The Missing Crayons

This Monday, I was glad that I had not only managed to remember it was Monday (and thus Family Home Evening in Latter-day Saint culture) but to plan an actual FHE with lesson and all. The topic was "I Belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints" and featured a strongly-pared-down version of the Nursery lesson. I taught my daughter Ely (3 years) how to say the name of the Church, and she colored a picture of Jesus Christ, with Joseph Smith and the scriptures below it.

She was taking some time with the coloring, so we closed the lesson with a prayer and I went to prepare dinner while she finished. A few minutes later, she came into the kitchen and showed me her finished coloring. After due appreciation, we posted it on the refrigerator and I told her to make sure she cleaned up her crayons.

Several minutes later, I went into the living to check her clean-up job. She had put all of her crayons in her backpack, but because it was probably too difficult for her to return them to the package, they were crammed in any which way. I put them in the package for her and noticed that nearly half were missing.

"Where are the rest of your crayons, sweetie?" I asked.

She shrugged and replied, "I don't know."

"How can you not know? You were just playing with them."

"Maybe somebody take them?"

At this point, I began to worry a little. One of the adults in her life has a habit of avoiding responsibility and shifting blame, and I fear that she will develop the same characteristics. This sign of avoidance brought that fear to the forefront. "No one could take them, honey. You are the only one who could have taken them. Where did you put them?"

"Maybe I hid them."

We had talked about hiding things extensively before, because she had hidden her socks at her daycare provider's house and lost them not long before. "Ely, you know you are not supposed to hide things. Where did you hide them?"

"I don't know."

"In your bedroom?"

"No."

"In mommy's bedroom?"

"No."

"In the couch?"

"No."

And so on. By this time I was truly frustrated. Our house is not large, and I knew they could not have simply disappeared. We both began tearing the house apart looking for these crayons, even checking under the edges of rugs and curtains, and behind books in the bookshelves. I tried roleplaying with her, handing her one of the crayons and telling her to hide it, hoping that would lead me to the rest of the stash. All to no avail. By this time, she was in tears. I sighed and pulled her close to me. "It's okay, honey. These things happen. Just don't hide things any more, okay?" She nodded miserably, cuddling into me. "I love you, sweetie. The crayons are just things."

"Maybe we buy more?"

"No, Ely, we can't buy more. Mommy doesn't have money to spend on replacing things that you have lost." Her tears began in earnest. I sat and cuddled her, rocking her back and forth, comforting her until her tears lessened.

I sighed, knowing it was time for bed. "Let's just go to bed, honey. You go put your head on the pillow, and mommy will brush her teeth and come in to pray."

"Okay, mommy."

As I was brushing my teeth, I had a little conversation with the Lord in my head. "I'm sorry, Father. I know they are just crayons, and not really important. I just feel so helpless. I can't just buy her more things, and I worry so much about her not taking responsibility for the things she has. I'm sorry I made it into a bigger deal than it really should be."

The thought came to my mind that Ely had another pocket in her backpack that I had missed. It was a small front pocket, and I thought it was too small for the crayons, but I thought I'd check it anyways. Sure enough, the rest of her crayons were there.

"Come here, Ely."

"What?!" her tear-filled voice called to me.

"Come here, I have something good to show you."

"Okay!" she said, excited now as she ran in, "what, mommy?"

"Look what I found!" I said, holding out her crayons.

"Oh!" she gasped, "You found them, mommy!"

All at once, it was as if I spoke before thinking. "Heavenly Father told me where to find them, sweetie."

Her jaw went slack, "He's here?" she asked incredulously.

Refraining from laughter, I replied, "no, sweetie, He's still in heaven. But He can talk with you in your head sometimes. He told mommy in her head where the crayons were."

Her expression of joy and confusion was priceless. "Why?!"

"Well, because He loves you. He wants you to be happy. Sometimes He helps us with things to show us that He loves us and knows we are here."

"Oh, mommy."

That night in her prayers, she thanked her Heavenly Father for helping mommy find her crayons.

Shells

Monday night, Ely decided she wanted some Shells and White Cheddar Pasta Roni. She went to the pantry and pulled out a box, bringing it to me and shaking it slightly. "I think we need shells," she said with a little tilt to her head.

"Oh, we do?" I asked her, to which she nodded emphatically.

"Yes, mommy. We need shells." I told her I'd think about it.

Several minutes later, she turned to me and asked what I was thinking. Supposing that she had seen a worried look on my face or something of the kind, I responded, "I'm thinking about how much I love you."

She said earnestly, "And about shells?"

Yes, my darling . . . about shells and how much I love you.

A Mother's Love

Last night and this morning, I held my new now-two-month-old baby, Ria, in my arms while Ely cuddled close to me. There is no metaphor for the feelings of gratitude which cradled me. If there will be any way to encapsulate my life when all is done, I hope that it is distilled into such sweet moments of perfect joy.

This must be what heaven feels like.

The Newest Miracle

My second . . . and probably last . . . beautiful daughter was born on the 15th of August. It astonishes me how love can grow to encompass a new person in my life. She is a miracle.

When visited by a neighbor, Ely took her by the hand and led her over to the new baby, saying, "This is my baby sister mommy made for me."

I am truly richly blessed.

"I am Displeased!"

Yesterday, Ely wanted to watch television or play outside. Since it was getting to be her bedtime, I told her "not tonight." She kept asking, until I finally said, "We will not be watching T.V. tonight, and whining about it will only get you in bed sooner." She began to be rude to me, so I told her I didn't like being talked to that way, and she needed to use nicer words.

She did not like that answer. She put one hand on her hip, tilted her head, and with a Very Serious Expression on her face said "I am displeased with you, Mommy." The combination of pigtails, yellow princess dress, princess crown from her birthday cocked haphazardly on her head (one pigtail under and one over it) and the word "displeased" made such an adorable combination, it was all I could do not to laugh. I wanted her to know I took her seriously, but it was hard.

She is the most beautiful creature on this earth.

I told her that I was not pleased with the way she talked to me, and that she should apologize. She said she didn't want to. I told her if she could not be respectful, than it was probably better if she spent some time in her room until she was ready to be nicer to me. She nodded her head decisively, grabbed her princess wand, and flounced to her room. It was a short time later that she came out. Eventually she warmed back up to me and we hugged and kissed each other and said we loved each other.

It was far too short of a time for my mom and me to relieve all the laughter we had bottled up.

Busy Bee

I took Ely to the library today. She likes to play in their little pagoda and children's area. I sat with her in one of their comfy chairs and read her a story. She began talking about a little bee cutout they had hanging above the area, and talking about how it could fly because it has wings.

I told her, "yes, you're right! They do have wings."

"I don't have wings yet, do I mommy?" she replied.

I couldn't help but laugh and give her a big hug. "Not yet, darling."

"And once I have wings, then I fly, right mommy?"

"If you had wings, sweetie, you could fly, too. Just like that bee."

And with a contented sigh and wiggling into get more comfortable, she returned to the story.

Dust in the Wind

Yesterday, I took Ely to the park across from her daycare. It's the first time she's played there because the equipment is mostly for bigger kids, but it was shady, so I thought it would make a nice change.

The ground was a dusty sort of sand that she loved to pick up and let fall through her fingers, watching the way the wind fanned it out. She kept checking with me to see if I would countenance the mess-making, and when I smiled at her, she ran over to me, exclaiming about how pretty it was.

She was chattering about Belle (her newest favorite Disney princess), making up stories about her as she played on the equipment. For some reason, she keeps calling her "Jingle Belle". I guess she misses Christmas!

That night as we cuddled for bed, she decided she wanted to read me the bedtime story. Making it up as she went along, she read the entire "K" book from her Sesame Street alphabet books. It amazes me how much she remembers, and how easily she fills in her memory gaps with her own prose!