Sunday Slackline Fun

Kids Entertainment Tip #298

Word!

Peace

Love

Understanding

Confession

Tonight the kids were all in our room, in various stages of the bedtime routine. J picks an article of clothing off the bed and discovers it: a fresh, moist, juicy, and slightly bloody booger wiped on our bedspread. After demanding to know who did it, inspecting pointer (digging) fingers all around, and getting pointing (accusing) fingers, we send the younger two off to bed, and settle in to read to S (as per his request tonight). After a few minutes, I tell J that I'm not comfortable letting whichever liar it was get away with their lie. We are trying to teach the boys the importance of honesty and taking responsibility for their actions. We decide to get them all in our room, line them up at the foot of the bed, and wait for an admission of guilt. (That's the beauty of attending a church where the members speak each week and not just one minister all the time -- you get all kinds of random ideas.) The consequence -- no songs or stories for anyone tomorrow (or the following days) until the culprit owns up to it.  They troop in, line up, hear the consequence, start accusing each other and freaking out about the loss of stories and songs, and squirming. We interject a little here and there with questions like, "Who wants you to lie?" (A: Satan) And, "Who wants you to tell the truth?" (A: Heavenly Father, Jesus, Mom and Dad) We also asked each in turn if they did it -- vigorous shakes of the heads. The clock is ticking ever closer to the deadline before they lose their stories and songs when suddenly O says, "I did it!" He immediately drops to the floor crying his heart out. S walks out of the room saying, "Geez! We almost lost our stories and songs! That was close!" H goes back to bed.

I go over to O, who is huddled in a ball sobbing. I hold him close and whisper that I'm so proud of him for telling the truth. When he's calmer, we talk about how holding a lie inside makes your heart tight and uncomfortable. The Spirit can't come into a tight, lie-occupied heart. When you let go of the lie, your heart expands, you feel light and airy, the Spirit can come in. Heavenly Father, Jesus, Mom and Dad are so proud of O. Satan is mad! Isn't it funny that Satan's mad? Let's keep making him mad! O goes off to bed, and I feel happy and proud that we made it through that parenting challenge. We taught our kids something! Honesty is the best policy! Yay! Happiness all around.

Here's the kicker: J goes in to tell O that he's proud of him. O says, "I need to tell you something, but don't get mad, okay? I didn't do it. I just didn't want to lose our stories and songs. Don't tell Mom, okay?"

Huh. Now what?

Soldier Hollow Skiing

The first weekend in March we headed up to Midway to go cross-country skiing. J needed to try out the skis and skins he's taking to Denali. It was a beautiful day. H had so much fun going down the hills in the tracks. He'd squat down till his bum was almost touching the ground, and shoot off down the hill. S and O picked up the skiing quickly and sped ahead. We will definitely be doing it again.

Who Doesn't Matter?

"Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." -- Bernard Baruch

I really hate this quote. It sounds all fine and "I'm above caring what other people think." That sort of thing, but I really hate it. I hate it because everyone matters. Everyone. Everyone is trying, with varying degrees of effort, to be a good person or live a happy life, or get recognition or money, or just be noticed by one person. Or just to get through the day without bursting into tears or crawling back into bed hours before bedtime. Everyone is trying. It's part of being human that we try. I also hate this quote because aren't we all, at some time in our lives, the one who doesn't matter? Sometimes we're just plain clumsy. Sometimes we are intentionally catty. Sometimes we are judgmental with limited information. Sometimes we're judgmental with all the information. Sometimes we are just trying so hard and struggling with our own lives that we unintentionally hurt those around us...and thus become someone who doesn't matter to someone else. (Here's a quick disclaimer: This sounds all righteous and loving and charitable, but believe me -- I'm not always like this. Case in point: I almost rammed my car into the back of another last week while in a flaming bad mood. I didn't like his bumper sticker. It simply read: "boobies." Give me a break -- I'm trying too. :))

I guess this has all come on as a result of hearing that one of my amazing and wonderful friends feels like she has hurt one of her close friends beyond repair. That hurts me because maybe now she has become the one that doesn't matter to that friend. If that's the case, I don't matter to a lot of people. Don't even get me started on my high school friends who had to put up with my erratic mood swings, the odd and unbalanced behavior of my manic-depression surfacing, the petty judgements I made of them because I was young and naive -- you get the picture. And then my college years when I was fighting taking responsibility for myself and growing up. Or my early married years when I was trying to figure out life as one-half of J&E Judd, life as a new mom to a very opinionated baby, or even now, when I might be obsessed with running and just keeping my head above water.

All of that out, I am so grateful beyond words for the Atonement. I am thankful that I get to be clumsy or catty, judgmental or just trying, and still can come back from hurting friends, loved ones, passing acquaintances, or strangers because Christ took on their pains because of my actions, and he took on my pains because of immaturity and clumsiness. I hope that I can have patience with myself and patience with others. I hope those from my past will forgive me any arrogance I've shown them. I pray every day for humility. I hope those in my present and future will know that I mean them no harm, even if I hurt them unintentionally.  I hope that I can remember about those around me (even the guy with the unnecessary and vulgar bumper sticker), and that those around me can remember about me that everyone matters. I hope we can give each other the benefit of the doubt, be compassionate, and find ways to help each other when we are hurt.

Quarry climbing with the boys

Surprise!

Dear Animal Ark,

Please teach your employees how to tell the difference between girl and boy guinea pigs. One of your employees picked up two guinea pigs, checked their nether parts, and assured "Santa" that they were both girls.

No. No, they are not.

And now we have 4 guinea pigs in the enclosure, when yesterday we had 2. Yeah.


Here's an abridged version of the events and conversation surrounding the discovery:

(J and H are playing the Wii. I have just fed the pigs and are talking to them, ruffling up the wood chips in their cage. I notice a little red on some chips under the ramp (yes, there's a ramp -- I'm married to an overachiever after all) and then I notice two tiny brown lumps tucked under the ramp as well.)

E: Oh my gosh! Oh my! O boy! Holy Cow! So, the pet store said they were both girls. Um, the pet store is wrong.

J: How can you tell? Is one of them still super fat?

E: No. No. And that one wasn't fat. And it's not fat anymore.

J: What do you mean?

E: J! Stop playing Super Mario Brothers and get over here! Stop asking me all these questions and just come look!

J: I can't! I'm in the middle of a really hard level! If that's true, that is not even funny.

E: Well, it's a little funny...

And it is a little funny. And they are super cute. And the inbreeding parents will be separated.

Pictures forthcoming. Good thing guinea pigs aren't prone to cannibalizing their babies like other rodents. Good thing.