Jennifer Hatch, December, Au revoir

My 7-year-old son set a New Year's resolution to get to bed by 8 p.m. By Jan. 2 he gave up. "I didn't get to bed on time last night so I can't do that resolution anymore," he said.

Sound familiar? I was feeling similarly in the dumps about my December project, which was to improve my French. (My children are in a French immersion program at their elementary school.) In addition to daily reading I wanted to incorporate French customs and food into our family's holiday celebrations, learn carols in French as a family, and hold a family home evening about my husband's memories of Christmas in Quebec on his mission.

I started off with a bang, doing exercises in a textbook. I learned about St. Nicholas Day, on Dec. 5, and wanted to leave our shoes on the hearth for Pere Noel to fill, as he does for children in France. But Pere Noel hadn't done any shopping that early in the month, and our non-observance of St. Nicholas Day also marked my silent disregard for the rest of my project. 

Realistically, this wasn't a good month for me to tackle a fun, but non-essential project. As the month wore on, I remembered the crushing power December always holds over me. I shared with my visiting teacher how overwhelmed and unprepared I felt. "You were this way last year," she pointed out. It is my hardest month. I don't know why. Probably a lot to do with expectations I don't think I can meet. Several times I broke down in tears. One was the Sunday before Christmas; I stepped into my car after church, closed the door and lost it. I had a nightmare about my husband hurting his head again and woke up shaking and crying, a response I've never experienced. A man who lost his wife in November came to my doorstep with a gift for my family, and I wanted to weep. 

Yet, just as I will encourage my son to keep trying with his resolution, I will attempt French another time. 

If only to make myself feel better, I want to chronicle some of the things I did accomplish in December, some with help here at ProjectsConnect.

• I printed selections from my blog into a book for my mother. I converted the filmed interview of my father (my February project) into a DVD that I gave my parents and brothers. I lacked the equipment to do the transfer on my home computer, so had to research a local company that could do it in-house, because I was time-crunched and did not want to risk losing the miniDVs in the mail! It's just like me to leave a project like this to the last minute.

• The most satisfying activity was taking my piano students to neighbors' homes to perform for them. I did this in two groups on different days, during piano lesson times. We traveled to two houses to play carols and then returned to my home for cookies and cocoa. I wanted my students to find joy in sharing their talent with others. It was the best.

• We played pixie for a family in our neighborhood and secretly delivered a piece of a nativity set, scripture reference and treat associated with the nativity character (like candy canes for a shepherd) to their porch over several nights. It was fun, but there were a few nights I was tempted to give them the whole set so I didn't have to keep haranguing doorbell ditchers (uncooperative kids) to come with me.

• We painted my boys' bedroom (same color as their sisters' room, part of July project).

• Jeff's grandfather passed away on Dec. 15. I got to show my love for Grandpa Hatch by playing the organ at his funeral (had to practice a lot!) and taking the kinds of pictures that he would have done. I then made them into a gift for my father-in-law, who is shown in the bottom photo accepting the flag. Phew! It really was a hard month.

I've enjoyed being part of ProjectsConnect this year and getting to know a few of you better. Thank you for your support. Au revoir!

Jennifer Hatch, November, Christmas preparations

My November project was to budget and plan for Christmas gifts and do a Christmas card, something I used to enjoy but haven't done since 2010. Really, I think I like to give gifts. I like to come up with ideas and make or find gifts for friends and family for no reason. But I like to do it on my own terms, without a deadline. Somehow, the expectation of gift-giving associated with Christmas takes the fun out of it for me. Plus, we haven't been in a position to have money saved for Christmas this year, and I hate the financial strain of the holiday. Bah, humbug.

As for my project, I cannot convince my husband how crippled I feel not having a budget at all, or one for Christmas. I am not prepared for Christmas that way yet, so did not meet that aspect of my project.

But I got started on my Christmas card! 

I used to really like making cards and sending them out. I'm not sure why that stopped. I think because my family didn't seem to care much, so why bother. I'm learning more and more, however, to honor my own motivation.

I don't have very high production values or budget (text on photos and the copy store are about as high-tech as I get), but I like executing ideas. One year I folded paper into a hat, designing the letter I printed to fit in the folds. The year my youngest was born we hadn't yet sent out his birth announcement. The front page of that Christmas card said, "Hope your holiday is ..." and had a picture of him peeking out through a star-shaped cut-out, next to which I printed his birth specs. The inside of the card opened up to reveal him surrounded by his siblings, with the caption " ... is a perfect fit." Clearly, if I could find the card I would show you a picture. Boo hoo. Two years ago I wrote a holiday letter on my blog in my teenage son's voice. That was funny because people really thought it was him. Check it out here.

I like to use a simple photo for our cards. Here are some of my favorites:

2010. The white image is a
snowball. After many attempts of trying to get it in flight, I settled for having another child hold it up close to the camera. Psst, don't tell.

2006. 

2014!

Here's the start of this year's card. I wrote the letter TODAY for this post.  I want to format the letter into angled shapes on a single page and cut them out to make into a long triangle, like a banner, get it? Still working on that part of it. This photo is pathetic, but my family was so ornery in getting it that I dare not try again. Seriously it was awful. Plus my oldest son is away at school, which limits group photo ops. I made the banner in the car on the way up to Thanksgiving dinner at grandma's ... because that's how I roll.

Happy holidays to all of you at Projects Connect!

Merry Christmas from the Hatch family.

We’ve had a banner year! The experiences of this year have stretched us as they’ve unfurled, sometimes whipping us in the face, but other times waving gently and urging us forward. We’ve had setbacks, sure, but we’ve also had triumphs. We feel very blessed as a family.

Our most profound event was Jeff’s brain surgery on March 3. (He would disagree with this ranking, but trust me, it was huge.) What started as headaches in February advanced to intermittent speech difficulties and numbness in one hand, the symptom that ultimately compelled him to the hospital. We discovered that he had a chronic subdural hematoma; chronic because fluid built up over time causing a delayed onset of pressure and symptoms. Jeff fell while ice skating on Dec. 26 and went to the doctor at that time for stitches. This surely is the event that triggered the rest, although we had no idea then what was to come.

We are so grateful that Jeff is doing extremely well.  This experience was terrifying, all the more so to watch Jeff seize and struggle for breath when the pressure in his head was too much. We are glad he was in his hospital bed awaiting tests at the time and not behind the wheel. That is sobering.

Jeff has been able to resume all the activities he loves, including rappelling. (Not sure how much he loves ice skating, however.) He sports two permanent dime-sized holes in his skull now (burr holes for the surgeon’s access, one shy of a bowling ball), but you can hardly notice the scars on the left side of his head.

What I hope never fades is the force of our gratitude. We felt Heavenly Father’s love most intensely as friends and family carried us through. Thank you for your prayers and support.

Other notables from our year include Kyle’s nail-biting graduation from high school. He is 18 and attends Utah State University, majoring in new freedom and minoring in responsibility. Emma, 16, excels as a junior at Davis High School and is a beautiful poised ballerina. Last year she and Kyle had the same teacher for different subjects; when I attended parent teacher conferences that teacher was bewildered to learn Kyle and Emma are related. “Wait. You mean, you’re mother to both of them?” Yep. I scratch my head, too. It has been a treat to see these two have pleasant conversations when Kyle comes home from college.

Elise, 13, started junior high. She is in her element and is a star student. She loves being in the Young Women program. She too is a lovely dancer and also has learned to play the violin.

James, 10, and Samuel, 7, did recreational soccer for the first time ever. I’m surprised how much I enjoyed the experience myself, especially cheering them on in games. James is a gentle boy who gets himself up and ready each day without complaint, often packing Samuel’s lunch too. Getting Samuel to school has been gut-wrenching lately. Yet I’m sustained by the special twinkle in his smile, and want to coax it out more. I am glad we have resources to help him through his debilitating anxiety.

Jeff works for the LDS Church and I teach piano lessons from home. I would love to work in the schools, but so far have not had any luck with applying for jobs. Just as well, I suppose, because I am far from caught up on the home front.  Someday, right?

I am more grateful than ever this year for my Savior, and wish you a wonderful holiday as we celebrate His birth. I know that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.

Psalms 20:5, “We will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners; the Lord fulfill all thy petitions.”

With love,

Jenni and the rest of the Hatch family


December's project: Further study and improve my French. When I chose this at the beginning of the year I wasn't sure how to, you know, make this a presentable project. Then I remembered my former neighbor Tressa Spigarelli (whom some of you also know), whose family picked a different culture each year and celebrated Christmas that way. Four of my children are studying French in school. I think it will be fun to incorporate French foods and customs into our holiday plans and learn Christmas carols in French. It will also be meaningful for my husband to share his memories as a missionary in Montreal (although my 7-year-old tells declares that Dad doesn't know REAL French). 

Jennifer Hatch, October, Convoluted Plot

My October project (a continuation after a foray in May) was to sort through our family's many books and purge, purge, purge.  I find it funny that I outlined this project back in January. How did I know then that my house would be so overrun with books in 10 months, to the point of going crazy? Books. They're everywhere! Tour my home and you will see: stacks of children's books on my dresser from reading sessions with my elementary-aged boys, a mishmash of how-to books and novels on my nightstand, piles moved from the dining table to the bakers rack each night before dinner, overflowing bookshelves.

This could have been the easiest, most straightforward of all my projects. See books on shelf, put books in box. How hard can it be? You know what? I put if off all month. I did most of it in different spurts TODAY so I wouldn't feel guilty about not posting -- and I've spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to make a post about purging books interesting.

Guilt is not the best motivator.

Turns out that's exactly what I learned through this project. There's a TV show called "Hoarding: Buried Alive" that I occasionally watch while I fold laundry. Have you seen it? It's enthralling, in a "I-can't-believe-I'm-watching-this" kind of way. Some of the hoarders' living conditions are downright horrifying, the prisons people create because they cannot part with possessions. Some hoarders desperately want help, others refuse intervention from loved ones. Along with professional organizers, psychologists work to help family members understand the reasons behind the hoarding. Fascinating stuff. (Ha ha! A pun.)

Some people on the TV show keep things that represent their dreams. If they throw them out, they throw away the dream (or so they believe). I realized that many of the books still on my shelves represent good intentions. Oh, I'll read this someday. Ooh, I've always wanted to read about this. Man, we started this chapter book but never finished. Maybe next year.

Some people on the TV show can't part with possessions because of perceived value, sentimental and otherwise. I realized I do the same. I have a beat-up paperback copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe -- with my brother's childhood signature inside.

Certain genres make me feel guiltiest of all. Unread parenting books seem to taunt me with their rigid spines -- but I can't part with them out of a sense of duty. What if they have just the words I need to read?

Think I'm ridiculous yet? I do. Enough!

Today I tackled the project with a very pragmatic approach. I left my husband's biographies and leather-bound church books. I screened the others this way:

1. Can I get this same book or information at the library or online?
If not,
2. Is it a book I will reference again?
3. Is it a book I want to share with my children?

I also allowed myself to keep a few favorites.

Sure, I still have a lot of books, but I filled two boxes today from this shelf and another. It feels gooood. Now I need to sort all my piano music. I tell ya, that will really make me feel the loss of dreams. All the music I haven't learned yet, and probably never will. But that's ok.

Next up: Clear the shelves so I can paint the bookcases. (No, I didn't get rid of our scriptures. Now the inside cupboard is cleared enough to store them there.) I'm also considering making covers for the remaining books with a thin tan paper I have on a roll. At arm's length the book titles would be visible through the paper, but from a distance the effect will be a cohesive block. What do you think?

November's project: Map out money for gifts and do other Christmas preparations so I don't get discouraged and shut down next month like I usually do. I also want to produce a family Christmas card, something that hasn't happened the last three years.

Jennifer Hatch, September, Squirrel Season

First measurable harvest, on Aug. 21. 

My September project was to do a better job about preserving the produce from my small garden. Last year I harvested much that went to waste before I got to it. I determined that if I didn't have a plan in place by afternoon to process the veggies, then I would share the day's bounty with a neighbor. The canning or freezing didn't need to be all sealed up by afternoon, I just needed to have my time set aside to do so, even if it meant working into the evening. Although it's a crazy amount of work, I like the satisfaction of canning, especially since it doesn't get undone quite as fast as many of my other endeavors. I am grateful to act like a squirrel and set aside food for my family.

I started the month with a bang, putting up 26 quarts of peaches from my little tree. That made me happy, because we planted the tree in honor of my brother who passed away in 2009. This is our first  canning-worthy harvest, and I will smile with fun memories of him every time we open a bottle. His birthday is in September.

I also sliced peaches and froze several bags' worth. I blanched slices of yellow squash and grated zucchini for future loaves of bread. That first week I also made salsa and roasted tomato sauce to freeze, and bottled tomatoes in separate batches of pints and quarts. I got more efficient with each canner load. The funny thing about canning is it makes you want to use everything up fresh to spare you the work -- so I tried lots of new recipes, too. I really liked Holli's project of involving her children in canning, but wasn't as successful as her. I tried! Does it count that my boys love to play with my canning tools -- and hide them through the house? Hmm, squirrels. I also made neighbor deliveries. :)

Then I forged the fruit fly fight! Ugh. Hate those things!

Looking back, I noticed my trips to the garden got fewer and father between as the month progressed.   Huh. Perhaps subconsciously I didn't want the work? (Or flies in the house?) You don't have to can if you don't pick anything! Also, September was just so wet. So I have a few leg-sized zucchini that are too hard-skinned to be much good. But my mind is a-brewing how I could make a giant spider decoration out of them. Er, waste not, want not.

Here are a few freezing tips I've picked up over the years:

• Use a straw to suck up as much as as you can out of a freezer bag when you seal it. Stick in straw, slide zipper close to the straw, then suck up air and close zipper the rest of the way as you remove the straw. I learned this from Nora!

• Place bags flat on cookie sheet when you place in freezer so your finished product will also be flat, and not conformed to weird shapes. Once frozen, stack in the freezer. Using a cookie sheet is also helpful to avoid jostling, then bursting open, the bags as you transport them to the freezer. Not that I would know anything about that.

• Tomatoes freeze beautifully for use in sauces and soups. Remove core, then freeze them whole with or without peel. For real! Flash freeze on a cookie sheet, then put in freezer bag, squeezing out extra air or using straw method. Whole tomatoes take up more space, of course, but it's super fast. If you've left the peel on, run frozen tomato under warm water to remove it when you're ready to use. Or, dip tomatoes in boiling water 30-60 seconds to remove peel before freezing. This also thaws them. This time I peeled, then sliced tomatoes to save freezer space.

• Salsa can be frozen! This allows you to use any recipe you like without having to make acid adjustments for safe canning. Do peel the tomatoes; the peel comes off in the freezing process if you don't. Chop your tomatoes first, then let them sit in a colander while you chop everything else. This gives time to remove excess liquid.

• I like to roast tomatoes with a little olive oil and salt, then puree. Cut tomatoes in half lengthwise (Romas are great), remove seed membranes if you want (cuts down on roasting time). Drizzle cut side with olive oil and salt, put cut side down on cookie sheet and roast in 350+ oven until liquid is mostly removed, about an hour or so. I run the tomatoes through a food mill. (I lucked out with an old-school chinois from my grandma.)  I think you could also easily separate the cooked flesh from the skin with a spoon, then use a food processor or blender to make a sauce. Or, what the heck, leave the charred skins on for extra flavor. We use this on homemade pizza. It freezes well.

• Peppers don't need to be blanched before freezing. I cut them in half, remove seeds, then flash freeze on a cookie sheet.

• If you grate zucchini for use later in breads, muffins and such, freeze it in the same quantity you will use in your recipe.

Jennifer Hatch, August, Service

This photo has nothing to do with service, and I know it.  Ah,well.  One could make the metaphor of kindness as seeds, whose influence and reach we cannot measure.  But come on --  it's a dandelion!

I had the same kind of lofty disconnect with my August project.  My goal was to involve my children in serving our neighbors daily.  I wanted to teach them that they have the opportunity and power to lift someone every day of their lives.  Grand idea?  Yes.  Did I accomplish it?  No, not really.

I didn't expect that we'd shingle roofs or feed the homeless or comfort orphans (at least not every day!).  Sweeping sidewalks, helping bring in groceries, delivering homegrown bouquets -- that was what I considered absolutely doable.  I thought my children and I would spend idyllic summer hours walking through the neighborhood, identifying ways we could serve our neighbors.  We'd magically be in the right place at the right time, you know?  It was a cold day in January, after all, when I outlined the year's projects!  Summer seemed so full of promise then.

In reality it was hard to find chances to serve because I was so bogged down.  I could barely get out of the house, for all the demands at home.  It's hard to stumble upon serving a neighbor when I can't see past the walls around me.

I know I should have tried harder.  You see, I believe in service.  I know it is how we show our love to Heavenly Father.  I know it cultivates a spirit of gratitude.  I know it is a sure way to set aside our own frustrations and insecurities.  As a newlywed I felt completely alienated by my in-laws' generous attention to their other son's fiancee (when I myself hungered for their approval).  My friend could have commiserated with me, but instead she gave me advice I've always remembered.  "You love those you serve."  So I jumped headfirst into helping my brother-in-law set up his new apartment, and got to know my truly wonderful new sister-in-law.  Service helped me.

Maybe in August my family didn't do an amazing act of service daily, but we certainly talked more about service, and that is good.  Seeds, right? I also witnessed more acts of kindness within our home.

This is what we DID do:

• The kids helped me make and deliver a meal to their Primary president when she had a baby.

• Another time my young boys balanced plates of food in the car that we took to a man whose wife was in the hospital.

• My 12-year-old daughter, Elise, and I babysat five children, ages 6, 4 and 2-year-old triplets, for five hours (dinner and bedtime routines, too) while their father underwent heart tests at the hospital.

• We took a neighbor child to the fair.

• I told the kids that when they help at home, they allow me to serve other people. My 16-year-old ran the house one day while I did a welfare assignment at the mill.

• We took our neighbors to the Ogden Temple open house.

• My 6-year-old and I visited an elderly neighbor when we delivered a birthday card.

• I wanted to give a self-professed overwhelmed mom a break (or a nap), so we offered to take her 2-year-old to the park.  The mom wasn't sure how her daughter would react with us.  She felt it would be best if she came too.  I thought our service plan was foiled, but no!  Elise supervised the 2-year-old while the mom and I sat with her new baby and had a wonderful conversation.  I never would have thought to do this if service weren't on our minds.

Still, I realized I needed to do more to fill my well.  I had fun with another project I did this month.  For years I've wanted to look for the alphabet in the Salt Lake Temple architecture, and create a picture for my in-laws, who were married there.  This month marks their 45th anniversary.  We did a family home evening at the temple on Aug. 18 to look for the letters.  I love how it turned out.  It was a rare, but rejuvenating, burst of creativity.

September's project:

Do a better job of preserving the produce from my garden. Last year, much of it spoiled before I could get to it. For shame!

Jennifer Hatch, July, home improvement

My 50-year-old home is a work in progress. It needed a lot of love and attention when we moved in nine years ago. We've done many updates in that time, but have never caught up, nor have we stayed ahead of our own wear and tear. These days my husband and I have lost our mojo.

Worst of all, we tend to move from one project to the next without finishing the details.

What we've done since we moved in (mostly in the first few years): removed carpet and staples from hardwood floors, new carpet in basement and stairs, replaced window treatments, painted ceilings and rooms upstairs, crown molding, replaced (some) interior doors, remodeled master bath, new tile floor in two baths, tile floors in basement entries, new front door, new stair railing, new kitchen, landscaping.

Examples of the neglected details:

• We painted our master bedroom intending to install crown molding, so we weren't too fussy about masking the ceiling. That was seven years ago. No crown molding.

• Our front yard used to be juniper bushes. We pulled them out, built a retaining wall, re-landscaped and put in new sprinklers -- that we still operate manually because we haven't done the electric connections.

• We redid our kitchen and removed a wall between it and the dining room. We did the demo and floor. Unforeseen electric issues required us to pull the ceiling and reroute wires. We couldn't easily patch around the soffits we removed, so we had to demo walls, which meant extra steps of insulation, sheetrock and mudding. Still we got it done before the scheduled cabinet installation. Nearly three years later, one -- ONE! -- drawer needs its handle installed to say we're finished. (Oh, we also need to reinstall a floor transition strip, and paint a spot behind the fridge we thought would be covered by a cabinet. Details!)

But ...

• During the kitchen remodel, we inadvertently flooded the food storage room below the kitchen when we took out the dishwasher. (Mostly because we hand washed oodles of dishes not realizing we hadn't closed the dishwasher pipe.) That room needs a new ceiling.

• So does the garage. My son left the water on in the upstairs bathroom oh, six years ago, and it flooded the garage below.

psst ... I also lost my wedding ring during the kitchen demolition.

• Our basement bathroom has been out of commission for probably five years -- I don't remember.  When we discovered that the shower was framed without a water barrier, we stripped the room to the studs to start over. It sat while my husband mulled what to do with the thick concrete shower pad. Then we decided to address the kitchen first. Last year my friend and I used a sledge hammer to bust up the concrete. This spring we got a plumber to install a shower enclosure. Nothing new since.

See where I'm going with this? We're awful. No mojo at all!

My July project was to schedule how to address all these unfinished details, and map out the coordination of time, energy and funds that future projects require. What did I do instead?

I started a NEW home improvement project, of course. The Saturday before my girls left for camp I got the insane great idea of changing their room while they were gone. My boys helped with the task. I found new bedding, and Jeff installed a new light fixture. I also wanted to make new padded headboards and a window treatment, possibly event repaint the dresser, get new shelves, put curtains over their closet opening ...

Yada yada yada. Somebody help me. Only the paint job got done.

Realistically I could have installed that last kitchen drawer pull in the time I took to write this, but I'm in my Sunday dress right now, and well, the garage is kind of dirty and scary for finding the tools (gaping ceiling and all). So much for July's project! At least we called the drywall guy to give us a bid on the bathroom. We'll have to call him back.

Tomorrow, of course.



August's project: Involve my children in serving a neighbor daily. I want to serve my husband, too.

Jennifer Hatch, June, Piano lesson momentum

Elise, who has jumped back into piano and (so far!) needs no prompting to practice. Yay!

When I prepared the program a day before my recital this spring, I paused at the wording atop the page:

Piano recital

Students of Jennifer Hatch 

...

I thought about adding:

... plus her children, who haven't practiced for months but who taught themselves something a week ago, by picking a random book on top of the piano and leafing through it until they found a page they liked. 

Sadly it would have been completely accurate. The stinkers -- their pieces were memorized!

What do they say about the cobbler's children? That they have no shoes. Around here, the piano teacher's children do not take piano lessons. (In my defense, who uses the word cobbler these days anyway?)

The adage makes us think that the cobbler is too busy. I have another theory: those little cobblerettes just complain too much. "I don't want to try this on. I HATE this color! It hurts. You can't make me. You don't know ANYTHING!" At least that was the unpleasant experience with my spirited middle child, pictured above. Piano lessons were straining our relationship. I recognized her musical aptitude, however, and so three years ago we started her in violin lessons to remove the piano drama. (Side note: my cousin taught violin lessons to the children of well-known violinist Jenny Oaks Baker. A similar mother/child challenge? Hmm.)

Yet I truly love the piano and want to give my family the joy of playing it themselves. It's a big part of my life. It can be a strong foundation for the study of other instruments, not to mention the opportunities for church service. My June project, then, was to recommit to weekly piano lessons with my children. I figured summer would be a great time to do this.

This T-shirt is perfect on my brother-in-law, a junior high band teacher.

I have tried many, many times before to do regular lessons with the kids. I want my children to have the same benefits my students do, namely a dedicated time slot. For years I have had Monday afternoons reserved to teach my kids. For years it has been too easy to put off their lessons because someone calls or comes to the door, or because errands need to be run or dinner to be made -- or, probably the most likely reason of all, Mom is tired. 

I realized I was unprofessional! No wonder my children didn't take me seriously. I have made new rules: I will not answer the phone during my children's lessons, just as I wouldn't for a paying student. I will not schedule orthodontist appointments and the like during our family lessons. As I do for regular teaching days, I will plan slow-cooker dinners that can be made well ahead of time. If we do have a conflict on Monday, I will schedule a make-up lesson later in the week, just as I do for my other students.

I thought this project would require delving into my children's personalities and adapting my teaching accordingly. That will come, I'm sure, but right now we're ironing out the basics. The number one improvement? A bag for each child to hold his books. We keep the bags between the piano and the wall. Who knew that something so easy would foster regular practicing?! I have so many books in flux around the piano as I play (the piano is one of my main stress relievers, and I have been playing a lot). I can see now that not being able to find their own books was a real obstacle to my children's self-guided practice. 

We did June lessons with my three youngest. As I typed this my 15- and 18-year-olds (the two oldest) each walked in and declared their interest in doing more with piano again. Whoo-hoo! The funniest part of our piano-playing month was my 10-year-old identifying the note A sharp (# before the note symbol on the staff)  as "hashtag A." Yes, we have a long ways to go, but I'm pleased with our progress establishing lessons. Next up will be transitioning practice sessions into the tighter schedule of the school year. It's a challenge to get six people practice time on one instrument, especially when it is also used for my lessons during the week.

If you're really bored, click here for a little ditty I wrote about deciphering Mom's moods by what she's playing on the piano. Hoo boy!

My July project is Conquering the 20 percent -- mapping out how to finish all the little details of home improvement jobs that have been ignored all these years while we moved on to the next big thing.

Jennifer Hatch, May, Hitting the books

My husband, son Kyle, me and daughter Emma at Kyle's high school graduation on May 30.  A couple of you may remember Kyle and Emma when they weren't taller than me.

May's range of projects -- the planned,  the accidental, the accomplished -- all revolve around study and books.

The planned project was to find out what I need to do to become a substitute teacher in my district. I have been a stay-at-home mom for the past 18 years and am at a crossroads of mommy identity with the entry of my youngest into school all day. I'm grateful for my husband's work that has allowed me to be at home, but current financial squeezes make me wonder if I should re-enter the work force. I would like to buffer our savings and not feel like we only operate month-to-month. Plus, kids get more expensive with age!

I teach piano lessons to pay for opportunities for my children beyond my own skills: karate, violin, ballet. I consolidate my lessons onto two afternoons, but it is premium time of everything happening at once, of homework and meal-prep. In short, the witching hour.

I'm as busy as ever with the demands of running a household (which I don't really do very well, sigh),  but I feel an extra push lately to contribute financially. Being able to work part-time in my children's elementary school would be awesome. I volunteer there so much, one secretary joked they should pay me.

Some time ago a teacher friend told me that because of my having a bachelor's degree and years of volunteering in the classroom, I could easily be part of the district's substitute pool with the flexibility to choose what days I wanted to work. Really, I said, even though I don't have a license? Yep, she said. Sounded good to me.

This conversation on my mind, I eagerly logged on to the district page this month to start my application.

CRASH. BAM. KA-POW. (My 6-year-old told me that is how you would spell Screeching halt.) Turns out you do need a license to be a substitute. Good for the kids, of course, but not so much for my plan. Oh, how I wish I'd had a crystal ball when in college! If I'd known how much I would enjoy working in the classroom, I certainly would have majored in education and earned a teaching certificate. Instead, my degree is in journalism. Ho-hum.

My next step was to look into programs for earning a certificate. Because of an acquaintance's positive experience, I looked into Western Governors University, an online program. This woman I know left the workforce as a chemist to raise her family, then used WGU to convert her skills into teaching once her children were older. She now teaches high school chemistry in the same school her daughters attend. Cool, huh?

The program looks appealing, but a big stumbling block is, you guessed it, money. We're talking about someone who hasn't bought any new clothing for herself in years  -- how can I justify money on myself when there is other tuition, braces, car insurance, etc. to be paid? Even if it can be considered seed money, it is hard for me to contemplate.  I need to look into more programs and prayerfully evaluate how much I want to do this step.

I did, however, start my application for non-licensed substitutes (secretary, playground, aides), so I can at least say I did something. :)

The accidental project was getting my son to graduate. Not that I wasn't supporting him all along of course (actually, he would disagree), but that I didn't realize how much of MY time it would take to finish the last leg of this iffy race. Phew! Daily calls to counselors, helping him with fleece blankets for citizenship credit, fees, fees, fees, oh my. So I'm definitely counting it as a project. Interestingly, my intended project this month makes me want to encourage my son to get the best possible academic counseling he can so the courses he takes will truly advance him to a desired career.

The accomplished project was getting a head start on something I have outlined for later in the fall: sorting through our family's many, many books. It started with the need to find some missing library books. The timing this month was also influenced by wanting to share books with teachers.  I gave nearly a dozen Magic Tree House and Junie B. Jones books to my son's first grade teacher. I packed up a box of 80+ picture books and sold the lot via KSL to a new teacher. It felt great. But removing 100 books didn't even make a dent!

As for the last  missing library book, my 10-year-old and I scoured the house looking for it, to no avail. I guess all it took was turning in a $20 replacement cost check to invoke Murphy's Law. Summer vacation eve, the book surfaced. It was beneath the fleece scraps left over from my oldest son's citizenship project. Ha! Always an adventure around here.

June's project: Making mom/child piano lessons permanent. Other goals: 1. Doing better about weekly menus. 2. A daily read-aloud in French.  3. I also want to enforce an "empty sink" policy. Load the dishwasher, dang it!

Jennifer Hatch, April, Water off a duck's back

Feeding the ducks, March 31.

My April project was supposed to be "circle journals" with my teenagers, wherein I would write them a short message daily, or tape a comic strip to the page, or share a joke or scripture passage. I would leave the journals on their pillows. The circle element is that it would (hopefully) go round and round between us.

I know what you're thinking: There's a high-tech version of this. It's called Facebook!

My motive, when I outlined the project in January, was largely fueled by my 18-year-old son's imminent graduation from high school. I wanted to create something tangible that he could cart with him to college and a mission, something that he could hold in his hands and read on both bad and good days. I wanted to impart all of a mother's wisdom before my son left the nest.

That's the idealistic account. This project never got off the ground. April was a hard, blue month for me. I felt like I couldn't do any of the regular stuff well, let alone take on anything new. My discouragement (all the more discouraging, because there wasn't an identifiable reason) affected the way I treated my family. I realized that written words left on my son's pillow -- no matter how heart-felt -- would be hollow if the words I shared with him in person were mean, angry ones.

Thus, I changed my project to being kinder to my son. You must know, he exasperates me! One day last month he came in the door after school and I regaled him with all the messes I'd had to clean up after him, all the siblings I'd had to soothe after his whirlwind treatment to them that morning. He asked why my first words to him were always complaining.

It was a knife. I didn't know I was doing it so often, but as I thought back,  I sadly saw that I was. I resolved to always greet him with a smile and kind words. It has taken some effort, because he still frustrates me so much! Yet I've noticed this one small thing -- to greet him with genuine enthusiasm and love -- has shaped how I think of him. He also approaches me more now. (Duh, I jumped down his back before!) He seeks me out to share a new game he loaded on his phone, or to show me a video, or to ask  me about the proms of old. Sheesh.

Some of you in Davis County may have seen the same regional conference that I did on April 27. Cheryl Esplin related President Spencer W. Kimball's trip behind the Iron Curtain. Pres. Kimball knew that at that time school teachers in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union taught there was no God, and he wondered how the parents helped their children stay faithful to the gospel.

The parents answered, "We teach them. The false teachings of the world are like water off a duck's back."

YES! I thought as I sat and listened. This, THIS is what I need to know to help my son. 

I have struggled the most because my son mocks spiritual things. In times of my disciplining him, he has said disdainfully, "What, did the spirit tell you to do that?" My biggest fear is that once he leaves home he will be too easily swayed by poor influences. I feel like I have a very small window of impact. It's scary.

Sister Esplin spoke of loving one another, of teaching in the Savior's way. She said we must know the interests, hopes, desires and potential of our children. She said we must never give up. We must always find something positive to share with our children.

In all my thinking of how I can "waterproof" my son, I realized anew that I need to love him more. I need to let all the things he does that bug me run off ... well, like water off a duck's back. I need to coat myself with the sure salve that I am lucky to have him as my son. He is Heavenly Father's son, too.

He's had a habit for years that drives me absolutely crazy. He plugs in his earphones and paces back and forth, back and forth across the living room and its creaky old hardwood floors, tossing an object up and down, up and down. He likes the heft of butter knives. His steps are punctuated by the loud frequent drops of those poor, abused knives. I've asked him repeatedly to stop it. Most of the time, my demands are anything but nice.

Water off a duck's back. At his baby shower there was a typical exchange of motherly wisdom. One guest said, "Pick your battles." I didn't understand it then (he's my oldest, after all!), but I sure do now.

I can't let his pacing, and all his other bothersome traits, ruin our relationship. Instead I will think, when I hear those steps, "He's home. He's safe."

Plus, as I sat to write this I had a great idea. Instead of getting upset at him, every time he paces I will come give him a hug. "I'm so glad you're here!" That will show him! Quack.

Jennifer Hatch, March, Improve relationships with my in-laws

At the beginning of the year this is how I outlined my third project:

March: Begrudge my grudges. Twenty years into my marriage I still feel unaccepted by my in-laws. This, despite their being good people. In trying to figure out my place in their lives I have analyzed incident after incident, which has only resulted in a catalog of slights. It’s crippling me. I need to change and focus on the good.


Hmm. A bit vague? How, exactly, does one accomplish a project like this? What steps do you take? How can you measure the results?

I had no idea. Still don't.

I just knew that I needed to try.

Because this project is all about my learning to let go, I will not tell you the stories of my hurts. I have been carrying some of them for decades, and I do not want to give them any more life. I will, however, tell you some of the dynamics of our family.

Jeff is the oldest of 8 and was the first of his siblings to marry. He is very unassuming by nature, and keeps to himself, even at family gatherings. He's aloof. Most of his siblings live in the same county as his parents, and are able to do a lot together. We live an hour+ plus away. We don't feel in the loop. One sister lives in Seattle; her parents love to visit and go to her home more often than ours.  Jeff's family is a boisterous, happy bunch, but I always feel like I say or do the wrong thing. (Sometimes I'm told as much.) I feel like an outsider. I make many mistakes.

Although I designated this as my March project, I thought about it intently from the outset. One connecter here sent me an email after Nora posted our projects in January, cheering me on about this project specifically. Thank you. Being able to share some of my feelings with her was a great release. I also prayed and pondered on this.

I realized the key to my project was in the words I kept uttering: I feel. I feel this ... I feel that.

I can't do anything to change someone else's actions toward me, I can only change how I react. This is oddly empowering. 

I chose to walk away from the past. I thought about writing down my grievances and my own mistakes on individual slips of paper, then burning them in a candle's flame, or flushing them down the toilet, or climbing a cliff and hurling them into the abyss from my shaking fist as I screamed at the wind. Nah, too dramatic, even for me. Plus, as I mentioned before, I feared that listing my grudges would make them larger than life. I needed to move away from them, not give them more energy.

You should know that I tried to talk to my mother-in-law about a time I felt hurt, and that only resulted in more hurt. I've been holding a lot in. 

Then I thought, what if I took each hurt and turned it into something better? What if I said, this little piece of grit is ugly and sharp and I'm sick of carrying it around in my shoe. I'm tired of it poking me. I'm going to shake it out and bury it in the dirt instead, and maybe, just maybe, if I keep trying and water the spot and give it light, I'll be amazed at what happens. What then?

I like object lessons. In February I thought of a way to give shape to this project. I decided that I would start flowers from seed and present my mother-in-law with a homegrown container for her birthday in May. Each day I would think of one of her good qualities (and there are many) as I watered the seedlings. I would smother the bad feelings.

Then March hit. If you read my last post you know that my husband had brain surgery on March 3. It was a terrifying ordeal ... and all the while Jeff's family was there to support us. Jeff had a grand mal seizure while he was in the hospital awaiting the first visit from the neurosurgeon. Jeff's father jumped into action to open his airway. Jeff's mother held my hand as we helplessly watched at his bedside. When nurses remarked on my father-in-law's life-preserving role, he said simply, "He's my little boy."

My husband's health scare helped me see anew that his family loves us. It offered perspective and clarity and shared experiences that brought us closer. I am grateful for that. (But be careful what you wish for -- or at least the goals you announce on ProjectsConnect!)

I haven't started the seeds indoors yet (assembling my lights and rack is a two-person job, and Jeff isn't keen on too many projects these days), but this I know already: 

The flowers will be beautiful.

Jennifer Hatch, February, Connect hearts

Hi. I thoroughly enjoy being a part of this blog. I may have misunderstood the comments aspect of it, however, and so I'm sorry if my ubiquitious (ooh! I've always wanted to use that word in a sentence!) remarks make me seem a little too desperate for connections. What can I say? It's true -- I am. Anyway, I'm the person with the leaf on my comments signature. Meredith got me me to set a date for a piano recital, Marisa prompted me to travel to the temple -- just to name a couple of the concrete actions I put into place from reading your posts last month. I tried to say a little something to all of you, because I love what you're doing!

I appreciate the words of support here when Nora announced my husband's brain surgery on Monday, March 3. I am happy to report that he is doing extremely well. (Maybe a little too well -- he thinks he's invincible and doesn't like my heightened state of vigilance.) I wrote about his ordeal on my blog. 

This is Tuesday, the day after his surgery. We all got a kick out of the red biohazard bag that holds the hair shaved off the left side of his head. New hair is marching back with a vengeance, Harry Potter-style.


Anyway, my February project was to record some of my father's childhood stories. I was a voracious reader in early elementary school and I vividly remember hoping my dad would present me with a leather-bound book of his tales for me to read by the light of my clip-on headboard lamp. Loved that thing! Maybe I was influenced by the Little House books that were all the rage then (do I date myself?), because I indeed felt my dad's stories -- shared with gusto around the dinner table -- were the stuff of legend, just as worthy of print.

Well, my dad has not written them down. One Memorial Day visit a few years ago he treated us to an impromptu trip down memory lane. My mom supplied me with a spiral notebook and I scribbled away. Sadly, that spiral notebook got lost somewhere between our van and the garage door into the house.

This past Thanksgiving I packed my video camera when we went to my folks', but the house was too full of people and too joyfully chaotic to force a storytelling session. On Christmas my dad shared with us that he was diagnosed with skin cancer. Ooh, how I hate to type the c-word. We hope for a positive outcome, but the urgency to record his stories certainly amplified.

Between my dad's consulting jobs and trips to St. George during February, it took a few attempts to line up our schedules for me to interview him. Our first date was Feb. 13. My dad got called into meetings, but since I had already cleared the day, I spent it with my mother, and that was a lot of fun. I rarely get a day of dining and shopping! Were it not for ProjectsConnect, I could have thought, oh, I'll just bring the camera up the next time we visit as a family -- but because of the accountability here I cleared Feb. 27 to visit my dad and gitterdone.

My dad examines historical photos of Midway residents.

My mother was in the temple that day, so it was just me and my dad. I set up a tripod and he shared stories for nearly two hours. My dad is a fourth generation resident of Heber Valley. Midway, his small home town, has changed more in the last 20 years than it has the rest of his life. The characters in my grandpa's stories were the same characters in my father's stories. Most tales I had heard time and time again, but I learned new things; that my dad spent summers at a timber camp when a preteen; that he became a volunteer firefighter when I was a child because his federal government job precluded him being in public office, and he wanted to serve his community. His grandfather was Wasatch County sheriff, his father was mayor of Midway.

My dad also set the record straight on a few stories. No, it wasn't he who went to the bathroom in the hardware store toilet on display when his carpenter dad was too busy chatting to help him -- it was his brother. Un-huh.

We're not quite sure why, but my grandmother tied my dad to the clothesline when he was a little guy, maybe to corral his movements so she could tend his baby sister inside. One day his brother, six years older, walked home from school in disgust, dragging my dad behind him. Bad enough that Jimmy came to school, but he had no pants! There his overalls were, attached to the other end of the rope.

Some of these recollections made my dad a bit wistful, especially as many painted a pattern of his being left to his own devices. He was sent on construction sites with his dad from a very young age rather than staying at home with his mom. As a toddler he took off on a tricycle, also from a hardware store display, and was picked up blocks away by his sheriff grandpa. Yet he loves that he grew up in a time and place where he was so safe and free to explore.

I loved spending this time with my dad. ProjectsConnect also made me a bit stronger in February. You see, I hate driving in bad weather. Snow especially. Well, I looked at the forecast for our planned meeting on Feb. 27 and could have been deterred. But oh, the accountability! Although it didn't produce great snow accumulation, that day's storm was icy and slushy and foggy and slick. It was a nasty drive that took two hours instead of one, but I did it!

This picture, from 2007, is one of my favorites of my dad for how it reveals his teasing, playful nature. 

I'll sign off with these gems. You know your family repertoire is classy when it includes not one, but two, stories about Kotex: 

1. This story was told to my great-grandfather the sheriff, by one of the jailers at the county lock-up. Vernie Thompson regularly got thrown in jail for being drunk and disorderly. One of these times coincided with her monthly visitor. That morning when the jailer, Albin Hansen, brought around breakfast Vernie said, "Albin, I need Kotex." "Like h--- you will," he responded. "You'll have cornflakes like everyone else."

2. It was standard practice for mothers to send their kids to Coleman's grocery store with a handwritten list for the clerk to fill. Also standard was having to ask the clerk for hygiene products, which were wrapped in brown paper behind the counter. Butch, a contemporary of my uncle's, went on such an errand when he was a small boy. He came back with a box of Kotex. On the list his mother had written "SOS pads." Ha!

My condolences to Nora, her family, and all her Allen cousins. I am so sorry about your sweet grandpa.