, Faith naturally was Hermione Granger, and Viv was Nymphadora Tonks.  I resurrected my annual witches cloak and went as Minerva McGonagall circa Tom Riddle's era and Josh was Professor Snape for trick-or-treating.  The kids are still running around the house with their wands practicing various spells and hexes.  Luckily they are Muggle born and their magical skills are not so strong even if Faith is determined she will see her letter from Hogwarts (or the American Wizarding school equivalent) when she turns 11 years old.  

 We are currently finishing out book 4 in the series.  I made the cloaks extra long so they could be used again next year, when it is likely we are just finishing out book 7.

 I was not actually with the family on Halloween - first time ever - so Josh took the kids trick or treating.  I was attending an academic conference at MSU.  I am nearing the end of my Master's degree and scoping out schools for doctoral work.  I traveled with a couple of professors for the first ever Cultural Rhetorics Conference.  The conference was groundbreaking and the sushi place we ate at was amazing!

 Halloween crept up on us rather fast.  We were in the throws of school and buying a new home (we closed on our home two days before Thanksgiving).  I decided that I was tired of inviting guests over having had some ingracious ones in the past, but I was not tired of making the food.  I love cooking a big meal, bummer we don't have many people to share it with.  Ah well, I was emotional drained and the weather change was tickling the fibromyalgia.  We got a turkey roaster many  years ago and it makes AMAZINGLY MOIST bird.  Totally worth the left overs.  We brined it this year, which I loved, the rest thought it a bit too salty in pockets.  

Grandma Ruby's rolls and rainbow Jello are traditional must.

Jill helped out with the side dishes.  The spread was amazing!  The leftovers lingered well into December, which was wonderful since my pension for cooking was waning.    The remedy for not wanting to cook in December, however was the German Aubendbrot tradition.  We fit in three fabulous, company filled Sunday feasts preceding Christmas and filled the fridge with wonderful leftovers.  We invited my good friends from a family history writing course on the 7th, the Gregory and Coudron family on the 14th, and finished strong with the Routsong family on the 21st.  

 Although we do look forward to the food, the tradition of singing carols of the Season and reading from the scriptural accounts of Jesus' birth are what really hold the Holidays together for me. I am so grateful for good parents who established patterns that have helped me, and now my family (and a couple of regular annual guests) look forward to celebrating the birth of our Savior.  Traditions absolutely help me maintain some of the joy of the season for our family despite my own personal health.  It is good to just do what you have always done and be blessed by it every year.  It has also made all my kids wonderful singers who know the words to great anthems of the Messiah's coming!