Stinky's Recital

With friends Chloe and Gwenevere.  They were tired and I'd just said "Ballet Boogers!" 

Stinky has been in dance classes since January.  They have helped with his focus, and given him an outlet for his extroverted energy. The discipline of listening to his instructor without a parent in the room has been good for him, too and I hope those skills will carry over into kindergarten.  The classes culminated in a recital this fall, performing the story of The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Stinky's class was the shoes, who danced for the shoemaker's apprentices.  The children were paired in matching costumes, but Stinky the only other boy in the class didn't get along (because the boy's sister liked Stinky , we were told, and the brother wasn't having it.  Matter of honor and all).  So each boy was paired with one of the class assistants.  

with Miss Magdalene. 

When costumes were handed out, he loved his shirt.  He said he felt like a prince.  I thought he might have a problem with the tights, but once we wrestled them on, he wiggled his bum and said "Oooh,  I love them!  They're so comfy, I want to wear them everyday!"   That's a negative, good buddy. 

Dress rehearsal was concerning.  Stinky and the other boy in class got into a shoving match during their part, and everyone was a little antsy.  He was directed to the men's dressing room, but as soon as he opened the door, he slammed it shut, and said "He needs some privacy!"  and we went to the greenroom instead.   We left him there with several "hands to yourself!" talks, and worried until the performance. 

We were grateful (if a little surprised) when the kid nailed it- keeping focus, keeping his knees high, and doing all the steps just right.  I think the way he skipped was our favorite, as his bird legs looked pretty adorable as he danced around his partner.  

We'll continue in dance after the summer- we're excited to see him learn more, though WBH is less excited about the tights.  

A Mormon Family at Pride: a follow up

So, the last time I had 400 hits in twelve hours on a single blog post was never, ever ago, and I'm grateful and surprised and experiencing a lot of other feelings about it.  Thank you to those who commented here, on Facebook, and Twitter, and those who shared this post.  Thank you to those who shared feelings with me in private messages.  I am honored that you shared feelings with me that are so personal and still fragile.  I especially want to say thank you to those who have a different opinion politically, but expressed that they appreciated the love that our family wanted to share.  It means so much to my family to have that recognized.

Tomorrow I'll be back to sharing my crafts and our family life (including why my son loves tights, which oddly enough, is completely unrelated to the Pride Parade), but I can't leave this topic without sharing one of my favorite moments of the day.

The sign on the other side of our stroller read "God loves ALL His children," quoting Dieter F. Uchtdorf, one of the members in our church presidency.    One of the people walking with us said it looked like a covered wagon, which was kind of accidentally appropriate to our group.  After the parade, on our way back to the train, we met with a group of protesters.  I will say that to their credit, the signs I saw didn't use the same crass language as groups like Westboro Baptist- but they weren't a whole lot better.  There was a lot of yelling going on between the groups.  My husband- I LOVE that man- took our sign proclaiming that love right into the middle of that group.  Taking advantage of his height, he stood behind the short protestor and held the sign above his head.  Cue my heart swelling with pride for the man I married, for his nerve, and the way he shared what we know is right.  I LOVE that man.

The experiences we had this day- the hugs, the people who high-fived my kid, who physically embraced us at the parade, and with words after, are ones we treasure.  We know that our opinions may differ from yours, but we hope that you will see the message of love that motivates us, that brought us there.

Tomorrow- more about my boy tights.

A Mormon Family at the Pride Parade

We had talked to him the day before about where we were going and why.  We explained that we were going there to show people that we loved them- even though people could be mean, hurtful, or say they're not as good as other people, we would show them that we loved them and wanted to support them.  That night he prayed that the "parade people" would feel our love and not feel bad anymore.  It probably shouldn't have surprised me then, when he woke, and seeing the signs I made to take to Seattle's Pride Parade with us, he took to his craft table and returned with a sign he had made, all on his own:  "I [love} u."

That was the message our family went to Seattle to share- that while we know that people of our faith have hurt people in the LGBTQ community, our family will not do so- and we will speak up when others do.  Though we were nervous about the reception we would receive our presence was greeted with a mix of cheers, surprise, and at worst, silence.  When people expressed their gratitude to us, it was very emotional- we were here to try to mend hurt feelings, and I was grateful for their welcoming attitude-  but I found myself crying twice while walking- once, when meeting a friend who was moved beyond words to see us there.  The other time, a woman watching the parade saw Stinky's sign said to me "This will be a strong man someday.  You're doing it right, Mom."   

The LDS involvement in Pride Parades across the country has brought up a lot of discussion in our home.  We talked about whether or not we would go, whether we would bring the kids, what our signs would say.  We prayed, a lot.  Last Sunday at church, we sang the hymn "Lord, I would Follow Thee"  These lyrics in particular stuck out to me, as we were making our decision:  

I would be my brothers' keeper, 

I would learn the healer's art. 

To the wounded and the weary, 

I would show a Gentle heart... 

During this hymn, I remembered being a child singing the words of the Carol Lynn Pearson's Primary song "If you don't talk as most people do, some people talk and laugh at you, but I won't!  I wont!  I'll walk with you, I'll talk with you, that's how I'll show my love for you."  I remembered standing in Young Women's, saying that I would strive to live the value of Integrity. I thought about our reasons for not going, and I felt like a coward.  Then, the hymn continued "Who am I to judge another, when I walk imperfectly?"  and I knew that our family would be walking in the parade.  

It was an incredible experience-  and one that I am so grateful we had as a family.   Thank you to those who organized our group, and those who welcomed us.  This is a day we'll remember (if you'll pardon the pun) with pride.

InstaFriday 6.15.12

Lots of food shots this week- We did Bountiful Baskets, and I'm now a total kale convert (and so is Stinky, so far).

1.  Sunday Dinner- Salad Man, tortellini and kale soup, and no-knead bread with roasted garlic.  

2.  The boys put together Salad Man for dinner- Stinky mostly, but Rotten helped rip lettuce.  When we mixed the salad just before dinner, Stinky  got dramatic, yelling "No, you're killing me!  What a way to go!"  

3. A very green dinner.  Lettuce and spinach salad with green apples and kale pesto pasta with chicken.  Like I said, kale convert. 

4.  A work-in-progress dress I've since completed.  

5.  Stinky set up a picnic for the boys in the back room- string cheese and fruit snacks on a box. 

6- A Father's Day tradition of matching ties with fabrics picked by the boys- Avengers!

100 words or less: More awesome stuff.

I am writing this, in bed before midnight for the second night in a row. I have discovered that since turning thirty, I can no longer function as a human on four hours of sleep anymore. The following day is always regrettable. This inevitable discovery has me a little on edge, feeling like Belle singing " I want adventure in the great wide somewhere," but possibly more accurately and simply put, I want to do more awesome stuff. I want to shake myself up a little. It leaves me feeling excited and unsure.

Losing babyhood

Sometimes, changes creep up on me, and sometimes they shock me with how sudden they are.  Sometimes, they manage to do both.    Sometime in the last week, a little brother who has so devotedly called after his  "Aid-ee" has started asking for his Aidan.  It hurts my heart, a little, hearing the grown-up changes to his speech, as I want to hold on to his baby-ness just a little while longer.  Then, the moments where he can hold snippets of conversation- about what he did at church, what we saw at the zoo- take away the sting of losing babyhood by shining a light on the sweetness of 'kid.'