The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon

Oh, the lengths my children will go to in order to not wash a dish.

They will:
A.) Go hungry.
B.) Eat soup/ice cream with a fork
C.) Use a serving utensil that will not fit into their mouths
D.)Plead and give me puppy eyes, wanting me to wash something for them
E.) Eat something they don't like, instead of what they do like

When I say, "Wash the dish/spoon/fork!" They usually just respond with "nevermind" or "this is fine, really" or *heavy sigh*.

Good grief. They know how to do the dishes; it's part of their chores. Lazy, lazy, lazy children.

Random Thoughts for April

Random thoughts of the day:

1. I abhor cold sores. Pure, unadulterated hatred. My face hurts! My teeth hurt! My head hurts. I have a low grade fever and want to crawl into bed. Blech.

2. I like cooking with Gracie. I like just being around Gracie. She's cool.

3. Our little church is such a blessing to me. Home really is where the Gospel is.

4. Socks are stupid. Folding socks is even stupid-er. Maybe even the stupidest thing ever.

5. My tears are inextricably entwined with my husband's tears. When he weeps, I weep. When his heart breaks, my heart breaks. Oh, how I love that man.

6. I don't like this whole "sorry mom, I have a job and friends and I'm gone all the time now 'cause I'm almost grown up" thing that Maggie has going on. I miss her.

7. Bright blue nail polish on my fingernails distracts me when I'm talking with my hands. I have to remove it.

8. In 3 days, I will turn 40. That's all I have to say about that, at this time. *hmmph*

Beauty and Sorrow

How can one life contain so much joy and pain simultaneously?

I published my first book to Kindle this weekend. Imagine! Put it out there for anyone to see. Something that is specifically mine, from my one imagination and thoughts, available for purchase. My mother would be bursting with excitement and pride. My heart is happy with unexpected contentment.

My mom-in-law called this afternoon. The biopsy results for my dad-in-law came back today. His tumors are malignant. He has multiple tumors on his pancreas and liver. His life expectancy is so short. One day, in the near future, this wonderful, amazing, stubborn man will be gone from us. I can literally feel my heart breaking.

How can these two feelings be co-existing within me? How can I bear up under them?

I think about my writing and I feel a sense of belonging and purpose. I feel joy and excitement.

I think about my father-in-law and I also feel a sense of belonging. He has always loved me like his own child and I, in turn, love him right back. He doesn't hold back. If he's mad, he yells. If he's happy, he claps and laughs. If he's amazed, his eyebrows are high and his smile is huge. If he disagrees, he argues, usually now in the form of buzzing his servox in your face until you give up.

He is the very heartbeat  of the Sharp family. He may not participate in all the activites like he used to do, but he is there, behind it all, thumping steadily along. He has a steadiness, a faithfulness to him. He kisses me on the cheek everytime I see him. He is just the loveliest man. Every day, my husband (his oldest son) becomes a little more like him: stubborn, persistant, strong, wise. I could definitely do worse.

Happiness and sadness are together in my heart. I am grateful and terrified. Eager for more and scared of what I will lose. I want to live in the moment and never look back.

November 1995

November 1995, one year almost to the day after my first pregnancy ended in a heartbreaking miscarraige, I tried to get comfortable on the hard table at the doctor's office. My bladder was filled to capacity; my back was aching a little bit and my heart was full of anxiety. The untrasound tech smiled when she re-entered the room.

"Ready?" she asked happily.

I took Chris's hand and nodded. "I think so."

I lay in the dark and made small talk, chatter really, to cover my nerves as she moved the goo around on my belly with the wand. Finally, she turned the monitor around and used the cursor to point to a fluttering movement on the screen.

"That's the baby's heart," she said.

"The kidney's look good," she said.

"The head circumferance is just right," she said.

"That little string of pearls is the spine," she said.

"Do you want to know the sex?" she said

We affirmed we did want to know.

"See that little equal sign there? That means it's a girl!" she said.

I watched in wonder and laughter as my little tiny daughter used my full bladder for a trampoline. It took a minute for the terror to set in.

A girl. A daughter. A baby daughter who would turn into a teenaged daughter. She was going to hate me one day.

For the next two days I agonized. I rubbed my distended belly and talked to my still unnamed daughter, begging her not to hate me.

I remember staring at my hand-sewn striped curtains next to my bed and praying. Then the Holy Spirit prompted a thought. Enjoy her. Enjoy her today, right now. And tomorrow, just enjoy her. Every day, enjoy her. Then by the time she's a teenager, you'll be so used to enjoying her, it will be second nature.

I really, truly tried to do that. Every single day of Maggie's life, the good and the bad; the easy and the terrifying... I have enjoyed her.

And she doesn't hate me.

And I don't hate her.

We are friends and she listens and respects me and I try to take that seriously and never be flippant with her feelings.

Today she is seventeen. Seventeen! I get to keep her for one more year, then she will follow the Spirit into her own grown up life. She is a constant joy, an amazing life and a beautiful soul. Her enthusiasm shines from her in waves and her heart.... oh, her heart. Her heart is turned toward the Father and toward the lost. God has grown her into such a beautiful, sensitive, articulate young woman.

I am so thankful. So very, very, very thankful.

I love you, my little pearl princess.