Slowing Down the Tempo

Xanthe and I went on a special date last Saturday.  She had decided not to go to Park City with Scott and the little kids because Scott was throwing out ideas faster than Xanthe could wrap her head around them.  "Get dressed up!  We're going to see Santa Claus and look at the windows at the Grand America.  There's a giant gingerbread house. We might stop at the outlets and then grab something to eat in Park City.  I was thinking of walking around Main Street and just hanging out at the Ranch.  OK?"

Xanthe got as far as getting dressed up, then her clothing started to itch and she decided she didn't really want to sit on Santa's lap, so she would stay home.  She likes to be clear on what is going to happen, and there were way too many variables in Scott's scenario, including but not limited to the fact that you MIGHT get a cookie IF you find all the clues at the window displays.  What window displays?  What clues?  What kind of cookie?  What if you didn't find the clues?

So this little cutie was all dressed up with nowhere to go.  She and I went to the Kaysville Tabernacle Nativity Festival, which I had taken Tziporah to the day before.  We looked at the nativity displays and Xanthe colored and did puzzles for a good long time.  We even ran into Jenny Neeley and her girls and got to say good-bye to them before they went back to Phoenix.  One on one time with Xanthe is super fun if she is comfortable.  She loves the attention, and without the other kids going a million miles an hour, she can relax more.  She is free to ask as many questions as she wants to without the conversation moving along like the TGV, leaving her frustrated.  It makes me feel guilty that she isn't an only child.  Can you believe it?  But Mom Guilt isn't rational.  It's rooted in the emotional.  There is always something we feel we aren't giving our children, and although they are benefiting from what we ARE providing, we (I) still wonder:  Am I doing the right things?  Is it enough?  Is this child going to become famous and go on The Tonight Show and say what a rotten childhood she had because her mother couldn't slow down to even wash the conditioner out of her hair sometimes, and her hair would be stringy all day, but not as stringy as her daughter's because she never did find a brush most mornings, and she hated it when you were late, so you just had to go anyway.  Without a lunch, too.

At least on this one Saturday afternoon, Xanthe and I took the time to fully be in the moment.  That is, until a children's singing group started to perform and Xanthe looked at me and snorted, "Seriously?  They practiced all that and that's the best they sing?  No offense!"  Totally cracked me up.  Soon, we had to leave because Xanthe was getting restless and sighing loudly and pointedly every time a kid hit a reckless note.  Oh Xanthe!  How I love you and your laugh and your music critic's ear.