Pearls?

The other day Cole "scared" me, by being an "underdawater guy". He's been telling me a lot of the options he's been considering for his future line of work. Today he told me a couple times that he's going to be a dishwasher ..."cause I really know how to dish, Mom." I'm not sure what that means, exactly, because I am the one that ultimately does every dish in this house. But in another aspect, I was overcome with pride, as I know how to dish too. Speaking of, I have been thinking about the comments from my last post. I know, I know. I come off as a shrewish and materialistic She-Witch. And on top of that, I noticed that the name I chose for this blog is, "Rainey's Pearls of Wisdom". However, after every post, I end up asking for advice. Clearly, I'm not altogether sure about what the hud I'm trying to get across here. On the bright side, though, I am learning how to take constructive criticism. I shared your comments with my fabulous husband, the husband that wrote that fabulous post about me recently, and he said he agrees with those of you that think I'm a freak-show. But he says this in a way that shows he has gotten used to tip-toeing around my crazies for the last ten years. Brandy, Amy, and Muff: Two words for you ladies--first: Solidarity. And second: Sisters. To the rest of you, I'm trying. Obviously this control issue I have with Riley's clothing is a problem, because I have mentioned this exact situation twice. So I'm taking baby steps. I don't want to be responsible for turning my child into me...especially when she has so much life and creativity and love for everything.
In this aspect, blogging has been good for me. I am learning life-lessons without having the crutch of justifying everything as I tell each story. I'm also aware that I have the amazing effect of getting people to agree with the things that I say when speaking to them in person. All I have to do is use the Steele big-eyes as I explain my side of the story, and keep eye contact until the person I'm talking to nods their agreement. (This is a trait I have inherited from my father...I don't think I ever refused anything he said when he'd open his eyes really wide and yell. It was terrifying.) And if they don't seem to be agreeing with me, I just stare until they become uncomfortable, and argue my point some more. (Another tactic my husband has become accustomed to, and as I said before, has had enough time to resist.) So I guess my pearls of wisdom are essentially pearls that I'm considering and picking up from others. This has been pondered heavily the past few days, and even though I sound like a whining, wounded baby, I really believe that I'm learning...and growing. I'm still obsessive and compulsive but at least I'm getting advice on how to appear normal...for the sake of my babies. And as much as it hits my pride to say this; Thanks.

Awwww.

So I think it's almost a shame that I have to post anything else, because my husband says the kindest things. And I want everyone to read it, and know that it's ALL true. Like I said, I really lucked out with him.
That being said, I have to tell some more stories about how my mothering skills are really a work in progress. Riley and I seem to have conflicting opinions on her clothing. As I mentioned before, in the mornings before school, she likes to veto the outfits that I have, with careful consideration, laid out for her. This week I have realized that my go-to plan of just yelling and threatening when she discards my fashionable creations, for the tackiest, shabbiest pieces in her closet, might not be the best solution. Two mornings ago, I went into her room and woke Riley up for school. Now, I guess I really shouldn't say "woke her up", because she usually will grunt, pull the covers over her head and refuse to open her eyes until I've gone downstairs and started working on her lunch. Usually I have to yell up to her about three times to hurry up and then I know I can stop when I hear the bathroom door slam, as she's letting me know that she's getting dressed, and she's mad at me for yelling. Anyway, that morning's power-play was especially harsh. I had picked out a pair of jeans, and a shirt that is adorable. She yelled from the bathroom that she didn't want to wear that particular shirt, and I yelled back that I had already picked it out, and she really had no choice. (I'm agreeable that way). To make a long story a lot shorter, chaos ensued, and (can I use any more cliches in one sentence?) we argued for about thirty minutes; making me more and more infuriated. We had about ten minutes before we had to leave and I finally had these thoughts: "Why is this so important to me?, Is this really worth Riley crying?, If I give in, does this mean I've lost control? Or does it mean I can admit when I have taken something way to far?" Disgusted with my bi-polar disorder, I just yelled up to her, "fine, just wear what you want to. I don't care. I am done fighting about it."

(The shirt that caused all the unhappiness)
Now, let me take you back to my childhood. When I was in the fourth grade I had a pair of blue pants. These pants also had a red heart-shaped patch sewn into the butt of them, as they were purchased at a yard sale by my mom, and there was a part that was, shudder to think, "worn out" on the left butt-cheek. Now I'm not dissing on yard sales, much of my wardrobe and childhood toys were purchased at said places. But it was the patch on the butt, the one that my mom sewed on; calling it "Carebear like", that still gives me grief to this day. I remember only having about four pairs of pants total, counting the blue ones. And this made the number of times a month these pants were worn, relatively high. One day, I still remember the boy, Jared Stafford, said to me, "Rainey, what happened, did you blow the butt out of your pants?" From then on, they were SO not the pants I wanted to wear ever again. I remember crying and telling my mother that I would do anything to get rid of them. Luckily, I got to...I gave them to my younger sister, Lora. (Needless to say, my two sisters also have horror stories about these same pants).
I heard Riley coming downstairs, and I had just finished making her breakfast. I noticed that she had found a different shirt, and put it on. Regardless of just thinking of my blue pants and how I hated to wear them for the previous reasons, I told myself that I just needed to let it go. I was still pissed, but I just mumbled for her to eat her breakfast. She looked at me, and said, "Just a second". I just grunted an okay, and told her to hurry. For the next few minutes I just unloaded the dishwasher a little harder and louder than normal while I fumed until I heard Riley come back into the kitchen. I looked up and noticed she was wearing the "offensive shirt". I stopped, and looked at her, as she stared at me. She went to the toaster and grabbed the English Muffin that I had toasted for her, and sat at the table, eating as if nothing was unusual. Right then I felt like a loser. How is it that I'm the thirty year old, and she's the one that will soon turn eight? I asked her why she changed and she said, "because I just didn't want you to be mad at me." It was right then that my questions were answered. YES...I am a self-absorbed, overly shallow mother that seriously needs to re-evaluate her priorities. Especially when it comes to my daughter.
I was touched, and I was humbled. So I made a deal with her, (even though it pained me to no end). From now on, I get all fashion-say Monday through Thursday. However, Fridays are all hers. Yeah, I'm a giver. I know I'm ridiculous, but these are the things that my daughter is teaching me. I learn from her and am a better person because of her. I'm just so thankful that Riley is the way she is, because I know it can't be easy. If any of you have some sort of advice as to what I can do to avoid being so obsessive-compulsive, please, for my sweet little girl's sake, fill me in.

Rain My Love

So, this is Jeff writing about Rain. I have been thinking that Rainey writes such great things about all of us that I should turn the tables and write some stuff about her. So, I broke into her computer and into her blog (hopefully she will forgive me after she reads this) so that I could do just that. I just thought that all of her readers (growing more impressively every day) should know how the people she lives with feel about her.

Let's start with Cole. Her little Bubbers. He adores her. When he is upset and she is not around, he will go up to his room and stare out the window until she comes home. This is because no one can make him feel better (when he's not 100%) than she can. They can play together in a way that you just know how tight they are. She teases him and he gives it right back. If either of them goes to far the term "It's just a joke" get's pulled out and everything is fine between them. She gives him so much love that it breaks your heart sometimes.

Now Riley and Rainey have this push and pull that could drive an outsider nuts. They constantly struggle to maintain a balance. And yet they are so strong together. Just today Riley and I were watching a movie together and there was a princess (hello, Riley + Movies = princess) that Riley thought was really pretty. After telling me this she added " but not prettier than mommy, because no one is prettier than mommy". Right there I knew how much she loves her mom, and how much she is my daughter (because, yes it is true, no one is prettier than Rainey. That means you Angelina Jolie).

Now for my view. I would not be here if it weren't for her. I don't mean that in a "she's made me into the person I am today" kind of way (though that is so very true too. Yes I use way too many parenthesis, get used to it) I mean it in a "I would not have made it to this age if she hadn't graced me with her light" kind of way. If I had made it this far it would not have been pretty. I started my life (and my path) over when I met her. She is the most amazing person I have ever met. She is everything I could ever want in a soul mate. Everyone she meets is better off for having known her. In a previous post she mentioned that I "get her". Well she gets me. Those of you that know me know how unlikely that is. My only goal in life is to give her (and as an extension of her, the kids) whatever they need to be happy. That's not happy as in "any wish they have is granted" but happy as in "genuine happiness, feeling good about who you are and what you do". I may not be able to fulfill this but I going to give it my all, she deserves it.

I'm running out of time because she will be home soon (she is at her book club right now, and yes this is the last parenthesis). So in conclusion I would like to express my happiness that she has started this blog because it has given her a lot of confidence in her writing ability. Many of you have expressed your pleasure in reading it and I want to say thank you. I have been trying to get her to write for years and I think this blog was the boost she needed.

Keep on reading, I know I will.

~Jeff

odds and ends

Life is good. Riley just got her report card, and other than her ability to tune out everything her teacher says, she is pretty-much brilliant. Not that I'm bragging, but I am her mother. Anyhoo, things have been going well all the way around these past few days. I have just started my book club book, which is due by Friday. I haven't been very excited to get into it, because of the title: Kite Runner. The problem is the kites part. I hate kites. I loathe them. Perhaps because they frighten me, and I then I have to feel like an idiot when people laugh and say, "You're AFRAID of them? WHY?" Well, I really don't know. I'd fix it if I could. It's probably because as a kid when we would go out to fly a kite, I was so terrified of first, breaking it while trying to get it in the air, and second, letting it go because my arms just refuse to be held accountable for such a huge responsibility. (Coincidentally, one of the reasons I was afraid to have a child, as well. Thankfully, I got over it). In the book, kites haven't made a huge appearance thus far, so I'm enjoying it.
Let's see...I have had some depressing moments, too. I went to a girl's night out that my in-laws occasionally put together. Everyone was having fun teasing a couple teenage girls about their rumored love lives, and then one of them asked why we make it our business. I, to try and be funny, then said, "Because we are old and now have to live vicariously through you." I don't think that she was even listening as I said it, but it made me start to think. I will never have that time in life back in which "I think he likes you", is a phrase I live or die by. And don't get me wrong, I love my husband, and am so glad that I found him. But it just made me think about how much time in my life has passed, and how pretty much each day, circumstances are changed like that. That was a little disconcerting. On the other hand, I would never really want to go back to that time again. Knowing now that I am in fact older, fatter, and have more wrinkles is a bit of an ego blow, yes. But I'm also more confident of myself than I have ever been, and I'm actually "okay" with who I am. I like me, kinda. So in that aspect, I would never want to go back to being younger. (Obviously, I'm still crazy, whether I'm old Rainey or young Rainey. And I still find that the grass is always greener everywhere else, because of that. Also, tomorrow this could all completely change, because, refer to the "crazy" part.)
My sister-in-law is doing great with teaching Riley and her niece dance lessons. I saw a bit of their routine last night, and it was really cute. Riley, unfortunately, is looking to have my dance capabilities, in that she forgets the next move and everything is a bit less smooth than it should be. But I think with practice, she'll be so much better. Next time I might just have to record and then post her progress, because as her parent, I have total bragging rights. Good job, Amy. (I'll also record and post Cole's stuff, too...just because he's technically not taking dance classes, doesn't mean he can't shake it, occasionally).

Another example of my superior mothering skills...

Well, I tried. I wanted to create some sort of example for my children of what Easter is really about. Why we, as an LDS family, celebrate this holiday. It's not just about the transformer action figures and the Littlest Pet Shop cutesy animal thingies. It's also not only about the Reeses Peanut Butter Eggs, a fact that I do have remind myself during the frenzy of pastel colors, chocolate, and fuzzy animals that seem to line every shelf around this time of year. It's about being with family and being thankful that we have this opportunity. It's about remembering our Savior, and the sacrifice made for all. This is something that I truly believe, and is truly dear to my heart. But I'm also one of those people that take many precautions to avoid preachy individuals and situations, so I find this kind of thing hard to talk about. I want it to come across as peaceful and hopeful and graceful. Not something to be laughed about or be uncomfortable with. The gospel part of my life has really brought me so much joy, so it's a subject I'm a bit protective of.
Anyway, getting to the subject, we went to church. We really try to do this most Sundays, and sometimes we don't, just like everyone else. But I wanted the kids to get the story of Jesus's Resurrection from a source that doesn't get overly emotional or is telling them completely complex information. Sacrament went well, the kids played with the toys from the Easter Bunny and seemed quite content. True, they probably weren't listening, but our Sundays meetings are three hours long...and sometimes even I feel like I can't make it all the way through. After Sacrament meeting, I was asked to help out with Cole's class and sit in Primary with them, as well. This was how my last two hours of Church were spent. I enjoy Primary because the kids are funny, and if you listen, you really learn a lot about the people in your ward. (Note to Self: Try to remember more often that when you are talking to others, especially about others, the kids are always, most definitely listening.) I have heard stories about whose parents fight over what, whose older siblings got in trouble for doing something, and lots more that I won't mention, seemingly how I am hoping that the people that teach my children have the same decency. Being in Cole's class was a humbling experience. Not only was he all over the place, but he was loud and obnoxious, and along with all the other kids that were in Primary, he got an Easter egg. The rule was no kid could open their egg and eat the candy inside until they got home. I don't really understand why people that teach children seem to think this is a legitimate request, but, whatever.
We sat through the lesson, and I was impressed with all the little kids and their answers to questions throughout. Then it was time to go home. My kids were SO ready to get back to the baskets of candy and toys from this morning. For some reason, they can't just play in their rooms, they have to bring all their toys downstairs into the living room and spread them all around. I was in the kitchen fixing our Easter ham. (An already -cooked, spiral ham that really only had to be warmed up for forty-five minutes). It still took me longer than it should have, and caused me more stress than my regular masterpieces of various combinations of macaroni and cheese. And while I was "preparing" our meal, I listened to the kids playing. I was happy, because I heard them kind of re-creating the Resurrection with their Hasbro toys. Not that that's the special part, because it could be a little disturbing, as well. I was just impressed that their Sunday class lessons were actually heard. I listened to Riley say, "Oh no! She's dead! She's DEEEAAAADDDD!" and then Cole said, "Just have Jesus touch her, then she'll come back alive. Because Jesus can do that, right?" (This came from miracles mentioned today that Jesus had performed.) Riley agreed, and then I stopped listening, because this pre-cooked ham was NOT going to kick my butt. Later, as we were eating, we talked about what we learned in our classes and Cole and Riley both impressed us with their memory retention. I smiled and looked at Jeff, and starting telling him about how wonderful today was, and how great it was that our kids know so much...and he said, "well, did you hear what Cole said about Jesus earlier?" I smiled, still enveloped in my motherly bliss, and said, "you mean about Jesus bringing someone back from the dead?" He kind of laughed and asked if I had heard what he said after that, and I told him I was too involved in the making of the glaze for my ham. Well, Jeff then proceeded to tell me that after Cole had said what I'd heard before, he went on to say,"Or maybe I could touch her and bring her back to life. Jesus can do that, so how hard can it be?" After Jeff filled me in, I was grateful that my children weren't struck by lightening in my living room as I was making dinner. I guess I still have my work cut out for me as far as instilling my religious beliefs to my children goes. So I will continue to work on teaching them and myself. And perhaps pay more attention to what they perceive, because my selective listening skills may become their and my downfall. Wish me luck, with this short attention span, I need it.

Happy Easter!

So Happy Easter, everyone! It's early in the morning and I just went down to fill baskets, because not only do my children get super-excited for the Easter Bunny to "bring them prizes", as Cole says, but also, as blasphemous as it is, I look forward to eating my most favorite candy all year. Mini-Cadbury eggs and Reeses Peanut Butter Eggs...ahh, delicious. Every year about this time I gain ten pounds, and I enjoy each scrumptious ounce. My pants complain...but in all honesty, they pretty much always do. Tonight/this morning, however, I found a surprise left by Riley and Cole to the Easter Bunny. This year, they took matters into their own hands. Perhaps it's because I have been threatening that if they don't clean their rooms, stop fighting, stop whining, etc., that I would write a letter to said bunny and tell him/her that my children don't deserve anything this year. (Ah, I love the power that holidays give me.) But as I got all my basket-making supplies together and went downstairs, I noticed this little message from my kiddies: Can you believe that? I had told them that there probably wouldn't be a egg hunt because this year I'm sure the Easter Bunny would be really busy. Cole didn't want to be outdone by Riley, so he decided to work some magic of his own. He showed off his natural affinity for rabbits by drawing a picture of Noony. They are smart kids...even though at times their intelligence is a little annoying. I filled their baskets, and made Jeff take over the egg hiding. That way, when or if they complain about there only being two eggs each for them to find, I won't have to get offended by their lack of appreciation. Now I'm excited for them to wake up and find all their little "prizes". Also, I'm excited for Jeff to get what I got him...He's worked so hard lately and deserves something cool that he doesn't need . However, knowing him like I do, he'll probably want to take the stuff back, and then I'll get mad, and then it will be a true holiday; Steele-style. (That was my maiden name, for those of you that don't know.) So have a happy Easter and eat lots of candy. Because I am going to...and I really don't want to be the only one that gains ten pounds in the next week. So, please be unselfish, and really think about what I've asked. Peace-out, yo.

Just an update...

Okay, let me apologize for something in my last post, as I have yet again, completely stepped into it. As far as my opinion of Home-schooling goes, it is solely based on an eighth grade experience, and to be perfectly honest, I had completely forgotten that Taryn has and is being home schooled. I have never noticed Taryn or Erik to be anything but well-adjusted, smart, funny, and adorable kids. So I apologize. When I think home-schooling, I think about the twins from my eighth grade class. I didn't stop to think that what I'd be writing would be taken as mean or hurtful. Yet another example of my verbal diarrhea and lack of understanding. (The first being a comment I left on Shauna's blog about numerology....I didn't even think about it being less than nice until Jeff pointed it out. I was just confused and have no idea how that stuff works). And I want to point out I also wrote that if I had to be with my children all day, and actually have to teach them something, it would drive me crazy. My bad and I humbly ask your forgiveness.
That being said, I wanted to give you an update on my mothering skills. (Perhaps another day will be a lesson for me in tact, we shall see). I realize that last night I rambled about what a rotten mother I am. Well, not that that has changed overnight, but I do want to say that I am proud of my progress today. Riley has a speech in class today and I actually allowed her to dress herself. Admittedly, I'm a bit anal in this area of motherhood. I have this need that my children look cute all the time, that their clothes are clean, that they are matching, that they look fashionable. Also admittedly, I know that this doesn't make me sound like a good mother, but more of a shallow stage-mom that yells at her kids and puts way more pressure on them than necessary. For the record, when we are home, they can wear anything they like. When they are going somewhere, that's when I get a little obsessive. Anyhoo, I had picked out her clothes for today last night, and she changed it around on me this morning. Normally, this results in an argument, and her telling me that she doesn't like what I picked out, and me telling her that she looks fabulous and just to trust me. Being the great kid that she is, she rolls her eyes, but lets me win. Today, I was the loser. So I am showing you a picture of what she wore..remember that she'll be getting up in front of her class today to give her speech on "how to draw a shark". (Her idea, by the way, because she's just creative like that). I did give into temptation, and talked her out of her pink leopard-print headband and my black/grey/white knitted scarf, but other than that, this is her creation, completely. I figured if she's going to be up in the public eye, she should be in something that she feels is fabulous....regardless of what I think. At the end of the day, I'm sure I will be right back to calling my children "Doofus" and "Fart Face", those are staples in my affectionate vocabulary, though can be misconstrued as malicious, derogatory names. But hopefully, they will look back some days and think that I tried. Isn't that what matters? I hope so....in either case, it wouldn't be a bad idea to just start saving for major therapy sessions.