Sock Puppets and Self Control

Ben still naps about 90% of the time, a huge blessing in my life. Twice last week when he woke up, I went in to get him and found him in his crib with his socks on his hands instead of his feet. The last time he smiled and looked at me, then moved his hand like a puppet and said, "Hi, Mom." He is seriously a cute kid.

Tonight we were working together as a family on our "reading challenge" gameboard. Some friends of ours had a reading challenge in their family and Todd loved the idea, so he's decided we need to have one, too. Todd is in charge and he lead our family home evening last week as we decided on the rules and stipulations. So we finally got some supplies he said we needed and started working on the board. Sunday nights are notoriously difficult at our house, but we were all trying really hard to be nice. He grabbed Ben's hand and started to say something mean. I looked at him with the mommy face and said (in the mommy voice), "Todd."
To which he responded with a large intake of breath and then, "I know. It's late. pause. . . I'm been a long day. . pause. . . I'm getting tired and a little grouchy." Another deep breath. And then he calmly moved on. It was a funny moment. I guess he's working on his self control.

Moral dilemna

So I've pondered this for a few days and I've decided to throw it out to the masses for a little constructive feedback and review.

We have been having a hard time at our house lately with Todd using the Lord's name in vain. And after spending time in his classroom (and virtually every other place on the planet), it isn't hard to figure out why. It is a word/phrase that is heard everywhere, by nearly every race, class, educational level, etc.

It isn't that Todd has ever said it meaning to, he just uses the phrase, "Oh, my ***" in the exact same context in which he repeatedly hears it. In fact, the other day at school (less than two weeks ago) when one of his friends used it, he said, "That's a bad word. You shouldn't say it." His little friend said, "Ms. Crocker, is that a bad word?" She looked at me quizically and said, "Well, it's not a bad word, but we probably shouldn't use it every day in the classroom." I think she could have explained it better than that without being a religious zealot, "Well, that is the name of the person some people worship. So, out of respect for them, we really shouldn't use it." But I suppose that she has the same general regard for the name as a seemingly large majority of others do.

So we've talked about it, we've read some stories in the friend about it. We've even tried to avoid using the replacement "Oh my gosh." We've offered altervatives (Cowabunga, Noodle, waka, waka, waka, etc.). But several times now it has slipped out unwittingly. Finally, last week I told him if I ever heard it again, I was going to wash his mouth out with soap.

Well, Monday, he was being a bugger, and I asked him something, to which he responded with the Lord's name. So I washed his mouth out with soap. He screamed and plead while I washed. Then I was just about in tears, too, at which point I scooped him up and held him. Then I discovered inopportunely, that he had drawn all over his new jeans with markers. So I sent him to his room none too kindly.

I did go up later and we had a long talk about why this issue has me so concerned. I told him that Heavenly Father's name has to be safe in our house, always. If his name isn't safe here, then the Holy Ghost won't want to stay. And if the spirit leaves, Mommy isn't a nice mommy, and no one else is nice either.

So, that's it in a nutshell. I've spent countless hours this week thinking about the whole situation and I've talked to a few friends about it. A few observations:

1. People don't view using the Lord's name in vain as wrong or bad. To many, it is just a word. It isn't malicious or said with ill intent. It has no more meaning than, "wow." It is said for anger, excitement, surprise, happiness, sadness, frustration. . . .
2. This isn't a commandment that Latter-day Saints have an exclusive use of. It's Biblical. It's one of the ten commandments. But that doesn't seem to matter.
3. We are required to show proper reverence for other religions and their chosen deities and prophets. We don't profane the name of Mohammed or Allah, nor would I want to.

So, what to do? How do you teach and show reverence when so few others do? I guess the answer is just in instilling a love for God that is deeper than the disrespect. Elder Packer has said, "I have long believed that the study of the doctrines of the gospel will improve behavior quicker than talking about behavior will improve behavior." So that's my plan. I'll let you know how it goes.

Ode to the Camera

Camera, oh camera
Joy of my joys
Camera, dear camera
Took pics of my boys
Camera, sweet camera
Where have you gone?
How, my dear camera
Can I possibly go on?

For we lost you
Dear camera
Not two months past.
But the anguish I feel
Is sure to last.

*Thus the reason our posting has been quite verbose and lacking pictures of our cute boys. One day soon we will replace the Canon. Until then, it shall be a feast of words.

Mirrors

It's frightening that our children are mirror images of ourselves. I learn about how I am when I see what things they repeat often. I guess I must be a little too busy lately and have been kindly putting my children off, because Ben has developed his own skills in this area:

"OK, Benny, let's go take a nap," said with so much love.
"Not yet, Mommy," said with exasperation.

"Ben, it's time to get off the computer," again with love.
"Almost, Mommy," said with authority.

"Bedtime, boys."
"Not yet, Mommy. Almost. Wait," said every single night.

I need to improve.

Todd also has his own interpretation of my actions and language. Lately, whenever I say, "Maybe," or "Let me think about it," he promptly rolls his eyes, "That means no."

Usually.

Order in the Universe?

We had meatloaf for dinner tonight. Mini meatloaf, actually, with tomato sauce and Italian seasoning sprinkled on top. It is one of those meals that we occasionally eat, as Ryan enjoys it (and I even like it once or twice a year). But I knew even as I defrosted the beef, that I would be in for a painful meal with Todd. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth are some actions that come easily to mind.
So, he walks in the door from playing at a friend's house, sniffs, and says, "What are we having for dinner?"
"Meatloaf." Better to keep if short and to the point, I think.
"What's that?"
"It's like pizza," I venture.
"Cheeseburger pizza," Ryan adds. I may say here that Todd only started liking pizza about a year ago and still thinks a cheeseburger is the name for a slice of cheese melted between two buns, sans meat.
So we sit down to eat. Todd chooses a mini meatloaf from the pan. He props himself on his chair (he rarely sits, more like a half stand) and proceeds to eat a bite. I watch carefully out of the corner of my eye. Then I direct the conversation to something else, "What'd you do at Jaden's?"
He answers and then proceeds to eat another bite.
And he eats the whole thing.
And he doesn't complain.
Not once.
He actually compliments me on my hashbrowns, saying they taste like chips and, "I really like the crunchy parts."
And he eats his peas.
It was a nice dinner. Delightful, actually. Order in the universe? I think not. But I like this kind of chaos.


And what of Ben's reaction to dinner, you might ask. We won't talk about that.

With Gratitude

I just have to say that today I feel grateful for the knowledge of a living Prophet of God. Gordon B. Hinckley has been the prophet for my entire adult life. I was sad at his passing, but so grateful that he is reunited with his wife and his family who have already died. I was also grateful that my instinctual response was to just know where he has gone, rather than to feel questioning in my heart. His life and teachings were a blessing to us all.

Blog Fodder

I think perhaps my children exist solely to provide me with blog fodder. Todd's life is a thoroughly entertaining thing.

He came home from school on Friday and was quick to admit, "Mom, I got a minus today." (His teacher gives a check, plus, or minus in three categories daily. Todd loves to get it off his chest right away rather than have me find out later.)

"Really?" I said, "what happened?"

"Well," he began, complete with emphatic hand gestures, "Jenna got a piece of paper out, she wrote her name on the top, then she drew a big heart in the middle and wrote T-O-D-D in it."

Said while trying not to laugh, "So why did you get a minus?"

"Because I took it from her and would not give it back."

So I replied the only way a good mother of boys could, "I'm OK with that minus. Not a problem."

Later, I asked him, "Were you embarassed that she did that or were you mad?"

To which Todd replied, "I just did not like it."

The next 12 years are going to be interesting.