At least my laundry and ironing are (slowly but surely) getting done (kind of)

Also, I’ve been composing lots of posts in my imagination.

Like the post about everything that’s wrong with the movie “The Invention of Lying” (in spite of its clever concept and great cast,) and thoughts about lying and truth-telling in general.

Or the post about faith and the necessity for real religion for civilization to survive.

Or my criticism of the saying, “As long as someone lives on in our memory, they’ll always be with us.” Also thoughts on the problems of memory and family history-keeping in general.

Or my response to Doug Thayer’s excellent book, “The Tree House.”

Or the post about fighting my feelings of absolute futility that sometimes arise in my efforts to raise kids and run a household (as I told my sister today, “If I’ve been doing this for thirteen years and I’m not even close to succeeding, it doesn’t bode well for my ever mastering it.”)  Retorts to self: a) I’ve been sick, pregnant, or had one or more sick kids for most of those thirteen years and b) I’ve gotten better at all kinds of things in ways that are nearly invisible to me (whereas my failures are so very, very visible.)

Or a post about how the escalation of Halloween observance sometimes dampens my love for the holiday.

These are some of the things I think about while I’m trying to catch up on the laundry and ironing.

Come to think of it, I think I’ve covered most of these topics in real-life conversations over the past few days–which was pleasant for me, if not so great for my blog. In fact, I kept interrupting with my thoughts on faith and the need for real religion while Dean was trying to read aloud from Alma 42 in the Book of Mormon this evening with the kids, and at one point he read a verse and I said “Exactly!”

While I’m here, here’s a Henry story: My friend’s son is two years older than Henry. I go to her house about once a week for a Relief Society meeting, and Henry plays with her son, but a couple weeks ago after we came home, Henry said, “M. is not my friend. He say he not my friend.” I told my friend about that later and said, “I’m sure M. just said that because he’s thinking that he’s older than Henry and doesn’t normally play with him, but it kind of broke Henry’s heart, especially since most of the kids his age in our neighborhood are girls so he doesn’t have many friends that are boys.” So, the next time we saw them, Jennifer said, “Henry, M. has something to say to you.” M. said, “I’m sorry I said you’re not my friend,” and, at further prompting from his mom, “I do want to be your friend.” Henry gave him a big grin–and two thumbs up.

HenryFaces01

HenryFaces07

HenryFaces02

HenryFaces04

HenryFaces06

HenryFaces05

HenryFaces03
A few of the many faces of Henry

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This entry was posted in Me thinking about stuff, Meanwhile in the real world, My kids actually are funny (and sweet and wonderful), My kids think they're funny, Parenting. Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to At least my laundry and ironing are (slowly but surely) getting done (kind of)

  1. Stephen says:

    Oy! What a beautiful boy!

  2. Lili says:

    What a clever way to get caught up.

    And oh my cute–the story about Henry. Henry is MY friend, for sure!

  3. Mrs. Organic says:

    You need to write at least three of those out, and I hear you on Halloween.

  4. Megan says:

    You should get that software that converts speaking to text and then you could “write” your blog posts while you’re ironing.

    I like hearing stories about your Henry. My son’s name is Henry, too. One of my favorite posts was about one of your kids eating part of a block of cheese, and you said you lived with a 25 lb. mouse named Henry. I still laugh about that post because my Henry LOVES cheese too and I could see him grabbing a block of cheese and start gnawing! Fortunately, he’s still too small to open the refridgerator.

  5. Jason says:

    Darling child. Cont’d thx for blogging.

  6. Amy says:

    Our M. is Henry’s friend. Today he reported, “Henry and me and Elmo are going to my birthday party.” He made two or three other references to Henry joining him for various activities. He’s counting on it . . . so does Henry have anything booked for November 14th?

  7. the MomB says:

    Someday M. will be extra glad that he can count Henry as a friend.

    I wish there were a way to convert my mental essays directly to text. Recently I had to write a little blurb for an upcoming library brochure, not much of anything, but it sure felt good to get something down on paper. Oh, that is funny, it’s hasn’t made it to paper yet, actually–just virtual paper.

  8. American Yak says:

    Zuh — whatever ongong inadequacies you feel (which I get, as I’m not immune to feeling all kinds of such things), you are such a GOOD MOM. I love reading your Mom stories because they remind me of a good world, while I toil away in a sometimes wicked one o’er here — not that everyone is evil — just saying.

    So yeah, I get the feeling, but anyway I’m just trying to express a little bit o’ real gratitudes.

  9. Lisa says:

    Actually walked out of “The Invention of Lying” and was really disappointed in the set-up of such tripe. Satan has his paws in everything now, doesn’t he?

    Glad to see you too were discerning in what you noticed. A sister in truth. 🙂

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