Laney took the cutest video of Minsy yesterday, and I have to add it here. There is a song by Ingrid Michaelson called "Be Okay" that Laney loves to sing on the ukulele. This is the famous song that Laney sang to one of our missionaries to cheer him up when they were over for dinner one evening. I wrote about that experience HERE.
Here is the professional version:
Now here is Minsy's not-so-professional version:
I love how you can hear Laney whisper "okay" at the end. Soooo cute! I love it!
I'm not sure how we got on this topic yesterday, but we were talking about embarrassing moments, and Herman asked me what my most embarrassing moment in high school was. I had to think for awhile. I don't know why. It seems like the problem in coming up with an answer would be that there were maybe thousands of things I could have said. I don't particularly remember high school as being a time of smooth sailing and blooming roses wherever I walked. Such an awkward time. But time has softened my memories, and I can't remember any embarrassments. Well, I guess I should clarify and say that I do remember horribly awful moments that I wish I could magically erase from my memories, but as far as those funny, embarrassing things ... well, I couldn't think of anything.
At first.
Then I thought of a great story to share with Team Blau to let the family see a bit of my humanity (in case they weren't sure about whether or not Mom was a total geezer in school). Technically this happened when I was in junior high (now for those years I could have come with TONS of embarrassing moments), but since our junior high and high school were connected (dumbest architectural decision ever!), and I was participating in a high school theater production ... well, I think I could make a case for this being eligible. So here it is:
Every fall our high school put on a musical. It was a big deal, and, looking back, I have to say that it was quite impressive that our little school could put on such a polished production. For many years my dad was the director. My mom remembers those times of the year as horrible because he was never, ever home. But I remember being so proud of what my dad could put together. When I was in 8th grade the high school musical was The Wizard of Oz. They needed lots of munchkins, so several 8th graders were recruited. I was excited to be part of this "big person" production. I didn't get any real role. I was just part of the large group of munchkins that appeared here and there during the musical. I was part of the larger group until they pulled three of us apart and asked if we could be part of the Lollipop Guild.
This Lollipop Guild:
I am sure that I wasn't chosen because of any outstanding talent ('cause -- obviously -- it takes tremendous singing and acting ability to play these parts, right?). I think it is because the other two girls and I were about the same height. Who knows?
I think that we did pretty good during all of our rehearsals. I don't remember it being a big deal at all. I wasn't even nervous about performing in public. It shouldn't have ended up on my "Most Embarrassing Moment" list. But, sadly, my musical acting career was destined to begin and end in tragedy.
The day before opening night the choir director brought each of us these gigantic lollipops.
Like this one.
They were huge, and they were beautiful. Someone must have traveled a bit to pick these up, because I am pretty sure that they didn't sell candy like this in Carrollton anywhere. I may be wrong. It definitely seemed like a treasure. Well, the night of our first live performance happened, and I headed onto the stage with the rest of the munchkins. We sang. We danced. And it came time for my big Lollipop Guild debut. To this day I still do not know what happened, but sometime in the course of my kicking and singing my lollipop went flying. It shattered all over the stage floor. Everyone sort of gasped, but I am sure that no one really thought too much about it except for the fact that now all of us had lollipop scraps all over our socks and shoes.
Well, that's not true ... someone thought too much about what had happened ... ME. I was horrified! I somehow managed to keep it all together while we were out on stage, although I am sure that I looked frightful as I tried to hold my emotions in check. I probably looked like I was in pain ... not the way you picture the members of the Lollipop Guild. Well, now that I've re-watched the scene from the movie, I guess they do like they are in pain, so maybe I was looking like I was totally in character for this one. Maybe.
Either way, as the scene ended I flew away to the band room where I promptly dissolved into tears. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. This is how my dad found me. A blubbering mess on the floor of the band room. I think he had been watching the performance, but I don't think that he saw my shattering lollipop scene. So he was totally confused when he walked in to find me in such a mess. He asked me what was wrong, and, if it could even be done, I actually cried harder as I explained:
I DROPPED MY LOLLIPOP!
My dad just looked at me. For a long time. Then he quietly said, "What?" I don't think that he thought that he had heard me right. Seriously, what 8th grade student dissolves into a mess of tears over dropping a piece of candy? Apparently I did. I'm sure my dad said some sort of words of comfort at that moment. Maybe. It is possible that he just looked at me funny and told me to get over myself. I don't remember. I do know that I was able to continue on and complete the run of shows, so life didn't end for me at that moment. Hooray for that. I did decide that musical theater acting was not my forte. After that one experience I decided to dedicate my time to playing the trumpet in the pit orchestra. Less opportunity there for public humiliation, I think.
Yesterday I shared that moment with my family for the first time. They thought it was hilarious. I think the thought of me crying crocodile tears over broken candy was too funny. Thank goodness for years of perspective to take a bawl-worthy moment from my life and turn it into a great funny family moment years later. I hope I can always remember to keep some perspective. Now I'm off. I have a horrible craving for a Blow-Pop.
It's Mother's Day, that annual event where I have the chance to reflect on how blessed I am to have such wonderful children while at the same time berating myself for not doing a better job at being a mom. It is inevitable, I suppose, that I will do this to myself for the rest of my life. I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself, but I always will. But today, instead of taking all day to think about what I should be doing better I just want to focus on my sweet children. They are so good, and they try hard to always make good choices. They aren't perfect, but they constantly are trying to be better each day. I couldn't ask for more. This year I got an added sad element to the day. It is the last Mother's Day where I will have all the kids at home. Laney will be gone next year serving a mission, and after that we'll lose a child to missions or college about every other year. Time is flying much too quickly. I'm not ready for them to leave.
Today I was greeted with breakfast in bed, always an interesting event because each child gets the chance to choose whatever they want to feed me. I have had some interesting meals in the past. This year Laney made sure that it was more balanced. Instead of giving everyone complete free reign over what to make, she divided the breakfast into different food groups. It actually turned out sort of healthy. And yummy. And then I got a special surprise ...
Spencer serenaded me with a Beatles song as he played his mandolin. He's actually quite good. (You can see Savannah carrying in my yummy breakfast in the background).
Here is where I got to see just how much my children loved me. As I sat eating my feast Herman suggested that the children clean their rooms and the basement as a wonderful Mother's Day gift for me. I was totally into this idea. He got a lot of polite "sure Dad" comments for that one ... until it came to JoJo. Without skipping a beat he said,
"I love you 1% less than that."
What????? JoJo continued to explain ...
"I love you 1001. That would be 1002."
Apparently that would be the limit to JoJo's love for me. Making breakfast is okay. Drawing me a pretty picture is okay. He'll even sing me a song. But clean his room? Well, now I have asked too much of him. I have gone just a bit too far in my expectations. His love can only go so far.
It was so funny. Herman has already prepared a talk in his head for some church conference in the future about this idea of creating limits to our love. It should be interesting. You know what? I'm okay with JoJo's limit. What he doesn't know is that he's going to have to clean his room no matter what, so his explanation about his limits isn't going to fly for very long. Still, there might be chaos in my house. The dishes might be dirty. The clothes might be all over the floor. The toys might be scattered. I may never, ever have a home that is worthy to be displayed to the general public. But I wouldn't trade the children that I have for the world. It is an adventure to be part of Team Blau. I am sure that I am giving my kids lots of material to use in their memoirs. I think they could maybe name them "My Mom ... She Did Okay (Mostly)" or "Memories on a Childhood of Organized Chaos." But hopefully my children will leave home knowing who they are, knowing that they are of infinite worth. I hope that they will use that knowledge as they go out in the world so that they never, ever settle for less. They deserve ETERNAL happiness. They deserve to be treated with kindness and respect. They deserve to have every blessing in the world. I hope that they will have the self-confidence to work for those blessings. Because, no matter what, I want for our family to be together forever. No empty chairs.
Hopefully, the kids will have enough of a work ethic, though, so that they can clean those chairs so they won't be covered in dirt, grime and dirty clothes. Here's hoping ...
My sweet Hyrum is such a good, good boy. He has a kind heart toward everyone around him, and he is always looking for the good in the world. He especially tries hard to do what is right in all cases. If he ever makes a mistake and needs to be corrected, all that I have to say is that I am disappointed in his choice. I explain that I know that he can do better. And he does. That is all it takes. He tries so, so hard to make good decisions. He has a love for his Father in Heaven that is evident in the way that he lives. Hyrum gives the most beautiful and detailed testimonies during our testimony meetings in church. He is able to take everyday experiences that he has and see the hand of God in all of it. I love to hear him speak about his feelings about such things.
Today Hyrum had the chance to go to his very first missionary discussion. There is a large family in our ward who are taking the discussions. One of the little boys in this family is in Hyrum's 3rd grade class, so the sister missionaries thought that it would be nice if Hyrum came along and shared his feelings about baptism before the sisters challenged this boy to be baptized. It was an interesting lesson. There are a lot of kids in this family, and they were very active while we were talking to this little boy. It is hard to feel the Spirit when there is so much chaos going on around us, but we did our best. The boy listened to the sisters as they asked him lots of questions about the things that they have taught him in the past. He said that he was having a hard time reading his scriptures, so Hyrum shared with him his favorite Book of Mormon story. He said that he liked the story of Nephi and his brothers because Nephi was always strong and did what was right even when his brothers were mean to him. Then Hyrum related it to this boy who was struggling with his brothers fighting with him. I thought that that was brilliant ... especially for a nine year-old.
When it came time for this boy to commit to being baptized, he said that he was scared of the water. That is understandable. Hyrum talked a bit about what it is like going under, and we gave a short little demonstration to show the mechanics of it so that he could see that you aren't under water for very long and a guy will be guiding you the whole time. After that the sisters asked Hyrum to talk about his baptism in China. Hyrum talked about it a bit, and then the sisters asked him how he felt after he was baptized. Hyrum said, "I felt light as air because I knew that my sins were washed away. I knew that it was a new day." I could really feel the Spirit as he spoke, and I know that this little boy did too. That was a precious moment to be part of.
At the end of the discussion the sisters gathered all the family together and asked if anyone had any questions. No one said anything at first. Then Hyrum raised his hand. I thought he was going to ask the sisters some doctrinal question, but instead he turned to the family and said, "What did you learn today?" I thought that that was a classic missionary question. Hyrum just seemed so grown up to me at that moment. I could really see him as a missionary in nine short years. I loved having the chance to see him in this role. I can't wait until he is a bit older and can start going on splits with the elders. He'll be amazing, I'm sure.
I wish I could have videod him leaving the family at the end of the discussion because he walked right up to them and gave them a nice firm handshake to say goodbye. He is definitely a little man with a big heart. As we were driving home he turned to me and told me that he was grateful to be part of our family. I am grateful that he is part of our family too. He makes me want to be better each day. And today ... he made me smile. Life is good.
You know those syrupy romantic proposal stories that you often hear? The ones where a guy goes to a lot of effort to plan the perfect moment to propose to his special love? Maybe you even have one of those great stories yourself. Well, I don't. Herman and I always laugh about how we ended up engaged because it was not a big extravaganza. Herman hadn't spent weeks and weeks thinking about the perfect way to do it. It isn't the sort of story that gets a group of ladies to let out a collective "awwww" at the end of it. It isn't. It just sort of happened.
But it was perfect.
Today is the twenty year anniversary of the day that Herman proposed to me. I can hardly remember what my life was like before I was with Herman. I think it may have involved a lot of angst and general loopiness about all things relationship related. When I started dating Herman I finally felt like I was coming home ... to a person I always was but never knew to appreciate. Herman helped me appreciate me ... the real me. And I love him for it.
I thought that we had already spent lots and lots of time talking about getting married before Herman officially asked me. I knew a long time before that May 2nd of so long ago that Herman was the guy I was going to marry. So I wasn't totally surprised when he asked me. But apparently Herman didn't think we had discussed it so much. He hadn't made any final decision. After all, who you choose to marry for eternity is a pretty big decision, and he wanted to get it right.
Without giving all those details away that are kind of sacred to me, here's the short story of how the proposal happened that day:
Okay, first of all, it wasn't that day ... more like that night. We went together to stake conference in the morning, and then Herman left immediately to go see his grandfather and get a blessing. Why? He didn't say, and for some reason I thought that it might be because of the difficult academic week he was facing. It never crossed my mind that he would be concerned about the big marriage decision. He was gone the entire day. I figured I wouldn't see him again until later that week. I was pretty bummed. But then...
At 11:00 I got a call from our dorm lobby. It was past curfew, so technically he wasn't supposed to be inside, but this was before the days of cell phones, and he needed to find a way to see me. He must have sweet talked someone into letting him use the lobby phone. He asked me to come down so that he could say hello. At 11:00? Well, I was young and in love, so I didn't care. We left the dorm and drove about 100 yards to the front of the Drury library, and that's where he parked his car. No heat, no radio, questionable mechanics ... I love that awful car! We talked for a bit. He asked me if I needed lots of material things to be happy. And then ... he totally used the missionary commitment pattern on me. I won't give the whole conversation here, although I recorded it word for word in my journal that day. But the gist was that he shared a couple of scriptures, asked me how I felt about them, told me how he felt about them, and then said that he would really like it if I would marry him. Sweet. Simple. And so, so Herman. I think he has used that exact same pattern with every single major decision we have ever made together.
So we have laughed about this proposal a lot because it wasn't a super planned out production, but really, I love the way he asked me. I love it because it shows just how Herman operates and what I love about him. Herman is one of those guys who doesn't hesitate to jump right in as soon as he feels that it is the right thing to do. No hesitation. He spent a good deal of time thinking about whether he should ask me to marry him, but once he felt like he had received the answer he was looking for he came to me right away and asked. He felt like he was supposed to ask me, so he did. No wavering. That is how he approaches everything in life. With Herman you aren't necessarily going to get a big planned out production. He doesn't do those sorts of details. But what you do get is a man who listens to promptings and follows them without question once he is sure of what he is meant to do. I love this about him. It has gotten us into some great adventures in the past twenty years. This can be a bit unsettling for people who are big planners and like to have EVENTS. But I like to have moments, if that makes any sense. And life with Herman in the past twenty years has been one sweet moment after another. I can't imagine my life any better or more perfect than that.
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