Traditions

 

It is General Conference weekend, and part of that mean we are eating Blueberry muffins.  I am not sure why this tradition began, but I think we've had blueberry muffins for conference at least since I have been married--they were a luxury at first, so we could only "afford" that kind of treat twice year--but my kids now sort of expect them.  The funny thing is I usually make Betty Crocker's mix muffins on Sunday morning, but since the kids--especially The Boy--eat so much more than they used to  I have gone to Jiffy brand muffins on Saturday.  So I made three boxes of Jiffy muffins this morning, with a BC box waiting for tomorrow.  All just part of the otherwise lazy, uplifting and home-bound weekend plans.

Ya Gotta Love The Kicker

Last night our high school played the rival rich kids from the town near us.  It was a nail biter.  The rival team always seems cocky and arrogant--but they usually win, so there is history backing up their swagger.  But last night the Vikings pulled off a win.  But it came at the hands of a great kid--Trevor--who is the 5'6" senior kicker.

See the article  HERE

As a mom of a kicker, I was holding my breath for Trevor, and his mom.  We kicker-moms have to stick together.

MTC Experience

Last night out Stake Youth Committee pulled off a great stake youth activity to kick off our annual Missionary Month.  We had 10 groups, identified by the Country flag tags that were handed out.  Then two sets of rotations--with 5 rotations each.  The youth of our stake played some "futbol international", ate cold cereal by the "bucket", "studied" Preach My Gospel, learned to either sew on buttons or tie ties, and packed luggage for speed.

One of the funniest parts was all the leaders we asked to direct the rotations in the hallways.  They had instructions to only speak in the language of their missions. So we had French, Spanish, German, but also Portuguese, Greek, Navajo, and Hungarian.  It sounds like the Tower of Babel in the halls.

The committee kids did a great job--even with a few miscommunications and a handful of stress.  They did it and made it look easy.  I heard several kids and leaders on the way out last night say, "This was so fun!"  That is what I thought too.

Now the ward YM & YW activities this month will focus on sharing the gospel and preparing to be missionaries.  And the whole month long event will conclude with a closing fireside November 4th where our local Mission President has been invited to speak.  And I'm guessing the kids will do a great job coordinating that too.

I love my calling.  Even when it exhausts me.

I Sound Like My Mother, Again

This morning I had an errand at the local Walgreen's to pick u a prescription (this is attempt number 2) for a remedy for The Girl's bothersome acne.  It is back, but because our lame insurance is really just for catastrophic medical issues, it covers nothing of the day-in-day-out kind of stuff.  So the great solution she used a year ago is out of the question, as it required monthly check ups (and ridiculous pregnancy tests) because of the potential side effects it has.

Anyway, that was a long version of:  I went to Walgreen's.

I gathered the other sundry things I needed to pick up there and brought the whole hot mess to the check out.  As I was laying out my pile, I asked the gentleman behind the counter "So, I understand that I can't just come in here and get the sale prices anymore unless I have card.  Is that right?"  Yep, he told me, that is the new deal.  And that kind of chaps my hide today.

I know the reasons to the WHY questions--the store will track my purchases and customize deals to save me money.  Yada Yada Yada.

You know what?  I already shop the sales and clip coupons and have figured out long ago that any store with too much information on me isn't necessarily trying to help me out.  Far from it.  It just bugs me that just about every store now has their own "loyalty program" which is just another way of saying they all have my personal info.  And I really don't like that.

When I came home from this infuriating errand, Genius Golfer was making himself some lunch in the kitchen and asked what was up. So I told him and I didn't hold back.  He just looked at me and said, "You sound just like your mom."

Well, I was raised right, I suppose.

Fail!

Do you ever have days where you know you'd leave your own head elsewhere if it weren't connected?  Today was one of those days.

It was a totally scrambled schedule at the high school.  The Boy has a pre-ACT type test he had to take this morning and then had his (shortened) classes in the afternoon.  The Girl and the other seniors had a Post-High School day where all kids listened to a schpeel on applying to and financing their choice after graduation.  Then, with every colleges in the state and their recruiters at the school the kids got to choose three colleges to hear their presentations.

All this is great!  But The Girl had a college class that she needed to be in until 9:15, so I went and sat in on the opening session and then got in on two college presentation and then met her to hear the last one together. 

Well, after the third one I could feel my brain winding up--lots of questions that The Girl hadn't probably thought of yet.  But after being a little titchy with me and essentially telling me that if I wanted to know these things, I should ask (Is she her father's daughter or what?!?).  Well, I was irritated by the time we finished and I headed to my PTA job there to work the Viking Store.  Because of the schedule change, only one of the ladies signed up to help could come early.  So I went to work with her so she wasn't alone.

I finally got out of there but was still irritated with The Girl.  By the time I got home, she was home--with the schedule shift, she didn't have to be back at school until the 3rd period bell rang at 12:45--to go to lunch with Genius Golfer.  They invited me, but they looked like they already had plans to commiserate about how "pushy mom always is".  They may not have been--to be honest--but with the attitude I was sporting by then, I didn't care.

So they went to lunch together and I went to run an errand I having been trying to get done for over a week now..  I ended up catching a friend who said she'd go with me and on the drive would give me the latest in her PTA drama at the elementary school.  PTA therapy i the car going to Orem. 

Talking to her calmed me down a bit and I was much more relaxed by the time I dropped her back to her car.  I came home and went about the chores here that I needed to do.

Suddenly at 4:43 I jumped up realizing that The Boy had had an orthodontist appointment today at 2:20.  I checked my phone--dead.  I plugged it in and two little text messages from The Boy popped up asking where was I and if  I was still coming.  He sent them at 1:45 and 2 PM.  He had been ready.  And I hadn't shown up.  Since I never got him, he went to football practice like normal and about 4 minutes after this all happened he called to say he was done with practice and would I please come pick him up.

Yikes.

I haven't completely forgot an appointment like that for a LONG time.  And sadly, I think it was an appointment for The Boy, again.  Maybe I just need some good sleep and a little do-over.  Or maybe less going on in a single day.

Yeah.  That's it.  And someday it will happen like that.  Just not this year.

I'm The Polar Opposite of Moses

You know in the Old Testament when God calls Moses to be the prophet for the Israelites and he kind of freaks out because he considers himself "slow of speech"?  Well, I kind of wish I was a little bit more like Moses that way.

No, I don't want to be a prophet.  Heavens.  Can you imagine the pressure that comes with THAT job?!?  No, I just wish I was a little s l o w e r of speech.  Sadly, I am instead slow of thought while simultaneously being too fast of speech for my own good.

You see, I have tendency to speak first and think later.  Well, this weekend I had another one of those "open mouth--insert foot" experiences that I was kind of hoping were becoming less frequent, but I was wrong.  Again.

I work with three of the most wonderful women ever in our Stake Young Women's presidency.  We have been together long enough to know what the other 'meant to say' when it doesn't come out right--or when it comes out (of me) down right wrong and, for the most part, these ladies overlook my stupidity with kindness and a little chuckle.

Well, I said something flippant and off the cuff without thinking it all the way through after our last YW volleyball day Saturday morning--status quo, at this point, right?  But later that afternoon, I texted one of these dear friends and asked if she'd like to go to the Relief Society broadcast with me and she texted back that she wouldn't be good company.  Something in the way she worded her response made me remember not only what I had said earlier but how I said it and it dawned on me--several hours too late to stop myself from saying it, of course--that what I had said may have hurt her feelings and perhaps that is why she didn't want to go.

Holy Cow.

I grabbed another friend from our presidency went to the dinner prior to the broadcast our stake hosts anyway.  No more than 30 minutes after sitting down, I felt like the worst find of friend ever.  I keenly felt the prompting to go to her home and ask her forgiveness.  I sat through  the broadcast--which in my forcibly humbled state was wonderful--and wept at the message of each speaker shared.  Not to mention the stories and photos referring to a youth trek!  I was the water works, in full form.  But the feeling to go ask for forgiveness was a steady pounding in my heart.

As soon as I dropped off my dear friend that did take me up on the offer to go together, I stopped at the home of my friend I was so worried I had wounded.  It was after 8:30 PM and knowing she was an early to bed kid of girl, hesitated a minute before screwing up my courage and knocking on her door.

It took her a minute to answer because, as I was sure she would be, she was in her pajamas and darn near ready for bed.  She opened the door and immediate could read the shame on my face and graciously invited me in.  I started to ask her to please forgive me for being insensitive and thoughtless and as un-Christlike as I ever had been.  And I, of course, burst into tears. 

We walked to her living room and sat on her couch where I told her that I had no intention of hurting her with anything I say, much less the thoughtless, stupid things.  She caught me and told me that she wasn't offended or hurt and actually thought my comment--though inappropriate (another one of my natural-man "qualities") was kind of funny.  Her not going with me that night had nothing to do with my comment but more to her feeling bummed out and like she wouldn't be good company to me.

Much weeping ensued.  Hugs and "I love you"s were exchanged. The rift (whether real of imaginary) was healed. And much solace was given to my heart.  She knew just what I needed to hear.  And I am so glad I listened to the prompting, even if the offense was never taken by her. 

I learn this lesson over and over again.  But someday I hope it really sticks. 

Yet, it's be so much easier to deal with Moses' issues.  Well, just the one.  Maybe.

Video Sunday, part 3