Any Given Sunday

At first blush, yesterday looked like it would be any given Sunday, but at the end of the day, it was pretty darn memorable.

Church: I'm one of the teachers that rotates every third Sunday to "teach" Johnny's 3-year old Sunday School class. Teaching three year-olds basically involves reading a Bible-themed story, doing a craft, and singing with Miss Beth. Yesterday, it involved chaos control as every one of the boys in the class had major separation issues and cried most of the time. Yesterday's lesson involved Joshua and Jericho and a wall, and trumpets and tearing down the wall and all that. As suggested by the 'Class Pak,' I brought in blocks and noisemakers so the kids could build a wall, march around the wall making noise, and then--the best part of all--knock down the wall. Worked like a charm. We're into music in my family and we have lots of instruments around the house. Two guitars, a piano, four penny whistles, a flute, lots of drums, a couple of harmonicas, a zither, lots of maracas, egg shakers, etc. etc. etc. I picked through our music basket and put about 15 noise-making instruments in a bag and threw our cardboard life-sized bricks/blocks in the bag for the lesson.

There's something about seeing toys from your own home in another setting that young children really dig. I've seen it at the cooking class with Johnny when he asks, "Mommy, is that our blenduh? Is that our wooden spoon? Is that our stainless steel bowl?" "Yes, yes, and yes." He just beams, and seeing that makes me beam. Yesterday at church, Johnny and Grace (she joined our class) got a real bang out of sharing their musical instruments and blocks with the other kids in the class. And have you ever met a kid that doesn't like to shake a maraca and knock down a block tower all at the same time? Yesterday's Sunday School class was a big, big hit. The rate of return far exceeded the effort of investment.

To top it off, Paula Spencer said hi and called me by name, and since I'd just finished reading her really good and highly recommended book Momfidence, (I found it!) it felt like a celebrity recognizing me. And then to top it off with a cherry, I got something out of the sermon that was about hope in the face of disappointment and all that.

Raking Leaves: I was going to go running while David raked the leaves with the kids, but seeing just how much fun they were having (the kids, not David), I decided to join them. The ground was damp and cold, but that didn't deter Johnny and Grace from frolicking full on in the leaf piles David raked up. Then Johnny found the mud. Like little piglets, neither could resist getting their hands, (and feet, and arms, and legs, and face, and tummies) deliciously feelthy. They both came running after me with muddy hands and my shrieks, "No! No! Don't touch me," only made them laugh and try even harder. I had on scrubs and sweats and instantly made the mental switch from don't-you-dare-touch-me-with-those-muddy-hands-and-I-MEAN-it! to don't-you-dare-touch-me-with-those-muddy-hands-with-a-twinkle-in-my-eye.

I let them get me. I let them bury me in leaves, head to toe, and wipe their muddy paws all over me. I let them take most of their clothes off and paint themselves silly with mud. We pretended like we were puppies digging through the leaves, just wide-eyed and laughing the whole time. I climbed a tree and acted scared of coming down. If you ever want to know what kind of messages you're giving your children, try switching gears and be the one who's afraid. They will say to you exactly what you've said to them. Grace and Johnny offered me their hands, and their hearts. They said, "It's ok, Mommy. You can do it. Use your courage. I'm proud of you." I got down from the tree and then decided it was time to start making a little fort out of cut bamboo (that we have in abundance in our yard) and the trees that make a perfect triangle in our yard. An hour gone by at least, David was almost finished raking, and it turns out, we needed his help to cut the bamboo even more. Johnny, Grace and I got started on our "A-Stand" fort but decided to call it quits, for now. It was time to clean up so I could put on my fancy clothes and get ready for the Elizabeth Edwards reading. As we padded through our hall to the bathroom, I thought about Paula Spencer and all the chaos and fun she and her family has. Reading her book made me feel ok with our chaotic, carpet stained house--lucky even--because the juice stains, markings on the wall, stuff everywhere, means there are kids around, and kids make me happy, and even though during the trying phases of mothering I often tell myself, "This too shall pass," I also know that that phrase applies to all the fun stuff too and that before I know it, my kids won't be begging to jump in leaves with me anymore.

Elizabeth Edwards: Even though I love getting dirty with kids, I also like putting on new dresses, precisely applied make-up and fixing my hair. Elizabeth Edwards spoke at the Siena Hotel last evening for an Orange County Literacy Council benefit, and the whole experience completely exceeded my expectations. All of the good things you've heard and read about Elizabeth Edwards are true: She's smart, funny, charming, wise, warm, and extrememly down to earth. She told us of a Senators' wives luncheon for Laura Bush that was part of a "work day," but that she showed up in overalls when everyone else had on expensive suits, some with sequined collars. She talked about being at UNC in the 70's and protesting the Vietnam War and feeling like she had to do something and then feeling part of a bigger crowd and how that connection and feeling a part carried with her when she found an on-line grief support group when her teenaged son Wade was killed, and then the universal sisterhood that she feels with women who have or have had breast cancer. She talked about at one point thinking that the most important thing she could pass on to her children was the idea that "anything is possible," but the terrifying reality of those three words. She talked about the unlikely and the likely pockets of support she's found throughout her life--the connections she's made--from her hairdresser, to her mailman, political figures, and how it's important to build bridges before you need them. She answered questions candidly and honestly and didn't tell the audience necessarily what she knew they were hoping to hear. She encouraged us to speak of those we've lost to each other--even if it's been ten years since your roommate's dad died--that not talking about the person who is gone is actually harder than remembering that s/he is not here. She talked about a lot of things and hit on so many levels and was just as gracious with her time as she could be. I was really impressed with her, as the entire audience seemed to be, and when I read what she wrote to me in her book Saving Graces, thanking me for being generous with my gifts, and about blessings and loss, I remembered that earlier today Johnny asked me what a "blessing was."

Today was a blessing.