Like weeds

What is it about summer that acts as MiracleGro for kids? All the extra rest and sunshine and (this year) rain?

It seems like Maddy's grown inches in the last month. She loves her new glasses and being able to see the notes on her music and the leaves on the trees. Is there anything more heartbreaking that hearing your child exclaim over and over again how wonderful it is to see finally? On the other hand, one of her middle school teachers wrote me a letter about what a great girl we have. So that evened out the eyesight neglect feelings I was having.

Lauren gave a talk in church today and did a great job--so grown up and poised. Every once in a while there are moments when I have to re-construct my mental image of my children and this was one of them. She introduced herself and said "I'm almost 16" and, while I was aware of this approaching milestone, I had to do a double take. What? My daughter? {Sunrise, sunset, etc.}

She went on the youth pioneer trek re-enactment last week and had a ball. Here she is with her friend from school who came along and a good friend from the stake (he is also the son of one of my good friends).

Sam is growing faster, even, than his sisters. His new spurt (recorded with a line and date on the door frame of course) required new shirt and pants for church. And suddenly I get a fast-forward view of the man he'll be, sooner than I would like to admit:

I can't stand it! Somebody push the pause button! No one ever told me how wonderful ten year old boys are. He's easy going, funny, and great to have around. The girls are leaving for camp this week and for a few days (I join the girls on Thursday after I teach my class in Boston) Sam will be an only child, subject to the full glare of his parents' attention.

Poor boy.

p.s. Sam always reminds me of a nice combination of my dad and G. Speaking of my dad, today's his birthday. Sure do love you, Dad.

Lyrical

We're in the car on the way to Lauren's flute lesson.  The sunroof is open because it is 63 DEGREES today.  Music is playing on the radio and we're singing along to Jason Mraz's I'm Yours.

L: "...listen to the music of the Mormon people dance and sing. We're just one big family..."

A:  What did you just say?

L:  What?

A: Did you say "Mormon people"?

L: Um, yeah.  Those are the words, Mom.

A: (chuckling) Really?  So is he telling people to listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?  Or David Archuleta?  What music of the Mormon people do you think he's talking about?

L: (laughing)  I know, right?  I just think it's cool.

A: Honey, I don't think that's what he's saying.

L: Really? Oh, that's sad. And embarrassing.

A: I've got your back.

It made my whole. day.

****

Have you ever misheard/misunderstood song lyrics? (Matt was telling me one line of the National Anthem he misunderstood as a kid but I can't remember which line it was...help me out here, Matt?).

Also, as anyone else noticed that the sad, poignant music they play on Lost is the same as the chorus from Hall and Oates'  "One on One"?  Every time Lost gets dramatic there it goes again and I think "one on one, I wanna play that game tonight..."

Those natural consequences

Last year Lauren and I had lots of run-ins about things. Things she felt entitled to own, things we either couldn't afford or couldn't justify.  Every "no" was received like we were denying water to the thirsty.  Or stingily holding back oxygen.

On one level, Greg and I both understood how she felt.  We both remember those desperate teenage feelings, the conviction that this one thing will change my life, my status, my very self.  (For me, it meant "borrowing" sweaters from my dad's closet even though I knew he'd be angry; G remembers throwing a fit in a shoe store [not as a teenager though] when he couldn't get the cool shoes).  But still.  The constant hunger for the next thing, coupled with a sense of entitlement and lack of gratitude, was driving me crazy and coloring many of our interactions.  Oy.

So at the end of the summer, we introduced a new plan, Lauren's New Deal.  We would pay Lauren a fairly nice monthly sum of money (not that much, not too little) but she would be responsible for purchasing her own things.  We would cover food and lessons and essentials but she would buy the extras: clothes, social activities, texting charges, clothes, little incidentals.  She could fritter it away on little things or save it over time for big things.  It's up to you, darlin'.

Exhibit A: See her cell phone up there?  It's taken a beating (an outright understatement). She's dropped it (multiple times), put it through some heavy conversing and texting, left it where Louie could try his chops on it, even lost it a couple of times.  It's not pretty but it still works. Since replacing it would come out of her funds (and when weighed against a new dress for the semi-formal or a new ipod or jeans)--she doesn't feel the desperate urgency to get a new one.   It makes me laugh every time I see it.  And proud.  

The unexpectedly hardest part for me is letting her live with the consequences of her choices without swooping in and saving her, supermom with amazing + heroic spending powers.  At this very moment, she has no jeans that fit.  None.  They are all high-waters, bless her heart and growing limbs.  She has spent her funds on lunches out with friends, shirts, gifts for friends. Doo-dahs, forgetting her one real need: new pants. This is the hard lesson, the one that I desperately want to soften.  But softening it would only undo the learning, right?

So I keep my unhelpful rescue superpowers to myself, letting life teach her a few lessons while she's safely nestled under our rafters.  Unless there's such a thing as the outgrown jeans fairy?  

I guess not.

GWI*

The boys of the family are off to the wintry north for a boy scout camping trip.  We girls, here at home, are settling in for a fun couple of days with just us.  There are pedicures scheduled. And haircuts.  And renting The Secret Life of Bees. Generally having a hygge time.  And maybe a few other surprises.

Have a great weekend.  

{And thanks for your comments and emails about my last post.  As it turns out, a lot of people have been feeling the same way.  Reminds me (yet again) of the Marjorie Hinckley quote "Be kind.  Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."  Not a bad piece of advice to follow for the rest of my life, really.}

*=girls' weekend in

Happy Lucia Day

^Red Sox Lucia

We started the weekend by celebrating St. Lucia Day 

early this morning.

Our St. Lucia brought hot cocoa,

buttered toast, and danish pastries

to us in bed. 

This year was Lauren's turn 

and she brought a certain Boston quality to it.

We really should invest in 

a white robe and red sash for the traditional St. Lucia look

{more here about last year's celebration} 

I love St. Lucia.

Here's to small traditions 

that light up our days.