Story In a Jar: Bedtime Stories

Q: Do you remember having a favorite nursery rhyme or bedtime story? What was it?

A: We had an old, hand-me-down, avocado green sofa in our living room, and some of my earliest memories are of curling up next to my mom with my brother on her other side while she read to us before bed. It was during these story times that she introduced us to books such as The Chronicles of Narnia, Little House On the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, Pippi Longstockings, and The Boxcar Children. I have no doubt that my ongoing love/obsession of reading originated on that green couch listening to my mom's voice.

Some nights we had a special treat when my dad was home and would tell us stories from his experiences while serving as a missionary in Argentina for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He had only been a member of the Church for a short time before leaving home and essentially paving his own way to live as a full-time missionary. I didn't understand the sacrifices he made until much later. At that time, I mostly appreciated it for the stories he told which I never tired of hearing.

Fast forward to my own parenting years, and a favorite children's book of mine remains Goodnight Moon. I recall growing up with that one as well, but I particularly liked reading it to my kids when they were little. One reason, I'm sure, was that it's short enough that after a long, tiring day you can get through it without expending too much energy. But more than that, there is something soothing about the simple sentences and engaging and repetitive artwork.

Story In a Jar: Hanging Out

Q: Did you and your friends have a special hang-out where you liked to spend time?

Short Answer: Not really.

Long Answer: The house we lived in through most of my elementary school years had an incredible tree house. I haven't seen it as an adult, so who knows if my memory of the fort's awesomeness is accurate, but as a kid it was a sanctuary. In the far end of our backyard was a stand of old trees, and the tree house sat high in between them. I couldn't tell you it's dimensions, perhaps about 5 or 6 feet square. Under the tree house was an open platform on the ground level. The way into the main house was through a hatch in the floor. I don't know why we didn't have a ladder. We would jump up and grab the floor through the hole and then loop our legs up and pull ourselves in. We would get out in reverse fashion, or if we were brave we could exit a window that led to a porch-like ledge wrapping around two sides of the fort. From there we could jump to the ground, feet tingling and adrenaline pumping. 

The tree house was really only a square box, but it gave us a place to play rain or shine, which was pretty handy in Oregon. Before we moved in someone had painted a dalmatian mural on one wall, which we decided to improve upon one day only to make an ugly mess. But that was okay, because this was a place to make our own. We didn't have any furniture or other comforts, but that didn't stop us from feeling right at home.

A few memories stand out from my years playing in the tree fort.

1) One wintry day, my brother and I brilliantly decided to try ice skating on the little goldfish pond in our front yard. It didn't go well. As we stood in the cold, shin-deep water, we decided it would be better to go hide in the fort rather than let our mom see the evidence of our sopping shoes and pants. We huddled out there shivering until our mom called for us. I don't know how we expected to dry out in the cold, which we obviously did not, and now we had to explain both the reason for our wet clothes and why we were hiding in the fort. Not our brightest hour.

2) I received a gift of a makeup set, consisting mainly of intense blue eye shadow. This was the '80s, so you can imagine the shade. My friend came over to play one day and we proudly and masterfully applied the eye shadow, being sure to completely cover our lids from lash to brow. Because, you know, that's how it's done. Afterward, we went out back to spend some time in the tree fort. A couple of boys who lived in the house behind ours could see us through the fort window and came running over. Up close, they breathed a sigh of relief. "We wondered how you had gotten black eyes," they admitted, and we all had a good laugh.

3) There was a period of time when we steered clear of the vicinity of the fort simply because it stank. An opossum had wandered under the lower platform to die, and we didn't know how to remove its rotting corpse. Ewww! We basically waited out its decomposition and went back to playing once it passed the cautiously administered smell test.

4) Our backyard bordered several other homes where kids around our ages lived. We spent lots of hours with those kids, mostly in our yard. A neighbor boy was about a year older than me, and one day up in the tree house he got kind of quiet. Out of the blue, he signed the words, "I love you." Very sweet, but I was awkward and silently stood there. He continued by saying, "Do," followed by the signs for, "you love me?" Have I mentioned I was awkward? I just replied, "No," and watched him deflate. And that was the extent of my tree house romances.

Story In a Jar: Chores

Q: Was there a chore you really hated doing as a child?

A: Do kids ever like chores? I suppose perhaps once in a while. Morgan enjoys organizing things. Aiden likes doing projects with Jeremy. But the day in, day out home maintenance jobs? Not so much! 

I have a default toward lazy, so even doing chores as a grown up isn't my most favorite thing. Some things I procrastinate until they can't be ignored. One of those is dusting.

It seemed like I was always in charge of dusting when I was a kid, and because my mom was religious about getting it done every week it was hard to really see much difference between the before and after. The worst part about it, though, was moving all the knickknacks, dusting each one, and then putting them back. So, so tedious.

When I stayed home with my kids, the dusting got done more regularly than it does these days. I try to not completely neglect it, and I truly do appreciate a clean and tidy home, but it's usually near the bottom of the ever-growing to do list.

Reads of 2017

• Into the Bright Unknown by Rae Carson

• Out of the Easy by Ruta Sepetys

• Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis

• The Bitter Kingdom by Rae Carson

• The Heretic's Daughter by Kathleen Kent

• Lark Rise by Flora Thompson

• The Neverending Story by Michael Ende

• The Crown of Embers by Rae Carson

• The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings by Edgar Allan Poe

• The God Who Weeps by Fiona and Terryl Givens

• The Orphan Keeper by Camron Wright

• Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly

• Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys

• The Zookeeper's Wife by Diane Ackerman

• The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson

• Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

• Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell

• Soldier Boy by Keely Hutton

• Believing Christ by Stephen E. Robinson

• The Actor and the Housewife by Shannon Hale

• Lady of Quality by Georgette Heyer

• Windfall by Jennifer E. Smith

• The Book of Mormon

• Champion by Marie Lu

• Prodigy by Marie Lu

• Legend by Marie Lu

• A Night Divided by Jennifer A. Nielsen

• Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell

• The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu

• The Book of Mormon

• I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

• Call the Midwife: Farewell to the East End by Jennifer Worth

• Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou

• Eve and the Choice Made in Eden by Beverly Campbell

• Call the Midwife: Shadows of the Workhouse by Jennifer Worth

• Frederica by Georgette Heyer

• The Story of My Life by Helen Keller

• Amazing Grace by Eric Metaxas

• Old Testament

Reads of 2018

• The Book of Mormon

• All the Ever Afters by Danielle Teller

• The Ragged Edge of Night by Olivia Hawker

• Agatha Raisin and the Potted Gardener by MC Beaton

• Dragonwatch by Brandon Mull

• Agatha Raisin and the Vicious Vet by MC Beaton

• A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park

• Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

• One by One by David A Bednar

• The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown

• Heir to Edenbrook by Julianne Donaldson

• Flat Broke with Two Goats by Jennifer McGaha

• Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson

• The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba

• The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

• The Girl in the Tower by Katherine Arden

• Agatha Raisin and the Quiche of Death by MC Beaton

• The Dressmaker of Khair Khana by Gayle Tzemach Lemmon and Sarah Zimmerman

• The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin

• Outcasts United by Warren St. John

• The Lady in Gold by Anne-Marie O'Connor

• Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick

• The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest by Melanie Dickerson

• Starflight by Melissa Landers

• The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd

• The Element by Ken Robinson, PhD

• Wrath of the Storm by Jennifer A. Nielsen

• Rise of the Wolf by Jennifer A. Nielsen

• The Self-Driven Child by William Strixrud, PhD, and Ned Johnson

• The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by Jan-Philipp Sendker

• Elmet by Fiona Mozley

• Fish in a Tree by Lynda Mullaly Hunt

• The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson

• The Librarian of Auschwitz by Antonio Iturbe

• Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

• The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden

• Mark of the Thief by Jennifer A. Nielsen

Origins and Inspiration

Sleigh bells. Candy canes. Angels. Manger scenes. Stockings. Santa Claus. Reindeer. All the trappings for a perfect holiday season. Except at our house we needed something more.

Last Christmas the kids came home from school with the typical array of decorations and colored pages. Then Aiden presented me with a delicious surprise. At first glance I saw a standard reindeer with handprint antlers. Another clever use of kindergarten-sized mitts. Then I noticed the reindeer’s expression. Rather than a jolly, “merry Christmas” style grin, I was faced with severe eyebrows, a down-turned mouth, and rather ferocious teeth. It fairly growled at me.

I laughed. “Why is your reindeer so angry?” I asked.

Aiden looked at it and said, “He’s evil.” No further explanation.

But now I had an evil reindeer on my hands. I couldn’t have imagined a more thorough contradiction to everything Christmas represents. I guess if you think about it, a reindeer could have plenty to be angry about during this time of year. I’d be pretty grumpy, too, if I had a worldwide trip ahead of me with no allowances for nasty weather and nothing to keep my toes warm on snowy rooftops.

I doubt Aiden put that much thought into the “why” of his angry reindeer, but the mere contradiction completely hit my funny bone. The evil, angry reindeer promptly found a spot on the refrigerator door, where it remained long after the other Christmas decorations had returned to their boxes. I just didn’t have the heart to take it down because it came to represent several things for me. It served as a reminder of how my kids brighten my days. How their views of the world make me smile. How each member of our family is individual and creative and inspiring. How I can find joy in the smallest moments. How love can grow sometimes imperceptibly and sometimes by leaps and bounds so my heart feels like it will burst.

Eventually I did remove the angry reindeer from its place of honor on the refrigerator. Mostly I was afraid it would get ruined if left there too long. It needed to be preserved in the safety of the filing cabinet. But every so often I will open the reindeer’s secluded drawer just to put that smile back on my face, to remember that life can be unexpected and inexplicable and maybe even a little bit wicked but wonderful just the same.