Un Milagro

I am sitting in a house that is (almost) perfectly clean. My shower is sparkling. The microwave has no crusty food residue spattered on its ceiling. My garbage cans are washed out. The massive package of toilet paper has been unloaded and stacked neatly next to the towels in my linen closet. The windows are clean--no smeary fingerprints blotting out the sun.

Yes, a miracle has occurred. My house has never, ever, ever been this clean. Not at the same time. A room is cleaned up here and there, but by the time I make it to the next section of the house, the previously tidied room is no longer pristine. It's just the nature of kids and living in a house.

After my melt down a few weeks ago, a friend gave me the number of the women who have been helping her in her home for years. And not just that--she gave them my number and they called me. After the emotion and anger of the day faded, my resolve to hire someone dissipated as well. Shouldn't we be working together as a family to take care of our home? Shouldn't I be teaching my children the satisfaction of a job well done? And what about the money that I would spend to pay someone else to clean my home? Guilt, guilt, and guilt.

Well, they stopped by last week so I could meet them and they could take a look around. And when they said they could come by one time each month, I breathed a happy sigh. Perfect. Yes, perfect. I wasn't outsourcing all or even most of the cleaning to someone else. We would still be responsible for most of it.

But, to know that someone would do those chores that get postponed to infinity--for me, they are things like scrubbing the dried on food from the booster seat. Moving the furniture to vacuum underneath. Dusting the picture frames. Wiping off the fridge. Wow. That's just emotional money in the bank for me.

So, the ladies came by yesterday. They worked for several hours. My home looks amazing. We were out with friends last night, so the kitchen didn't get messy with dinner. We got home late and the kids went straight to bed, so no new messes. I told AJ how much I would love for him to remove the children from our house for one entire day so that I could stay home by myself basking in its order.

I know that it won't last, but, boy does it feel good right now.

I think I'll go clean our lunch mess off the counter. I want to draw out the pleasure a little longer.
Read more . . .

First week of summer break

MJ got out of school last Tuesday, so we have officially made it through a whole week.


Highlights:

First week of competition on So You Think You can Dance--a family favorite. AJ's brother asked him if he felt at all ashamed of his complete and utter love of the show, and he proudly said, "Not a bit."

Too bad that we couldn't all watch it together, though. Instead of going to Texas, AJ went to the hospital. He had an infection in his leg, source unknown. Symptoms included: high fever and shakes, a swollen and bright red foot, and angry streaking up the leg. The cure--three nights in the hospital with intravenous rounds of antibiotics. He came home on Saturday afternoon with a prescription for an oral antibiotic. He is still limping around, the foot is still red and swollen, but the infection is dissipating. Thank goodness for antibiotics. Happily, we were able to watch the results show on Thursday night from his hospital room since my neighbor was kind enough to take care of baby Z. 15 month-olds and hospitals don't mix together well, we found out.

We made a big list of everything we wanted to do this summer. The kids included the zoo and swimming. I included practice piano, reading time, and chores.

And to help make it through the summer, I checked out Siblings Without Rivalry, a book from the dreaded self-help category. I am going to try to give it a fair shake though.

Read more . . .

I'm never going to be the best

at "homemaking." No matter what Julie Beck said. I don't like the cleaning. I don't like the neverending chores, the way my kids make messes behind me. I don't like the way that the house is never all cleaned at once. I don't like finding legos, bobby pins, rice kernels, and paper scraps underfoot, and that no one will take responsibility for it, but ooh, I hate having to be the one to either pick it up myself or ask someone else to do it. I don't like my children's resistance to doing even the smallest chore of a mess that they made. I don't like the way that I am the only one who seems to care what the house looks like. I don't like being the taskmaster.

I am thinking about outsourcing some of the drudgery. It was a very bad day today.

Read more . . .

The flower box

This is my favorite addition from this weekend because it's pretty right now. We'll see how it weathers the summer. I imagine the petunias hanging thickly over the edges of the container.
Read more . . .

Memorial weekend planting

We have a lot of landscaping rocks in our yard. I don't like them. They are unsightly. Ugly weeds grow up in them. I wanted to get rid of them all, but it is hard work to shovel them up and discard them. So, I was very happy when AJ's dad suggested that we put some shrubs in the sections of our yard with rocks. Even though they are small now, I feel so much better about our yard. I can't wait to see them grow. AJ's is even happier because now that the pressure is off him to find a way to get rid of the rocks. In total, we planted 12 shrubs, one clematis plant at the base of our mailbox, loads of dark purple petunias in the window boxes, and several black eyed susans in the free standing flower boxes near the front door.

Window box petunias and three moonshadow euonymus shrubs, which will grow wide and not tall. They have pretty variegated leaves.

I hadn't realized that the trellis off our deck has legs in order to train vines up and around. When AJ's mom noticed, I was excited to try to grow a wall of green. We planted two honeysuckle plants.

AJ's mom also suggested a clematis at the base of the mailbox to grow up and around it.


Four new shrubs on the front corner of our lot. They don't look like much, but it is a vast improvement. The meadowlark forsythia on the left will get to be 10 feet tall by 10 feet wide. We also planted two goldflame spirea. and one bridal wreath spirea

We planted three sixteen candle clethra around the house too. They will bloom with long spiky white flowers.

Read more . . .

other highlights from this week

Celebrating Nana's birthday

Hanging out with Papa

Baby Z really taking off with the walking

Pretty lemon birthday cake

Read more . . .

My Weekend

• No kids--AJ's parents are in town and are taking care of them
• Beautiful spring weather. Sunny in the 60's and low 70's.
• Half day of work on Friday for AJ so we got downtown early
• A nice hotel in a great location, a bargain complements of Priceline
• Afternoon delight with sushi for a mid-afternoon snack
• A nice dinner with good friends including great conversation
• Sleeping in
• Lemon Ricotta Hotcakes for breakfast
• Being able to walk all over downtown, holding hands, with no stroller or kid legs that get tired
• The Mill City Museum Farmer's Market, complete with a special performance by English Morris dancers
• Rush tickets to see a show at the Guthrie. The lead is an amazing singer whose voice was rich and full. And then a Q&A with the cast afterwards.
• More walking

• A stroll though the Walker Sculpture Garden
• An amazing dinner
• Church in Spanish
• More outside time at a park
• Home to the kiddos

The perfect weekend together to celebrate our 10th anniversary

Read more . . .

Garage Sale Season Has Started

These exact signs were all over the place this morning

AJ was here this morning and able to take care of breakfast and getting MJ ready for school. He has gone straight to work from seminary every other day this week, and it was nice to have a reprieve. I was content to languish in bed for a while, puzzling over the mysteries and craziness of the Lost season finale that was on last night.

When I finally got up, I went downstairs and was immediately cranky. Baby Z has left messes everywhere. The Cadoo game with all its cards was scattered through the book room. Q-Tips and other bathroom stuff cover my bathroom floor. And in the office? He dumped over a random basket of AJ's with spare change, ticket stubs, collar stays, etc. He is now tall enough to reach up and into drawers, including where I put my makeup and hair stuff in my bathroom. I knew I would have to spend more time than I wanted cleaning up after him. I told him that he would have to stay in a playpen because I can't handle the constant messes. And, indeed, when he threw a fit that I wouldn't let him pull out my boxes of contacts from the bathroom cupboard, I put him in his crib with some toys. He was not pleased. Happily, big brother T jumped in his crib and they had a great time playing together while I cleaned my room.

We needed to get out of the house. I didn't want to spend the morning picking up, with baby Z underfoot and undoing behind me. I got them into the car and off we went. As soon as we drove out of our neighborhood, I remembered it was a garage sale day. Around here, they do them Thursday-Saturday for some reason. And there were signs everywhere. So, we just drove around for a while, listening to Stockard Channing's great rendition of Ramona the Brave, stopping to look whenever we saw a garage sale.

I immediately started to perk up, for who doesn't like to get great deals on stuff you need? This is what we ended up with.


2 booster seats for the kids in AJ's car (he almost bought one at Target last weekend, so this was perfect), $6
Gymboree swim trunks for T, $1
A fun baseball hat for Z, thrown in for free
Sweatshirt for T, 50 cents, in our favorite color orange
Shorts for T, 25 cents
Brand new pair of Keen shoes for T, $4
For $5, books, of course, and they all looked like they hadn't been cracked open, including:

• 6 Boxcar Children books for MJ
• Hardback of Olive's Ocean by Kevin Henkes--We have long loved Lilly, but who knew he also has novels to his name? And it's a Newbery Honor book, too.
  
• Another brand new hardback book, published at the end of 2008--Good Girls, Bad Girls: The Enduring Lessons of Twelve Women of the Old Testament, written by T.J. Wray, a professor of religious studies
• A board book for Z--Hey! Wake Up! by Sandra Boyton

And best of all--a bike for T, $7. I was ready to send him out with AJ to buy a bike.

Total spent: $23.75.

We went over to the library after I ran out of cash.

Read more . . .

Women's Voices

It's Mother's Day and I've enjoyed handmade cards, a shirt with my kids' pictures on it, and some handmade jewelry. We ate a delicious dinner (I wonder if I can grow fennel in my back yard...I love fennel), complete with a scrumptious chocolate chip cake. I got to take a walk around the lake and read my book. I wasn't upset by Mother's Day talks. I talked to my mom. The only wrinkle: my Mother's Day present to myself hasn't yet arrived from Amazon.

I also wanted to spend some time writing today. Earlier this year, I had such big plans. I was all set with reading for African American History month in February, and being overly optimistic, I planned some reading for Women's History month in March. Well, that didn't work out like I wanted, but I have read some interesting things since then and thought Mother's Day would be as good a time as any to write a few thoughts. I wanted to read about women's lives and experiences. I wanted to hear women's voices. Yes, such a broad objective, so that many things fit.

There were two books that were disappointing. I'll start with them since I don't have much to say about them. Things I've Been Silent About by Azar Nafisi. I listened to her do a book reading and an interview and I was interested to read her newest book about her life in Iran and her experiences with her mother and other family. The book was disjointed, the focus on her controlling mother became tiresome, and I lost interest quickly.

And Monique and the Mango Rains by Kris Halloway. This was the memoir of a Peace Corps Volunteer who spent two years in Mali working with a midwife on maternal and child health. I was interested in the topic, but the writing was flat. It didn't resonate with me nearly as much as another book about poverty and health that I read around the same time--Mountains Beyond Mountains. More on that in another post.

How about a book about Abigail Adams? She's an intriguing historical figure and I was interested to learn more about her after watching (part of) the HBO series on John Adams. Portia: The World of Abigail Adams by Edith Gelles was a collection of academic essays. It felt like each could have been published as an individual paper. Gelles' intention was to write about Abigail completely on her own terms, rather than constantly linking her life and destiny to her famous husband. I thought that to be a bold claim, for so much of Abigail's life was shaped through her relationship with John. How could she be considered independently of him? But Gelles does a pretty good job looking at certain topics that have been ignored by other scholars. By analyzing Abigail's prolific correspondence, she writes about Abigail's relationship with her daughter, with her sisters, and with Thomas Jefferson. She examines the way scholarship about Abigail has changed over time. Abigail had a brilliant mind and was a prolific writer and voracious reader. Writing, for her, was a way to work through issues, to make arguments, and to conduct business with her often absent husband. She said, "There are particular times when I feel such an uneasiness...my pen in my only pleasure." Portia was a penname that she adopted and used to sign many of her letters. She identified herself with Portia, the wife of the Roman politician Brutus.

I liked this bit from a letter written to her by her younger sister Elizabeth:

If ideas present themselves to my mind, it is too much like the good seed sown among thorns; they are soon crazed and swallowed up by the wants and noise of my family and children. The bad writing you must impute to my rocking the cradle.

A sentiment I can relate to.

An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination is Elizabeth McCracken's beautifully written memoir of the stillbirth of her son. She and her kind, earnest English husband are living in the countryside of France, both working on writing. She is radiantly pregnant, the adorable baby shoes have been purchased, and they have created a vision of their future life with their baby boy nicknamed Pudding. From the very beginning, McCracken lets us in on what will happen. Both her stillborn son, and the living, healthy child that will be born almost exactly a year later. But, the unraveling. Oh, the tragic and painful unraveling.
Here's one section from early on:

I had just stepped over the border from happy pregnancy to grief, but I could still see that better, blither country, could smell the air over my shoulder, could remember my fluency there, the dumb jokes, the gestures, the disappointing cuisine, the rarefied climate. I knew already I could never go back, not then, not for any future pregnancy (should I be so lucky).

The sections on interacting with those who are suffering grief should be required reading for everyone. Here's a little bit.

I remember one lunch with people who had loved us in London early on, two of the most excruciating hours of my life. Nothing but that endless juggling: Other people's jobs and boyfriends. What kind of wine to order. This was two weeks after Pudding died. I might have been something like that gothic character one step short of total ruin: I wanted to rock and sing lullabies and hold out my torn, bloody nightgown and run my hands through my wild hair, and yet I knew you weren't supposed to do such things in polite society. My hair was uncombed, and my face was puffy from lack of sleep and crying and too much wine, and my clothes were what I'd salvaged from the middle of my pregnancy, because of course even though people might pretend nothing was out of the ordinary I had the body of a woman two weeks postpartum, soft and wide around the middle, and if I'd been one step worse off I might have lifted up my shirt to display my still livid stretch marks.

But, I didn't. I could feel how uncomfortable my mere presence made people feel, and I couldn't bear it. So, I sat in this Indian restaurant and listened. Sometimes, a piece of palaver came loose and shot straight toward me and somehow I caught it and tossed it back.

All the while, all I could think was: Dead baby dead baby dead baby.

And finally, All God's Critters Got a Place in the Choir by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich and Emma Lour Thayne. This is a book of essays about being female and Mormon, about friendship, sisterhood, and community, about motherhood and writing. Like any collection of essays, there were some that were more personally meaningful to me, but this is such a great compilation of their writing. Like Abigail Adams, they both describe their absolute need to write. Emma Lou Thayne is a poet and author and Laurel Thatcher Ulrich is a historian. But, this book contains their personal lives, bubbling over with the richness of their lives and their thoughtful insights.

Early on, Ulrich talks about gifts and talents. "I have come to believe that talent is a inner drive that propels a person to take time." The title of the book comes from a song:

All God's critters got a place in the choir--
Some sing low; some sing higher,
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire,
And some just clap their hands,
Or paws
Or anything they got.

It brings to mind a group of people, all working together for a common objective, but each utilizing their own unique gifts and abilities. The first few chapters filled me with such optimism about using my own talents in a way that both helps me grow them, and contributes to some larger good.

The essays that make up the bulk of the book are filled with experiences from their lives--dealing with cranky neighbors, watching a mother die, going visiting teaching, raising children, and connecting with women across the globe.

In its totality, their book celebrates women's gifts, not as anything generically applied to all with XX chromosomes, but each individual woman's gifts and contributions, unique and precious. For example, Ulrich describes herself this way: "As a daughter of God, I claim the right to all my gifts. I am a mother, an intellectual, a skeptic, a believer, a crafter of cookies and words." Her own identity as a daughter of God, different from any other.
Read more . . .

Sisters' Week

One of my sisters is really hip. And cool. And as such, she has a cool and hip blog, which lots of people visit. She decided to let all of her less cool sisters in on the action by having Sisters' Week. We each got to contribute a post. Collectively, we made up the You Are My Fave: Sisters' Edition.

Now, when I try to tell people how the 7 of us are so different from each other, I will just point them to Mel's blog for evidence.

And I just had to steal her photo of us taken when I was a junior in high school. 1989.
Read more . . .

I've crossed a line

I just sent in a question to Damon and Carlton. I think that puts me more squarely in the camp of obsessed Lost fans. I'm going to console myself with the promise that it won't happen again and that I won't subscribe to any additional Lost podcasts or read any extra blogs deconstructing every episode.
Read more . . .

I'm so embarrassed

This morning, when I was on the phone, I used the words "space cadet" to describe myself. When was the last time that came out of my mouth? Like 1990??
Read more . . .

I Have a Problem

I hardly ever buy new books for myself, especially hardbacks. They're just too expensive. Plus, I like to make sure that I want a copy of a book for keeps before I actually spend all that money on it. That means I check out a copy from the library, and if it's something I want in my book collection, then I'll buy it.

A while back, I discovered the joys of shopping for used books online. With Amazon z-shops, I can usually find a book in good condition for a decent price, but there's always that pesky $3.99 shipping fee. For certain kinds of books that I can't find elsewhere, I'll gladly pay the shipping and enjoy them coming straight to my door. I've gotten a lot of great books this way.

I also love to peruse used book stores. But, even they can't usually compete with the online used book market. A good price for a book there is usually about half the price you could buy it new. It's also hard to really browse in a big used bookstore. I can zero in on specific books I want to look for, but I get overwhelmed just looking around.

Enter thrift stores. I have been taken loads of old clothes and other items I want to recycle to a non-profit thrift store in the area. Usually I just pull around back and drop the bags off. However, I have taken to looking through the book section several times now. A big bonus--it's small enough that I can look at everything. The inventory is constantly changing. And it's exciting to discover something interesting that I didn't even know I wanted. Prices are usually less that $2. Plus, if I pick up a dud, I can get rid of it and not feel cheated out of any significant amount of money.

What treasures I have found! Right after reading Their Eyes Were Watching God for January book group, I found a pristine copy for 50 cents. I snatched it up. I have found some great collections of feminist writings, an edited book of women's autobiographical writings, and some great novels.

On Saturday, I took the opportunity to drop some bags off by myself--it's become harder to browse with baby Z who likes to throw books from the shelves willy nilly. I spent 20 or so minutes and came away with these titles, all for $8 or so:

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf--hardback, looks like it has hardly been cracked open
The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood--an old school paperback copy, perfect for taking on vacation
The Whistling Season by Ivan Doig--my mom read this book and loved it and I have been wanting to read something by him for a while now. A brand new hardback.
Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner--another one that's been on my list for a while now
From This Day Forward by Cokie and Steve Roberts. Another hardback in perfect condition. Although I have this on paperback on my shelf, I couldn't pass it up. I just need to find someone who can appreciate it.
Magyk--Septimus Heap Volume 1. For MJ.
Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo. Another one for the kid book shelf.

My to-read shelf is almost completely full though. I've got to stop buying these books! But, they are so alluring with their pretty faces and the unknown stories beneath their covers...
Read more . . .

With Kindle, Can You Tell It’s Proust?

From the NYTimes

Another reason that I don't like Kindles. How can I see what other people are reading?? It's my favorite snobby spy activity. What can I deduce about someone from their reading material? I do it at the gym, the doctor's office, and on vacation.

Some of my favorite quotations from the article:

The practice of judging people by the covers of their books is old and time-honored. And the Kindle, which looks kind of like a giant white calculator, is the technology equivalent of a plain brown wrapper.

But for the purpose of sizing up a stranger from afar, perhaps the biggest problem with Kindle or its kin is the camouflage factor: when no one can tell what you’re reading, how can you make it clear that you’re poring over the new Lincoln biography as opposed to, say, “He’s Just Not That Into You”?

Michael Silverblatt, host of the weekly public radio show “Bookworm,” uses the term “literary desire” to describe the attraction that comes with seeing a stranger reading your favorite book or author. “When I was a teenager waiting in line for a film showing at the Museum of Modern Art and someone was carrying a book I loved, I would start to have fantasies about being best friends or lovers with that person,” he said.

Ah, I can relate to that last bit. If I saw someone reading one of five or so books, I would immediately introduce myself and set up a lunch. Because, of course, this person would be my new best friend.

(Hmm. That would be a great tool on GoodReads. Each person can select five books, or a cluster of a certain kind of book. Their favorite, central-to-my-identity books. If someone within 50 miles of your geographic location marks it as "read" and has given it 4 or 5 stars, they I am notified by email.)

Read more . . .

Park Clean Up Day

We had a great time Saturday morning going to a nearby park to pick up garbage. Designed to correspond with Earth Day, it was part of a local effort dedicated to cleaning up our parks and lake areas. It helped that the park was remarkably free of trash, so that any discovery was reason for excitement and so that it didn't take us long to finish the job. The mechanical claw also made the pick-up exciting. Plus, we got to stay and play afterwards.










Read more . . .

Baby hurricane

Baby Z is almost 14 months old. He's still not walking--he doesn't seem to really care much about it. That's fine with me, because he's still more than enough to handle. He recently gave up his morning nap which gives him plenty of time to explore around the house and pull apart anything he can find. We've babyproofed the most dangerous or annoying to clean up cabinets, but that still leaves plenty of grist for discovery. He mostly likes to stay close to me, but one day last week, he was quite content to travel through the house by himself, leaving a trail of disaster in his wake.

He always gets into the cupboards in my bathroom and pulls out an old box of tampons. I don't know if it's the rustling wrapper that he likes, but I've found them all over the house. Once he latches onto something he likes, he is loathe to give it up. The bathroom is also a great place for cotton balls, q-tips, and foam rollers for MJ's hair.

Last week when I was in the kitchen, he managed to scatter plastic bags, napkins, individual hot chocolate packets, and onions, leaving the skins all over the place.

He pulls books off the shelves, unrolls the toilet paper, and is getting tall enough to reach up to tables and desks to pull things down.

When does this stage end???

Read more . . .

Faradasiac

A new word in the Lost lexicon. Describes one who is infatuated with Daniel Faraday. He's back, baby! He's back!
Read more . . .

He is Risen!

After feeling frustrated that our ward would not get to have its own Easter service today due to a big regional conference, I decided to take in an early service at another church. A lot of the VU clan is in town, and I was lucky that Jason & Becca got to stay at our house due to overflow of family at Dan & Marie's. So, Becca and I left Jason and AJ in charge of getting both dinner preparations underway and the kids to church so that we could head up to an amazing music church.

I should have gotten some sense of what their Easter program would be like since they have services every hour starting at 6 am and going to 1 pm. Once we got there, we parked on the street at the direction of the florescent vested police officer since the lot was filled. We walked in and were directed to the balcony--there were probably 300 people in total there and the nave was full. I got goosebumps and squeezed Becca's arm as we walked past the foyer and I noticed the men in choir robes holding trombones.

We had just sat down when chimes pealed out and the pastor called out "He lives! He lives! Shout the glorious word and let it echo around the world. Jesus Christ is Risen!" Then the trumpets and organ joined in a jubilant fanfare, followed by a joyful and vibrant organ introduction to a beloved Easter hymn--Christ the Lord is Risen Today. I could hardly sing for choking back the tears. We were accompanied by organ and brass. What a perfect way to rejoice in the message of hope found in the resurrection.

The sermon was simple and beautiful. focusing on the events of Resurrection morning and its implications for our lives. The pastor began:

The Easter message of Christ's victory over sin and death is at the heart of what we about at (this church). Easter is a season that gives purpose to all that we do in our congregation. Even Christmas, as wondrous and beautiful as it may be, tells only the beginning of the story. Christmas is a season of promise. Easter is a season of fulfillment. The heart of what we teach in our congregation is the story of Easter.

And then, he went on to say:

We know that Jesus is alive, for he comes to share life with us and give it purpose and dignity. He comes calling us by name saying, "Mary, go to my brothers and tell them that I am risen." "Thomas, look at my hands, put your hand in my side." "Peter, do you believe after all your denials? Go and feed my sheep." One by one, Jesus points to us and he enters our lives and he changes them... He is a living Christ who says I have come to be with you always.

The music was amazing. Just incredible. In addition to brass, there was a group of string players. And I cannot forget the amazing organist. The entire service was moving. I am going to return to this church with AJ and the kids on other holy days. It added a spiritual depth and a feeling of gratitude to my Easter.

Read more . . .

Mary Whitmer--Another Witness

I really like teaching primary. I am having a great time with my class and I have been happy to leave the mainstream adult classes in exchange for hanging out with 10 and 11 year olds. One of my students--L-- is a budding feminist. Or at the least, she has become increasingly conscious of differences between men and women in the church. And she often asks questions about it. In a recent lesson about the restoration of the priesthood, she asked "so, if men get the priesthood, what do women get?" (very difficult conversation ensues, I'm trying to think of something to say while at the same time squelching the comments from the kid in the back of the room saying "they get to cook dinner!)

In another lesson on the witnesses of the Book of Mormon, I was puzzling over why none of the witnesses were women. It didn't seem like there was any divine reason why women couldn't have witnessed the plates--why not let Emma have a reward for her hard earned faith? I suppose in this time period--the late 1820's-- testimonies coming from women would not have carried the same legitimacy and weight as those coming from men. And as it turned out, the first three witnesses were heavily involved in the translation from the start and actually requested to be witnesses. But, still...

During the lesson, L asked if there were any women who were witnesses. I was happy to have thought about it a bit before the question came up, and even happier that the lesson manual contained the story of Mary Whitmer. Joseph, Emma, and Oliver Cowdery were staying in the Whitmer home during some of the translation, and the bulk of the extra housework fell on Mary. (To which L replied a bit caustically, "Why couldn't the men help?) According to the manual, Mary did all the extra work without complaining, and felt like it was her contribution to the work. She was glad to do it, despite her exhaustion. One day, when she was out milking the cow, a man carrying a knapsack came and showed her the gold plates.

Here is an account of this experience written by one of her grandchildren:

I have heard my grandmother (Mary Musselman Whitmer) say on several occasions that she was shown the plates of the Book of Mormon by a holy angel, whom she always called Brother Nephi. (She undoubtedly refers to Moroni, the angel who had the plates in charge.) It was at the time, she said, when the translation was going on at the house of the elder Peter Whitmer, her husband. Joseph Smith with his wife and Oliver Cowdery, whom David Whitmer a short time previous had brought up from Harmony, Pennsylvania, were all boarding with the Whitmers, and my grandmother in having so many extra persons to care for, besides her own large household, was often overloaded with work to such an extent that she felt it to be quite a burden. One evening, when (after having done her usual day's work in the house) she went to the barn to milk the cows, she met a stranger carrying something on his back that looked like a knapsack. At first she was a little afraid of him, but when he spoke to her in a kind, friendly tone and began to explain to her the nature of the work which was going on in her house, she was filled with inexpressible joy and satisfaction. He then untied his knapsack and showed her a bundle of plates, which in size and appearance corresponded with the description subsequently given by the witnesses to the Book of Mormon. This strange person turned the leaves of the book of plates over, leaf after leaf, and also showed her the engravings upon them; after which he told her to be patient and faithful in bearing her burden a little longer, promising that if she would do so, she should be blessed; and her reward would be sure, if she proved faithful to the end. The personage then suddenly vanished with the plates, and where he went, she could not tell. From that moment my grandmother was enabled to perform her household duties with comparative ease, and she felt no more inclination to murmur because her lot was hard. I knew my grandmother to be a good, noble and truthful woman, and I have not the least doubt of her statement in regard to seeing the plates being strictly true. She was a strong believer in the Book of Mormon until the day of her death.

Interesting that the manual version makes the point that she never complained with the extra work before the visitation by Moroni, while this account above seems to suggest that seeing Moroni helped her take up her work without complaining.

Why haven't I heard this story before?? I found a picture of their farm, but no picture of her. However, in 1997, the church made a film about this experience, but they don't sell it. I found a copy on Amazon. Hmm. Maybe I'll have to get it and show it to my class. It also includes a portrait of Eliza R. Snow.

Read more . . .

Spring Break Over

And it ended with snow on the ground this morning. I am crossing my fingers that next week, Easter will be nice enough that we can have an egg hunt outside. The first year we were here, there was no snow on the ground, but it was probably -10 with the wind chill. I sat in the van and watched the kids scramble to get their eggs and then jump back inside. The second year, the whole neighborhood wore their snow pants, boots, mittens, hats, and scarves to search for eggs since there was eight inches of snow on the ground. Please, let there be some semblance of spring this year! The forecast as of now says--yippee!--52 and partly cloudy. End aside on weather.

Ok, so spring break.

Monday: Children's Museum--the kids loved it, traffic was good getting home, we had a great time. A 5-star day.

Tuesday: We went to storytime at the library which for some reason MJ and T weren't too interested in, then went to McDonalds (I know. Terrible, right? These trips are very limited.) for lunch and the playcenter, which was the main draw. Then, we had naptime for baby Z and afterwards, MJ had dance. A so-so day. I give it 3.5 stars.

Wednesday: This was our stay at home day and laundry day. T had come up with the idea of opening a restaurant and so he and MJ had spent a lot of time working on menus and thinking up ideas for it. We got new batteries in the cash register, planned the menu, and hung a sign for MJ and T's Chinese Charm, featuring Pan-Asian cuisine. But, boy, did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I hadn't slept well and was in a foul mood. They got to watch a lot of tv, but the restaurant did open for business, serving sushi, dumplings, orange chicken, and edamame. Our neighbors came over and Sam, 6 years old, sweetly told me (head chef) it was the best restaurant he had ever been too. This from a very picky eater who only had dumplings. But, still, the day (from my emotional standpoint) was terrible. 1 star. Oh, but Lost was on that night, which provided some redemption. Maybe 1.5-2 stars?

Thursday: Yeah! AJ took the day off and I stayed home with baby Z while he, MJ, and T went to a water park. Unfortunately, I had another terrible night sleeping and so baby Z and I napped together. I hate squandering alone time by sleeping, but I needed it. I still wasn't feeling great, but at least my poor kids didn't have to suffer. They had a great time, and we got pizza for dinner. 3 stars.

Friday: After lunch and baby Z's nap, I took the kids to the Mill City Museum and they did well and had a great time. 4 stars. I had no idea that Minneapolis used to be the top producer of flour in the world.

Tomorrow, it's back to school, back to routine. But, it's really only a matter of a short amount of time until summer is upon us. I've been looking at summer activities and registered MJ and T for a few things.

Read more . . .