My friend and I were talking about relationships, how in a lot of them one person is the "Lover" and one person is the "Lovey" -- you know, one person is more effusive emotionally, and does all the romantic stuff. The Lovey is the one who is sought after, and is less comfortable proclaiming to the world how they feel about their special one. It seems like these roles can change from time to time in a marriage, but some people fall naturally into one role or the other.
I want to be the Lovee, but the balance of my world doesn't fall that way. I'm trying to embrace the Lover role more, and although it isn't natural to me, and express more emotionally. It is tricky to do it right. My above mentioned friend challenged me to do one Lover task every day this week. It has been a very fun experiment, and has gotten me out of my comfort zone in a good way. The assignment is to do one thing for the Lovee every day, that would be meaningful to him, no strings attached.
It is the no strings attached part that is tricky. I find that a lot of times I compliment with ulterior motives ... I tell him he is a good handyman because I want him to keep being a good handyman. Compliments with baggage. So in true Lover style, I've done ... yes ... yard work. Because I know he likes the help, and he likes to spend time with me that way. No strings attached. Good for me.
We started outdoor soccer this week. I seemed so much faster indoors. I'm going to be sore tomorrow.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Baby Rattle Snakes
Gabe and Leo love April Fool's Day. I'm wishy-washy on it. I wasn't raised to appreciate practical jokes, but I feel like such a spoil sport when I don't facilitate my kids participation in some way. So I made a couple sets of the old "Rattle Snake Eggs in the Envelope" sets, and sent them on their way.
If you aren't familiar with this joke, it involves winding up a rubberband and a paper clip inside a small envelope marked "Rattle Snake Eggs." When the victim opens the envelope, the rubber band trips, and the paper clip makes a "Thut thut thut thut thut" noise, with the accompanying vibration. This, along with the suggestion of the possibility of hatching baby rattlesnakes (from the writing on the envelope) usually produces a pretty good jolt. And no one gets dirty or wet or too embarrassed.
Gabe brought his to school and handed it to the student teacher in his Kindergarten class. She FREAKED OUT and screamed pretty loudly. I was outside the class, hanging up Gabe's coat, and saw it all. I laughed so hard ... which was weird, because I'm really not a practical joker ... but it was so dang funny. She looked up at me with this mortified face, and I thought ... I shouldn't be laughing ... but it was so dang funny. She cracked a smile, and started laughing too. The whole event shocked Gabe, who was too scared to try it on his real teacher. But one of his friends tried it on dear Mrs. Simmons (who saw it coming from a mile away, but still put on a pretty good show for the kids). I guess you catch on to those things after 30 years of teaching Kindergarten.
We've ordered a new digital camera, so in 10-14 days, I'll have photos to accompany my posts. I can't wait.
If you aren't familiar with this joke, it involves winding up a rubberband and a paper clip inside a small envelope marked "Rattle Snake Eggs." When the victim opens the envelope, the rubber band trips, and the paper clip makes a "Thut thut thut thut thut" noise, with the accompanying vibration. This, along with the suggestion of the possibility of hatching baby rattlesnakes (from the writing on the envelope) usually produces a pretty good jolt. And no one gets dirty or wet or too embarrassed.
Gabe brought his to school and handed it to the student teacher in his Kindergarten class. She FREAKED OUT and screamed pretty loudly. I was outside the class, hanging up Gabe's coat, and saw it all. I laughed so hard ... which was weird, because I'm really not a practical joker ... but it was so dang funny. She looked up at me with this mortified face, and I thought ... I shouldn't be laughing ... but it was so dang funny. She cracked a smile, and started laughing too. The whole event shocked Gabe, who was too scared to try it on his real teacher. But one of his friends tried it on dear Mrs. Simmons (who saw it coming from a mile away, but still put on a pretty good show for the kids). I guess you catch on to those things after 30 years of teaching Kindergarten.
We've ordered a new digital camera, so in 10-14 days, I'll have photos to accompany my posts. I can't wait.
Benji's Plow
I took a technology class at BYU (taught by my dad, actually), and learned that the world changed with the invention of the plow. Once nomadic tribes got their hands and horses on a plow, they stopped traveling to find food, found homes near water sources, and grew crops in enough abundance to preserve some for winter seasons. Settlements turned into villages. Villages turned into cities. Art, music, civics, war; it all started with the plow.
Benji invented a plow. It involved pulling a chair over to the kitchen counter and climbing up. It opened a whole new world to him. Now he can watch mom mix cookie dough. Now he can help dad do the dishes. He can reach the Elmer's Glue. He can get his own slice of banana bread. He can open drawers and cupboards. Last week, mom glanced over from the sink to find him laying across the burners on the stove, fiddling with the knobs. Bad. There is no way to stop progress, short of removing all chairs from the house. So I keep the stove knobs in the cupboard. I removed knives from their beautiful magnet strip and put them in an inaccessible drawer. Now, how do I keep him from dancing on the kitchen table?
Benji starts nursery at church next Sunday. For those of you who may never have tried to attend church with a walking baby, this is a big day for us. A very big day.
Benji's recent advances may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I found the first GRAY HAIR on my head. I've had several gray eyebrows, but this is the first official gray hair. It was white, actually. I always kind of thought I'd get my mom's genes, and keep my silken brown until my mid 50s. Now I'm worried (which isn't going to help anything).
Benji invented a plow. It involved pulling a chair over to the kitchen counter and climbing up. It opened a whole new world to him. Now he can watch mom mix cookie dough. Now he can help dad do the dishes. He can reach the Elmer's Glue. He can get his own slice of banana bread. He can open drawers and cupboards. Last week, mom glanced over from the sink to find him laying across the burners on the stove, fiddling with the knobs. Bad. There is no way to stop progress, short of removing all chairs from the house. So I keep the stove knobs in the cupboard. I removed knives from their beautiful magnet strip and put them in an inaccessible drawer. Now, how do I keep him from dancing on the kitchen table?
Benji starts nursery at church next Sunday. For those of you who may never have tried to attend church with a walking baby, this is a big day for us. A very big day.
Benji's recent advances may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I found the first GRAY HAIR on my head. I've had several gray eyebrows, but this is the first official gray hair. It was white, actually. I always kind of thought I'd get my mom's genes, and keep my silken brown until my mid 50s. Now I'm worried (which isn't going to help anything).
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