30

The family at Mount Rushmore

My 30th birthday came and went last month. It was just 5 days after we arrived into town and we spent the day with my sister Shari, who bought Muppet cupcakes and let the kids pick out presents for me (Mary Poppins and a swimsuit that didn't quite fit. :) ) and then our niece watched the kids in the evening while Dave and I enjoyed an Arctic Circle milkshake.

Many woman I know dread the big 3-0, but I welcomed it. It seems like the threshold of adulthood. Sure we have been married 9 years with 3 children and have been living on our own and being all independent and stuff, but NOW I am an adult.


I remember this woman that I used to babysit for. In fact I traded piano lessons for babysitting. Now I think she was getting a great deal, but I was happy to do it at the time. She had all these little kids and was so confident and laid-back. Her oldest was probably Ana's age at the time, maybe a little older. *  I think of her quite often now. I am sure she wasn't perfect. Her house usually needed to be tidied up a bit, like mine, but she sure didn't seem hung up on it and pre-occupied and apologetic of it like I am. I want to be like her. She was so comfortable with who she was that she never seemed ruffled by appearances.  She was just real and genuine and happy. Being around her made you feel good.  My goal for my 30s is to be like that.  I probably won't ever be as laid back as she was, but I can be just as comfortable with who I am.  I don't have to seek for the approval of others. I can just be me.

This doesn't mean that I subscribe to the "This is how I am, take it or leave it" philosophy because I absolutely don't. I believe people can change and should strive to be Christlike and kind and that everyone should have worthy and attainable goals that we are working towards. In the strength of the Lord we can accomplish great things and become better, even different, people.

But I do believe we can be comfortable with who we are along the process of progression. It is a process. Seeking others' approval, passive-aggressive behavior, and defending my actions (or inactions) along the way don't help me change. In fact they inhibit real, true growth. 

So the question is, How? What am I going to do differently in my 30s? I can't do what I have always done, react as I have always reacted, speak as I have always spoken, and somehow expect to feel differently. I think I found at least part of the answer in a conversation with my mom a couple weeks ago. We were talking about people who always uplift those around them and how we want to be like that. They are gracious and kind. And they are also comfortable with who they are. So perhaps the more we seek to love others, the more comfortable we become with who we are because we no longer are seeking their approval. Our focus becomes outward instead of inward.

Songwriter Hilary Weeks said, "Don't worry about what others think of you. Worry about what others think of themselves when they are with you." And while I realize that I can't take responsibility for how others feel about themselves, I can seek to lift. I have realized that the more I seek to gain the approval of others, the more I offend them. But if I am focused on building others up, we are both elevated. Maybe that's off the subject, but I know that my friends that I am closest with, the ones that  I know absolutely accept me and love me, the ones I feel totally in my element around, are the ones that I stopped trying to impress long ago and started to just genuinely love and care for them. They are the ones who have been vulnerable around me, and I them. We dropped our defenses and simply loved each other. (That doesn't mean we always agree. Some of those friends have very different opinions about lots of different things than I do. We can have discussions and debates about things and go away every bit as friends.)

So here's to my 30s. I think they will be good. I don't know if by the time I am 40 I will be able to check this goal off my list of "things to accomplish" but I think the perspective is a good start. 

*That girl I used to babysit now has a kid. Weird.

keepsakes

Ana, April 2010. I came across it today. It's one of my favorites.

As part of my "40 Bags" challenge (which has really morphed into a 40 areas challenge because I don't really fill a whole bag every day) I pulled out some files out of my filing cabinet tonight labeled "keepsakes." Surprisingly, most of what found its way all the way into the folders were actually things I wanted to keep, (unlike the "to file" drawer of my desk that was 3 years full of random things, only a handful of which were actually keep-worthy) so my throw-out pile was small.

I am not very fast when it comes to these things. I look at every picture. I read every card. (And then I decided to move all my cards to a shoebox to make the folder a little flatter.) I am a collector and I am hopelessly nostalgic. As I was going through these treasures, a few things came to mind.

1.) I really need to be better about writing thank you cards. Those little notes of thanks mean a lot to me. I keep many of them.  I am touched by the sincerity and vulnerability it takes to express such heartfelt thanks for my small, seemingly insignificant contributions. I should do that more often for others.

2.) I have such wonderful people in my life. I have friends and family all over the country. I have been influenced and inspired by friends and neighbors and even acquaintances. I have had times when I have given and times when I have received. I read cards of sympathy during a surgery or miscarriage, cards of congratulations for milestones and baby births, cards of thanks for small things I had done, and cards and letters just to say "hi." I am so incredibly blessed.

3.) My kids are growing up way too fast. Ana is becoming so tall and thin. Katie has a full head of hair now. Jack was younger than Katie when we moved here. Time has flown by. Each picture is just a fleeting moment, but seeing them all together in one place weaves a story of a life. There were even a few pictures mixed in of me and Dave when we were young. Time flies by so quickly. I can't even remember my 4-year-old self at all, and even Ana's 4-year-old self is quickly fading from my memory as life moves on.

Life really is all about relationships. We are all children of God and how we relate to our brothers and sisters here is the most important thing on earth. I found a list of 50 things I want to do in my life tucked away in one of my files. Most of them I still want to accomplish, like "get a master's degree." But even if I do, I hope that it never becomes more precious than a shoebox full of cards, or a love-note from my husband, or a painted hand print of my daughter.

stories

"Tell me a story." I think this was the basis of my courtship with my husband. We would be sitting on a couch - in his apartment or mine or in a student lounge somewhere - with his legs stretched out over mine and he would ask for a story. And then I would tell him of something that happened when I was little, or past boyfriends, or whatever experience came to mind. He would tell his stories too. We both had relatively light-hearted and happy childhoods, so the stories were usually happy. And then we decided to have to same story for the rest of forever. And I think we are just about to the point where we know all of each other's stories. Once in a while, though, a story will come out that we don't know. I like it when that happens.

I am currently reading this book. It was recommended to Dave by a doctor and after he was done I picked it up. It is a collection of stories by a pediatrician turned grief/cancer counselor and it is full of beautiful stories of life and hope and faith and truth and, mostly, healing.

Everyone's life is a collection of stories. We all have painful stories. We all have triumphant stories. We all have stories of turmoil and stories of peace. We have stories that teach us obvious things and stories that we wonder what the lesson is for decades. As we share these stories, we connect to others. We bless their lives and our own. We give and receive and learn about ourselves and others. We learn to love - truly and deeply. We become less judgmental.

In this era of social media, I hope we don't forget to tell our stories. Blogs are wonderful for sharing stories and that is one of the reasons that I love them.  In fact, sometimes I get so caught up in strangers' stories that I forget that the people in my life that I love the most have wonderful stories that I am not hearing.

Recently we have started sharing stories around the dinner table. Dave and I take turns telling the kids things from our past. There have been a few of Dave's stories that I haven't heard yet. I love it when he tells the kids his stories, even the ones I already know. They love it too. When I tell Ana that I know how she is feeling, she wants to hear the story about it. Often it helps her deal with her emotions. 

When I was young I used to beg my mom to write down her life story. She always said that there was nothing to tell. But the stories I have heard over the years have brought a lot of strength to me. Like the time when she was pregnant with her 5th kid and my dad was writing his master's thesis. My dad had never learned to type, but Mom had so she would stay up late with him while he wrote it out by hand and she typed it. While he was writing she would lay down on the couch and sleep and then wake up to type some more. That is love. Or the time she had such a rough time handling the kids in sacrament meeting while my dad was in a bishopric or overseas or something and so afterward she went home and skipped the rest of church. I was shocked to hear that from my mother, but also relieved because she always seemed like she could handle anything and I was so far from that. Suddenly I felt like I was probably doing just fine.

I love the subtitle of the book: Stories that heal. Sharing our stories, around the world and around the dinner table, can heal our hearts, our lives and probably the world.

on being "good" at stuff

Let me tell you a story.

I began my college career as a music major. I auditioned for the woman's choir and started several music courses. Only I didn't make the choir and my first day of my Diction course scared the crap out of me. So I decided I wasn't good enough for music and dropped that class and picked up a political science class. I loved that class. (I actually loved my music theory class too, which I didn't drop.) But BYU-Idaho didn't have a PoliSci major at the time, so I changed my major to Social Sciences Education. And I loved my history classes that I took for that major. But I didn't really want to get an education degree. I had also taken a journalism class, which I loved, so I changed my major to Communications. I actually stayed at that major for a full 2 years. During that time I took a general human biology class and LOVED it.

Then I got married. Then I got pregnant.  Communications got boring and I had no interest in marketing or advertizing or broadcasting and got really really bored with my teachers telling me to network. So I started taking Health Sciences classes. Dave and I took Anatomy and Physiology together and I loved that class. Then Ana was born. And I really wanted to graduate but I was kind of all over the place.

The day before Ana turned 1, I graduated from BYU-Idaho with a Bachelor of Arts in University Studies, with an emphasis in Health Science and Communication. I was so happy! I cherish that piece of paper.

Graduation day 2007

Fast forward to now. I miss school. I want to go back so badly. I love sitting in class and writing notes and writing papers and taking tests. I know, I am a nerd. The cool thing is, our top two residency choices offer tuition reduction for residents' spouses.  Which means you can bet that I will be taking classes.

As you can tell from my prior college experience, I am interested in a lot of things. I didn't study much hard science or math in college, but I would really, really like to. I do math in my head all the time. I am always looking for patterns and analyzing statistics. One of my favorite classes in college was Epidemiology, which is very statistics based. I am always asking Dave science questions about things like water displacement or other nerdy subjects. So, randomly I go on websites and look up Master's Degree requirements. Today I was looking up getting a second bachelor's in Math. Reading the list of required classes made me nervous. What if Calculus is hard? Can I even do it? Am I smart enough to take classes like that?

And then I had an epiphany.

Why do we think we have to be "good" at something in order to enjoy it?

I am not "good" at running. When I was in the peak of my physical fitness, I ran a half marathon and barely managed 10 minute miles. That is twice as slow as those who run the Boston Marathon.  And they run twice as long. But I really enjoy doing it. It feels good. It makes me happy.

That first day of college I got scared because I was afraid I wasn't good at singing and I quit. It probably would have been hard. I would not have been the best singer in the group. But I enjoy singing and that might have been enough.

So many times I get down on myself about my mothering skills. Just this morning I was trying to get Ana to do something and was failing miserably. She refused. Dave walked in and within 2 minutes she was on the right track. Stuff like that happens a lot. I often get down on myself that I am not "good" at mothering. (This morning I decided to just be grateful for Dave instead.) But just because someone else is a more natural parent than I am doesn't mean I need to feel frustrated all the time. I can still enjoy myself.

I still don't know what I will study when I go back to school.  But I am not going to let my perceptions of what I am "good" at (a.k.a. what comes easily/naturally) determine what I aim for. I can enjoy things even if I have to work really really hard for them.

how an ice storm didn't ruin my weekend

And the church did meet together oft, to fast and to pray, and to speak one with another concerning the welfare of their souls. - Moroni 6:5

 
On Sunday Church was cancelled due to an ice storm.

Being home all day as a family on Sunday really made me think about the 4th commandment,  as we read in Exodus 20.

Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work:

But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates:

For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.

Now, I know everyone interprets that a little differently. For us, Sunday is a day for worship. We go to church, we serve God through our church responsibilities, and we spend time as a family.  We try to make Sunday different. One of the ways we have done that is by not shopping, doing play dates, and especially by not working or studying on Sunday. (Obviously as a doctor there will be times Dave has to work on Sunday, but when we have a choice, we choose not too.)

I am so glad we have done this. I love having a day where we can relax. A day where we can push aside the things that worry and stress us and just focus other things. Sometimes those things are really important. Sometimes they are not. (Like football). I know it has actually helped Dave do better in school to take a break from studying.

I love going to church. It feeds my spirit. (Even when the kids are crazy and I can barely make it out the door.) And I especially love going right before Christmas because it keeps me focused on the real reason for the season. So I was disappointed that church was cancelled. However, because it was Sunday, I didn't have a long list of to-dos in preparation for Christmas. I wasn't planning on cleaning house or running errands, so the ice storm didn't throw me off.  We went outside and marveled at the awesome ice. We drank hot chocolate and played games and watched football and video-chatted with Dave's parents. I even found time to pause for just a minute and think about the life and mission of the Savior. I talked to Jack about it for a few minutes. 

 

 

I am so glad for the reminder I got this weekend of why I love Sundays.

I typed this entire thing on my iPod.

It is 11:36 pm according to my iPod.

 Katie is still awake. Dave and I have been trying to get her to sleep for approximately 3 hours. Dave tried lying down by her and the only one who fell asleep was him.

The thing is, she fell asleep in the car today at 2:30 and stayed asleep when we took her into the library at 3:15. And kept sleeping until 4:15. So here we are.

Now is the part where I tell both of my readers why it has been 2 weeks since I posted and talk all about how busy December is and how I just couldn't find the time or emotional energy to write, but you don't want to read about that. Or maybe you do, I don't know.

I have spent most of my at home hours the last little while being annoyed. When I am out and about doing things I don't feel it so much, but in my home there had been a general level of annoyance and I don't like to write when I am annoyed. For one thing, I don't like to write about negative things. Not because I am trying to hide it, but because it isn't uplifting. For another thing, I don't seem to write very well in that state. And if you are wondering why I was annoyed and with whom, the answers are I don't know and everyone, but mostly myself.

But I feel better the last couple days and Katie seems to be coming out of her 3 week stint of not wanting to be potty trained any more even though she was perfectly potty trained for a good 6 weeks before that and that is awesome. Plus, she is hilarious and always says funny things. Things like:

*"Mom, your supposed to be in your bed!" When she wakes up at 11 and I am still awake downstairs.

 *And also insisted that "My (meaning I) not Kate. My Katie." every time we call her Kate, which is pretty often.

Sometimes I just can't believe how big she is. She wanted to wear a particular dress today because it spins so well. I put a different one on her and she said, "it doesn't spin." So of course I let her change.

I always laugh when my kids do funny things. Is that bad? They probably get confused because I don't laugh when they think I should and I do laugh when they aren't trying to be funny.

 Katie is asleep now. It is 12:04. Happy Thursday.

The only picture I took of our amazing thanksgiving weekend.

Christmas is upon us.

So is snow.

If it going to be cold, it might as well be snowy.

I think my kids agree.

be thankful

There is something in each day that can bring gratitude and joy if only we can see and appreciate it. -source

I am thankful for eternal families.

I am thankful for children that teach me so many things. Like when Ana came in to the kitchen the other day and asked to help and I told her "no, go set the table" and then when Katie asked Ana if she could help Ana told her "no" and I realized, "Holy crap, I just set that example." And then I let Ana help roll out the pizza dough.

I am thankful for a great husband. I know that sometimes I get all annoyed and frustrated about little things, but really, he is great. He loves me. He loves our kids. He is a good father and keeps his covenants. And he is, like, super smart and stuff, which is great when it comes to medical school stuff.

photo credit: heather dahle photography

I am thankful for this awesome place we live and the awesome people we know because we are here. We are going to be spending an awesome Thanksgiving with some of these awesome people and I am super excited.

I am thankful for the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the doctrine that teaches that we have Divine potential within us, to be loving and compassionate, and that we have access to personal Heavenly guidance on Earth.

let's be friends

Katie and her best friend Kenzie. They love each other so much. Sometimes they bite and pinch, but they always forgive each other. Photo courtesy of my friend Jill.

Hello my name is Erin, and I am an addict.

I don't know how it started, but now, once I start, I can't seem to stop.

That's right folks. I am a controversial-topic-blog-comments addict. Anything from politics to religion to parenting choices, once I start reading CTBC,  I get sucked in. Before I know it, .... a lot of time has passed.

I like to think it comes from my desire to understand both sides of an argument. My opinions about things are in no way set in stone, for I never feel like I am quite informed enough to be rigid in my opinion. I am always up for an intellectual discussion about things. I like to wrestle with things and figure out how I really feel.  This is a good thing. But I always take it overboard and end up wasting a lot of time. It could also be because I am a logophile and my love language is words of affirmation, so I am always in search for wonderfully written words. Most of the time, however, instead of feeling more informed about an issue or uplifted or inspired, I come away with one striking thought:

Why can't we all just get along?

As a parent of young children, the most common issue that I am working with my kids is getting along. Last night we had a "who gets to pick the movie" issue. Ana wanted The Little Mermaid, Jack wanted Dumbo.  At first, they were completely unwilling to come to an agreement, but when it came down to the wire and I said that I would choose, Jack decided to agree to Ana's deal. (The Little Mermaid this time, Jack's choice the next 2 times.) This is the type of thing we deal with often. Katie wants to play, so I try to get my kids to teach her how so she doesn't just go on destruction mode. When the Jack gets frustrated, we expect him to use his words and explain how he feels. And we are trying to teach them that they don't always get their way, that other people have different (and valid) perspectives.

So why don't we expect the same in adults? 

I know intelligent, respectful liberals who explain their perspective with dignity and tact.  I know a lot of close-minded ones who think all Republicans are cold, heartless, bigoted fools. I know intelligent, respectful conservatives who explain their perspective with dignity and tact. I know a lot of close-minded ones who think all Democrats are leading America to a communist ruin.  There are some issues that both sides are never going to agree on. So we gotta make compromises.

I know Christians who are intelligent, thoughtful, faithful and portray true Christlike love. I know Christians who are judgmental and thoughtless. I know atheists who are intelligent, thoughtful, respectful and portray compassion and respect for others. I also know atheists/agnostics that believe organized religion is the worst thing on earth and that all religious people are brainless idiots.  There is a way to believe in something and to understand other peoples' perspective. We can be respectful.

I know mothers who breastfeed, wear their baby everywhere, and don't let their babies cry it out and they are wonderful mothers who love their children. I know mothers that bottle feed, push their kids in strollers and let their babies cry it out for hours and they are wonderful mothers who love their children.  Yet so many mothers put each other down for not doing things the same way. We need to learn that there is more than one right way to do things.

I could go on. Alternative medicine vs Traditional medicine. Introvert vs. Extrovert. Feminism vs. non-feminism (does that have a name?). Whatever the debate, there is good (and bad) on both sides of the spectrum. I am not saying that we shouldn't be passionate about what we believe in.  The Bible clearly states that we should not be "lukewarm" (Rev. 3:16). I will always stand up for vaccinations because I believe it is best in the majority of cases.  I am also skeptical of alternative medicine techniques. But I recognize that most people make the best decision they can based on the information they have and their values. Putting people down, calling them names, and focusing on the negative are not the path to understanding and respect. Those practices are unacceptable in my home among my children so why are they so commonplace (and not only acceptable but applauded) in adults across this country.

Please, let's all just get along. Let's teach our children to work out their problems with respect and dignity. Let's expect it from our political leaders (or servants as they should be called, as they are elected to serve their constituents), church members, business leaders and fellow parents.
Let's see a little bit more tolerance. A little bit more compassion. A little bit more respect.

Let's be friends.

And I'll work on quitting CTBC.

my sweater

Yesterday I pulled out a sweater out of my drawer and pulled it over my head.

A couple weeks ago, Dave made me promise that I wouldn't complain about the changing weather, but that we would just enjoy the wonderful-ness that is Vermont in the fall.  I love the fall, don't get me wrong. It's the long winter that follows it that causes me to dig my heels in the (beach) sand.

I thought I would be sad when I cracked open that bottom drawer. I thought I would sigh and mourn the end of carefree summer days of running outside barefoot and walks to the park and trips to the beach.  But I didn't feel sad at all. Somehow pulling on my sweater made me think of wearing boots and scarves and watching football and eating apple cider donuts. It made me think of drives through the mountains and trips to the pumpkin patch and the apple orchard. I smiled at the thought of sewing Halloween costumes and another awesome Thanksgiving with our friends.

Fall is so, so good in this corner of the world. (I don't think I'm going to have a hard time keeping that promise, Dave. )

laugh : (mini-challenge #5)

Friday was the last of my mini-challenges. Now, granted, this week was a little skewed because - let's face it - I can't be gloomy when in the company of my sisters. On Friday Kelli and I loaded up the kids and headed down to the Ben and Jerry's factory - about a 40 minute drive. The kids were in somewhat close quarters so, of course, there was whining coming from the back seat. I was driving, and Kelli was pulling out every trick in her 18-years-of-motherhood book, but to know avail. At one point it seemed we were going to be successful with the "I'm going to Ben and Jerry's and I am bringing something that begins with the letter A... etc." game, but it ended in hysterics at the letter D. Kelli and I just looked at each other and started laughing. There was nothing else to do. If I was on my own, I probably would have started yelling, but laughing worked out so much better. We were soon at our destination, and good times were had by all.

The same technique worked again on Saturday when I caught a certain child with crumbs down their front while insisting that it was their sibling that got into Katie's birthday cake while it was cooling. With a "Grr..." I went huffing downstairs when Kelli's daughter said, "Our Mom 'Grrs' at us too." And then once again we started to laugh. And then we realized that we get it from our mother and that at least one other sister also "Grrs" at their kids. Even though I was still annoyed about Katie's deformed cake, life moved on, Katie didn't care and I felt much happier having taken a moment to laugh.

Granted, it is a lot easier to laugh with someone. I'll have to try this challenge again when I am on my own. (Perhaps I should have tried it today when I was taking a screaming Jack out of Sacrament Meeting during a prayer. ... )


Overall, I feel much happier this week. I would say my mini-challenges were a success.  I think it was a good way to kick-start a path to a happier mood. Every person has down times and good times, seasons of sorrow and seasons of joy. I don't mean to say that we can't or shouldn't feel down or sad sometimes. Sometimes the best thing is a good cry. It is great to know, however, that I have power within me to get myself out of a rut and to feel better. 

think outside: (mini-challenge #2)

Yesterday's challenge was to do something for someone outside of my home.

I often get so caught up in my list of to-dos around the house that I forget to actually think about people outside my little space. Yesterday I made a conscience decision to make some phone calls to some friends and catch up on some Relief Society assignments I needed to do. I really think that taking the opportunity to take a break from minutia and focus outwardly is a major principle in finding everyday happiness.

serve with a smile: (mini-challenge #1)

Thanks for your comments on my post yesterday. I know such amazing people.


I once head someone say, "Don't do something for someone that they can do for themselves."  It is all in the name of curbing entitlement and what not. There are times when I resent even small requests for help from my older kids or from Dave in the name of "They can do it themselves."  Today I decided to go the other direction. I woke up determined to serve with a smile.  To be willing to step away from what I was doing to help or to serve. Now that the day is over, I can see evidence that my willingness to serve helped the atmosphere in the home way more than it hindered it. As I sit typing this, I don't even feel like I was being imposed upon either. In fact, I feel happier for serving my family.

Now, the first rule of experimentation is to isolate the variable. Okay, I don't know if that is the first rule, but it is a rule. Today was a day of many variables, so it is difficult to analyze the result. Maybe I feel happier because I hit 23 out of 24 pitches at the batting cage tonight.  Or that I helped a friend paint her basement after the kids were in bed.

Whatever. I am happy tonight.

in my head

This is how I feel most days. I can't look at this pic without laughing. unknown source

This last week was rough. I can't really explain or pin point why. It was just a rough week. The kids seemed crazy and I felt like I was scrambling. (Part of it may have been that my dryer broke. I have amazing friends close by that have let me use their dryer and I was able to hang some stuff on the line, but still.) Today was mostly better... until bedtime. Putting the kids to bed is always a battle and most evenings by the time the kids are finally asleep I am so exhausted that all I want to do is sit. And sometimes cry.


Tonight Ana said to me, in a very calm voice, "Mom, I know you are just trying to teach me things, but the way you are doing it just isn't working for me. You need to change." I had no response. What can I even say to that? Maybe I would have laughed had it not been for the fact that I had been telling her to brush her teeth for 10 minutes and she was just standing around with her toothbrush.

I am discouraged. I am NOT where I want to be. I often feel like a fraud. I try to make it look like I have it all together but in reality I feel very much out of control. I get stuck in my head on a whirlwind of frustration. "The laundry is piling up. The kids are not listening to me. The house is a mess. I am snappy and defensive. The kids are not listening to me. I waste too much time. I should do things differently. These kids are not listening to me."  Once I am on it is hard to get out. It leaves a mark in it's wake.

I am sure many of us have felt the same. Often as women we put our best foot forward. That isn't necessarily a bad thing in general. We want to be positive. We know other people have it worse off than we do. Of course, then we think we are the only ones struggling behind the scenes.

I want to know I am not alone. I also want to know what has helped others overcome it. There is a great network of women that can offer support and encouragement and love if we are willing to open up with one another.

Tomorrow I begin a little mini-happiness challenge I am doing. My goal is to check in at the end of each day. 

Until then, drop me a line, even if it is anonymous, and tell me that I am not alone.

like mother, like daughter

"If she was taller, you could be twins!" The woman sitting behind the check-in table at Ana's summer camp was looking right at me and my oldest daughter. I was somewhat taken aback.

"You think so?"

"Oh yes! You even walk the same. Her eyes are a little darker, but other than that she looks exactly like you. You are both beautiful."

I thanked her and smiled, gave Ana a hug and walked back to my car.

I have heard it said before. Especially when people see this picture of me from when I was 5.

That's me on the left.

People say we look just alike. Here is Ana at 5.

Photo by Heather Dahle Photography

Truthfully, I don't see it.  At all. I can sometimes see a little bit of Jack or Katie in old photos of me, but I never see Ana.  Maybe it's the bangs?

Usually when I think about the way we are alike, I am frustrated. Mostly frustrated with myself.  I am emotional. She is emotional. I get irrational when I am tired. She gets irrational when she is tired. I am always ready to enter into a debate/argument/fight. So is she. She gets it from me.

The other night I sat on my bed thinking about her.  I was thinking, specifically, of what I love about her and I began to write them down. Her eyes. Her observational skills. Her uncanny ability to find her way around any obstacle. (Even if that obstacle is just Mom saying "no.")  She gets those things from Dave. As I sat over looking the list and smiling as I thought of my little girl, I noticed that most of the list were things that she got from Dave, or things that are uniquely Ana. At the top of the list, the thing that I wrote down first, was written:

Ana is generous. She is always willing to share what she has and to give to others.

She gets that from me.

a revelation, in parts

"In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." 

(John 16:33)

1. A few days ago, what seemed to be an average day, turned sour. Nothing particular happened. A few unplanned errands popped up, but mostly it was just a typical day. Most typically, right around dinner, the children started acting up. (I know why they call those late afternoon hours "the witching hours.") The clutter from the housework I never got to began to cave in on me. Suddenly I found myself in the most sour mood. At the earliest possible hour, I got the kids into bed and I sat on the couch sulking. Somewhere during the course of the evening and the next morning - I can't quite identify how or when it came - it occurred to me that I was allowing the choices of others to dictate my mood and emotions.

I needed to stop it. My children will most likely always make choices that are different from what I want them to do. Am I going to let that cast a gloom on my life? No! I have always been a happy person, and I will continue to be a happy person.

The next day, I put it to the test. I decided to act happily, even if I didn't feel like it. The most amazing thing happened: my children were much better behaved. Perhaps, of all the things society thinks children need or don't need, all the lists and books on parenting and discipline and what "good parents" do,  my children just need a happy mommy.



2. My mind has felt cluttered and foggy. The clouds that bring so much beauty and greenery to this beautiful state happen usually seem to settle on my soul as well. At times it seems the clouds will never lift.  A few times this week the sun has shone itself and my spirit reaches for the sunlight and pulls me outside. I work in the garden and push Katie on the swing and connect with friends and neighbors and finally the clouds and fog begin to dissipate and I can breathe. During these times I have asked myself, "Why is it so hard to find joy each day?" The answer has been blossoming before me for a few days, and yesterday it was given a name and I saw it in all its glory.  The combination of endless to-do lists (there is always something I could be doing)  and the call of the social media have been choking out those things that bring richness to my life. "Peak experiences," I heard them called, are experiences that add joy into our lives. They are moments of real, true connection. With others. With God. With ourselves. Peak experiences make me happy. Lately they have been few and far between.



3. Last night, I was putting sheets on the children's beds before tucking them in. I heard laughing from the other room and Dave called me to come in. Usually I would finish my task, then go stand at the bedroom door and smile for a brief minute, then continue putting the kids to bed.  This time, I was drawn to it.  I climbed into the bed with Dave and Ana and Katie and we laughed at the silly things Katie was doing. (She always knows how to bring joy into this house.) Soon a pajama'ed Jack joined us and we all laughed and snuggled and tickled. At one point, Ana turned to me and said, "Mom, you are actually laughing!" That's when I knew for sure.

The revelation came in parts:

I need to seek out daily, joyful experiences that make me happy, because what my children need most is a happy mommy.

use your words (and other stuff)

We often tell our kids "Use your words." Instead of whining, instead of hitting, instead of screaming. "Use words." I need to remind myself of that as well sometimes. Words save me. When I need to escape, I read. When I need to connect, I talk and listen. When I need to clear my head, I write. I write lists and I write in my journal and I write here.

The last few weeks have been a crazy emotional roller coaster and I read and I talked and I listened, but when I tried to write, I couldn't. The words wouldn't come. So I talked and listened and read some more. But I couldn't write.

This morning I woke up and decided that today I would write. I would force it to come. So, here I am writing. Let me write about the last 3 weeks.

1.) The kids and I got home from our fun trip. I was so glad to see so many great friends and it was good to be back in the groove. My wonderful friend (little Zach's mom) even had my house cleaned spotless for me when I returned which was such a blessing. I have great friends. Dave stayed behind in Utah for an extra two weeks while he finished his rotation, so I was on my own for a little while.

2.) A few days after returning home, some of our best friends moved. They were here when we got here and we (and our kids) grew to be such good friends. It was a sad day. I already miss them a ton.

3.) I managed to do 2 weeks in a row of sitting alone with my kids in church and didn't die. I even thought, "That wasn't too bad."

4.) We got water in our basement (see previous post). That was crazy for a minute. These pictures are from that day. The kids went out and played in the puddles before dinner.  The downpour happened after dinner. The last picture is right before I discovered water gushing into the basement.

5.) Our traditional Memorial Day BBQ was a hit. Somehow I returned home with more food than I took.

6.) Dave got home! And he had a few days off before returning to the hospital today, so that was awesome to have him home.

7.) Another family that we love moved. They were awesome and Vermont will not be the same without them.

8.) Saturday we went to a parade and a Super fun birthday party for our friend's daughter.  The kids came home with awesome Superman capes and they spent the rest of the evening running around in them. Katie wanted one too so we pulled out Dave's old one and she ran around saying "Superman!" On Sunday afternoon the kids put them on again with nothing else but their undies and ran around saying "I am Super Underpants Man!" Nothing like a cape to make a kid happy.

9.) Yesterday Dave was called to be a counselor to our Bishop. Crazy! It will make things a little bit more busy, especially on Sundays, but he is awesome and I know he'll be great.


So, there you have it. A glance at my roller coaster. I keep thinking things will settle down, but life doesn't really ever settle down does it?  I think as long as I keep using my words, I might be able to handle it.

what math teaches me about strengths and weaknesses.

I like math.

I do math problems in my head when I run. I analyze everything and notice patterns and like to chart and graph things. Yesterday when my kids asked me how many Empire State Buildings would lay across the state of Texas, I was actually excited to figure it out. And I also did Vermont, too, while I was at it, even though the kids had mostly lost interest.

The funny thing is, it has been a very slow realization just how much I like math. Despite the fact that my favorite class in college was epidemiology (health statistics), up until the last year or so, I not only thought I didn't like math, but I thought I wasn't good at it. Which is weird, because I do like it, and I am good at it.

So that got me wondering why I had such a negative view of math all of my life. In a conversation I had with Dave a while back, I realized that I had a few specific, math-related, negative memories of my schooling. Like Pavlov's dog, those experiences made me associate math with negative emotions. But the icing on the cake, I believe, was during the year I took off before college when I took an independent study college algebra class. I didn't do well, and I didn't finish the course. And from then on I thought that math was a weakness.

Looking back now, I can see that it was all a big misunderstanding. The real problem with that independent study class was not math; it was my reading comprehension. Even though I had issues on reading tests all through school and even though it was my lowest ACT score and even though I read most of Pride and Prejudice once and had no idea what was going on, I loved reading and so I never even realized that reading was a weakness. For years I confused one weakness with another. So I didn't do well in an independent math class because I had a hard time understanding what I was reading.

Perhaps this is all a very convoluted. But, I think I have done that with more than just school subjects. There are other areas in life where a weakness in one area has made me believe that I had a weakness in another. I often confuse my lack of organization or my passionate, intense personality with my mothering skills, thinking that if I can't possibly be good at mothering if beds weren't made every morning or if stacks of papers littered every flat surface in my home. But my weakness is organization does not mean I am a bad mother. In fact, not only do I love being a mother, but I am good at it. (Not perfect, but still good.) I enjoy my children. I read to them and snuggle them and kiss them and make them cookies and 100 day shirts for the 100th day of school. I do what I can to help them be happy and healthy and loving. And I am constantly striving to be a better mother.

Ana really wanted a 100 shirt for the 100th day of school.

That being said, realizing that I didn't have great reading comprehension didn't make me stop reading. In fact, as the years pass and I read more and more I realize that I am getting better. So it is with my other weaknesses too. Over the years as I strive to be more organized or calm or whatever, I have hope that eventually I will look back and say, "Hey, I have gotten better."

Maybe I will find other talents too, that are hiding behind my weaknesses. 

what not to wear

I've been collecting data over the last few weeks and have used the information to compile the following graph:

As you can see, the comfort of the clothing I am wearing is directly related to my level of productivity as related to in-home activities such as dish-washing or floor scrubbing. Of course, if I get too comfortable, then I just want to sit on my couch and read a book, so my productivity drops off.  (Also I have noticed that no matter how comfortable I am, I am never perfectly productive. )

So if you come by, just know my house is a mess because I got dressed that day.

By the way, I created the graph using THIS website.

1:10.28

In September 2004 I ran a half marathon. That is a story in it's own right.

Over the last eight years, my enthusiasm for running hasn't waned, but my actually running totally has. I ran (or rather, jogged) a 5k here or there, but haven't really been "a runner" like I once was.

Last fall a bunch of my friends ran a 10k not far from here. I was barely two months postpartum and didn't think I could work my way up to 6 miles. But I said I would run it this year. (Again, it was more like jogging.)

I trained. But I have to admit, it is hard to figure out when to run when you have three kids. I ran twice a week, never for very long, and then one day I realized that the race was in 3 weeks and I could barely run 2.5 miles. I kicked it up a notch, but it seemed the world was against me. I would plan on running and then it would be blustering outside and I couldn't take Jack and Katie in the stroller. Or I would plan on switching off with a friend and Jack would wake up puking. I think the farthest I went was 4 miles.

Then it was race day. On Saturday morning, amid the rain and mist and wind, and beautiful fall foliage, me and three other friends ran a 10k. And I did it! I jogged the entire way. About mile 5 my knees started killing me. But I kept going and I actually finished in better time than I thought I would.

I still came in last. There might have been one walker behind me. I'm not sure. Either way, I finished.

Right after we got done it started raining really hard. We had a lot of fun and I can't wait to do it again.

Then I came home, took a shower, and sat down to watch General Conference and put my feet up. 

lessons of my twenty-eighth year

*I grew up in a bubble. Not that I was sheltered, per se, but somehow my personality created a bubble of oblivion around me. I was blissfully unaware and content with the world. I saw everything in black and white. There was right and wrong. Good and evil. Virtue and vice. And not much in between.

My 28th year taught me that there is a lot of gray area. There is middle ground. Answers to problems are complicated. Good people do wrong things. What is right for me might not be right for everyone. This is an uncomfortable realization and I'm not quite comfortable with it yet. But it makes me more compassionate, and that is a good thing.

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*Last August I had a baby. It was an absolutely wonderful, empowering experience. I was able to stay calm and breath through the pain, and just when I thought I couldn't go any longer, I had a baby. And I said to Dave, "I did it! I did it!"

My 28th year taught me that I can be calm. That even though it isn't my nature, I can be the eye of the storm around me. And I learned that I can do amazing, powerful, hard things.

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*When February and March hit with their unceasing clouds and mix of rain and snow, I sunk low. I cried a lot. I fretted and stewed. I paced my house and saw all my imperfections. I talked to friends who experienced similar things, and that helped. Then the sun came out and I was lifted even further. And I feel much better now.

My 28th year taught me that it is okay when I feel down in the winter, that it happens every year and that it will probably happen next year and that is okay. I will get through it, and when the sun comes out and the trees turn green I will feel better.

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*At the bottom of my low time I turned to anything I could think of to help. One lonely night I purchased "The Sound of Music" soundtrack. The moment the music started, my soul was lifted. "My heart will be blessed with the sound of music and I'll sing once more" resonated with me in a way I haven't felt in a long time. I laughed listening to "she climbs a tree and scrapes her knee, her dress has got a tear" because it reminded me so much of a certain daughter of mine. Then I heard "despite what you see I have confidence in me" and I felt like I could do anything. For the next few weeks I listened to it and any other uplifting music voraciously and started to sing to my children more often.

My 28th year taught me not to forget the power of good, uplifting music to calm and heal a troubled soul.




Today I am 28. Perhaps I really am "one year older and wiser too." My 29th year so far as been wonderful. I have a loving, affectionate husband, mostly sweet, happy children and the blessing of being able to stay home with them all. I have my health, great friends and I got to eat my favorite cake. Life is so wonderful!