One, two, skip a few

I've read some parenting books in my day, and I had good parents.  I know the difference between authoritarian parenting and authoritative parenting, but the truth is,  real parenting is the hardest thing in the world.  What matters more at the end of the day than how your kids turn out?  I'm writing today not because I have some great answers for you, but because I have some good stories for you.  Some of these situations are things you do not want to do. Others are things you might want to prepare to do.  These stories are about consequences. There are always consequences in this life and the next.  As a parent I feel it's my duty to provide my children with consequences for bad choices that might help them learn before life becomes the harsher teacher.  The trick is coming up with the best consequence.  It needs to be something that can be repeated often.  Children need a few chances to learn a concept.  The more naturally the consequence follows the choice, the better teacher it will be.  Rewards should be administered randomly so the good behavior won't stop when the rewards stop. "Thank you for making a good choice" can be interjected any time it applies.  Consequences for negative behavior need to be administered consistently and confidently and sometimes courageously.  And did I mention that the perfect delivery is friendly, but firm?  Studies show that if a parent is angry the child remembers the anger, but doesn't remember their behavior.  Now onto real life.

My firstborn and well-loved child was born to the mother with the most perfect plan.  He would be obedient and well-behaved. I would be wise and ever-patient and never find myself in a power struggle.  When he was maybe 1 or 2 he defiantly dumped a bowl of popcorn on the floor.  Anxious to implement my parenting skills, I explained that he would now need to pick up the popcorn  because we couldn't have it all over the floor.  (I'm sure my voice was perfectly friendly but firm.)  He looked at me with his sweet little face and refused.  I didn't have a plan B so I put him in my lap, covered his hand with mine and "we" picked up the popcorn.  It was our first power struggle.  Score 1-0. Or was it?

For minor infractions the consequence is usually "Go upstairs and count to ...(depending on the child.)  The kids love to tell the ways they modified their sentence.  There was the famous, "One, two, skip a few 99, 100."  Counting by 5's and 10's.  One of the more creative modifiers required his younger sibling to write the numbers on a page when he was in charge, "Don't kid a kidder."  There were those that didn't even bother counting, they just started reading a book and came down later, or not.  Last year it was revealed that one child would break a manners rule at the table to get sent away so he could avoid eating food that was unappetizing.

I wanted perfect peace and harmony in my home so in the beginning the consequence for hurting a sibling was service to that sibling.  One conniving, I mean creative, child would set to bugging a more volatile sibling on the provoker's dish night.  It wouldn't take long before he would get punched, and his brother owed him service, "a favor."  Totally worth it.  My husband and I had to make new a game plan.  No longer would the child owe their sibling a favor.  They would serve me.  One child ended up owing me 4 favors and 1/2 day of slavery.  The slavery came from super-defiance.  That wasn't a fun day for any of us.  As I recall, the offending child was so mad about his sentence he broke a shovel slamming it into the ground as he dug up my new flower bed.  Then he had to buy me a new shovel.  The other day I asked, "Do you remember the shovel?"  He smiled.  He remembered the shovel.

Some of my programs seemed so innocuous at the time of establishment.  I wanted the children to learn to put their belongings away after school instead of leaving everything around the front room.  I said, "If I find your stuff I'm putting it in this black bag.  You can either pay 50 cents or do a small job to ransom your belongings.  Who knew the chain of events this would set off?  I gathered a lot of toys that kids would rather lose than pick up.  No one claimed them.  Then I picked up a coat, a child's main coat, actually his only coat.  Of course it was winter.  Why else would his coat be on the floor?  Ransom: 50 cents or vacuum the10 X 12 carpet space in the TV area. Child's response: "I'm not doing that." I chose to keep my promise, and he chose to not pay the ransom.  Do you know how painful that winter was?  I went to pick that kid up at night from the school.  There he'd be in the dark, in the cold, no coat.  I'd see him and feel so sorry for him and then think, "What the heck?  He's an idiot." (Bless his heart and we don't say idiot.) Eventually, I'm talking weeks, he did his measly job and got his stinkin' coat.  Score?  Who even knows?

One Saturday morning I was assigning chores to everyone when a child asked a forbidden and dangerous question, "Mom, what do you do?"  There's only one answer to that question, "You're about to find out."  He  was Mom for the day.  He did laundry, cooked, and cleaned. Anyone with a request or complaint was sent directly to him.  There were a lot of little children at home at the time, so he met a lot of needs.  It was a great day of learning for him and a great day of resting for me.  If any sibling even thinks a similar sentiment he generously warns them, "You do not want to be Mom for the day."

Another part of my ideal picture was that all of my children would play the piano.  I would provide them with piano lessons and they would practice their little hearts out until they could play the hymns for church.  Well, I provided the lessons.  The practicing their little hearts out has been spotty at best.  Overall, I would say the majority of the children could play a hymn if they had enough time to practice, but I admit I modified my expectations.  One sweet boy hadn't practiced his piano even though it had been on his list for several days.  I said, (with possibly more firmness than friendliness) "When you don't practice you are wasting my money.  You can't go to sleep tonight until you practice."  Once again I underestimated the power of the Stoker resolve.  I woke up at 1:00 am and noticed the light still on in the music room.  There sat the child, looking straight ahead, with no intention of practicing.  I was mad.  I began conjuring up all kinds of consequences and then I started thinking and praying and thinking about what course to take.  It occurred to me to communicate my hopes and dreams for him and his talents and let him choose and live the consequences of his choices.  He chose.  He quit.  He has as much music in his life as he wants.  It's not none, but it's not as much as I'd like.  Welcome to motherhood.  We now have our modified policy.  If you start lessons, join a team, band, etc. you have to finish your commitment/season/year.  You can choose whether or not to start, but no quitting in the middle.

Now, if you want some good parenting advice I recommend these books:  "The Parenting Breakthrough" by Merrilee Browne Boyack, "A House United" by Nicholeen Peck,and "Emotional Intelligence"by Daniel Goleman.  If you want some ideas for some consequences, give me a call.

I'm not naming names, but every person in every story is in this picture.

Ann Cannon Woodbury. "The Lord made the back equal to the burden."

Since today is Pioneer Day I want to tell a pioneer story, and I want it to be a progenitor's pioneer story.  So I spent the morning reading all about some of my ancestors and their journey from England to Salt Lake City.   The book was entitled "Cannon Family Historical Treasury." edited by Beatrice Cannon Evans and Janath Russell Cannon. When I was a young girl we would sing songs and hear stories about pioneers and I would be impressed with their courage, but I felt so sorry for them.  I was so relieved when I was older and learned that they weren't pioneers for life.  Well they weren't on the trek for life.The trip took less than a year including a winter stay in Council Bluffs, Iowa.  Still a long journey, but their walking and walking had an end.  Their faith, on the other hand, that was for life.

Ann Quayle and George Cannon were married in Liverpool in 1865.  Some fun facts:  they were actually half second cousins.  They grew up in Peel on the Isle of Man.  George's father was a sea captain who died at sea on board his own ship, July 19, 1811, being the victim of a mutiny which he was endeavoring to suppress among his crew. (Well, not exactly a fun fact, but an interesting one.)

Ann and George were blessed with 8 children: George Quayle, Mary Alice, an unnamed boy who died soon after birth,  Ann (my ancestor), Angus Munn, John Quayle who died when he was 3, David Henry and Leonora.  When they were living in Liverpool they received a visit from a brother-in-law they had never met.  George's sister Leonora had married one John Taylor whom she had met in Canada.  They had joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints through the ministry of Parley P. Pratt.  John Taylor had been called on a mission to England and came to bring news of the family and the restored church.

  After the first encounter with Elder Taylor, Ann remarked to  her son, "George, there goes a man of God.  He is come to bring salvation to your father's home."  Elder Taylor sang the songs of Zion and preached and left the family with a Book of Mormon.  Ann was immediately convinced.  George was not unimpressed, but was not at once fully responsive.  He desired time for further consideration and determined to investigate fairly.  He decided to devote his time to the reading of the book that had been loaned to him.  His interest grew with every page until he could scarcely lay it down.  He read into the night and had it propped on his joiners bench so he could glimpse at a few sentences as he worked.  At the completion he solemnly announced that "the book was true-- an evil-minded man could not have written it, and a good man would not have tried to write it with the intent to deceive."  He and his wife received the ordinance of baptism on February 11, 1840.

After the Cannon's baptism the desire to join with the body of the church in America grew in their hearts.  Ann was particularly anxious.  Her health was diminishing and she felt determined that her children needed go to Zion.  If they waited and she died in England she was afraid her husband's heart would fail him, and their relatives would convince him to forego the journey. After much prayer the plans were made.  They left Liverpool Sept. 17, 1842 on the ship Sidney.  They would not disembark in New York.  Ann had relatives there that would make her children stay if they were motherless.  They would sail to New Orleans and then to Nauvoo on the Mississippi river.

George recorded in his journal of the kindness of the ship's captain and the amiability of the saints on board.  The only drawback to his pleasure was the illness of his wife.  He wrote, "I will not attempt to describe the night in particular which I have passed while watching by the side of one of the best wives that ever man was blest with--to see the grim tyrant approaching slowly but steadily to his victim; yet with all her sufferings no complaint ever escaped her.  O God, how mysterious are Thy ways!  Teach me resignation to Thy will!"  Ann died October 28th and was buried at sea.

George continued his journey with his 6 children.  They arrived in Nauvoo on board the steamboat Maid of Iowa in April, 1843.  They were met by John and Leonora Taylor.  The meeting was happy and affectionate, but "recalled the great sorrow which they had suffered in the loss of the fond wife and mother."  George Q. went to live and work with Uncle and Aunt Taylor and Mary Alice took care of the younger children.  George purchased land with a house and built a shop for woodworking.  This was across the street from John Taylor's residence.  Angus remembers trying to help his father who sent him into the house to see if the water was boiling on the stove; not knowing how to tell whether it was boiling or not, the lad brought out a tablespoonful for his father to look at which resulted in hearty laughter from his father.

George remarried a widow named Mary Edwards White, but in the spring and summer of 1844 dark and dreadful days came upon the city.  Joseph and Hyrum Smith were murdered, and "John Taylor was brought to the brink of the grave by wounds from the mobocrats guns."  George Cannon constructed the coffins and took plaster casts of the faces and heads of the fallen leaders as they lay in state. These casts were used for drawings, portrait,s and busts made later by artists trying to depict their likeness.  The tragedy left the city in chaos and George decided to travel to St. Louis to try and earn the means with which to provide for his family.  While on this journey he became a victim of sunstroke and death struck him down.

Upon George's death Ann went to live with Aunt Leonora Taylor, Mary Alice married Charles Lambert and he was appointed legal guardian of the younger 3 children.  The mobs continued to persecute and oppress the saints of Nauvoo and the plans were made to go west.  George Q. was very sick and had to stay behind until he was strong enough.  Ann traveled with the Taylors.  They crossed the Mississippi on the ice on February 16.  They stayed 2 weeks at Sugar Creek.  The roads were very bad and horses had to be fed on cottonwood trees, but Ann reported that they had a great time and the Mormons were cheerful and happy.

They arrived at Garden Grove and stayed for a while.  The pioneers put in hundreds of acres of land in crops for the saints that should follow.  Ann shared this experience: "Uncle Taylor was going back to Nauvoo [to bring George Q].and was on his horse ready to start.  I had charge of the keys and could not find them.  Aunt was put out about it, and I was scared.  I went into the wagon and knelt down and asked the Lord to tell me where they were.  I rolled the bed over, raised the lid of my own box and there lay the keys where I had left them.   It proved to me that the Lord heard and answered prayers, and it made an impression on me that I have never forgotten.  I have had my prayers answered times without number."

Joseph Caine brought a box of gentlemen's boots from England that were too small for the men.  Ann was given a pair and her cousin had a pair from the store so she recorded that with their jerseys  and boots the rain did not affect them much.  On the journey to Council Bluffs Ann helped her uncles's family with the washing and cooking.  They washed on the banks of the creek and sometimes Ann would "tread the clothes in the bed of the stream with [her] bare feet."

At Winter Quarters they stayed until the season changed. Ann recorded "They brought one ox down for beef that weighed eleven hundred pounds.  They took the fat in anything that did not leak and buried it in the ground with a little salt and water and it kept good all winter to eat with the corn ground on a handmill.  We had a grist mill but the water to run it was frozen up so we boiled wheat whole and it was very good eating with milk.  The Lord only knows how we got along; we did not suffer.  We spent the time very pleasantly."

They would dance  in a house near President Young's camp and preach twice a week at meeting. "My heart used to swell and burn with gratitude to my Heavenly Father for giving me a testimony of the great Latter Day work.  I wish I could give my children and my children's children my testimony of the Gospel or help them to get it for themselves.  It would be the joy of my life."

In the spring of 1847 they took up the journey west.   There were lots of trials, but Ann said, "The Lord made the back equal to the burden." Ann took turns with her cousin driving an ox team.  When Ann did not have to drive she rode with George Q.  He told her to get her books so he could teach her.  She replied that she didn't have time because she had to fix the clothes.  She was always sorry for the missed opportunity and worked hard throughout her life to afford her children the opportunity for education.

On October 6, 1847 they arrived in the Salt Lake Valley. There continued to be trials, but they worked hard and established their homes and families in the new territory.  Ann married Orin Woodbury and settled in Cottonwood Canyon.  Later they were called to Dixie (St. George).  Orin was a horticulturalist and Ann developed many skills including beekeeping and raising silkworms.

George Cannon's 7 children (minus Leonora who didn't fit in the scan.  Sorry Leonora) L to R Ann, George Q., David H., Angus M., Mary Alice, and Elizabeth (daughter of second wife, Mary.)

All of the Cannon children made it to Zion.  Their mother's heart's desire was fulfilled   In 1890 they gathered at the Logan Temple and were sealed to their parents. They lived long productive lives.  Ann had 10 children and raised all to maturity.  She lived to be 90.  Her advice to her posterity was to teach their children to work and pray and devote their lives to the upbuilding of the Kingdom of God on earth.

What a great story.   

Today I helped a worm.

I have a little story to tell.  I was taking my sometimes-daily walk around the neighborhood.  It was a typical July morning, 90 degrees and 50% humidity.  I was enjoying the crepe myrtle and watching the sidewalk in front of me to avoid uneven steps and protruding bushes when I happened by a worm.  This isn't the first worm I've encountered while walking, but I noticed this worm struggling courageously to cross the baking pavement to return to it's earthly purpose of aerating the soil.  It caused my heart to hurt a little as I walked past.  In a moment of compassion the thought occurred to me, "I should give that worm a boost."  The usual talking-myself-out-of-a good-idea ensued until I realized leaving the worm to suffer would bring me a little pain.  Giving aid to the worm would bring me a little joy.  I wondered if there were any observers peering out their window as I turned in my tracks, grabbed a pine needle and flicked the worm across the deadly concrete to the green covered earth.  I was back on my way in 45 seconds.  As I finished my familiar route I reflected on any life parallels that might apply to the experience.  The compassion I felt for the worm was small but real and would have manifest itself for any sincere being in need.  I wondered if that was a small window to the character of the love of God.  Because He is love we can trust that he will  help us as we struggle to live and do good.  No matter how unattractive or undeserving we feel He cannot cease to be God and cannot cease to love us and feel compassion for us.  

Smile...or not

Oh no.  Here comes mom with the camera.  Okay, so I like (no make that love) taking pictures of people I love.  Digital cameras make all the hard parts easy.  No developing, no worrying about losing negatives, deleting the pictures that aren't perfect.  Except that I kind of like the pictures that aren't perfect.  Sometimes they show the back of someone's head, but sometimes they show real life.

 When I had 5 little boys under the age of 12 a friend was kind enough to let me use her video camera.  I was so excited to record childhood in moving color.  The only problem was, I didn't want to document my family until my house was clean.  Day in and day out I waited for that order and beauty to come to my home.  Finally I realized that if I waited for things to be perfect my life would be over. I went ahead and filmed "as is."  Those are some of our best and most quoted home movies.  I'm not gonna lie, even I'm a little surprised with how cluttered my house was, but that's history.

I'm in a new season now.  I can clean my house in the morning and it stays clean all day.  It was thrilling at first, but now it seems a little boring.  A few weeks ago we had company with kids.  There were times when the floors were covered with nerf bullets and legos.  That felt right.  Home felt a little more full of life.

So back to pictures, I love pictures of everyone smiling and happy, but what really warms my heart are some of the pictures that we took because if we waited for everything to be perfect, life would be over.

Nathan's first Halloween. "Hurry take a picture.  He'll thank us later."  I'm waiting for the thanks.

Nathan trying to be brave with chicken pox.  I doubt he'll thank me later.

Aaron just not loving Santa Clause.  Santa looks a little stressed as well.

Who takes pictures of people eating, but how precious is Jacob's gorgeous pizza bite?

"Smile everyone, or not, Eliza"

Eliza getting on the smile train, Jacob's turn to pass.

So much jocularity.  I don't even know, but I love it.

"Everyone smile.  Um, I'm taking your picture.  Thank you Polly dear.  You're the best."

So now, I love my body.

Paul, me and Paul's brother, John 11-80

I don't know if I've been organizing pictures because I blog or blogging because I've been organizing pictures, but either way I've been finding some great pics that I don't remember seeing before. One picture I found a couple of weeks ago kind of started a tantrum.  The contrast between 20 year old me and 50 year old me did not make me very happy.  I was mad...mad because I didn't appreciate what I had when I was twenty and mad because I had aged just like I said I wouldn't.  I was mad at my body.

I was carrying on with this sulking and pouting in my mind as I sat in church choir, and then I had an epiphany.  I'm going to go so far as to say an inspiration.  The thought came to me that my body had done amazing things for me.  It had married my husband and born my children and basically given me all the people I love best.  It takes me on walks and drives me on road trips.  It learns new things and gets me out of tight spots.  It works if I tell it to and heals itself.  It dances and sings and finds things to laugh at and then laughs...long.  It sleeps and eats delicious foods and then eats again...my favorite.  It can read and write and play some musical instruments.  I'll bet if I had it play more often it would play better.  It sweats when I'm hot and shivers when I'm cold and breathes even when I don't tell it to.  It sees, hears and loves beauty.  Sometimes it forgets, but sometimes it remembers. 

 So now, I love my body.  I want to be good to it because it has been good to me.  I know it will die sometime, and it's getting older.  But if it's getting tired and showing some wear and tear inside and out, so what?  If it's preparing for old age by storing fat in unattractive places that's okay.  It's been serving me for 52 years. God gave me a lovely gift and I need to be more thankful and use it to do good things.


 When Paul's Dad died I remember looking at his hands at his funeral.  I was overwhelmed with the thought of all the things his hands had been used to do. They loved and raised the little boy that became my husband and father to my children. They worked hard to support his family and truth be told, he helped us financially when Paul was getting his PhD.  They painted his car with a brush.  They took avacadoes to the neighbors and people at work.  They wrote letters to his children, and performed countless acts of service.  

Don Stoker (Paul's Dad) and Aaron

Our bodies are fantastic.

Happy Birthday Caleb

Daniel (Caleb's dad)

Caleb

Paul (Caleb's Grandpa)

Yesterday this cute guy  was "5 and a half".  Today he is six.   He and his family have been living in Japan for the last three years.  They are in the process of coming home to the US of A and guess what state?  Georgia!  Woo hoo!

This week they have been staying at my house and let me tell you about Caleb.  He is great.  He likes to play games, but it's more like immersing than playing.  Last summer we played "Rat a Tat Cat" every day when he visited.  One day we played for three hours.  Every game ended with "Can we play again and can I go first?"  We played again this week.  When I commented that sometimes I forget what the cards are that I get to look at  in the beginning of the game, he laughingly replied (with the utmost respect,) "Then you're probably not very good at this game."

This summer we introduced him to "Luck of the Draw" and "Epic Duels."  "Epic Duels" is the new runaway favorite, but only Andrew, Gabe, Rebecca and  Daniel know how to play. Caleb loves the little Star Wars guys and fun battles.  He spends much of his day trying to round up willing participants.  By this evening the only "Epic Duels" buddy still going strong was Andrew.

Caleb is good at life and has been very helpful in keeping us going in the right direction.  Gabe was trying to decide whether he should face his fears and watch "Lord of the Rings" or play it safe and avoid having nightmares.  Caleb wisely advised, "Gabe, you should pray about it."

Every time we finish swimming Caleb comes to find me so I can put drops in his ears. He heard about Gabe's bout with swimmer's ear. Then he says, "Don't forget to put drops in Gabe's ears."  The next time he sees me he says, "Did you remember to put drops in Gabe's ears?  Caleb, where have you been all my life?

From Caleb we learn that there is much success to be had with sound logic.  Unbeknownst to me he asked his dad if he could have a popsicle.  Daniel said, "Let's wait until we find out from Grandma what the plan is."    Caleb approached me and asked, "So Grandma what is the plan, now?"  We had just gotten home from a bar-be-cue and I was fresh out of ideas.  I said, "It's an independent time."  He returned to his Dad, "Grandma says it's an independent time.  Can I have my popsicle now?"  Caleb got his popsicle.

At family prayer, Paul was calling on family members to take their turn.  Sometimes people say, "Didn't I say it last night?" While this conversation was going on sweet Caleb quietly said, "I'd like to pray."


What a good guy to have in the family.  Happy Birthday!  I hope your day is terrific like you.  xoxoxox