Doing Good

In church on Sunday (or maybe a couple a Sundays ago) we sang, "Have I Done Any Good?"  I learned this song in Primary and just laaaaaa-hove it.  Let's sing it together!  You can sing it in your head if you want.

Have I done any good in the world today?
Have I helped any one in need?
Have I cheered up the sad?
Or made someone feel glad?
If not, I have failed indeed.

Has anyone's burden been lighter today
Because I was willing to share?
Have the sick and the weary been helped on their way?
When they needed my help was I there

Then waaaaaaaaaake UP(!) and do something more
Than dream of your mansion above.
Doing good is a pleasure, 
a joy beyond measure
A blessing of duty and love. 

I added a little emphasis there on the chorus.  What?  That's how I sing it.  I normally straighten my posture right there too.  Right there on the "up" I just like to pop up.  I've been humming this song around the house.  There's been a lot of do-goodery towards me lately.

Lets start with my neighbor, Cloyd.  Cloyd lives all by himself and has Fallow Deer and a tractor.  (Just wanted to throw it in about the deer. They are unrelated to this story.)  Any time it snowed this year and he saw me out there breaking my back and sweating through my parka trying to shovel... he fired up the tractor.  Rolled down to my house and plowed the driveway in five minutes.  And he'd salute me and Kole then drive on home.

Another woman, Ruth, brought me warm bread.  She baked bread!  From... what?... yeast?  And flour!  And love.  Cheesy but true.

Then, a couple days ago on Facebook, I put that I wasn't ready for the day...the Kenster took the car... and I could really use a Coke.  And wouldn't you know it... just like rubbing a genie's lamp... my friend, Kristi brought a Coke over.  It was Diet... but I was overcome with love and was tearing up so didn't hold it against her.  She probably figured I must drink Diet to look as smoking good as I do.

I'm always getting straight out blessed for no reason.  These 3 all happened in the last week.  Maybe it's been a week since we've had snow but Cloyd's been around.   All these acts sure has made me think.... Have I cheered up the sad?  Have I made someone feel glad?

Meh. Doubt it.

My first reaction was oh HECK yeah.  My kids.  All day every day.  I'm getting them what they need, playing with them, feeding them, rubbing cream on their rash-y ashies.  But.  When I thought about it.  That probably doesn't count.  I'm their mom.  I'm supPOST to do that stuff.
I haven't really helped anyone.  Perhaps.  Perhaps that is why I have felt so bleh.
But my chance to turn things around happened.
I found my chance to make a burden lighter when I was a Walmart.  I stopped there after going to the gym (25,000 points to Patty!) to reload our milk supply.  I walked over to the very last cashier the one by the produce that's 20 items or less.  I had only the milk.  There was a kid in front of me who might have been 18.  He was buying 3 Totino's pizzas and a 1 liter bottle of generic Mt. Dew.  The checker girl rang up the 3 pizzas and the boy slid the Mountain Mayhem (or whatever it's called) off to the side.  Out of the line of purchase.  He paid for the pizzas with what was left on a gift card and some change.  I just felt for the kid.  He had this plan in his head to go home and eat pizza and drink Mt. Dew and probably play World of Warcraft.  He had his night planned.  He had stopped at Walmart... and his math was wrong.  And he didn't have enough money.  Isn't that the worse feeling in the world?  Well... when you're 18.  And have a party planned for yourself.  He was going to have to eat all those pizzas with plain old water.  Talk about the pits.
So, with my new-found zeal to do good I said, "Do you want this drink?"
"Uh. No.  I don't.  I don't know why I picked it up.  It was an accident."
"I'll buy it for you.  You can get it."
"Oh.  No.  Don't do that.  I don't need it.  I don't really even want it. I think I have the money for it really."
And he started looking in his (obviously) empty wallet.
I looked at the checker and told her I wanted to buy the pop.
The kid just kept staring at me.
The pop cost 78 cents.
I gave it to him and he said, "I didn't think there were nice people in the world any more."
I told him to have a Happy Groundhogs Day.  And patted his shoulder.  I felt like my mom.

It felt good to do that for him.  Really good.  Way more than 78 cents worth of good.  It was really a pleasure.  A joy beyond measure.

The last verse to the song has a line that says:
Do not let them pass by, saying, "Sometime I'll try,"
But go and do something today.

Do.  Go do something.  Today.  Especially if you are feeling blue about something.  Or are in a rut.  Or you've been thinking of doing it for awhile.  Go.  Do it.

I always thought that last line was
"If not I have failed in deed."
not "...failed indeed."

And I think "in deed" is more suiting.  So I'm gonna stick with it.
Unless we want to add to it and make it... "If not I have failed in deed, indeed."
Just hold out that same note.

The Horrible Hoorah.

Even after you find out you're pregnant and the excitement quickly wanes due to Tilt-A-Whirl sensations of nausea.  Even after you successfully avoid the smell of cottage cheese, Greek yogurt, and bananas for 3 months to disengage your gag-reflux.  Even after you quit all physical and fun activities you used to do in order to safely carry your child.  Even after you toot/fluff/burst for several months and hope someone thinks it's the old person next to you.  Even after you sleep sitting up for 3 months.  Even after you wear ugly clothes that don't fit you... at all.  Even after that stretched out, purply, ugly belly hangs half way to your knees for 2 months.  Even after you go through fake contractions that don't feel fake at all.  Even after you finally get to the hospital cry and moan and push and cry cry cry.  Even after they carve that baby out of your stomach... using a knife.  Even after you can't stand up straight for several weeks after the baby.  Even after it hurts to go to the bathroom for a couple months.  Even after all the swelling "down there" is gone.  Even after your scar doesn't burn all day... just when it gets touched (or bumped into).  Even after you're not dizzy any more and you get a solid chunk of sleep again at night.  Even after you quit crying over little things, and big things, and happy things, and funny things, and every time you look at the baby, and every time you look at the clock, and any time you cry because you've been crying all day and it's dark out now.  Even after your chest is no longer engorged and your butt is following the suit of motherhood.
Even after you start to feel like a human being again. 
Even after you look in the mirror and with grit and determination say, "I can fix this mess."
Even after you think you've recovered from all pregnancy and labor and newborns throw at you....

You lose your hair.
At like 6 or 7 months after the baby comes.
And it is just so.  So. Cruel.
I supposed  it is the last.... horrible.... Hoo-rah.


P.S.  I haven't forgot about The Bloggies! (Well.  Actually, I did.  Until Julie reminded me.)  Coming this week peeps.  Prepare your speeches.

Bed Wars

When me and Ken were engaged one of the things I was most excited about was living together... mostly sharing a bed.  All that cuddle time and extra warmth!  I couldn't wait.  On our honeymoon I fell asleep wrapped in his arms every night.  Sigh.  And woke up all cramped and sore.
Our first night back, in our brand new queen-sized bed, Ken scooted over to put his arm around me.  I stopped him right there.  "Hey, I like to snuggle.  But I like to sleep real good too."
Snuggles stopped. All the crazy spooning to sleep stopped.  Do people really sleep like that?  Is it comfortable to them?
We agreed (slash I declared) that getting restful sleep was better than sharing a romantic snuggle all night.
7 years later.
We still share queen-size bed (that seems to shrink every year) and sleep is anything but restful sleeping next to the Bed Weasel.  Ken steals covers.  Kicks.  Elbows.  Talks.  I'd like to say it's like sleeping next to _______ (<-- some kind of crazy animal) but I can't.  Because it's not like sleeping at all!  It's like being awake and annoyed.  All night.
I have the unfortunate duty of feeding Joey is the middle of the night.  I don't mind feeding the baby.  I hate the Bed Conquering that occurs when I am gone.  Ken not only moves to my side of the bed.  He lays on my pillow.  Da nurrrve.  I'd say half the time when I ask him to move he just rolls over.  The other half he grunts out a "no."  And, really.  He doesn't move.  It's harsh.  And cold.
Ken also does this thing that we call "Talon-ing."  It's when he gets his sharp toenails (his talons) and scrapes and cuts at my feet until I move them out of his way.  He says it's "an accident." BULL-oney.  Don't believe it.
Another night, I had come in from feeding the baby and my side of the bed was still waiting there for me.  What a nice surprise.  I climbed into bed and Ken lifted up the covers for me.  He was totally asleep.  I snuggled in and he put his arm down on me.   I let out a big peaceful sigh and then BOOM!  I got kneed in the butt!  And Ken yelled, "HERE'S YOUR CHRISTMAS CORN!"
I sat up and said "What?!"
But he was sound asleep.
In the morning I asked him what Christmas Corn was and he had no idea.

I'm thinking we need a bigger bed.  Or separate beds.
What about you?  What are your sleeping situations?  What's your tactic for claiming bed space?   Does your bed partner talk all night?
I can guarantee you can't be any worse off than I am.