Shoot the sky or the ground

I grew up in a household full of girls.  My first brother was born when I was 15.  This information is necessary to understand the circumstances surrounding my upbringing. One of the family rules was that we didn't say "butt" (Well, Dad said, "butt") but we would substitute a more genteel but considerably less threatening, "booty," as in "Get your booty in here," or "I'm going to kick your booty."

( TMI alert) We girls never peed or pooped.  My mom insisted that we tinkle or have a BM.  We didn't fart either.  We cut the cheese or passed gas, but mostly we didn't talk about it. My Dad would occasionally try and out an offender, but we remained in feminine denial. When my brother was born my father announced, "My son will not tinkle."

 My mother wouldn't allow guns either.  I remember my guilty fascination with the neighbor's cap gun.  I loved the loud "Pop" followed by aromatic gunsmoke stinging my nostrils.  Of course I never owned one, but it always remained "cool" in my mind.  At our house our imaginary gunfights were always accompanied with the maternal instructions, "Shoot the sky or the ground." That was my mother's solution to the chance of picking up an actual loaded gun and accidentally injuring anyone. During cowboys and Indians I would obediently point my gun to the sky when I ran by the windows to my house but then wickedly point to my opponent's heart when I turned the corner out of my mother's view.

It should not surprise me that when I had children of my own and my mind repelled the idea that these sweet darlings would ever be involved in violence, real or imagined, but fail safe shooting rules were difficult to enforce. When my oldest was a toddler I decided that we would just have the rule-- No guns.  However, since necessity breeds ingenuity my gentle baby created a weapon out of PVC pipe, pencils, or his finger when nothing else was available.

 Inspired by my mother I told my children to shoot the sky or the ground.  I remember them looking at me with indignant confusion, "How will we hit anyone that way?" I had to smile at the logic of this observation and began to cave.  As 1 son grew to 5 sons and then 7 with a couple of daughters thrown in , I realized that boys gonna fight and fighting's always better with weapons.

Thirty years later, I look back on my infinite purchases of Lego, Star Wars, ninja, and knight weapons with fondness. The best weapons, however, were homemade by Dad, brothers, and, OK, me.  I'm not condoning violence in any way.  I hold by the "Jesus said love everyone" creed, but how cute are these little fighters? Maybe it's just a normal part of growing up and if you're going to pretend shoot, you might as well pretend aim at your target.

Daniel and Brandon with cardboard swords courtesy of Dad

Bows-Dad again.
Aaron, Daniel, Nathan, Jacob and Brandon

I believe the boys made these weapons themselves. Some people stuffed the tube to give them an advantage.
Aaron, Daniel, Nathan, Brandon

Brandon and Jacob

Choose your weapon
Nathan, Jacob, Aaron

Baby girl packin' heat and her dolly.
Eliza, Aaron, Jacob

Construx swords-not very resilient, for all you connoisseurs
Nathan, Jacob, Rebecca, Andrew, Eliza

Jacob and Andrew

Bring it on, big brother
Daniel and Andrew

Fierce Rebecca and Andrew
These swords are dangerous-no contact allowed
Lots of tears because smashed fingers- FYI

Marshmallow guns-always a hit
Jacob, Nathan, John L. Eliza, Aaron
Ian, Gabe, Andrew, Collin, Rebecca

Weapons bonding with Aunt Stephanie

May the force be with you, Padawan.
Daniel and Rebecca

toothpaste and bodywash--the sign of diligence

"Diligence-Constant and earnest effort to accomplish what is undertaken.  Persistent exertion of body or mind."
 I've been thinking about this word "diligence" a lot lately. Maybe that's because I feel myself slackening my grip from time to time.  Sometimes I wake up on a cloudy day and observe that I am suffering from senioritis of life. It seems like I've been at it for a while now and a  long summer break with lots of cheering and sunshine and lemonade sounds rather appealing. I'm not sure where this picture comes from, probably from that place in my mind where I store laziness and fault finding and "what's in it for me?"  I keep trying to sweep that dusty place clean, but there are some old boxes of weakness that I keep around because I might need them some day and I've had them my whole life and can I really part with them forever?  None of those boxes have brought me lasting happiness, just a fleeting moment of pleasure followed by feelings of self doubt and a resolve to put them away once and for all. But such is the battle of days.

In the past few months I've had some friends teach me about diligence.  These friends are not my peers in age, but they are effective teachers nonetheless. Did you know that diligence smells like toothpaste and bodywash? My friends wake up early, shower, brush their teeth and come to the church to learn about God through study of the scriptures and the sharing of testimonies born of young but powerful faith. After 50 minutes they leave like they came, shoulders laden with back packs and sports bags, words bouncing with concerns for tests, quizzes, papers and projects, but hearts clean from a short hour of dedication to things pure and holy. I'm left alone in the room with only the smell of diligence as evidence that the hour happened. Sometimes the hour is heavy with doctrine, sometimes light with games and laughing. Sometimes shared stories make us smile, sometimes they call out tears, and seeds of compassion are sown.  No one hour changed a life, but stacking of great hours on top of okay hours for weeks and months has yielded just what one would expect-knowledge, belief, friendship and the power to choose to do good.

I lean on these little heroes when I need  more diligence.  When it is my job to prepare for Thursday's lesson even though I already prepared on Wednesday and Tuesday and Monday, I remember that they will be there, hoping to learn and be inspired and not be bored by lack of preparation from the girl tempted with senioritis.

Because my days don't cry to be managed with the same intensity as they did when I had many children at home, I have to decide to be diligent.  Minutes and hours can just lie there, directionless, if I don't apply diligence to shape them into something useful or beautiful or loving.  I like to think about the hope and enthusiasm for the future that I see every morning in my teacher/friends and capture that  for my future which is considerably shorter, but that cannot be without purpose and giving.

So thank you, clean and beautiful children, for stacking hours with me and showing me that life is exciting with infinite possibilities as we move forward with all diligence and faith.

What kind of preacher sits in first class on the way to Panama City Beach?

On Monday, after teaching my early morning seminary class, I drove on up to the airport, parked in economy parking, and walked a long, long way to the security line.  I'm not complaining about the walk because it's not like I exercise too much.  Getting through security was a snap. (I don't always say that) I hopped on the plane train for a few seconds and landed at gate B.  I was happy that I only had to go to B-4 except (listen up everyone) at ATL the B gates start at 1 million and work backwards.  Yes, I had to walk past 999,996 gates.  You know it's true.  Anyways, flying standby is fun because you're never bored.  You don't have to worry about reading or striking up a conversation with a stranger while you wait to board, you keep your eye on the screen and stare with rapt attention as the names start to clear for travel.  One never knows if one will actually be flying that day, even if that person did just walk miles and miles to gate B-4.  Sometimes my name never gets on the green cleared screen, it just stays on the blue list-blue for feel blue because you're going nowhere. But, today was going to be my lucky day.  Not only was I cleared, I was upgraded.  Little ol' me was flying first class-seat 1-A baby.

 There's one thing you need to know about mormons.  We like to share our faith.  Being a stay at home mom doesn't give me as many opportunities as I'd like, so I look forward to flying and being out in society.  I prepare myself by bringing a Book of Mormon and praying that I'll sit by someone who would like to talk to me about my church.  With that in mind, I was happy when the man sitting next to me was friendly. I don't like to disturb people with work to do or movies to watch or no interest in talking to a 50 + mormon mother of 9 that likes to talk about her children and grandchildren and God.

But, like I said, it was my lucky day.  After all were boarded, my friendly seat mate became a bit busy taking notes from his I-pad.  I was going to leave him alone until after my nosy glance I recognized that he was reading the Bible.  I smiled a little that my coincidental travelling companion was probably a preacher.  Oh well, might as well start a conversation.  So I brilliantly asked, "Are you a preacher?"  He responded, "Yes, do you know the Lord?" I confirmed, "Yes, I do."  His next question was, "What church do you like to go to?" I told him,"The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints-the Mormons." What happens next is always interesting.   I feel like I have so much in common with members of other Christian faiths, but sometimes this view is not shared.  Pastor 1-B was undeterred, "So what do you think the biggest differences are between your faith and my faith?" As I began to answer I realized that first I wanted to talk about what was the same, and I told him so. "I believe that Jesus Christ is my Savior and it's through his sacrifice that I have been redeemed.  He bought me with his blood so I am his.  I will show my love and gratitude by serving him and his children all my days." I love and read the Bible, but in addition to this.. we have the Book of Mormon, another Testament of Christ."
 A lively conversation ensued, with him teaching me some of what he shares with his congregation (he prays to sit by someone on the airplane to talk to about God also.) He asked me more questions, some of which he wanted me to answer and some of which he wanted to answer.  I hope I was able to clarify some misconceptions he had about the doctrine of my faith. I shared some of what I love about my church. There were doctrinal points that we had to disagree on, but much of what was said was edifying and confirming that Jesus Christ is the truth, the way and the life. I enjoyed our hour together very much and came away convinced that all Christians and good people of society should join together for causes that will strengthen the moral fiber of our communities.
As it was getting close to landing time a thought occurred to me, "What kind of preacher rides first class to Panama City Beach?" My question was soon answered.  He gave me his card with his e-mail address and told me that if I e-mailed him he'd send me his book.  I didn't recognize his name, but I kept his card and googled him when I got home.  The kind of preacher that rides first class is the kind of preacher who was president of the Southern Baptist Convention for 2 years, wrote 6 books and preaches on the Church Channel every Sunday and is broadcast to 50 states and 122 countries.  I guess that's what happens when a Mormon mom and a famous evangelical pastor both pray on the same morning that they can sit by someone that wants to talk about their faith.  I'm pretty sure heaven was smiling.

Happy Birthday Gabe !!

Happy Birthday to this great guy.  We're so thankful to have you in the family, Gabe  I'm sorry you have to be the baby, and be the last one home with mom and dad, at which point you will be doing all the jobs.  But like we've said before, you will also have all the toys.

Eliza, Gabe, Rebecca and Mom in the IL strawberry fields.

Rebecca, Andrew, and Gabe

Brandon and Gabe

Gabe and Eliza

Foreshadowing of the percussion days ahead.

Foreshadowing of the dish doing days ahead.

Gabe, Andrew and Rebecca

Pony Love

Gabe and one of his best cousins, Blair

One day Gabe came in wearing about 10 shirts.  He said, "Hey look, I'm fat like you guys."

Gabe's real self.

Rebecca, Becky Froelich, Andrew, Aaron, Jacob, Eliza and Birthday Gabe

Annabelle and Uncle Gabe

One of the best parts about Rock City, WV-witchy fingers with Jacob

What's so hard about raising teenagers?

Upon receiving a request to blog about teenagers I began gathering and sorting my thoughts on the topic. I  realize that it's ironic that I hadn't written much about raising adolescents, because my friends and I have been commiserating and reassuring and analyzing and truthseeking and counseling each other on this very subject  for years.  It might be that I'm still reeling a bit and am not quite out of the woods in this department. But that's an even better reason to share.

I've always loved working with the youth.  They're funny and beautiful and energetic, and the way they focus on things that don't matter can be relaxing in juxtaposition to the way I obsess about consequences and the gravity of the situation. Girls sitting around my table talking about Zac Efron helps me take my mind off my budget. Being a mother to teenagers could be a match made in heaven, well, it actually is, but it can look and sound a little rough. So, I have considered and identified a couple of disconnects that might challenge my parent/teen relationship:

1.  I'm really afraid that they'll make a mistake, but they really want me to let them make mistakes. I've always been a subscriber to the doctrine, "A very large ship is benefited very much by a very small helm in the time of a storm." Doctrine and Covenants 123:16.  That being said, I know that this also means it doesn't take a very big turn to head in an unfortunate direction.  So if my child forgets to do an assignment in school I respond with something calm like, "And then you'll get a bad grade and not get into advanced classes and never get into the college of your choice."  More than likely the reality is that they will not like the feeling of a low grade on an assignment and not let it happen again.  My teenager's room is messy?  I respond, "And you'll live in slovenly filth the rest of your life and never get married." I stand as a witness that this has proven to be false.  My children have gotten married in spite of their messy rooms.  If my teenager breaks a rule, I worry that they'll go to jail.  If they buy a slurpee 2 times in a week, I worry that they'll never be financially solvent.  I can see why they disregard my fears. I may overreact a bit, but it remains true that people make bad choices and end up in sad places, and if that is my child my heart will break and I really, really don't want that to happen.  But do you know what? If my child makes bad choices and ends up in sad places they can repent and change and call upon the atoning power of Jesus Christ and be healed just like I did when I made bad choices. So, no worries, right?

2.  I aspire to peace.  They aspire to excitement.  I remember trying to explain to my adolescent son why I never had the radio on in the car.  "I'm just enjoying the quiet."  He thought it was a boring shame that I was squandering a great opportunity to jam.  He didn't know how much noise was in my brain with all the "Mom, mom, moms" I'd heard that day and my own "What if?" anxieties that were rather loud. It's fun to see the "YOLO" attitude that takes kids to exciting places, (As long as they don't die physically or spiritually on the way.) I used to approach life that way, but now I'm old, and I've done a lot of things.  I've rung in the New Year 54 times.  I don't really need to stay up past midnight on New Year's Eve, or any other eve for that matter.  So my trying to keep life safe and their trying to keep life rockin' might not be smooth sailing all the time.

3. I believe in the future.  They believe in the present.  I remember when I was a teenager and I learned about the dangers of tanning.  My logic was something sound like this, "Well, if I don't get cancer till I'm old, like say, 30, it's totally worth it.  As long as I can look good when it matters. (16-21)"   That's what I'm talking about.  Teenagers don't really believe there's life after 21, and if there is, it's irrelevant. So I find myself talking about the future a lot.  "Do your future self a favor...study, make healthy choices, work hard, organize your life..."  It's possible that at times their response has been something like, "How will that help me have a fun weekend or more popular?"

  I'd also like to say a little something about hormones.  Do you know the Twightlight Books?  (I read 'em and loved 'em.) The good vampires resist drinking human blood, they drink animal blood instead. (Stay with me, this is a valid analogy.) Anyway when the people first become vampires is difficult to control their natural instincts, but with practice they get good at it. That's kind of like hormones.  When they first start to drip in your sweet little child it isn't always very attractive, but with practice and understanding of sound eternal principles and God's laws of morality, selfish, impulsive adolescents can grow into loving moral people.

  In a college Human Development class we learned about the gradual releasing of children.  The general timeline is age 1-8 to teach children to obey, 9-11 to teach children the governing principles and then 12-18 is preparation for adulthood with gradual independence.  Merilee Boyack has written a book called "The Parenting Breakthrough." that lists the skills our children should have at certain ages.  It's a great benchmark and a wake-up call for me. Who knew 16 yr olds were supposed to make their own dental appointments?.

 Another concept we need to be thinking about is teaching our children resilience.  Doors shut, rejection happens, failure is part of life.  We can't fall to the floor in a heap and quit.  Do our children recover and pick themselves back up to try again? If they do, they're going to be fine.

Try to remember this: holiness is better than innocence.  If your teenager rolls their eyes at you and says "Whatever", or yells something ugly as they stomp off and tears fall as you remember their sweet little baby arms wrapped around your neck when you were their world, remember that this life is about agency.  Although they were innocent and beautiful as little children, it's through choosing good over evil that they become holy and even more beautiful.  We can't choose God for them.  They have to choose to follow him themselves.  You've been having family prayers and scripture study and family home evening, right?  You've loved them and done your best, right? You're giving them opportunities to work and serve others, right? You pray for them daily, right?  You love God and keep his commandments, right?  You spend time having fun with your kids, not just bossing them around, right? (Okay. We'll work on that.)  Then have faith in them.  Most likely they'll adjust the helm and right their ship and go sailing home.

Neonates-Is this normal? (Making the best of normal)

I got to meet this beautiful guy last week.  I was so thankful that he was here safe and sound and everything went well with his arrival.  Being a mother I know that although delivery is over, there are still lots of opportunities for refinement ahead, but I also know that mom and dad come through as beneficiaries in one of life's most treasured experiences.

Babies smell delicious, which we understand is nature's gift to mothers for taking care of them.  Their skin is so perfect and their little fingers and toes and lips and ears are irresistible.  There are a couple of parts to new babyness however that moms and dads find less than irresistible and leave them wondering, why didn't anyone tell me about this?  The truth is, everyone told them about it, it just wasn't very applicable BC. (before children)

So, if you brought home a baby in the last couple of weeks let me answer some questions, the most common being, "Is this normal?"

1. Yes it is normal for the baby to fall asleep whenever he is nursing and then wake-up when he is put in his bed.
 

In fact, babies hate beds.  They especially hate beds now that they have to sleep on their back.  Their startle reflexes are a big problem and those wee little eyes pop open a lot.  Swaddling helps.  It's a genius idea to simulate the comfy confines of the womb, but what babies really like is to sleep with a real-live parent who breathes slowly and has a nice continuous heartbeat.  So, from my experience especially in the first weeks, your choices are co-sleep or no-sleep.

Here is the nice new bed from Grandma E. with the cozy
sheet that Mama made, but the mattress is very flat and
it's lonely in there.  The comment was made,
'"Won't the baby be surprised when he finds out he has a bed?"

2.Yes, it's normal to change the baby's diaper a million times a day.  In fact, it's a consensus at the Erickson house that babies prefer pooping in clean diapers and will wait, if they can, until they're changed to move forward. I also think babies get tired of their outfits and will work to dampen them with their various artillery: urine, spit up, milk, whatever. But don't the tiny clothes look cute hanging all rinsed in the bathroom?  It was suggested that we decorate the house with this cuteness.  The truth? Mom's and Grandma's like new baby outfits too.

The downside, okay there are a few downsides, but the main downside to needing lots of diaper changes is the increased chance that sweet baby will contract diaper rash.  We did a little product study and believe that old-fashioned Desitin with the cod liver oil aroma beats new creamy Desitin and Butt Paste for eradicating redness.

It's helpful to maintain a diaper changing station or two where all necessary ingredients are at the ready
One might even be changing a baby in the dark and one musn't be lacking any vital supplies and remember
put the tape side under the baby and make sure there's a snug fit around the waist...trust me on this one.

Another question new parents might ask is, 3. "Do we need to purchase a Boppy? (Or as Andrew calls them, a Floppy.)  Of course you do.  A floppy provides multiple uses.  The baby can rest there (for a few minutes.)  Mom can sit on them (yes, postpartum sitting is problematic.) 

A floppy makes a nice decoration, provided it fits your color scheme.

Dad can use it to catch some much needed shut-eye.

And if worse comes to worse, Mom can wrap the Floppy around her waist on the same side her baby is nursing. This gives her arm a place to rest and she can keep the baby comfortably positioned with his head higher than his heart, bottom and legs.  Because think about it, who likes to drink milk upside down?

Here is another helpful idea, lots of stations.  Anywhere a mother might sit to nurse a baby should have water, lanolin, and a burp cloth.  And if no one is around to visit, I would add reading material.  Try and have something on the lighter side, physically and mentally.  A nice Reader's Digest, church magazine, etc.  Reward yourself. and make breastfeeding a treat.

This is the "Hope-springs-eternal" station.  It contains a blanket for swaddling, a
pacifier, and a bouncy chair for when baby gets tired of being held and needs some alone
time...bahahaha.

4."My baby seems to cry a lot."  This is normal. (at my house at least)  Babies cry.  Here is a list of possible reasons:  "I'm hungry, I'm tired, I need to burp, I just pooped, I can't poop, there's too much going on, there's not enough going on, Mommy ate something weird, I'm hot, I'm cold, I'm not really sure but it seems like a good idea."  Parents cannot ignore this heartbreaking sound so become clever scientists as they chart, record, theorize, experiment and use all their resources to make the love of their heart happy.  My advice? Don't take it personally, remember it doesn't usually last forever.  (Okay some of my children still cry.) My sister's advice? Ear plugs.

Next question, 5. "I'm not that excited to hear my baby's voice at 3:00 am.  Is this normal ?" CODE--Am I a bad mom?  Babies, and children for that matter, have not yet learned the art of playing hard-to-get.  While it might seem logical for them to give mom a chance to miss them, there's probably a greater plan in the works here. As moms and dads sacrifice their all in the care and feeding of their dear ones the relationship becomes more than a fleeting crush.  It develops into a deep and abiding love.  The kind that you would throw yourself in front of a speeding train to protect.  So, buckle up and get comfortable and put all that you own and ever hope to own on the altar.  You will be repaid 100 fold.

PS. My last bit of advice, some of which is a review, is since you're giving your all, make sure you have something to give.  Eat, sleep, shower, learn, laugh, dance, talk to adults (call your mom), exercise, pray, and most important, flirt with your spouse.  They're still your number 1.

Happy Birthday Charlie

Cute little Charlie, I mean pretty big little Charlie, came to our family after I had left the house.  I was spending a semester at BYU Hawaii. This was a long time ago...before cell phones. I lived in a dorm where  there were 2 phones total per floor and we couldn't dial out.  The people who lived by the phones got tired of answering and finding and delivering so pretty much if you thought someone was going to call you, you needed to stay within ring's reach.  I knew Mom's baby was due so I hung out by the phone for a couple of days.  I was so excited when I got the call: 1.That I got the call and 2. That the call came.  Charles Brigham Miller was born.  My dad had always wanted a Pete and Charlie.  He had to wait till number 7 to get a Pete and number 8 brought Charlie.  

Charlie loved his mama.  He used to call under her door at night with his little fingers reaching saying, "Sleep to me, Mom, sleep to me." Since I was in college, I counted on my sister Susie to give me the Charlie report.  I was jealous that I was missing all the cute things he said.  I do remember going home at Christmas and being at church with the family.  I had been learning about correct parenting and wanted to practice positive reinforcement on Charlie.  He was behaving well so I whispered in his ear, "Charlie you're being a good boy."  He jumped up and started running around yelling, "I'm not a good little boy, I'm not a good little boy!"  He is a good boy, he just doesn't like to get bossed around.  

Charlie is a talented kid.  He's smart and athletic, but his best talent could very well be his dancing.  What do you think?

Even though Charlie and I never lived at home at the same time I was blessed to live an hour away from him, when he was in dental school inPittsburgh and we lived in Morgantown, WV.  My kids and I loved visits from uncle Charlie.  He taught us how to play Insane and Mexican Train Dominoes. My favorite day with Charlie was when he agreed to speak at Rebecca's baptism.  Unfortunately, her special day was accompanied by a substantial snow storm.  I assumed we wouldn't see him that day, but he got in his car, braved the roads, and arrived in time to make a little girl and big sister very happy.  Charlie is kind, and dedicated, and funny and still very good.  Thanks for being a great brother.  I love you.

Charlie's beautiful wife, Meg