Word of the Week: Maelstrom

maelstrom  /n. /  a large, powerful, or violent whirlpool.  a restless, disordered, tumultuous state of affairs.  a violent or turbulent situation.  bedlam.  turmoil or chaos.  pandemonium.  fuss.  flap.

maelstrom  /n./  1.  I've had it with this word.  Plagued by maelstroms all week, I am ready for a new word.

maelstrom  /n./  2.  Most of my week was spent inside an internal maelstrom of my own making.  (Incidentally, they are almost always of my own making.  Why is that?)  I was in complete turmoil thinking and planning for my class at our Relief Society Mini-conference.  Doubting and fussing for days and days.  And truthfully, it did not go quite as I planned and then I fussed about that disaster for the rest of Saturday.  The previous session had run over and so they told me they were going to cut my class by ten minutes and hoped that wouldn't mess me up.  I was too flustered and nervous to regroup and rearrange what I was going to say right on the spot and so I thought it ended rather lamely.  But, the maelstrom has passed, leaving only a bit of regret in its wake, and, after two months of thinking about it, the talk is thankfully out of my head.  That is something, I suppose.

IMG_0816_edited.jpg

Against my better judgement, I have included this picture for those of you curious about the dress and the hair color. 

I added the ribbon "for extra beauty," as my Olivia would say.  As you can see, RIM won the jewelry argument. 

A pity, really.

maelstrom  /n./  3.  I was such a maelstrom of emotion when it was all over I told my husband, "I either need to go running, go on a bike ride, have sex, or have a good cry."  As none of these seemed related to each other in any way, he just looked at me in wonderment.  I really don't know how he survives my maelstroms.  It's been a good year since I've done any running so that was sure to end badly.  And truth be told I think David was a bit nervous, given my state, about the emotional landmines of option three.  So in the end, we went on a bike ride, but I quit halfway through and asked to go home, where I had a good cry.   Did you know the word "maelstrom" comes from an actual, famous, swirling, tidal current off the west coast of Norway, hazardous to safe navigation?  That was me exactly:  hazardous to safe navigation.  Poor man. 

Maelstrom2C_Carta_Marina.bmp

maelstrom  /n./  4.  I took my kids to the dentist on Thursday morning.  There was a bit of a flap about missing school for the first hour, but eventually I commandeered them into the car and to the dentist.  The dental assistant came and got me when they were examining Ethan and asked, "Does he have a thumb habit?" 

I have never in my life seen him suck his thumb and so I said, "No." 

The dental assistant looked skeptically at me.  "He doesn't have a thumb habit?" 

Concerned about my future orthodontic bill, I said, "No.  Does he look like he has a thumb habit?" 

 She looked at me askance and didn't say anything.  Her eyebrows said, "Look, lady, I've seen a lot of these and you are not scoring any points by lying to me." 

I started hunting around my brain, thinking that maybe all this time I had been lying to myself.  Maybe he really does have a thumb habit and I have blissfully ignored it for four and a half years.  Could that be?  Casting around for something that could producing her skepticism, I said, "He has a blanket habit." 

By this time we had made it back to the examining room and she said, knowingly, to her friend, "He sucks on his blanket." 

Realizing my mistake, I said, "No he doesn't suck on his blanket.  He just carries it around." 

She looked at me like I was losing my mind.  What would that have to do with his mouth?

So then she turned to Ethan and said, "Do you suck your thumb?"  At which point he promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth and began sucking, showing her that, yes, he could actually suck his thumb.  She turned her supercilious eyes at me as if to say, "Well?  Now what are you going to say?"

My cheeks were on fire.  She thought I was lying and Ethan was doing his best to prove her right.  Fighting a maelstrom of embarrassment and consternation over this false accusation, I said, "I have never seen him do that.  He does not have a thumb habit.  He's just showing you that he can suck his thumb if you want him to.  Really." 

She just looked at me and finally said, "Uh huh."  But her eyebrows said, "Me thinks she doth protest too much." 

Grrr. 

IMG_0820.jpg

maelstrom  /n./  5.  I had two nieces born this week.  One to my sister, Rachel and the other to my brother, Jared.  Lora and Jane.  Darling names, darling girls.  Having two girls of my own, I know the kind of maelstroms my brother and sister are in for.  Savannah was in a complete fuss last night...sleep finally claimed her...and I smiled to myself a bit (after it was over) thinking of all that lay ahead of my siblings, and the charming, maddening maelstrom that is life with girls.  (See #3.)

IMG_0474blackandwhite.jpg jane.jpg

maelstrom  /n./  6.  I can't talk about this final maelstrom of my week "out loud" yet, but it is tumultuous indeed.  You'll have to take my word for it.  A change I can hardly bear to contemplate is in the works.  It has me quite distraught...I told David on Saturday, "This is sorrow of the acutest kind."  (You'll find this hard to believe, but I do tend to exaggerate my emotional life, particularly when I'm in the middle of the Jane Austen collection on Masterpiece Theatre.)  It truly is not as grave as I've made it sound, but hard for me nonetheless.  Like I said, I'm am very ready for a new word.

Word of the Week: Eschew

eschew  /vt./  avoid and stay away from deliberately; to avoid or shun.  abstain.  forego.  renounce.  evade.  refrain.  duck.

eschew /vt./  1.  I eschewed most of my housework this past week in favor of finishing East of Eden.  After about 200 pages I just couldn't leave it alone.  It was an absolute masterpiece.  Brilliant.  And, I hope, life-changing.

eden.jpg

eschew /vt./  2.  After my most delightful experience in East of Eden this week and Anna Karenina last month, I am seriously considering eschewing (for a little while) any books not considered " a classic."  There is so much outstanding and remarkable literature out there that I have never read, and I find that these classics have a perspective on the human condition that is true, universal, and timeless.   For me, they provide an impetus for change...as I see myself in Anna, in Cal, in Liza, in Cain.

eschew /vt./  3.  Ethan and I managed to eschew the inside of our four walls, in favor of the outside with three glorious trips to the park this week.  A blanket, lunch, and books.  Heaven.  At least for one more month.

eschew /vt./  4.  At David's prodding, we eschewed all our Saturday chores (yes, the weeds in my front yard continue to flourish) and headed north to find some snow.  We spent the day at Wing Mountain sledding, and building snowmen, and getting sunburned.  It was boiling hot and eventually we eschewed our winter gear and shucked our coats and hats.   Ethan was  a daredevil, and my bottom is complaining today that I am much to old for such fun, but we could not have had a better day.

IMG_0717.jpg

IMG_0750.jpg

IMG_0732.jpg

IMG_0736.jpg Caleb and I even attempted an igloo...harder than it looks.  (I realize I'm eschewing most of my self-respect and dignity by posting this photo.)

 

 

 

 

 

eschew  /vt./  5.  I have an absolute hatred of and phobia towards public restrooms.  I will do almost anything to eschew them.  This is not easily done with small children.  My phobia is so intense I have been known to send my children in alone...standing guard outside...because my terror is almost insurmountable.  However I have learned a few tricks along the way to use only in extreme emergencies.  On Saturday, while we were sledding at Wing Mountain Savannah needed to go.  There are only porta-potties on the mountain and after Savannah took at look at them, she could not bring herself to use them.  She was completely desperate.   I taught her my  tricks [much too absurd to share] and she conquered her fear.  I had no idea these were the kind of skills I would pass on to my daughters, but there you are.

IMG_0730.jpg

eschew /vt./  6.  I swallowed my pride this week, and renounced my dislike of ballroom dancing.  (I have a no exception rule eschewing and banning any kind of dance show on our television.  This has not changed.)  But they are offering free dance lessons at the hospital (random and weird, I know) this month and David and I went and learned the waltz on Wednesday night with some of my young women.  It was surprisingly fun (even though we were still counting "1-2-3" out loud at the end of the night) and made me tempted to come back for the fox trot this week.

IMG_0709_edited.jpg

I just need to be six inches taller...even four would make a difference, don't you think?

Odds and Ends

Odds:

Odds are that this political contest will be completely decided before I even get a chance to vote in the primaries.  I think it's odd that I can be so discouraged about the political process (and outcome) 9 months out from the election.  I love living in a democracy, but it's hard to love it this week...when it seems like most of the decision is made before I even get to raise my own little voice.

votes.jpg

I think it's odd how much time I spend thinking about SPT each week.  (I saw one of Lelly's old SPT's where she challenged everyone to come up with their own words for the SPT acronym...mine would have to be "She Ponders Tediously.")  This week was no different.  I finally concluded that I had already wasted more than my 25th hour deciding what to SPT about and that I would actually have extra time in my day if I wasn't blogging at all.  This was a horrible thought and so I gave it up altogether this week.  Sorry Lelly.  It is odd that I make things harder than they need to be, but that seems to be my signature move.  Just ask my husband.

Today I reluctantly went and registered my baby up for "early learners" (a program our school district has for kids with Sept-Dec birthdays).  And it seems just that...EARLY.  Early to register, early to have him leaving my house, early to have the house to myself for a few hours every day.  He cried the whole way there.  It was not until I told him he would be able to wear a backpack that he consented to get out of the car.   I honestly wouldn't send him at all except that I think of all my kids, he is the least prepared for kindergarten and the most attached to home.  Later, when we were running errands, he quietly asked, "Who's going to stay with you?"  It took me a minute to figure out that he was referring to when he went to school.  Odd that I would go misty over that thought.

2008-01-30-1516-48_edited.jpg

Odd that instead of fighting bacteria I am currently encouraging the growth of several bacterial colonies, all in the name of science.  Caleb has started his science fair project in earnest and we are feeding and incubating all kinds of disgusting life forms.  The other day Caleb asked me if he should not wash his hands at all throughout the day in order to get a better sample.  I thought it was very odd that I hesitated before answering.  But then I remembered Marie Curie.  There is only so much I think my 4th grader should risk for science. 

mariecurie.jpg

And Ends:

I can hardly believe that it's almost the end of January, and I've made very little (okay, zero) progress on my ambition to do a bit of writing this year.  This makes me think it is very likely that this year will end much the way the last one did, with regret.  The real trouble is that my work as a wife and mother, not to mention my church responsibilities, are never at an end and so...the real problem is that firefighting is not really conducive to writing.  

On Monday night we closed our Family Home Evening by singing "We Thank Thee, O God, For a Prophet."  It was hard to sing past the lump in my throat.  My heart was just thumping away feeling the testimony of those words, revelling in my darlings singing their little hearts out, and knowing that President Hinckley had left us.  The end of an era, as it were, and it was quite a reverent, thick moment in our house.

Word of the Week: Lugubrious

lugubrious  /adj./  mournful, dismal, or gloomy, especially in an affected, exaggerated, or unrelieved manner.  crestfallen.  disconsolate.  glum.  woebegone.

lugubrious  /adj./  1.  Sometimes the word-of-the week makes me feel a bit cursed...like a crystal ball for my coming week or a fortune cookie that is always right.  This makes me think I should be more careful about my choices.  Nevertheless, the word was "lugubrious" and I felt it haunting me all week.  I was completely lugubrious most of the day Tuesday preparing for New Beginnings, feeling like my to-do list was too long.  I felt utterly woebegone by Wednesday, when I faced a crisis of confidence, and by Thursday night I was wholly disconsolate over the state of my house and laundry.  David will be thrilled when this word-of-the-week is behind me.

ist2_2913314_bad_news.jpg

lugubrious  /adj./  2.  We went on another family bike ride on Saturday.  We usually try to ride along the canals (safer than the roads with the kids)  but we got a bit lost trying to find a connecting canal to where we wanted to go.  There was a steep hill that we thought might connect them and so I walked down to check it out.  Olivia decided to ride down and got going way too fast.  I could see her barrelling down the hill, utter terror on her face and at the bottom a large, deep canal with no barrier between her and the water.  I screamed for her to brake, but this only made her bike fishtail and so I stepped in front of the bike, sending both of us and the bike flying into the dirt, but thankfully not into the water.   As you can imagine, she was extremely lugubrious about the crash, especially mournful about my bruises, but her lugubrious spirit perked up a bit when we pointed out that she was still dry...and alive.

lugubrious  /adj./  3.  Ethan has been lugubrious every week at church since he moved from Sunbeams up to CTR 5.  His lugubriousness has even started on Saturday evenings, knowing what is coming, and escalating to tears by the time we are taking the walk to class.  I think this stems less from his lack of desire to "choose the right" as it does from the fact that his last teacher was a wonder...better than Barney and Captain Kangaroo and Mary Poppins all rolled into one.  Every Sunday we ask him what he learned and he can't come up with anything...too busy being woebegone to listen, I imagine.

poppins3.jpg

lugubrious  /adj./  4.  We had big plans for a big family reunion with David's side of the family this summer on Lake Charlevoix in Michigan.  Unfortunately, the reunion was cancelled and we have been quite lugubrious about our foiled plans.  But on Monday we finally got over our dismal disappointment and started making plans of our own.  Actually got out the calendar and the atlas...both good signs.  Got online and checked out rentals on Mackinac Island...also a good sign.  Hopefully the lugubriousness is past and the excitement of planning another Michigan family vacation can begin in earnest.

mackinac_island_view.jpg

lugubrious  /adj./  5.  I will probably do another post about this in the next few days, but I just found out that President Gordon B. Hinckley, the prophet and president of our church, died this evening.  How dearly I loved him.  How glorious must have been his reunion today with his darling Marjorie.  What a life of love and service.  I am lugubrious about our loss, but so happy for his homecoming...it must have been quite a gathering, though he probably only had eyes for his sweetheart.  My heavy heart will miss him terribly.

Hinckley0016.jpg

marjorie.jpg

I don't think this amazing lady was lugubrious a day in her life...oh, I how love them both!

Word of the Week: Deportment

deportment  /n./  a manner of personal conduct; behavior.  actions.  bearing.  mannerism.  mien.  air or appearance.  demeanor.

deportment  /n./  1.  Ethan's deportment, especially in comparison to all the other darlings in my home, can only be described as "enthusiastic" (wild).  Tonight he went to my parent's house for games and waffles and came home with a deep gash over his eye.  David, who had big plans to watch the final episode of the Amazing Race, sighed deeply as he prepared to go and pick him up.  I asked him if we was sighing about fatherhood in general or just this one boy.   For a man who loves being at the hospital, David's whole deportment showed real reluctance to go sit in the ER  with his little boy tonight.  I was off to a Girls' Camp meeting (yes, already!) and so David steri-stripped his eyelid together and called it good.

IMG_0613.jpg 

deportment  /n./  2.  Olivia was in tears after primary today and,  sobbing, accused us of "lying to her all this time."  What about?  She claimed we never told her that the blessing of living together forever as a family depended on our deportment.  She was quite discomfited to know that she had to be good in order to have this blessing.  Oh my.  That's a rather large hole in her spiritual education. 

deportment  /n./  3.  We have a new "wholesome recreational activity" that is an absolute riot.  We've taken up bike riding.  I gave David a tandem bike for Christmas and we have been riding all around our neighborhood.  On Saturday we went on our first really long ride...about 6 miles?...and had so much fun.  Our new hobby has even had some effect on our general deportment...David was home before 6:00 two nights this week (!) so we could take a bike ride, and I have actually enjoyed the fresh air and exercise. 

DSC01001.JPG

                                   This photo was taken on our family bike ride around Mackinac Island this past summer...                                                    easily one of the best days of my life.

deportment  /n./  4.   To my utter wonder, the "word of the week" is changing the deportment of bloggers everywhere...well, at least in my corner of the blogosphere.  I think there were eight word-of-the-weekers who wrote about "charily."  This personally brought me endless delight, not to mention the joy it most certainly brought these eloquent writers.  Fabulous.

Word of the Week: Lachrymose

lachrymose : /adj./  given to shedding tears easily.  weeping or inclined to weep.  overemotional.  teary.  soppy.

lachrymose  /adj./  1.  I thought I would be lachrymose about everyone leaving the house this week after a long Christmas break, but I was so concerned (freaking out) about the wedding cake I needed to make that I was immensely grateful for an empty house by Thursday morning.

lachrymose  /adj./  2.  My brother's wedding cake and all the subsequent drama took up the bulk of my thoughts and time this week.  On Thursday I spent about four hours baking, frosting and assembling the cake and then about eight hours rolling out fondant, over and over again.  By the end of the day I had only covered one layer and I was completely lachrymose, the tears making streaks through the powdered sugar covering my face.  I told my husband, "I just need to sit down and cry and then I'll feel better."  My son overheard this and questioned my husband about this line of "reasoning."  David just shook his head and said, "It's lethargic for her."  This turned my sobs into choking laughter as I said, "No, it's cathartic."   But even this fit of laughter soon turned lachrymose and the tears rolled again.

IMG_0523_Resize_Resize_Resize.jpg

lachrymose  /adj./  3.  As I was sobbing into the fondant (talk about "soppy") I kept thinking of that part in Laura Esquivel's book Like Water for Chocolate, when Tita makes the wedding cake and sobs into the batter and then the whole wedding party dissolves into tears of longing after they eat it.  The whole place is wailing and eventually they all cry so hard, everyone becomes sick and the wedding is ruined.  Thankfully no one but the bride and groom ate my lachrymose cake, and they were all smiles.

lachrymose  /adj./  4.  Ethan was asked to be the ring bearer for the wedding.  I am always a bit stressed about having my children be a part of a wedding because they are unpredictable and, well, children.  When it was time for Ethan to make his entrance he became lachrymose and just stood there with tears streaming down his cheeks.  Eventually the groom had to come help the reluctant ring bearer.

IMG_0519_Resize_Resize.jpg

lachrymose  /adj./  5.  The most touching part of the whole wedding, for me, came at the wedding luncheon.  My brother, Christian, is deaf and his new bride (Sara) is not.  We had an interpreter there for Christian and his deaf friends, but in an effort to make Christian feel part of their family, Sara's mom had learned all the sign language to a little speech that her dad gave.  She had practiced for hours.  It was one of the sweetest gestures I have ever seen, especially from two people who just gave their precious daughter away.  Both of them had tears in their eyes as he spoke and she earnestly signed their message.  Admittedly I was already lachrymose from the cake, but I couldn't help shedding a few more tears at their generosity. 

IMG_0526_Resize_Resize.jpg

lachrymose  /adj./  6.  Last night, instead of scrubbing my kitchen down, I ignored the mess and watched the final installment of Masterpiece Theatre's version of Jane Eyre.  This has long been my favorite book and I found myself lachrymose and sobbing as Jane spoke her feelings aloud to Mr. Rochester.  (Even I have a hard time calling him "Edward.")

"It is a long way off, sir."

"No matter--a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or
the distance."

"Not the voyage, but the distance:  and then the sea is a barrier--"

"From what, Jane?"

"From England and from Thornfield:  and--"

"Well?"

"From YOU, sir."

I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of
free will, my tears gushed out.  I did not cry so as to be heard,
however; I avoided sobbing. 

Jane is a stronger person than I, as I could not help sobbing.  But eventually, even Jane becomes lachrymose.

In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I
endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from
head to foot with acute distress.  When I did speak, it was only to
express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come
to Thornfield.

I remember the night I read these lines for the first time.  14-years-old, 3-in-the-morning, sobbing uncontrollably in my bed.  I thought my heart would break.  And I stayed up the rest of the night reading, as Jane's fate was as precious and interesting to me as my own. 

All in all, it was a very lachrymose week and, as Jane says, "I was obliged to yield."  Oh, yes.

He Might Look Like Me, But He is DEFINITELY His Father's Son

One of David's most charming (and little known) quirks is that he sometimes mixes up his compound words and idiomatic expressions....

I still remember the time he said, "That fits him to a Q!"  (Tee hee.)  Or "He really went off on his soapdish on that one."

Ethan has apparently inherited this delightful quality.

He keeps telling me, "Mom, I love my beanstalk." 

It took me a while to figure out he meant "stocking."

His beanstock. 

Do you all have your beanstocks hung?

DSC00539.JPG

Ode to My "Baby"

I woke up to this:

IMG_0178.JPG

(Technically, I went to bed with it like this, but we won't get into that...)

Ethan said,  "How many minutes is it going to take?"

"A lot."

"A hundred?  What comes after a hundred?"

"A hundred and one."

"What's next?"

"A hundred and two."

"Then what?"

"A hundred and three.  A hundred and four.  A hundred and five.  A hundred and six."

And then eyeing the dishes with his raised eyebrows, "Mom, what's the last number?"

Yes, it may take me that long.  I grinned anyway.

Ethan was born six years after Caleb and so I worried about their "connection."  But they have been remarkably good friends given their age difference.  On Sunday, the kids wrote thank-you notes in Primary.  They could choose anyone they wanted to thank.  Caleb wrote this:

Dear Ethan,

I'm thankful for you because you bring a light into my life and make me happy.  I'm glad your my brother. 

Love, Caleb

Oh, yes.  A light.  Caleb has it just right.  And my heart squeezed so hard it hurt.  To have a boy that is indeed a light, and to have a boy that conscientiously and humbly wrote this to his brother. 

And finally, there's this.  Last Saturday afternoon this is how I found my "baby":  gathering more evidence for his case.  He exclaimed, "See, Mom, this is why you should put me in the circus." 

IMG_0169.JPG

 He doesn't yet know that I will never be able to let him go. 

Gulp...

That moment, the one where I walk into my junior high and suddenly remember I forgot to wear my clothes...

That's what this reminds me of.

So embarrassed to be found lacking...my flat chest, the weirdly symmetrical moles on my upper thighs, the scab on my knee, the dimples in my bottom, and of course my privates exposed for the ninth graders to snicker at.

But, also strangely (and secretly) thrilled to be found at all...hoping that someone will notice the curve of my ribs, the pulse beating hard and fast in my neck, the bird-like shape of my shoulder bones,  hoping they'll whisper, "Did you see the grace in her spine?"

Gulp.  gulp.  My cheeks are on fire.

After traipsing through the lives and backyards of people I know and plenty of people I don't, I have decided to join the blogging throng.  Despite the many protestations against this endeavor (most of them from me!) here I am...about to push the "publish" button.  Because writers write.  And even though I am not a writer, I long to be.  And it's time I start somewhere.  Past time.

Plus, the other day, Ethan turned to me and said in complete sincerity, "Mom, you should put me in the circus."  And I thought, (after "This IS a circus!") "I need to blog that"...but alas, no blog.  So here it is:  my record, my life, my escape hatch, and even my consolation.  

The first entry looks so lonely and pathetic...like I'm faking it.  Like I'm walking through the halls with my naked back straight and proud, but not really fooling anyone.  Well.   I'm late for algebra.