I told Mary how the kids have been especially disobedient since Mike is out of town. She swears that the only reason is because they don’t believe in Santa and that it works wonders in children’s behavior. I wish someone had told me this six years ago! No wonder her kids are so well-behaved. As soon as I get a chance to talk to Mike, we’ll need to discuss this idea. Maybe a Christmas elf will suffice?
To preface this next paragraph I need to mention that a month ago Jonathan asked me how much I weigh and Michael explained that he shouldn’t ask women that since they all don’t want to weigh very much. The other day Jonathan asked me how tall he was when he was two since he read that if you double that it is a good indicator of how tall you will be as an adult. I told him he was just over 3 ft which means he will probably be about my height or maybe a little taller. I explained that I’m really tall for a girl and asked if I seemed taller than most other moms. He waited a few seconds thinking and replied, “You do seem taller, but to be nice, you only weigh an ounce.” I asked him if I seemed meaner or nicer than other moms and he replied “nicer”. Phew, he's still young enough to consider me nice. I guess he must notice those bedtime stories and scratching his back.
Tonight I was feeding Ryan and looking up at the other three kiddos on the top of the boy’s bunk bed. Gracie was dancing around the bed singing, “follow the prophet, follow the prophet, follow the prophet, don’t go astray” in Gracie talk. It’s one of her new favorite songs along with a random “jamming, jamming, strawberry jamming. We’re looking for friends and we’re jamming.” song from a Strawberry Shortcake movie I checked out from the library last month that we haven’t been able to get out of our heads. It was just one of those happy moments to see my little people all ready for bed and being so nice to each other. They get that way (nice and sweet) when they’ve already done bedtime routine and know the next step is actually having to get their heads on their pillows. They innately know that if they argue or misbehave in any way there’s no chance of staying up longer.
In a slightly more introspective vein, Elder Perry’s last two Conference talks both refer to what a great mom he had. She set up desks in their kitchen to teach them, made sure his bed was not too hot, not to cold, always made sure he had folded clothes in his drawers, played ball with him, took him on drives to the canyon and taught him the gospel. Recently, whenever I want to slack in my duties as a mom, I say, “What would Elder Perry’s mom do?” As a kid I remember my mom as much like her, sewing our Halloween costumes, involving us in service by having us sing to the elderly people in the neighborhood, and curling our hair and ironing our clothes every Saturday not to mention sitting through church with all six of us little kids while my dad was on the stand (little did I know what super hero material that last feat alone must have required). Between Elder Perry’s mom and my own, I’m constantly finding myself wondering how they did it and how much my kids are missing out on.
My dad is a jack-of-all-trades. One of his loves is plants. Many years ago, even before I was born, he ordered some plants imported from South Africa including an Encephalartos horridus. He needs to find it a new home and is wondering if Joseph or I would like it since it thrives in hot climates. This was my response.
Hi Dad, Thank you for the offer. I like the idea of having a plant you've cared for for 35 years because I love you but the sharp cactus look is a little scary and I think it may be out to poke someone.
Thank you, Love, Ruth
I hope he didn’t automatically think of me when he was thinking of which child’s personality would best be compared to the prickly plant. A small part of me worries that he did. Come to think of it, I think Mike got me a little cactus when we were dating…
