When did I become my mom?

I wrote this MANY weeks ago, then thought I lost it because I didn't save or post it...just found it again, reread it and still think I want to share it....

I noticed it the other day...I mean really noticed it. Before now I have occasionally heard my mother's voice come out of my mouth as I unintentionally repeated one of her favorite phrases, "because I said so."or "that's no way to speak to me."

But the other day, I realized I now not only sound like her, I also live like her. Inhabiting the corners of my bedroom are brown paper bags filled with the minutia of my life....the unopened mail, the socks that need matches, the envelopes of pictures that need to be put in photo album, school work that needs to filed or shredded.

When I was growing up I lived in rooms with bags in the corners, which then became bags that moved down the basement stairs to take up residence on the pingpong table or the old kitchen table. There really is a method to my mom's storage....it isn't alphabetic....it's more universal than that. She stores things chronologically, things that came into her possession at similar times are stored together. When she needs to find something, she simply remembers what else was happening at that time and looks for those things to be together.

I really thought I had beat the odds, that I had managed to get a better handle on that stuff. Then Friday Emily asked if a friend could spend the night with us on Saturday. It was while I was straightening the house somewhat I realized something very disturbing.

In one corner of the library I have a stack of developed photos in their little envelopes easily 18 inches high, waiting ever so politely to make it into photo albums. On the other side of the room is a pair of brown paper bags which contain the contents of my desk from a couple of months ago. The pile on the desk got so tall I slid it all off together to deal with later, and there it still sits....

I am sure somewhere in those bags is something I will miss the moment I get rid of them so I can't just throw them away. This was proven to me a couple of months ago when Bruce was working in the attic putting down a floor so we wouldn't have to keep walking on the joists and just balancing the boxes of Christmas decorations across them.

Anyway, during the course of working up there, he sent down a couple of boxes for me to go through. Amongst the owner's manuals for computers that needed 5.25 inch floppy disks and junk mail from 1998 (and before!!! what did I do? just move these boxes en masse from the old house??!!), I found some rather important documents and letters. Things that I really needed to keep.

So, while I have only just recognized that I am using my mother's paperbag storage system, it has obviously been part of my adult life for some time.

So, note to self....time to start going through those bags. Mostly because I don't have a basement that I can fill up!

Things that make me smile...

Bruce walking through the door every evening, smiling at me, glad to be home; hugs from the girls; a long skype session with Sarah where both of us are giggling our heads off.

A sunset at Emerald Point, a snowball fight in August at the top of the world in Colorado. Walking the dog late at night with Bruce discussing the days events while admiring the cascade of stars in the crystal clear night sky.

A quiet moment's contemplation in the Celestial Room. The aha moment of a student in seminary, when the Spirit testifies so strongly of the truthfulness of the gospel.

Taking time out from being a wife and mom and spending time being a sister with someone who validates my sense of style....

Singing along, loudly and slightly off-key, to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Spending a quiet beach weekend with Bruce. Chasing a rainbow through the last drops of a summer's rainstorm. Spotting a new bird at the birdfeeder.

Seeing geysers, buffalo and elk up close and personal. The girls doing the chores without being reminded. Driving through downtown KC on I-70w, knowing I am almost home to Shawnee.

The smell of pine forests, the booming sound of storm-driven surf, the dazzling flash of lightning. Snuggling up under my down comforter on a cold winter's night.

The spirit speaking to my heart during General Conference. The brilliant green of the first, brand-new leaves of spring. The happy faces of pansies and sweet perfume of heirloom roses.

The sun making a foggy morning sky glow. Kathryn's grin. The first bite of a perfectly ripe watermelon. The smell of roasting turkey on Thanksgiving. Dancing in the rain.

I treasure these things. They make me happy. They remind me how much my Father loves me, that He would provide such a wonderful place for me to live, learn and love.

On the road with teenage girls

I spent a good part of the day with my two middle daughters and a gang of their friends. That's right--me, a minivan, six young women (aged 12 to 15) and a plan to visit one of Kathryn's chat buddies at the NC School of Math and Science.

So, what to say....lots of giggles, even more random calls to this person and that, with the phone being passed from one girl to another. A quick tour of the campus--which was more about the iceball fights and "I lost the game."--then a real look at the buildings.

I actually felt sorry for the guy "we"--mostly Kathryn--went to see. He had to deal with all these gigglers who play "The Future Game" with a deck of cards...you know the kind of game that girls play everywhere--you'll marry, how many kids you'll have. Have to say, it's a first for me....seeing it done on a 17-year-old boy.....he really was quite nice about it.

Then the long drive home, more giggles, more random phone calls--and Kathryn wonders why I won't let her get a cell phone. What's the point? To ask one more person you know what they had for lunch? This is hardly vital information which would require the immediacy of the world's latest wireless technology.

So why would I do this to myself? Well, I get brownie points for being sorta cool--by doing the trip (as an add-on to a youth temple trip to Raleigh). I realize that my girls are growing up into actual people that I like spending time with. And I get to eat at Qdoba's. So, all round a worthwhile investment of 9 hours of my time.

Hmmm...what happened to my life?

I just have one question.....more for myself than the world in general. When did the "because I have to"s so bury the "because I want to"s?

I realized how bad it had gotten yesterday when between work and picking up kids from school I spent a half an hour reading a book...not for a book club....not to figure out how to remove the wallpaper from the library....not to improve myself in any way, shape or fashion. While I ate lunch I read from a novel, just one I picked up at the library the last time I took Emily.

And I felt guilty about it!!! Not enough to stop reading and jump up and do the laundry or wash the dishes or correct the old page numbers on the answer sheet for the musculoskeletal study questions or add another couple of slides to my powerpoint presentation.

But the fact remains....I felt like I shouldn't be sitting there "just" reading.

At that moment I came to the realization that I no longer have control over my life. My life is controlling me. Granted I am under the control of a benign despot. Some of the things I do are fun, but I really miss the sense I used to have that I could drop everything and go to the beach on a moment's notice.

Or do anything on a moment's notice, as far as that goes. Just finding six unscheduled hours so that Bruce and I can go to the temple together requires a major discussion with calendars in hand as we juggle the responsibilities of our jobs, our callings, the kid's school assignments, extra-curricula activities and church programs.

We are buried in good things....kinda like being inside a snow drift...each individual flake doesn't have much wieght, but let a bunch of them get together and slide down a hill....and you can find yourself fighting an avalanche.

Thing is, I don't see things changing at all in the near future, so I guess I just need to recognize that things are a bit out of my control, slap on metaphysical snowboard and ride it out. I'll let you know if I get thrashed or manage to catch major air....