The Gold Girls

Mom’s Search For Meaning

I spend about 83.2% of my time looking for stuff.

And, no, this is NO exaggeration.

There are things that just have to be found: the best deal at the stores, shoes, pacifiers, whatever it is that is causing that stench under the back seat of my minivan. (and boy that’s a squeeze for these hips that have birthed four children). Ticks. (We’ve got a lot of those in the South) Where is that darn coupon? I filed it right here! Oh, and the library books…oh those library books. They never go away, except when they are due and can’t be renewed.

The list goes on. Which can of tomato soup is the oldest? Where in the world is that bill that needs to be paid. (He didn’t follow the system of what basket it goes in…you ladies know what I am talking about.) “Oh, yes, kids, I know exactly where that missing game piece is.”

There are the more complex things to look for. The homework that somehow didn’t make it back in the backpack. The bra with just the right amount of padding for a ten year old. The stuff at the pharmacy that will magically cure my husband of his snore before he goes to Scout Camp.

The other night brought a fun challenge. “Mom, do you remember that paper that my teacher sent home on the first day of school? It has my log in and password for the website on it. I need it. My teacher says it will be a pain to look up my number. He can look it up if you can’t find the paper, but it will be a pain.” (Um, what about me here? Seriously? Are you kidding me? That was what? 5, 6 weeks ago?) “Yes honey, I would love to spend the next 1/2 hour searching. It’s my favorite thing to do. You know I love to find things.” Lucky for me I keep most papers that look remotely important. Unlucky for me, we had put this paper in the girls keepsake tote not my pile to be filed. There went another hour to tack onto my fake time clock. Man, if I could just punch in and out. I would ask for minimum wage. No one could afford to pay me a higher salary.

Then there are the most important Mom searches. The ones with meaning. Are those lying eyes? What does that smirk on his face mean? Is that a tear rolling down my daughter’s cheek? Or is that not a tear when there should be one? Where is she hiding and why is she hiding? Why is this one crying and the other one hiding?

How about the searches we like to avoid? Am I doing a good enough job here? Have I got through to my children in the areas of the utmost importance? Do they know I love them? Do they know they are of infinite worth? Do they know that they can accomplish their goals? Do they have goals? Do they believe in what is right? Have I been a good example? Do my kids know I would do anything for them? That I will always be here for them? Will they tell me when they are in trouble?

I love it when the searches are for fun random items. Just this week, I have looked for light sabers at least 20 times. They needed them to read their library books before bed.

Trust me when I say we can do this all night.

Once in a lifetime, as a mother, you find the best find ever. The other night it came out of Sophia’s journal. It would have been so much sweeter if I hadn’t just got onto the girls about keeping track of their “own crap” (in my exact words). It may not have meant as much if my frustration hadn’t mounted.

If you can’t read the photo, it says:
“My hero is: mommy. Because: she can find anything.”

Needless to say, I think I will be spending that 83.2% of my time with a smile on my face and love in my heart. I’m a hero now. It makes my searching so much more enjoyable.

Now, I am off to find the baby. Where did I leave her?
Oh, and the cat. Can’t lock up without her inside.

I think I named her perfectly.

The name Sophia means wise. My 2nd daughter seemed wise to me from the moment I laid eyes on her. She is so innocent, she exudes wisdom without even trying.

Here is one of her recent stories. I found it jotted down on a folded up piece of paper. She loves to draw and write. I hope she grows up to be a famous author/illustrator. Or a non-famous one. Either way she’ll be o.k. with it. Keep reading and you will see why.

On the top fold of this little homemade book it has the book’s title: “The Small Prisus.” That’s “The Small Princess” for those of you that don’t speak childrenese. O.k. I admit it, maybe her wisdom could be spread to the spelling department someday. (Oh I better not forget to spellcheck this post)

Here is the story:

“Once upon a time there was a prisus (at least she misspells consistently) in a
far away kingdom Pompae. (She got the place from The Magic Treehouse, I am sure) She had a small kingdom.”

And the last line….the clencher.

“She was o.k. with that.”

Don’t you wish we could all be so wise?

God’s Love

Back on the 4th of July, I experienced a mothering moment that helped me comprehend the love of God.

We were at a friend’s house and sparklers were passed around to all of the kids. Many of us adults were sitting several yards away on the porch just chatting and enjoying our food.
My mother in law was holding our new baby Caroline, yet amazingly enough, still watching over our older kids with sparklers better than I was hands free. She said, “Alice, you better go and check on Bella. I think something is wrong.”
I sauntered over only to discover Bella with one shoe off sitting on the ground holding her big toe apart from the one right next to it. As long as I live, the smell of her burning flesh will never leave me. A remnant of her sparkler had fallen into the hole of her croc. and melted away her flesh. A few days later, when I was worried infection might be spreading, I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me that she had third degree burns.
And for inquiring minds, we were prescribed some good burn ointment and figured out how to wedge gauze between the toes so that the air could get to the wound and she is now as good as new.
Back to the story. Finding Bella suffering from this burn was very disheartening to me. I was so upset that I hadn’t noticed her jump around in pain. I was saddened the she didn’t cry out for help. I was compassioned that she was sitting in a state of shock and doing a mighty fine job of “being tough”. The girl didn’t even cry until I told her it was o.k.
The next day, on our way to church, I was expressing my feelings to LG. “Why didn’t she scream?”, I lamented. I felt horrible that somehow I had taught my child to be too tough and that for some reason I had not given her permission to hurt or to scream out for help when she needed it the most.
A little further down the road to church, it struck me like a ton of bricks. I could not hold back my emotion. I sat silently as tears streamed down my face. I had experienced for my child what God must experience so often for all of his children. I am sure at times he also laments, “Why don’t they scream?”
Because of the feelings I experienced while pondering upon Bella, I know that God, our Father, is there to help us. He doesn’t want us to suffer alone. He is a perfect God, and unlike this sometimes oblivious mother, he notices every time we get burned. We may not approach him because we think it is hopeless or that we aren’t worthy of his love. (Just as Bella never screamed out because maybe she thought she would be in trouble) But, as his children, we are always worthy of his love. He cannot stop loving us no matter how badly we have acted. Sometimes we may even think we did something wrong when really we haven’t. Sometimes maybe somebody else handed us a sparkler and we took it without realizing what damage it could do.
We may not seek his help because we think we are tough and that we can handle it, which may very well be true. But, why do we insist on doing it alone when he is watching over us so diligently? He is the ultimate water source. He is like the soothing jacuzzi pictured above. And when we fail to seek him, it’s as if we choose the pathetic path of spitting upon our own wounds, when he can pour out the most refreshing waterfall. Need I remind you that his waterfall is naturally flowing all of the time and is there whether we tap into it or not.
Bella was being tough; she didn’t think that she needed my help. Without totally realizing the severity of the burns at the time, I grabbed Bella by the hand and walked over to a water source. I kick myself now when I think that I made her limp over and I didn’t pick her up and carry her to safety.
God is perfect. He can pick us up. He will let us limp only if it is absolutley necessary for us to learn something. Otherwise he will always carry us to safety. I know this to be true.
I hope that I will never error again by being too tough for God. Because after this experience, I have learned that when I am too tough, he has to sit back and watch me suffer, and that is the last thing he wants to do. I know it. I know it because I would take a million burns over my own body, until my death if necesssary, than to ever smell the burning flesh of my own child ever again. Or if she absolutely has to experience that burn, I at LEAST want to hold her up while she does.

Jeremiah 31:3 “…I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore
with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.”

It’s all how you look at it.

Caroline is 4 weeks already. I can’t believe it.

Here was my mommy conversation with my 7 year old the other day.

Sophia: “Mom, Caroline is so so smart.”

Me: “I know, all my girls are smart. Why do you think she is smart?”

Sophia: “Oh it’s so easy. She already learned how to cross her eyes. It took me forever to learn how to do that.”

All of my older girls have been in heaven for the past week while Uncle Jordan’s family has been visiting. There is a younger kid around for each of them to have one to themselves at all times.

I love America

A while back the Reader’s Digest was all about what we love about America. The issue included a contest to see who could capture in six words the heart of why we love America.

I can only remember one of the winning entries. I guess it was the one that resonated with me the most.

America: everyone I love lives here.

We have several very loved family members and friends out of the country. But truly the ones I love the most are right here with me in the walls of the home photographed above.

Although there are so many awe-inspiring things to love about my country like freedom, justice, the pursuit of happiness, the American dream, and the Grand Canyon, I am not embarrassed to say that I think I love my family even more.

Yes, I would love my country without them, but the Americans in my own household are what I truly love most about America.

What’s not to love?

O.k. I admit it.

I cried when I watched this with my kids on Saturday.

LG made fun of me during Sunday School yesterday

while he explained that just because one has emotion

it doesn’t mean that they are feeling The Spirit.

I would like to make an argument that it could have been

The Spirit

and not just my well of tears that we call mother’s emotion.

Galations 5:22-23

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.

I was feeling love for Michael Jackson.

I was feeling joy in knowing that back in the day,

all those artists gave to the greater good.

I was feeling peace, thinking back on simpler times we called the 80’s.

I was feeling longsuffering because let’s face it, that diamond studded glove can really make one suffer in pain wondering what’s the point.

I was feeling gentleness as I explained for the 20th time how amazing was the phenomenon of We Are The World.

How can one not feel faith at the lyrics:

“As God has shown us, by turning loaf to bread.”

Especially when the voice singing is Willie Nelson?

And now I am tired and don’t want to think too hard of meekness or temperance.

But, I am sure that I could come up with something.

If I knew that I was going to have to defend my tears

in Sunday School next week.

Consider this a warning for ratting me out LG.

Cheap Entertainment
Yep, us and our girls, we were all still partying last night.

There was none of this.

Or this.

Or this.


There was only this.

Thank you
Grandma and Grandpa Gold.

We love your music.
It’s as if you saved the collection just for us.
Because you knew we wouldn’t be able to
afford to go to Chuck E. Cheese.
Because those tokens are a whole lot more than $1.89!
This one was one of the night’s favorites.
When the girls stopped dancing and started
dressing up like mom, the party suddenly came to a close.
I have no idea why.
I thought Abigail did a great job of imitating me.
Here she is taking pictures for the blog.

Bella was really the most accurate though.
I spend all my time in my robe and baseball cap.


We can’t wait for Sunday.

Tomorrow night, I am pulling out the piano music of
“We Are The World”.
And we will move on to a new decade.
The one owned by the late Michael Jackson.

He’s an adjective.
He’s doting
Me: “C’mon girls, help me come up with adjectives for dad.”
Girls: “O.k.”
Abigail says, “Ooo ooo, I got it. Ah man, the word is on the tip of my tongue.”
Me: “What does the word describe?”
Abigail: “You know, stuffing your face with hotdogs.”
Me: “Gluttonous”
Abigail: “What does gluttonous mean?”
Me: (referring to the dictionary)
“One who eats too much.”
Abigail: “Yeah, that’s the word.”
I was thinking more along the lines of outdoorsy,
but I guess gluttonous will do.
(Thanks for all the campfires LG…
and the hotdogs)

Abigail: “Electronic – ee”


Sophia says “Happy”


Sophia says, “Sporty”
How about retired? (from coaching that is)
This man has seen enough pink soccer balls to last a lifetime.
Abigail says, “Seriously.”

Bella: “Too much cents.”
Or maybe she meant “too much sense.”
Either works.

Abigail says, “Like father, like daughter.”
(You have to understand that Bella is the chip connoisseur at our house)


Bella: “Love- ish”
Me: “You mean loving?”
Bella: “Yeah.”

Metrosexual.
(The kids all look at me in awe because I just said the word sex)
Beachy?
Sophia agrees.


Engaged.
(The kids are losing interest in my game)

Interested.
Abigail wants to prove that she isn’t losing interest.
She says that this should be
“O.k. Bella, o.k., I heard you the first time.”

Abigail says, “Freakishly weird.”
I was thinking more along the lines of
Cooperative.


He’s the leader, but that’s not an adjective.

How about trusted?

Tender.


Abigail says, “Focused.”
Accurate.


Cuddly.

Picture perfect.
This one is for Cally because she said that Conan was perfect
and I don’t want LG to be outdone.


I say sensitive.
Abigail says “Sensitive Four Eyes.”


Abigail says, “French…or not.”
“His name is French.”
She must be listening.
How many times have I said it?
“His name is LeGrand, it’s French, it means The Big.”
Or the best interpretation: “The Big and the Mighty.”


And lastly,
Completely unique, never to be duplicated, and certainly not cloned.

I love you LeGrand.
Words just don’t do justice in telling how wonderful you are as a father.
Apparently, pictures don’t do it either.
Sorry.
Next year I’ll try to be as sweet as Cally.
This year it’s just a good thing I finally finished this post after a week.
I love love love love LOVE you!
Happy Belated Father’s Day.

Introducing Caroline Grace
The song has been running through my mind for aproximately 3 hours straight.
Sweet Caroline.
Go ahead…add the duhn, duh, du…you know you want to.
Hello Grammy.

Where am I?

I’m hungry.

Still hungry.

Please mom, don’t put me on the blog.
Fine then, here’s a good one for you.

Hello Dad.

Hello Abigail.

Hello Bella.
Hello Sophia.

Hello Simba.

And hello to my favorite bad hair day ever.