a walk

Yesterday I took Charlie outside for a few minutes after lunch and before his nap. It had rained in the morning, but by lunch it was sunny and the weather warm. We began kicking the ball around with our dog, Ivy (did I mention on here that we got a dog?). Soon Charlie noticed that he could hear the garbage truck and we decided to leash to dog and go and look for it. We opened the fence and started walking up our street. Charlie's 2 year old pace was an exercise in self-control for our high energy mutt, but I didn't mind. He is particularly enamored right now with the multitude of firebugs that emerge during Utah's spring. He would stop and lay his tummy on the side-walk and watch them crawl around. He picked dandelions and tiny grape hyacinths that grow in the grass. He picked up sticks, which reminded me so much of his older brother at that age. Eventually we circled back to our house, and begrudgingly he went inside for his nap.  I don't know why this walk struck me as significant. It's not, really. Just an ordinary moment in an ordinary day full of laundry and dishes.

holy bondage

I keep thinking I need to "catch up" in order to write. I need to write about our trip to New Orleans and the fact that we bought a dog and a house the week we got home.

But I'm not going to. If the idea of doing it "right" stops me from doing it at all, then it is no longer the "right" way at all, is it. You know the adage "if something is worth doing, it's worth doing well." I disagree. "If something is worth doing, it's worth doing just barely." Not that we should pride ourselves on shoddy work, but there are a lot of things that are worth doing, even if we can't do it perfectly. We are imperfect people and the pursuit of perfection should not stop us from the good.



Today I want to write a sort of "stream of consciousness." Things I have been thinking and mulling over and it always helps me to write/talk it out.


In 3 1/2 months, Dave is done with residency. That is not very long. Our entire married life has been a series of stepping stones: Bachelor's Degree, a couple interim years, Med School, Residency.  It has been a wonderful journey so far. We have made dear friends and had so many wonderful, unique, meaningful memories. It hasn't always been easy, but it has been good. I think the most difficult thing about residency for me has been that it felt like a "waiting place." Med school/Vermont was an adventure.  This has been a time of long hours, a time of stretching myself (and often coming up wanting) and a roller coaster of emotions. And for my busy, energetic sense, it has felt like lethargy. Like I'm trying to get somewhere and I'm walking through mud and I just have to wade through it and there isn't any other way.  I have found myself living in the future way too much.

"When we get through this first year, then I'll be happy."

"When I know where we are going to move, then I'll calm down."

"When we get through this hard stretch, then things will be better."

"When we buy a house, then I can be present."

But, here I am, knowing exactly where we are going to move and I have found, much to my dismay that I'm still just waiting, still desperate to move on, still aching for some future thing. "How do I want to decorate my house?"  "How do I want to design the landscaping in the backyard."  "What do I want to study when I go back to school?" All of these future decisions keep me from living the moments right now.

At the same time, thinking of my decade old daughter and how middle school is looming and I'm all like "what? No! Time, slow down." My "early motherhood" years are slipping through my fingers like sand and the tighter I grasp the faster it seems to move.

These two things, seeming to contradict each other, taking up space in my head and heart and making me, frankly, dissatisfied and angsty and unmotivated. 

I heard THIS song and reread THIS poem this week.  They have, in some ways, reset my heart a bit. Holy Bondage. That is what I have chosen.  Someone said to me recently that the key to this contradiction in my head and heart is gratitude. I think she is right. Gratitude for the moments and experiences that I have today.

I am not there yet.  I still feel dissatisfied and angsty and unmotivated. But there have been moments where they melt away and I feel gratitude and joy.

And now, the laundry awaits.

seeing beautiful

I think when I blogged more I was better at seeing the beautiful things. I looked for them. I took pictures of them. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't trying to put on a facade or paint a false picture. I am a naturally positive person, and I found a lot of real joy and satisfaction out of finding the beauty in an ordinary day. Not to say that everyday was always beautiful. But even recording those uglier moments felt peaceful somehow. Like it turned them from an unpleasant experience to simply an experience, and then time worked its magic and now even those ugly moments are beautiful.

Writing (almost) daily forces me to be present. Instagram does it a little. But mostly I post and forget. But to write about a small moment takes time and craft. I think about it. The words fill my head and trickle through the day as I think about it. It causes me to stop and watch and listen and think.

I don't do that enough.

I was reading "Oh the places you'll go" to Katie tonight and I realized that I am in the "Waiting Place."

I am waiting for Dave's crazy schedule to lighten up.
I am waiting for us to move.
I am waiting til we can start seriously looking for a house.
I am waiting for such and such kid to get out of such and such phase.

Every day I am just waiting.

And some of those things I am looking forward to, but the answer to the slump-y, waiting, staying feeling is to be present. To watch as the kids learn and grow. To look Jack in the eye when he shows me how he got 100% on the test that he felt was pretty hard. To look at the pictures Ana takes with real attention. To pull Katie up on my lap and read her stories and tickle her.  To do puzzles with Charlie on the living room floor. My kids hear "just a minute" far too often, and usually for very unimportant reasons. Not only am I missing out, but they are too. They need their mother to see them in all their ordinary glory.  Writing makes me accountable for the day and the moments that I notice.

He started in the stroller, and I didn't think twice about his shoe-less, pantsless person.  Katie and Jack also joined us (running way up ahead).  Katie was in her nightgown and my flip-flops. Ordinary glory.

the saguaro

Last month we spent a week traveling down to AZ to see my parents and some friends from college and the Grand Canyon. Oh, it was fabulous and sunny.

We spent one morning in the Saguaro National Park near Tucson. The desert is not nearly as barren as cartoons make it seem. The landscape was peppered with bright yellow and purple flowers, barrel cacti topped with blooms, tall spindly bushes with bright red flowers on the tips like a paintbrush dipped in color, and of course, the magnificent Saguaro rising above them all. It was incredible and beautiful.

We took a nature trail lined with information about the desert ecosystem and we found it all fascinating. For instance, we learned the Saguaro provides shelter and nourishment for wildlife and defends itself very well once grown. But in its infancy, it will often begin to grow in the shade of a nurse tree until it acclimates to the desert sun and heat. As it grows, the nurse try dies, both because of its age and because they compete for resources.

After that, I found myself noticing over and over again how often a younger cactus was next to a smaller tree. The older ones too often had evidence of such a tree nearby. Suddenly, they became as magnificent and beautiful to me as the towering Saguaro itself.

 I, too, am sheltering, nurturing, and giving my all to the development of others. It is exhausting. I bear the brunt of the wind and the heat to protect them and allow them to flourish. It is often thankless. The nurse tree is hardly the subject of photographs and paintings and poetry. But it is noble. Like the great cactus, they will be an intricate and vital part of their community. They will stand tall with greatness. They will be able to withstand the heat and defend themselves against those that seek to destroy. And that wouldn't be possible without the sheltering, life-giving, nurturing, quiet role of the nurse tree by its side.

old emails and happy thoughts

If my email inbox is indicative of my life, then I am a giant mess. I just spent an hour deleting almost 1500 emails. Most of them were old newsletters, coupons, or book/play/planning-group stuff.  I really need a better organization system I guess.


But there were a few worth saving:

Words of encouragement from a sister.

A note of love from a friend (or 2).

A poem I had written in 2003 that my mom found.

An invitation Ana had made a few years ago to invite friends to a church activity.

Photos of my kids people had emailed me.

Through all the mess there was interspersed happy thoughts and memories. (And a few tears too.)

Such is life I guess. We trudge through the mundane and check off to-do lists and sometimes get bogged down by the ordinariness of life. But the extraordinary is in there. It may be hidden or tucked away. And maybe sometimes we throw it out with the rest without realizing. But it is there. If we take time to remember those moments of extraordinary beauty, we can see it. The more we give of ourselves, the more we see it reflected back to us. In our children, our friends, our families, even in ourselves.

So maybe Sacrament Meeting today included kids sprawling on the chairs or crawling up the aisles. And maybe dinner tonight consisted of ramen noodles and scrambled eggs. And maybe a certain kid refused to go to bed because the sheets were too cold and there was NO WAY they would warm up and I had to bribe said kid with a quarter to get into bed with the promise to report back to me in the morning on the sheet temperature. And maybe Charlie won't sleep well tonight and a million other little things. I will keep wading through it all. The joy, the extraordinary, the thing worth saving and remembering, is in here somewhere.

don't worry, be happy

Isn't December a sneaky month. It always seems to show up on my doorstep and yell "surprise." Time seems to inch forward some days, but I blink and the weather is cold and Christmas lights go up. I just want to sit around a read books. Sometimes I think I don't read hardly at all, but I actually sat down and made a list of books I have actually finished  this year and it was more than I expected. The first part of the year it seemed many of the books I read were about race in one way or another. I reread the Harry Potter series. I read books for book club that I really enjoyed and I also read a couple of parenting books. I particularly liked one I read called Simplicity Parenting.  It was while reading this one that I realized something about myself that I didn't notice before.

I worry a lot.

I never really thought of myself as a worry-er. I am generally a go-with-the-flow, up-for-anything type. But as a parent, I worry.

Are they doing good enough in school?
Am I teaching them what they need to?
What is the deal with this bad attitude?
I don't know what I am doing.
If I let them get away with this then they will be spoiled for life.
I need to do ______ better or they will never ______.
If I do that then other parents will judge me.
If they do that then they won't have any friends.
Am I doing all I can so my kids can be extraordinary? so that they can be happy?

My worry defines my parenting.

I don't want it to. It is exhausting and it saps me of joy and happiness. It is driven by fear and doubt and ingratitude. I've always considered myself a person with strong faith, yet my actions and attitudes towards my kids portray a lack of faith - in myself, in them and in God.

But I want JOY to define my parenting. Real deep meaningful joy. And Joy only comes when we allow ourselves to fully commit to the moment we are in. I forget sometimes that the way to teach my children to have faith is by having faith IN THIS MOMENT that God will guide me each step of the way and that he can guide them too.  The way to teach them happiness and kindness is by being happy and kind even IN THE MOMENT when they are acting in unloving ways.

I've had some interesting experiences with Gratitude lately and I feel like that is the key to unlocking the Joy now.  And I don't mean gratitude in a "count your blessings" way, but gratitude in the moment. What does this moment show me about God's love?

I hear a Charlie waking up from his nap and Jack and Katie playing the Mario Brothers. Ana is at a friend's house. It isn't a perfect moment. Jack is annoyed that Katie keeps dying. Charlie is sick and hasn't slept much the last few days. But I can choose to see God's love in it.

Time to step into the moment, worry free.

thoughts on parenting and God

*Both of my kids have nightly homework. My 4th grader, who has to work a little bit harder to understand certain concepts and to read fluently, is required to sit and finish her homework. Then I go over it for mistakes and she redoes the problem until she gets it right. I often will read the instructions to her out loud because it helps her understand what is being asked. I also have her read aloud to me several times per week. This isn't because she has made bad choices and I am punishing her (though sometimes she views it as such). It is simply because her circumstances require it. My 2nd grader, on the other hand, is different. The academic portion of school comes very easily for him, but as a little introvert that he is, I recognize the need for him to have more down time. I set the timer for 20 minutes and as long as he is working diligently, he can be done with his homework when it goes off. He reads every night too, but mostly to himself after he goes to bed. It may seem that I am partial to one child. It may seem that I am punishing one child for something that isn't her fault. But as the parent, I have a deeper understanding of the needs of my children, and I require different things because of it. That being said, the standard is the same: they must learn reading, writing and arithmetic. That won't change, even if my homework policy seems inconsistent.

*Charlie, after being a fabulous sleeper from day 1 and sleeping through the night for the first 6 months of his life, starting waking up 2-3 times a night and I had to nurse him back to sleep. So, we are having him cry-it-out at bedtime. Every few minutes we go in and check on him and comfort him. The first night it was torture. The 2nd was slightly better. But by last night (night #4) he fell asleep after only 15 minutes and slept all night long. Despite having 4 kids, this was a new experience for me. I let Ana cry in the night once and after that she slept all night. When I tried it with Jack he would scream so hard he threw up and I couldn't do it anymore. Katie was such a snuggly nurser that I got a lot of joy and satisfaction of nursing her to sleep and I brought her to my bed if she woke up in the night. It wasn't a big deal. Our particular circumstances allowed for that, so it worked. But with 4 kids and Dave gone a lot at bedtime, I simply can't spend 40 minutes nursing Charlie to sleep and anyway a lot of times he doesn't fall asleep nursing. Of course, I love all of my children the same. I don't love Katie more because I rocked her to sleep or love Charlie less because I don't. Different circumstances call for different actions. I love all my children.

*My kids love to watch this one channel on TV that has some ridiculous "as seen on TV" commercials. It is a kids' station, so all of the things are geared towards kids. They are always asking for the stuff. In fact, I think 95% of my interactions with my kids is them asking me to buy them junk. Of course, I don't just give in. They are harmless things, perhaps, but certainly giving them everything they want when they want it isn't the best way to raise them. Sometimes I will give them a treat at the store or let them earn a toy from the dollar store. But I certainly don't let them eat candy for breakfast or spend all day watching TV or let them hit each other, even if they say I'm mean and unfair and I must not love them.

*Being a parent has taught me so much about the way God works in our lives. He is, after all, our Heavenly Father. He is a father, first and foremost. He knows us. He knows our needs, as individuals and collectively. I don't pretend to be a perfect parent. I don't always act in the most Godlike ways and many times I question my own methods. But I do love my children in a way that is perhaps a shadow of the way God loves us. We don't always understand his methods. We may think his standards are too high. We may not think it is fair that we have to work so hard when others seem to have it easy. We probably cry in our beds and wonder where he is, when what he is doing is teaching us an essential lesson that will help us eternally. Are 95% of my interactions with God asking for things? Maybe even things that the world has packaged to look enticing or harmless or fun or even good, but that are not eternally good for us.

*These 3 scriptures have come to my mind a lot lately:

*Ephesians 4 :14 That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive;

 15 But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ:

*1 Nephi 11: 17 And I said unto him: I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.

*Proverbs 3:  5 ¶Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

 6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

an interview with Mom

 If ever you want to know how you are doing as a parent, just ask your kids! I asked my 3 big kids these questions and the answers were a little funny and a little insightful and all around good fun.

Trip to San Diego 2015

Katie - age 3 (and a half as she always says)

1. What is something mom always says to you? Go get your jammies on
2. What makes mom happy? giving her a hug
3. What makes mom sad? not giving her a hug
4. How does your mom make you laugh? doing silly things like dancing silly
5. What was your mom like as a child? drawing  (I don't think she quite understood this question.)
6. How old is your mom? 13
7. How tall is your mom? bigger than the measuring stick
8. What is her favorite thing to do? sort the laundry
9. What does your mom do when you're not around?  .....
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?  I don't know
11. What is your mom really good at? stretching
12. What is your mom not very good at? doing the splits
13. What does your mom do for a job? sort the laundry
14.What is your mom's favorite food? salad
15.What makes you proud of your mom? being excited (again, I don't think she quite understood this one.)
16. If your mom were a character, who would she be? Peach
17. What do you and your mom do together? sort the laundry
18. How are you and your mom the same? we are both girls
19. How are you and your mom different? you're a grown up and I'm a kid
20. How do you know your mom loves you? because you give me hugs
21. What does your mom like most about your dad? kissing
22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go? wal-mart
23. How old was your Mom when you were born? uh, zero?

Jack - age 7 (as of tomorrow)

1. What is something mom always says to you? Please
2. What makes mom happy? playing with kids
3. What makes mom sad? I don't know
4. How does your mom make you laugh? by tickling me
5. What was your mom like as a child? playful
6. How old is your mom? 31
7. How tall is your mom? I have no idea
8. What is her favorite thing to do? play with kids
9. What does your mom do when you're not around? talk to Dad
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? singing
11. What is your mom really good at? singing
12. What is your mom not very good at? Uh, You're practically good at everything
13. What does your mom do for a job? helping kids grow
14.What is your mom's favorite food? pizza
15.What makes you proud of your mom? helping Charlie roll over
16. If your mom were a character, who would she be? a person on TV
17. What do you and your mom do together? play games
18. How are you and your mom the same? we're both nice
19. How are you and your mom different? you're a grown up and I'm a kid
20. How do you know your mom loves you? she gives me hugs and kisses
21. What does your mom like most about your dad? that he's a doctor
22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go? Out to dinner with Dad
23. How old was your Mom when you were born? I have no idea.... (after thinking for a minute) 26?

Ana - almost 9


1. What is something mom always says to you? Ana, Don't!
2. What makes mom happy? When I clean my room (which I never do)
3. What makes mom sad? When I don't clean my room
4. How does your mom make you laugh? When she makes Charlie laugh
5. What was your mom like as a child? obedient
6. How old is your mom? 31
7. How tall is your mom? I have no idea ... 4 foot 9 or 5 foot 9 (I am 5'3")
8. What is her favorite thing to do? I have no idea ... cook
9. What does your mom do when you're not around? watch TV with Daddy
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? singing or cooking
11. What is your mom really good at? cooking and singing
12. What is your mom not very good at? yelling quietly
13. What does your mom do for a job? babysit
14.What is your mom's favorite food? Pizza
15.What makes you proud of your mom? That she's good at singing and that she's good at cooking
16. If your mom were a character, who would she be? Jessie  (from that Disney show Jessie, because I was a nanny once. Hopefully that's the only reason.)
17. What do you and your mom do together? get Pedicures
18. How are you and your mom the same? That we look alike. But put in parentheses that I don't see it.
19. How are you and your mom different? She likes doing chores and I don't.
20. How do you know your mom loves you? She gives me hugs and kisses
21. What does your mom like most about your dad? That's he's cute and nice
22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go? Home
23. How old was your Mom when you were born? 22

Trip to NYC 2012

Easter 2013

Fall drive 2011

I love my kids. They are the best.

mother, tell me a story

I love stories. I read and I write because I think stories are important. We all know that what makes a good book is the way the characters develop over time as they interact with conflict and hardship.  We all have our own stories, too. We have experiences that shape us and mold us. I am drawn to these stories. When we discover, uncover, and hear others' stories, we can't help but love them. We see their heart. This week as I had a chance to gather with women and they shared their stories. There were stories of heartache and stories of grace. It was beautiful. Everybody's stories are beautiful.

As I have thought about mothers this week, I have been particularly drawn to the women in my family (because my family has a lot of women) and their stories. My mother and my sisters are amazing women and though we seem similar on the surface, we all have our own stories and they are all beautiful.

My wedding 2005

My oldest sister Kelli is one of the smartest women I know. And she is also incredibly gracious, patient, and most of all, selfless. She has given up so much to give her 6 girls every opportunity in the world.

Teri's story is one of love and support to her husband as he battled cancer and then to support him some more while he served in 3 bishoprics, a high council and now again as Bishop of his ward. She also has 6 young kids.

Karianne amazes me with her ability to teach her kids to work.  And now she is a working mother herself and I know it is hard. Her family knows how to dig in, to take risks and to do hard things.

Wendy's story includes moving every few years and sending her husband off to 3 military tours in the middle east. She does it without complaining because she knew what she was getting herself into. She digs in and deals with it.

My sister-in-law Lori definitely is the cool, fun mom. She looks for any reason do special things with her kids and to celebrate them. Her story is also one of heartache when her own mother passed away from cancer. My brother definitely married up.

And then my 3 other sisters, Shari, Heather and Cindy, who aren't mothers yet but who love all their nieces and nephews (all 28 of them!). They are also women of faith and fortitude. Shari has stories of heartache and yet presses on with a smile on her face. Heather is a loyal friend to those around her and has a great sense of humor. Cindy's story is one of perseverance, particularly over the last few years as she has worked on getting her Master's degree.

I am so blessed to have such remarkable women for my sisters. I could go on and talk about Dave's sisters, who are equally amazing and of course my amazing mother-in-law, who is the best one on the planet. I am sure of it.

And of course, my own Mother. I don't know all her stories. I hope to know more of them.  I know a little of the heartaches she has experienced.  Becoming a mother myself has helped me see a glimpse of her incredible mother heart. It is full of love and worry for her children. And it is full of faith.  I think her story is one of faith. I am so grateful for the way she taught us to believe in God. I can say, like the Army of Helaman, "I do not doubt my mother knew it." (Alma 56:48)

I am so incredibly grateful and humbled to be a tiny part in the stories of these fantastic women in my life.

on sacrifices

I was sitting in my rocking chair, a sweet little newborn to my chest. He was dozing off and I was perusing the internet via phone. I came across an article - I can't find it now - that struck a chord with me. The gist of it was this: A woman shouldn't have to sacrifice her career to have a baby. The author noted the plight of the American woman in the workplace, including high cost of child care, inadequate maternity leave, and the tendency of women to hold back from promotions or other job opportunities because of family life.

Let me be clear on one thing before I begin: I absolutely believe that women and men should be treated fairly in the workplace. I believe in equal pay for equal work/experience and that people shouldn't be discriminated against simply because of their gender.  Also, I realize single mothers don't have an option of staying home and the cost of child care and other struggles can be especially debilitating in these situations. Just wanted to get that out of the way.

But let's get one thing straight:

Having a family requires sacrifices.

It just does. When you choose to bring a child into this world, you are choosing to sacrifice. For 9 months a woman gives up her body to house another living soul. After birth, a mother sacrifices sleep and time to keep this little thing nourished.  Every step of the way, we give things up. Late nights with friends are traded in for early bedtime. Fancy dinner dates are traded in for happy meals. Instead of buying new shoes for ourselves we are paying for piano lessons. The list goes on. And yes, our careers take a hit as well. Some of us choose to stay home instead of capitalizing on these prime career years. Some choose to work, but are passed up for promotions because of the time commitment. We all make sacrifices.

(Fathers make sacrifices too. A lot of dads pass up promotions so they don't have to move their families, or choose a career based on whether they can live close to grandparents. They, too, leave work early to attend concerts and basketball games. If a woman feels slighted because the bulk of the child-care responsibilities is falling on her shoulders, perhaps she should look no further than her husband, and figure out a solution that works for both of them.)

Anything worth having is worth sacrificing for. We give up time and money for an education. We go without stuff we want now for things we want in the future - like saving for a new car or a down payment on a house.

And nothing - no career aspirations or fancy cars or prestige - even comes close to this:

This is joy. Real, true, lasting joy. The kind of joy that is seeded in sacrifice and vulnerability and, above all, love and connection. To be a part of something bigger than yourself.

It is worth the sacrifice.

pick kindness

I came across THIS blog post this week and it really struck a chord with me.

I am not really a consistent parent, and so her part about that was really refreshing. I am always forgetting about systems I set up, or sitting down and writing up schedules that I forget about by day three. I was so glad to hear that I wasn't the only one.

But the part that really got me was this: 

"be consistent.  yes.

consistently LOVING.  

and, if you cannot teach cleanliness and kindness, pick kindness...

they can learn cleanliness another day.

if you cannot teach potty training and kindness.

pick kindness...

they can learn potty training another day.

if you cannot teach your grand scriptural insights and be kind.

pick kindness... they can learn scriptural wisdom another day.

because if you can't teach with love, you aren't really teaching at all."

I read that I couldn't help but cry. I needed to hear that. It has stayed with me all week. 

"Pick Kindness." Choose to love.

Fast forward to last night. Jack had been cranky all day. I even had to take him out of sacrament meeting. He has been needy and clinging and naughty and I was at my wits end. Katie, too was really pushing my "2-year-olds are the best!" philosophy, so I was anxious to get her to bed. Dave starting a night shift tonight, so it was just me and kiddos. 

I let the older two finish up a movie while I put Katie to bed. (That consists of me sitting in there until she falls asleep.)  Just as she was starting to calm down, Jack came in. Oh boy, that really sets me off. Two minutes later, Ana came bounding in wearing something that was no longer her pajamas. And so it went. My frustration was mounting, and when Katie was finally asleep I sent the kids to their beds without a bedtime story and we were all upset. 

I came downstairs and started cleaning up the living room. Soon the door cracked open, footsteps padded part way down the stairs and I heard Jack's voice, "Mommy, can you come lay down by me?" 

"Not right now, Jack, I'm cleaning up the living room. I will come up in a bit." I replied, annoyed that he had come out in the first place.

"What if I help you clean up?" I looked up at my little boy and the words came to my mind, "Choose to love." So I smiled and said, "Sure." And both he and Ana came joyfully down the stairs, helped clean up the living room in a jiffy and went back up to bed. I laid by them for a minute or two, told them goodnight, and they went to sleep.

If there is anything I want to teach my kids it is to be kind. That begins with me. I am so glad I learned that this week.

happy seventh birthday

Seven years ago I became a mother. I didn't know then how this little girl would challenge me, change me, and help me to grow. From the day she was born I knew she was strong. She squirmed her hands out of her swaddle while just a few hours old. She lifted her head to look up at Dave when she was just days old.  And while I walked her around our tiny living room I could feel the strength of her spirit. As she has grown I have seen that strength come out in so many ways.

Ana is not a follower or a leader. She is just herself. Of course there are times when she follows and times when she leads, but generally, she just does what she wants to do. She is passionate. She loves passionately, reacts passionately, gives passionately. She absorbs life like a sponge and exudes it in everything she does.  Last weekend we went camping and when we got to our campground she ran up to Dave and said, "Take a deep breath, Dad. It's fresh air!"

She loves horses and puppies and macaroni and cheese (from a box) and swimming and pink. She is sneaky and resourceful, and is hooked on Disney Channel. She will never pass up a chance to be one on one with her Dad. She is obsessed with getting new little purses and can't wait til she can wear high heels.

I love this little girl, and I am so glad she made me a mother.

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.

flowing

This morning I was doing the very over-due job of cleaning Katie's bedroom. Several weeks ago we put her into her own room and put the older two kids together and while it is working well, I just barely got to tidying it up from the switch and taking all of Jack's stuff out. 

While I was working away, I came across this old photo and it stopped me in my tracks:

Ana was 2 weeks old. Why this picture was in Katie's room is beyond me, but I sat and looked at it for a while. I tried to reconnect with my 22-year-old self, but I couldn't find the connection. Somehow I don't remember what it was like to be a brand new mother.  Was I stressed out a lot? Was I clueless? Did it come naturally? What were my days like?  Time has wiped my memory of that time with just me and one little baby.

A few minutes later I walked down the hall to show the picture to Dave. I saw Jack sitting on his bedroom floor, looking at books. When I got to my room, Katie was sitting next to Dave jabbering about all the pictures in her book. I sat down next to them and talked to her for a while.

All morning my heart has been full of love for these little children. Katie is so big. She talks well and understands everything. Today I walked into the kitchen and she was standing on the step-stool using a beater as a microphone. Jack is such a great kid. He loves to read his Bob books and he is really doing well. When I dropped him off at preschool, I looked out over the Elementary School playground and there was Ana, waving at me with a big grin. She waved until I pulled out of the parking lot and then turned around and ran off. I thought of Jack at 3 and how I used to always tell him that I wanted him to stay 3 forever and how he is going to Kindergarten next year and how lucky he will be to have Ana there to hug him in the hallway and get on the bus with him each morning.

One of my favorite poems keeps running through my mind. I know I have shared it before:

Blood and Milk 

I dreamed of Oxford . . . (spires, a thousand spires, endless lectures, musty halls
a solitary self in a Bodleian expanse
A good life my dear Wormwood. An orderly life.)

then awakened to laundry
and things to be wiped
(countertops, noses, bottoms)

How did this happen? And when, exactly?
Time flows, it flows, it flows
and there are choices to be made:

left or right?
paper or plastic?
blood or milk?

There's freedom in the bleeding;
bondage in the milk—do not be deceived.
Ah, but it's an empty freedom; a holy bondage,
A sweet and holy bondage.
Five times I chose the chains, those tender chains,
(though once will bind you just as well!)
and checked the crimson flow.
Suckled while dreaming of Trinity Term
but awakened, always awakened, to the laundry
and to that small and cherished captor at my breast.

by Sharlee Mullins Glenn

Time flows along so silently I hardly realize it is happening. The things that worry me today will be behind me before I know it. Someday I will have a dishwasher and will forget the time when I almost cried at the thought of doing the dishes. Someday the couch won't be a constant laundry pile.  And though I stress about the house and the laundry and a million other things, they will probably be forgotten.  The times I sit on the bed talking to Katie, or play a game with Jack, or snuggle Ana on the couch will be cherished. It is a beautiful work I am doing.

taking the sh---- out*

*I do not actually swear or talk about swearing in this post. Just thought I would mention that

This has been mulling around in my mind for a while now. I've talked about it to several people, and in fact, the kernel of the idea came from something one of my sisters (was it Kelli or Karianne?) said to me months ago. I was lamenting some thing or other, probably housework, since that is my #1 lament, and going on about how I "should" do this or that, when something she said stopped me in my tracks. Essentially, it was:

"Should" is a 4-letter word. Either do it because it is important right now, or don't worry about it.

This thought has transformed the way I think about my tasks. So often I catch myself saying, "Oh, I should organize my life." Or "I should change my routine." Or "I should be doing the dishes." Or "I should not let my kids watch so much TV." Or "I should be more like so-and-so who does whatever perfectly." The list goes on and on. I see other mothers around me who do things differently than I do and somehow think that the way I do things isn't good enough. That I should be doing some different thing than whatever I am doing in the moment. Sometimes my list is so full of "should-dos" that it distracts me from really living in the moment, especially with my children.

The truth is, we can't do it all. In Relief Society this week, we watched this video:




It was a fabulous reminder of all the things we have access to - particularly spiritual things - that we don't take advantage of. Yet, as I sat there in that meeting, the thought occurred to me: Even if that man knew what was available to him, he could not do it all at once. He would have had to choose the best and wisest things to participate in.

I cannot do it all. Perhaps I could do more than I do. Perhaps unimportant things distract me from essential things. Even still, there are so many wonderful things I can choose to do, and for every "yes" to one thing, it is a "no" to another. Instead of getting caught up in the shoulds,  it is okay to just say, "No, I am not going to worry about that."

I will never forget the day I brought dinner to a friend who had just had her newborn baby. She was telling me she wasn't producing enough milk and her baby was crying and she didn't know what to do because everyone told her breastfeeding was what she should do and yet it just wasn't working out. I told her that the best thing for a baby is a happy, loving mother and if bottle feeding will give him that, then don't worry about it. She gave me an enormous hug and through tears said, "thank you for saying that. I needed to hear that."  It seems that, more than any other group, mothers are always comparing themselves to other mothers. We are always fighting for validation that our choice to breastfeed (or not), or cry it out (or not), or homeschool (or not) or work (or not) is the "right" choice and the one everyone "should" do.

I want to start a challenge to get rid of the shoulds. To stop comparing what we are (or are not) doing with what other moms are doing. We can't do it all, but we all can be loving, happy mothers in our own way. That's what our children need anyway. 

The makings of a motherhood photoshoot: